Deleted Scenes

It's been a while, hasn't it.

2011-08-31T01:38:00.000-07:00

My old use of this blog has been transferred to this tumblr, if anyone was interested in following along.

YOU'RE GODDAMNED RIGHT I WANT A FUCKING COOKIE

2011-02-03T06:51:00.000-08:00

So Pyro and I were talking in Steamchat about our value as offspring not being appreciated and it put things into perspective for me.

I don't mean to sound conceited but fuck, mom, in relation to how I'm being treated around here, verbally abused daily about what's going wrong in your life and every little thing I don't get right, I think it's worth mentioning that you're really lucky to have me around. I care about this family, I'm the only legal link dad has to this family since the restraining order was put into place. Who do you think convinces him to pay all this child support without it even being court-ordered, who's the one who has to meet with him to pick up the cheques, because it sure as hell isn't you.

I help out financially, as much as I can afford. I've taken over cable and internet and the monthly payments over one of your damned credit cards, on top of my own expenses. My only vices consist of a screen and a keyboard/controller, and yeah, I can spend hours in front of a computer, but what do you think I'm doing? I'm connecting with people, I'm writing, I'm learning, I'm creating. I ain't just sitting here dicking around.

You never have to worry about where I am or who I'm with or what I'm doing or if I'll be home in the morning. I don't party or 'get smashed' or smoke or do drugs and if I ever call you to pick me up (which has happened once, may I point out) it's because my train back was late I missed the last bus home.

I've got four younger siblings--two younger brothers and younger twin sisters--so seriously, good luck handling the others when they get my age because I'll be long gone by then and they're going to be raised in severely different circumstances.

2010-12-31T23:35:00.000-08:00

Sit alone in my room with a champagne bottle of non-alcoholic sparkling white grape juice.

Finish application for student loans.

Be ignored in the mini-New Year's Party some dotcomrades were having over tinychat, laugh along with jokes I'm not in on.

Leave.

Sing along with a Coldplay live album instead.

Cry.

The bottle says non-alcoholic but I've downed half of it and I feel funny anyway.

Happy 2011.

Chatlog.

2010-12-24T17:37:00.000-08:00

sometimes I feel like my life is one big movie and ever since I was six or seven and old enough realize what was going on around me

it sunk into that plot-low where everything bad happens and everything takes a turn for the worse

thirteen years later I'm still in that plot-low and I've given up hoping for things to get better and instead decided to wait for a laugh track or the credits to roll early

but things keep getting worse and worse and whoever wrote this fucking screenplay is one of those people who doesn't give a shit about their characters just for the sake of depression fuel

so I'm stuck here in emotional limbo until there's not a dry eye in the house

and I don't even know if the writer's a sucker for bad endings

Happiness is relative, negativity is constant.

2010-12-23T21:57:00.000-08:00

This morning, I was bitten by a ferret.

The scratch marks and puncture wounds swelled in tiny streaks on the corner of my hand. The rest of the morning was spent continuing Christmas shopping alongside NSIW I. His self-indulgent purchase of Starcraft headphones was involved. Cheeseburgers and Coke made for an effective breakfast. My present for him came in the form of a yellow envelope containing a Simpsons birthday card that had a pop-up cutout of Homer jiggling at the end of a spring on the face of it, and a gift card to The Lego Store because I remembered him mentioning once in passing he'd wanted to buy everything they sold in there. I also remembered him mentioning once in passing the fact that he hated having his birthday on Christmas if only because people felt obligated to do more for him. I found myself wondering if remembering these things he's mentioned once in passing amongst the torrent of information constantly flooding from his mouth is thoughtful or creepy or just plain foolish of me. He's only mentioned them once. In passing.

I made it to work on time that day. I've been getting in trouble for not keeping that up lately. Clients rushed in and out of the bank in waves, scattering about for last-minute funds for last-minute gifts for last-minute people. The scratches on my hand have turned a brilliant shade of red. I keep stretching out my fingers, making the skin taut and the slight injury sting, beyond my conscious control. Why do we enjoy playing with our wounds, anyway? Is it a compulsion? A need? A morbid fascination with being in control of our own pain?

I come home to pick up a ringing phone, and there's devastating news.

I never condoned the act of crying in front of other people, but in this case I think I'm allowed to make an exception, and I continued to make that exception until I reached that strange threshold where you run out of tears and every sob is dry and dwindling to the point of complete numbness and blank stares and shadowed eyes that feel more and more swollen the higher you lift your vision along that wall in front of you.

I'm at my mother's side as she ends up in fetal positions around the house, the majority of the time spent on the floor.

"I'm losing my mother," she repeats, on linoleum, on carpet, on my shoulder, on her mattress. "I'm losing my mother."

I hold her close, bearing the heart to share her sadness, not having the heart to indicate I could say the very same thing. She doesn't need any more changes for the worse. She's slipping.

The world is blurry through these tears. I stretch the skin on the corner of my hand and all I taste is Coke.

2010-10-29T00:46:00.001-07:00

can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me. can't sleep. professor will fail me.

gpoy

2010-10-23T18:22:00.000-07:00

[narrated]

My old co-workers always talked about parties and high school drama and recent drug experiences. Problems were limited to troublesome boyfriends and girlfriends along with parental disagreements and how hard it was to save properly for a car. We got to wear sneakers and trade shifts and leave early if we didn't take our break.

But now I have grown-up job. The business-casual kind. The kind where everyone around me is either married or engaged or finishing school and starting their career. The kind where I'm quite literally the youngest employee here.

Suddenly, I'm the five-year-old in second grade again, running around aimlessly like a beheaded chicken doing what I'm supposed to be doing on paper while still being generally inept when it comes to basic human relations, with every conversation a ham-fisted attempt at rapport. I can't deal with people unless I make them talk about themselves.

I miss my free rentals but this place looks far better on a resume.

My days usually go somewhere along the lines of...

...so I kinda wonder how I ended up in dress slacks and dress shoes.

Oh, well. At least I still get to wear a name tag.

Oh where oh where has my little time gone

2010-10-22T23:51:00.000-07:00

I'm afraid I'm sinking into that torrential monotony of daily working student life, where time becomes nothing more than a measure of remaining / pending daylight and its once-numerical measurement is replaced by due dates and class schedules.

The height of these past couple of days is easily Pyro and I planning out our trip to Seattle next Spring. The second-best height would be defeating the Elite Four and Gary in FireRed, finally completing that which should have been done in my childhood. These events have made me realize a couple of things.

That I seem to be trying to catch up on the childhood I've missed in the most socially-acceptable of ways. And that the only events and people and devices which make me truly happy are nowhere near me in real life.

I thought I was getting this escapism thing under control. Turns out I've just learned to intensify it in a non-life-obstructing manner.

Better than nothing. Better than the alternative.

NSIW I and I are apparently on non-speaking terms. I've been put constantly in charge of monitoring my brothers' homework sessions in spite of how much or how little sleep I have beneath my belt. Mother is more and more on edge every time I see her.

I miss writing.

I pulled one of those took-a-nap-but-actually-didn't-wake-up-until-fourteen-hours-later things

2010-10-20T23:11:00.000-07:00

(Following post written in terms of yesterday.)

The potential beau, hereonout referred to as NSIW I, is proving himself to be a busy little bee, seeing as he's cancelled on our plans for the fourth time since we last saw each other. Rather disappointing seeing as he didn't even have the decency to cancel today. No, he simply forgot altogether.

I've nothing against his schedule, I of all people know how overwhelming being a working, full-time student in the middle of a parental divorce can be. But I simply informed him that he should be sure of his free time instead of wasting mine.

But you know what the best part about everything was?

I got my Snorlax to level 50 today.

I'm so proud of my little Lardball!

FUCK YEAH PRIORITIES

2010-10-19T20:07:00.000-07:00

I didn't go to school today because I didn't get enough sleep during the night

I didn't get enough sleep during the night because I was up too late

I was up too late because instead of studying I wrote porn

I regret nothing

It should also be worth mentioning that on the way to work this afternoon, I nearly tripped on a baseball left abandoned in the middle of the field. Needless to say the first thing I thought was that it was a good luck charm. So I put in in my backpack.

Shut up no one saw

Crying is like masturbation

2010-10-18T22:48:00.000-07:00

in b4 'you always end up wet' jokes

I had an Economics mid-term today. Everything was going swell until I hit the last question. Too bad the last question was worth 1/3 of the entire test.

I need to figure out what I'm doing. I have the past settled and the future planned but as for the here and now things are very...hazy. I'd always envisioned the present as nothing more than a bridge to reach a goal, yet I've realized if the foundation of the bridge isn't strong, I'll collapse before I get anywhere.

As the title implies, I find that crying is a form a relief. I don't do it because I want to, I do it because as a human being, things get pent up to the brim of tolerance, and eventually I need...release. That's how things are. That's why I have a playlist constructed solely of songs that serve as bawwww-triggers. That's why, more often than not, I can keep my emotions strictly in check when around other people. Scoot doesn't know how lucky she is not to feel anything. I'd imagine that'd be much easier than having to keep basic human compulsions and emotions under constant supervision and control.

Pyro wrote me something to make me feel better, and god knows it did the job. She says she wants to help. I don't think she understands just how having her involved in my life is helping already. I don't know where I'd be without her.

LIGHTS LIGHTS EVERYWHERE

2010-10-17T23:11:00.000-07:00

I accompanied another friend of mine today, Mr. C, to a concert he'd purchased tickets for three months ago. Prior to the concert, we had sushi. Maguro sashimi is now my second-favourite food of all-time.

The concert itself was a very good show, however I could not spend more than a few seconds before knitting my brow, pursing my lips, and nodding sagely.

So this is what scene kids listen to.

Disclaimer: Mr. C himself is not a scene kid, but the artist has a rather unfortunate fanbase.

Turns out she actually has talent. An impressive and controlled vocal range, three instruments, geeky references every other line of practiced dialogue. There was even an acoustic version of the Bed Intruder Song. Heck, I'd love her if I didn't find her sound terribly generic, says the girl making fun of the hipsters surrounding her in the crowd.

We waited outside for a while afterwards, standing anxiously by the metal banisters in hope to catch a glimpse of the show's star on her way back to her tour bus. I held out as long as I could in the meager -2C weather, yet I had to leave him behind in consideration my bus home stops running at midnight.

I arrived at the bus stop at midnight. It didn't help than my phone had apparently died sometime during the evening and I hadn't noticed because I'd put it on silent.

My wonderfully generous mother seemed strangely happy to pick me up, as if it were a welcome excuse to get out of the house. We then went to Denny's and I had a Belgian waffle soaked in strawberries and whipped cream. Spontaneity comes from my mother's side of the family, and I love her for it.

I do hope Mr. C managed to snag himself an autograph.

GREEN GREEN EVERYWHERE

2010-10-16T23:11:00.000-07:00

There comes a point in every Customer Service Representative's life when you're expected to know the regulars by name. Especially when it's part of the job description. In accordance, I'm expected to make more of an effort to be able to greet our regulars by their first name. Be friendly.

A familiar elderly man entered the branch today. My co-worker greeted him as Howard.

It should be noted I was raised by a mother with an Asian background, whereas I was made to believe the very notion of greeting someone older by their first name was drilled out of me by the age of three. It should also be noted that a healthy majority of our clientele are either Asian or European, making their last names less than simple to remember.

Howard it is, then.

He immediately drifted to my neighbor, speaking loudly about not wanting to provide picture identification to me seeing as I was new and didn't recognize him.

So much for being friendly.

Now that I've gotten used to normal transactions, I've spent less time worrying about my performance and more time noticing that most of our customers are quite awesome. Those who aren't really aren't and end up being the main subject of conversation between my co-workers and I for the rest of the day.

I suppose the moral of the story is show courtesy to your bank tellers or else we'll spend the rest of our shift mocking the implications of your lifestyle provided by the history of your recent transactions.

-

A friend of mine, Mr. M, recently got into a car accident and even more recently purchased himself a brand-new car instead of fixing his old one with an amount of money exceeding its very worth.

Not ten minutes after I came home from an eight-hour work day, I received the honor of an invite to be his first passenger.

And so I changed and he picked me up in a sleek little number, its black paint job gleaming with a polish only new cars ever possess. Then commenced store browsings and sprinkled chocolate-covered marshmallow-kebabs and good times with Bruce Willis. The way and good Saturday should be spent.

I wonder what Frank Moses would order from Rocky Mountain Chocolate.

What is this where am I

2010-10-15T23:11:00.000-07:00

Ever have one of those days where things roll at a constant downhill, and the only time the situation levels itself is when you fall asleep?

The last few months have been like that.

I really like sleep.

oh hai

2010-10-14T20:41:00.000-07:00

As you can tell from my day-of-the-week headers, it's actually quite easy to pretend I haven't been absent for the past two months. I've realized something in that time. I've realized that this place is the only place I can go to vent. Like a diary, minus the waste of color-tinted paper.

For cool links, pictures, videos and the like, please feel free to follow my Tumblr, because this will no longer be the place to find it.

------

I've learned a lot since we've last spoken.

I've learned that people who really want to be by your side will stop at nothing to convince you of it.

I've learned that the key to success is discovering your definition of success and what kind of success you're aiming for.

I've learned that a lot of things are easier to handle when you put your own interests first.

I've learned that the mere contemplation of suicide is enough.

I've learned fictional characters can provide better counsel than real people. You just need to know how to write their dialogue IC.

I've learned 19 Chinese characters.

I've learned that my mother enjoys deluding herself with the belief she's the only one here who is suffering.

I've learned that writing what you know is an extremely important advantage, and that the passage to writing good original fiction characters is to take yourself apart and build individual monuments with the pieces.

I've learned that squid can taste sweet.

I've learned everyone wears masks, but some people have a harder time changing them than others.

I've learned that it doesn't matter whether or not you believe in God because He's always there to lend an ear, especially when no one else will.

I've learned how to perform withdrawals and deposits, how to cash and process cheques, how to get you to thank me for putting the funds in your bank account on hold, and how to help you out when you've lost your debit card.

I've learned that certain desires and motivations are only birthed from one's anger, and sadness.

I've learned that I'll probably be mastering the violin quicker than I previously suspected.

I've learned that I've never wanted to throw objects at fellow human beings in anger until my learning of the Westboro Baptist Church.

I've learned that having bad catchy pop songs on my mp3 player is totally okay if you give them all the same funny album cover and end their album title with "...'s Sick Dance Tracks".

I've learned that no, my posters aren't watching me.

I've learned that you have to be careful where you take pictures because plants can look like hairstyles sometimes.

I've learned that HDMI cables really do make all the difference.

I've learned that it's perfectly possible to know people from a further distance better than the people who are literally close to you.

I've learned that these people you may know better can feel figuratively closer to you than the people who literally are.

I've learned that it is possible to know everything about a person without them knowing a damn near thing about you. You don't even need a PhD in Psychiatry. Or to stalk, either.

I've learned that the need for physical human contact evaporates once you tolerate its absence for a while.

I've learned that I don't know a thing.

New format!

2010-08-11T21:12:00.000-07:00

You know it, I know it. I am apparently incapable of keeping a daily journal. So, instead of apologizing every time I decide to update, I will adopt a new format. Starting with this journal entry, I will update the blog once a week with the past week's ~~mis~~doings. Today I'm updating Wednesday, I will then update next Thursday, then the Friday after that, rinse and repeat. I figure I will have much more interesting things to post about if I save them throughout the week.

This week in real life was one of many firsts. Today, for instance, was my first day at my new job at the bank--a three-hour shift that comprised of completing various computer modules. Other firsts include the first time I went clothes shopping on my own; I realize now the only reason I disliked clothes shopping in the first place is because, one way or another, I'm keeping somebody waiting--once I eliminated that factor, I had myself quite a blast. Finally, and arguably my most impactful first, would be that of my first date. We had hung out once before to see Inception for the first time together, and the subsequent first date's goal was viewing it a third time together. What we did for the other seven and a half hours we spent together was an amalgam of talking and laughter with random activities in-between. He is as unintentionally disinterested in common peer recreation as I. I am not sure if it is him in particular or my leaving the house in general, but I'd almost forgotten how to be a teenager before he came along. I'd almost forgotten what it was like not to hold a heavy heart over everything my family and I are suffering through. I'd almost forgotten what it was like to be around another human being who isn't depressed in some which way or form. This is the guiltiest happiness I have ever felt.

This week on the internets good god, where do I begin? Someone's created a Javascript out of a game I played with myself for years. GREAT POSTER OR GREATEST POSTER? And this is why I should never be allowed to furnish my own apartment.

This week in fiction the writer's block is gone. Time to get to work.

Reposts of reposts

2010-08-03T21:36:00.000-07:00

Today in real life I apologize to those I've worried, including Pyro and Scoot. I had a cell phone thrown at me today and was expected to help the perpetrator find the battery for it after it shattered into several detachable pieces. I'm getting very good at mediation. After it was over, I was able to dig out my mp3 player and my headphones from my mess of a room and walk to the bathroom. Thanks to the wonders of psychology, I am partially unable to begin crying until I press play. The new carpet on the bathroom floor is rather uncomfortable but I assume 'pillow' isn't one of its intended functions. A touch over four minutes later, and I'm over it. Another four minutes, and my eyes are barely even bloodshot. The next song comes on. (Yes, I do have a playlist for these things.) I'm sitting on the floor and staring at the wall. Catharsis. Success. This happens about once a week. A purging ritual. I hope I don't sound emo with this entry, because I sincerely suggest this routine for everyone. It's better to have it scheduled than to wait for something to trigger it. No, really. Take it from me, you'll feel so much better throughout the week.

Today on the internets I RP'd with Pyro right before the incident. Again, I apologize to Pyro and Scoot for putting an unexpected damper on things, if I may be bold as to give myself the credit. I tried to keep it to a minimum by not discussing the issue during my emotional compromise and simply leaving the respective areas of our mutual communication. If there is one thing I do not do, it is unload. On a different note, this. Isn't it amazing how civilization in the 1920s pictured civilization in the 1950s? We're already looking back on how humanity pictured the 2000s with amusement, what with the painful lack of commercially available flying cars, household cleaning robots, and weddings. I suppose the most accurate prediction was the automation of our modern world. Who could've blamed them for being so hopeful, though? There was no way we could have predicted our capitalist society to stunt the discovery and growth of new ideas, like how 1920s America couldn't have expected, oh, spikes in national obesity rates to render spiral escalators inappropriate for common use. Nah, I'm just kiddin'. I want a spiral escalator for my house. Then roll a slinky down the middle of it, videotape it, and become the next YouTube fad. Isn't it frightening how easy it is to reach millions of people? And what do we do with that power? Precisely.

Today in fiction working on more fanfic, hope to have it ready for beta before I go to sleep.

Pressure and Time.

2010-08-02T13:52:00.001-07:00

Today in real life marked the first of two days off from work I get this week. There are only four managers left at my store, one of who is also acting store manager for another location, and another who has taken the week off for some unknown reason. This leaves the remaining two, myself and another, sitting on 40 scheduled hours this week. Not so bad until you consider the fact we are both only meant to be part-timers.

Today on the internets I downloaded Everything Will be OK and I Am So Proud of You. I will be obtaining the DVD bundle as soon as the purchase ebbs from the border of gratuitous splurging to fiscal responsibility because the films are strangely observant and morbidly touching and worth every single penny. I'm looking forward to the series' final installment. It should also be worth nothing that I recently purchased the soundtrack from Christopher Nolan's masterpiece Inception (have a listen); I highly doubt Hans Zimmer needs my financial support, but it's the thought that counts, yes? As for Inception, I've already seen the movie itself twice in theatres. A third watch was made possible today by time yet restricted by an unfortunate shortage of funds. Tony Roma's took my money the day before yesterday. It was a most delicious expense.

Today in fiction nothing happened.

2010-07-25T22:52:00.001-07:00

I'm not sure if I'm being openly lazy about keeping a journal or being subconsciously reluctant to continue updating.

LIFESPIRATION

2010-07-22T03:17:00.000-07:00

I've missed you all, a lot.

I'm afraid summarizing the past month without delving into a wall of text even I would tire of seeing halfway through is nearly impossible, but I will try.

My parents' divorce is going along. Perhaps not the smoothest separation of all time, even if the statement itself is the Understatement of the Day, but it's going.

Rem and I have had a falling out from which recovery is highly unlikely. In short, we had outgrown each other a while ago, and both tried to maintain something that was long-since absent from our friendship. There is no forcing these things. We met September 9th, 2007. We ended July 6th, 2010. It's been a solid near-three years. We've went through more things together over the internet than most real-life friends have to endure. We've grown together. And I thank her for providing me the opportunity to be her friend.

I'm being laid off from my workplace due to the location being closed down last August. I have been offered a transfer, which is fantastic in the fact I will have a job waiting for me, and yet I've applied to multiple other places in the meantime. I'm hoping my career in the movie rental business will be coming to an end soon. The impact of how much I'll miss it struck me once I clocked out for my break, grabbed a Spongebob DVD off the shelf, and watched it in the back room during lunch. I maintain that a job will never reach the same zone of comfort I have now until I am able to do that on a regular basis.

I recently purchased a Blackberry. The majority of my day is spent in front of one screen or another. I've lost weight. My room has went uncleaned for weeks. I haven't been writing as much as I would like to, and summer break is just about half-done.

I'm not quite sure which of these last few problems I will remedy. Because right now? I am content. And I will only put down a bet for remedy if the house throws down a chance at happiness into the pot.

In the meantime, I'll just keep checking.

well this just makes stalking easier

2010-06-17T03:51:00.000-07:00

So I got a tumblr.

This site will be my headquarters for every future linkable update ever.

Every new blog post, every new smutfic, every LiveJournal update, every +fav on Youtube, every new answer on Formspring.

It's a mass amalgam of everything ever.

Enjoy?

PS I also decided to stop doing weekly activity polls, I suspect they might've been getting a bit...odd

What past week?

2010-06-13T14:44:00.000-07:00

I really need to get my ass into gear.

In more ways than one.

I enjoy doing nothing but I hate wasting days.

2010-06-05T23:11:00.000-07:00

In real life I have an Economics midterm on Tuesday I'm going to have to study a bit harder for simply not being able to pay attention in class worth anything. Thankfully, everything he teaches is straight from the text. I've been working and going to school the past few days, but had to miss my Saturday Psychology class due to the fact my mother had to go to court that day and there's no one else legally qualified to babysit. It was the reason I had nothing to do. It was a regrettably wasted day. And I say 'regrettably' because I barely got any gaming done. Sorry, Tex--I promise I'll plug in that Ethernet cord one of these days and play the living hell out Valve productions with you.

The day before that--Friday--I closed the store with an unexpected substitute employee from another store. By eight o'clock, the third employee went home for the day and we were the only two closing. He was an interesting person to converse with. We talked about movies, school, siblings, the social impacts of technology, going back to instruments we've long since abandoned. Then I set the alarm, locked the door, and we parted ways. A previous glance over at his employee ID on the computer has lead me to find his Facebook page, and my cursor is hovering over the 's741k' button. The internets are urging me not to be a total pussy. Rationality is urging me to close the damn window and stop being creepy. Some people are interesting if only because you never talk to them again. Maybe I should leave it that way. You can't really force these things.

On the internets| I've updated the Pokédex and reset the weekly poll. In this past week at work, I accidentally mucked up a phone number, and instead of hanging up, curiosity lead me to stay on the line. I reached a law office, and the woman who narrated the voicemail message had a strong Southern accent. It was pretty hilarious. So I figured, why keep this all to myself? For my weekly polls, I will be posting a small activity that may cause you some amusement for the day. Just something new that might end up interesting but will hopefully cause no harm. But we all know the nature of humanity. I'm sure you'll find a way to hurt yourselves with this.

In fiction I've decided to move my IRL writing class projects to this section because it makes more sense. I've gotten feedback on my homework and I managed to pull an A+ on both, but my professor's comments were very helpful and I can see my work improving already, bit by little bit. Spur-of-the-moment writing exercise I'll post is the Mirror Exercise. In fifteen minutes, you interpret the concept of 'mirrors' in any way you see fit, and write. What resulted wasn't as much good as it was a plot bunny spawner. I'll be using it in my final work, I'm just trying to figure out how.

His eyes and his mind are enemies. He is resourceful, strong, legendary. Yet his eyes call attention to his thinness. To his frailty. To his slim arms and ribs sneaking out from beneath the tight skin of his chest. His eyes survey the grime-encrusted walls and bloody footprints by the door and they ask if he plans to stay here forever. His mind tells him there's no reason to leave. He is a resourceful survivor. He is a madman in the dark.

But he's stolen a bike today. He's not sure what he wants to do with it.
This class has made me realize I can produce drivel-with-potential in a span of fifteen minutes. I should learn to write faster.

When I miss a post in this blog, assume I'm busy being happy

2010-06-04T23:11:00.000-07:00

And when I return, disregard the previous assumption completely.

Quick recap of the past couple of days: went to school, went to work. Height of both days involves raising a Magikarp to a Gyarados in a matter of 24 hours. I've nothing to do tomorrow, so here's a list of shit I should remember to tell you about then:

- Callen and interesting people you'll never see again. The page is right there.
- Reset poll to weekly activity. Story behind the phone number.
- Writing from Thursday's class.

It'll probably be a longer entry. Sorry I've kinda fallen off the ball here, guys. I'm just so incredibly tired lately.

run copout.exe

2010-06-02T23:04:00.000-07:00

I went to work, came home, and did homework.

Nothing else of importance happened today because I stayed off of MSN/internet/writing as much as my will would allow because I had homework and would not have been able to concentrate otherwise.

Our treadmill arrived in the mail today, though. Now I have absolutely no excuse not be working out on a near-daily basis.

Parkour, here I come.

WALL O' TEXT

2010-06-01T22:01:00.000-07:00

Today in real life I went to school and did some writing and in fifteen minutes during class, we were supposed to take on the role of a first-person narrator who's describing our character's dwellings while said character is absent.
My presence echos through the high-ceilinged box he willingly called his own, disturbing the long-dormant silence. A layer of dirt blankets the walls and floors of cement, but the pattern on the bottom of his running shoes still linger as imprints in the dust. Sunlight wanders in from the small window overhead, allowing drifting particles to twinkle and the bars of the open jail cell cast striped shadows across the ground. The bike in the corner is an eyesore, a hunk of rusted metal, twisted spokes, and bald tires he cherishes so dearly. A polaroid snapshot of a young girl is taped to the handle: it's the only evidence of film within miles of this wasteland. It [the bike] is his ticket out of this abandoned prison, away from this ghost town, yet he still remains its only prisoner.
Pretty mediocre but idek man he's the protagonist of the zombie story I'll be writing for my term-end chapbook presentation so I figured I'd get to know him.

One of my five-year-old sisters heard her name called from upstairs. "I'll be right back, my friend is calling me." I raise an eyebrow and ask if she means her sister. "Oh yeah, right, my sister." And that, my friends, is your aww moment of the day.

Every time I step foot in the door, whether it's home from work or school, the only thing my mother ever greets me with is how badly her day went and the things she had to go through and how life is terrible, and the only thing I find more depressing than the fact she's in all actuality not exaggerating and is completely justified in her depression is the fact that I realize if I ever heard her ask how my day went, and if I could answer that question without fear of rant or repercussion or lecture on how I shouldn't dare break down and cry about anything--about stress, about life, about having this weight on my shoulders that hasn't been absent since I was a young child--because her stress right now is much, much worse and I don't even know the meaning of the word, my day would be made infinitely better. Tonight, I need to do homework and make dinner and scrub the cat vomit from the stair carpet and wash the dishes and collect the trash/recycling from every room and set out said trash/recycling to the curb and floss/brush the twin sisters' teeth and try to get to bed at a reasonable time to get up at eight and open the store at nine. For the past several days I have had two small holes in my cheek to either side near my second molars making them four in total--they hurt so much I can barely yawn or chew or laugh or smile right but they're healing slowly and I'm not even sure what caused them in the first place but all I know now is that even typing the phrase 'small holes' sets off my trypophobia. I am wearing socks indoors because I haven't taken them off since I got home and I hate wearing socks indoors but I do it because taking them off just before you go to sleep and burying them against the cold sheets before you fall asleep is pretty much one of the best sensations ever. My room is a mess and I can't step anywhere without stepping on something important or fragile or meant to be on a hanger. I just want to sleep, and maybe have a good cry into the pillow before I do. The pillow might not care how my day went, but at least it won't get angry at me for shedding tears on its shoulder.

Today on the internets witnesses the birth of a new overnight celebrity. Also, epic chat log with Pyro, check it out. (Character names replaced with generic pronouns to enhance lulz effect.)

Pyro: [Him] and... whoever tryin to ahve sex
Pyro: And the girl's getting positioned carefully, trying not to get hurt
Pyro: "Okay, okay that's right, maybe you can try going in n--"
Pyro: And [he's] just SITTING THERE
Pyro: And then bursts out
Pyro: LEEEROOOOOOOOOOY
Pyro: /thrust
Pyro: JEENKIIIIINNNSSS
allismine: ..........
Pyro: .......being tired makes weird things happen
allismine: if porn directors were internet geeks I would watch whatever movies they produced so hard
Pyro: I'm pretty sure a lot of them are
allismine: /girl fucking a merman
allismine: "FUCK YEAH, SEA KING"
Pyro: Pr0n: The Movie
Pyro: HAHAAA
Pyro: And then at the end of the porn credits
Pyro: Slowpoke comes in all "hey guys I heard you were filming the porn today"
allismine: ROFL OMG
allismine: oh dude one scene
allismine: guy's swerving, officer pulls him over
allismine: "JUST PLAY IT COOL"
allismine: /rolls down the window
allismine: /trollface while getting road head
allismine: PROBLEM, OFFICER?
allismine: /officer takes off glasses
allismine: ...get the fuck out of here
Pyro: ......why do the most awesomething shappen when I'm dizzy as fuck

It was good times.

Today in fiction I was a dude roleplayin' a dude disguised as another dude. WITH PYRO OF COURSE. So meta.

I'm stopping being lazy at this by being lazy at something else

2010-05-31T22:15:00.000-07:00

Today in real life I had one of my first few days off in ages and blew it playing Pokemon, surfing the net, chatting with Tex and Pyro, messing around in gmod, and otherwise being a completely useless burden to society.

Today on the internets I'm getting rather addicted to My Empire. I know what you're thinking--'oh hey look allismine's one of those annoying FarmVille / MafiaWars fanbrats who enjoys spamming everyone's newsfeeds with shit nobody cares about'--but I'm really, honestly not. Sure, I'm also addicted to Restaurant City and Hotel City but Lord knows I love the Tycoons and I've never spent a dime of real money for virtual cash and I keep those pesky updates strictly visible to friends who actually give a damn, i.e. play the freakin' game. Anyway, if you took Age of Mythology and took away all the strategy, combat, military aspects, and historical + geographical accuracy, you've got My Empire. Conversely, Age of Mythlogy is like My Empire with preposterous amounts of testosterone--PREPOSTERONE. I added a Pokédex to the sidebar up there if you were interested in following along, and added update dates in the titles of the other listed webspaces just to keep better track of things.

Today in fiction GUESS WHO I RP'D WITH TODAY Christ these chat logs with Pyro are too awesome to restrain from the world, THE XMLs CAN'T TAKE THE POWER, CAP'N. Give me a few days (Valve Time--I actually mean a month) to code these transcripts properly because they're so going in a WHFW subheading all their own.

I should probably do that homework now

The Good Old Days

2010-05-29T21:44:00.001-07:00

Today in real life I BEGAN MY POKEMON JOURNEY. I--I got a Charmander and I named him Pyro in honour of my enabler and I've kicked Gary's ass twice so far--you know what, I'll just let today's Tweets speak for themselves.

>>I LEARNED EMBER... whatever that is. about 9 hours ago via txt

>>I CAPTURED A PIDGEY! WHY ON EARTH WAS THAT SO THRILLING about 8 hours ago via txt

>>The Pokemon Center's floor looks like a WAFFLE I'm hungry now about 8 hours ago via txt

>>I missed my bus stop because I was too busy trying to level up my Pokemon RATTATAS ARE TERRIBLE about 8 hours ago via txt

>>ARM CRAMP ARM CRAMP AAA about 7 hours ago via txt

>>So I called shotgun, right? When I caught a Pikachu I cried out 'yes' so loudly my mom swerved the car. I'm a tard. about 3 hours ago via txt

As you can see, it was a very productive day. I'm fairly confident about that midterm I took this afternoon. It's snowing up here again. And today marks the day Rem heads down to Oakland for the summer, so I wish her a safe journey and a quick internet connection as soon as her plane lands.

Today on the internets yet another LiveJournal entry. Like old coots in virtual rocking chairs, Tex and I became engaged in a discussion tonight about how good cartoons used to be when we were younger. We started with some obligatory awesomeness, then moved on to some football-headed kids, time-traveling samurai, hardcore 90s lulz, biologically improbable children, likeable furries, CHILDHOOD NIGHTMARE FUEL, how much chicks dig giant robots, and how they just plain don't make children's educational programming like they used to. There were many more links involved in the conversation, but I wouldn't want anyone reading along nostalgizzing (I AM SO FUCKIN' CLEVER) their pants anymoreso than what is warranted. Now, my fellow 90s kids, click around and revel in the nostalgia with me.

Today in fiction nothing got done, unfortunately. I was much too tired to write or read over anything by the time I finally got home. If only I could choose when and where to spend time sleeping without the adverse effects of doing so...I could be in control of a good third of my lifetime.

I should probably be studying

2010-05-28T23:11:00.000-07:00

Today in real life I opened at work (thrilling) and I came home to find that I got the Pokémon FireRed cartridge I ordered earlier this month in the mail. I booted up my old GBASP (you guys remember these things right it's not THAT retro THIS is MODERN RETRO and yes I still have one the Sonic game that was released for it was just too awesome) to make sure the game works and it does and I immediately shut it off because I have to study for a mid-term I have tomorrow but I am PLAYING IT SO HARD on the way to school. I told Pyro I'd buy myself a Nintendo DS if I ended up getting addicted to the series. They look real nice and they're probably cheaper now and my mom has one and my brothers have one and Cooking Mama is basically the only way I'm able to work in a kitchen without lighting something on fire kay shut up

Today on the internets I was reminded why I have internet friends on Facebook. Tex, you are such a card. For anyone who fandom-dwells, I also got a couple new submissions for my fanfic that made me go all giddy and chair-twirly. I wish I could write faster so that I could probably express my appreciation in the form of STORIES AND STUFF. Oh yeah, and I think I have a problem. I JUST ADDED THE DAMN SONG NOT FOUR DAYS AGO MAN. Here--have a listen. By the way, to anyone running Windows 7 right now, when the hell did MSPaint get so awesome? Did it happen during Vista, because I never ~~suffered~~ had Vista. Seriously, I love not having to open Photoshop every time I want to crop something.

Today in fiction MORE RPING WITH PYRO. I feel sorry for bragging about this all the time and never posting any of the logs anywhere. All I can say that is, after today, they are now a meme.

2derricks1post

2010-05-27T23:11:00.000-07:00

Today in real life I got caught in the rain on the way home from school, and when I say it was delightful, I mean that in the least sarcastic way possible.

Today on the internets a video popped up on my YouTube recommendations list entitled TF2 at 1000 FPS. The video itself is strangely memorizing even if you aren't familiar with Team Fortress 2, but even moreso dream-like, I discovered, was the music. I've went on and downloaded Tycho's album and am loving it so far--before I continue, I think it's at this point where I should let you know how I gather music: I download albums (either referred to me by friends, found via related videos on YouTube, or albums belonging to artists an old co-worker of mine posts to his blog) and if I like them, I go to my music store and purchase a physical copy. No, seriously. BiRd-BrAiNs cost me like $25 but hey, if I like what the artist has to offer, I'll go out there and support them. But I digress. The point is I love Mogwai and Boards of Canada and this one track by Ratatat and whatever source material Pogo gets his talented Australian freakin' hands on and if you enjoy melodic instrumentals as much as I do, I recommend giving Tycho's Past is Prologue a listen. Also, new LiveJournal post. ALSO, How Death Note Should Have Ended [NSFW], courtesy of a Facebook wall post from another long-time dotcomrade of mine, and his nickname will be Tex, and maybe now he'll include me in his plan for surviving the apocalypse.

Today in fiction I got a bit more betaing done. Pyro and I also did some chatbox RPing this afternoon which ended up quite awesome. I am so very thankful I have the 'automatically save chatlogs' option checked. SO VERY THANKFUL.

No style, no history.

2010-05-26T22:58:00.001-07:00

Today in real life I opened at work, returned home, and tried to make my life more organized by attempting to schedule creativity. Needless to say, my plan failed horribly before it even got off the ground. HOW DOES I TIEM MANAGEMENT

Today on the internets I discovered the Mona Lisa as reconstructed with coffee cups. On a related note, check out The Listverse, a site from which you can get a brand-spankin' new list of interesting stuff sent to your inbox every day--the reason I rather get them sent to my mailbox instead of checking the site daily is to avoid having to wade through stupid comments from stupid people. In that spirit, I wish I could get all of what YouTube is and ever will be sent directly to my e-mail address. It would save me brain cells.

Today in fiction even more fanfic binges OH GOD WILL I EVER BE ABLE TO SPAWN ANYTHING ORIGINAL WORTH READING

COOKIES

2010-05-25T22:39:00.000-07:00

Today in real life I went to school, and had a little adventure after class to complete my student loan application process. Armed with nothing but a thirty-pound backpack (who knew books were so heavy), I crossed campus to the Registrar's office, got the document signed, then re-crossed campus to the transit line where I hopped a train to the next stop, walked six blocks to the nearby mall, and dropped off the application at one of the few post offices registered to handle financial aid documents. Then I grabbed something to make up for all the calories I burned and went home. You'll manage to be the death of me, Starbucks, even if I don't drink coffee. Cripes, if you just sold bubble tea I don't think I'd ever have to buy drinks from anywhere else ever again. I'd just spend all my spare school money on Starbucks.

Today on the internets I posted up a new LiveJournal entry. Also THIS GAME HAS CONSUMED MY SOUL. I haven't been this addicted to a flash game since Robot Unicorn AttaAAAAAAAALWAYS I WANNA BEEEEEEEE WITH YOU

Today in fiction I was glad to get some writing done with Pyro, who is also responsible for introducing me to the aforementioned bunny-centric game. I also got some betaing done. FOR ONCE. ~~Time management has never been one of my strong points.~~

tl;dr

2010-05-24T19:17:00.000-07:00

The past few days have been alright.

Saturday I dressed up in the Japanese schoolgirl outfit I bought a while back and went to the con. Unfortunately, all my acquaintances bailed on me last minute and my mother forgot to charge her camera so I had no one to take pictures / take pictures with. ~~As far at the internet is concerned, none of Saturday's events happened.~~ I still had fun, for the most part. I watched and requested some classic AMVs during the random showcase. I attended a writer's workshop where we all wrote prompts, threw them into a box, took out a prompt, then wrote a story based on said prompt in 45 minutes. It didn't seem anyone in the room was familiar with bash.org, but I gave the site credit anyway. Again, here is my creation in all of its uncorrected glory. Feel free to scroll past the centered text if you didn't want to read it--the rest of today's entry lies just past it.

Prompt: Student falls in love with teacher. Incorporate a potato somehow in the story (does not have to be major plot device).

Day 89 - February 14th is on a Wednesday This Year

"This is crazy."

He cocked back the handle of his shotgun. "You're the one who agreed to come along."

"Yes, but..." She tripped over an exposed crack in the curb, stumbling forward a few steps before catching her balance. "I'd thought you'd be teaching indoors, at least--how am I supposed to learn like this?!"

"Hands-on experience, missy--things ain't always like they are in the books."

The virus had spread throughout the small city's population slower than what had been expected, allowing the citizens time to prepare themselves, dusting down old bomb shelters and underground hide-outs alike while storing them full with as many supplies as space would allow. The virus only affected humans who were already dead; as long as the cemetaries and morgues were barred off, they were, for the most part, safe in their fallouts.

Time passed, however, and as supplies ran low, the bravest few were chosen as scouts, to lift spare supplies from long-abandoned conveinence stores and scope out possible survivors left abandoned.

She's not entirely certain what possessed her to tag along as his student, but her unrequited admiration had gone on long enough. The last scout from Shelter 471 never returned, they needed a volunteer to take his stead. Her hand had risen in the air on its own accord, and for once in her life, her own better judgement took the backseat.

But when she takes careful notice of the way the muscles in his arm go taut as his grip on his shotgun tightens, or how the determination in his stare furrows his brow and turns his gaze intent...she doesn't bring herself to regret the decision to have him teach her his ways.

That was, of course, until he decided to purposely take the most dangerous route to the Drug Mart on the corner of Anderson & Main.

Machine gun loose in her untrained grasp, she stuck close behind him, but not close enough to make her look like a coward. It might've been broad daylight out, but she could still spot the silhouettes of slow-walking zombies all around them, meandering and stumbling aimlessly through the dirt.

"It's Valentine's Day today."

"R--really?" she said, only half-paying attention as her eyes went wide at the growing number of zombies in the inner city. "Hadn't noticed."

He snorted, amused. "As if. You're probably expecting flowers from someone when we get back."

"No. Never liked flowers," she mumbled. Oh God that one in the distance was slowly heading this way.

"Really? Never met a girl who didn't like flowers before, unless she was allergic or something."

"Flowers send off a bad message. 'I think you're beautiful and you smell nice but once those looks fade, I'll throw you away and buy someone new'."

"What'd you take then?"

"Anything would be as arbitrary as the next. Might as well give me a freakin' potato."

He raised an eyebrow. "A potato."

"Yeah. See, potatoes might be dirty and ugly and misshapen but they don't die was easily as flowers. It's like saying your love'll last forever no matter what you look like."

They stopped in their tracks. She shut herself up, realizing she'd let herself ramble again. He was smiling a little as he opened his mouth to speak, but just as he did, she felt a hot breath creep down her neck.

The young woman gave a high-pitched scream and whipped around, firing wildly ahead of her with her eyes shut tight. She didn't stop screaming even after her bullets ran out and the zombie was nothing more than a mangled heap on the ground.

"Hey, hey, hey!" He grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face him.

She quieted down and gathered the courage to open her eyes. He was staring straight at her; she could already feel the heat rising to her face.

Laughing, he let her go, and they kept walking the streets in silence.

"Yo..." he started awkwardly, scratching @ the back of his head. "After we finish up here, did you wanna go to McDonald's and steal some fries?"

"I--I'd like that."
I bought a hat. And I met up with a buddy afterwards to binge on gratuitous amounts of Sushi and Pocky. I don't even like Pocky. It was a weeabootastic day.

Sunday, seeing as I'd paid $30 for the weekend and I wanted to make as much use of it as possible, I decided to go back and watch the AMV Contest finalists. Standing at the bus stop, I glanced down at my outfit. Black/red striped arm-warmers, Ash Ketchum's hat, black/red backpack, red shirt, black jacket. I checked my watch. Six minutes until the bus was scheduled to arrive. I booked it home, grabbed my Mudkip, and made it back just in time to catch the bus. Jist of it is I went to the second day of the con in a half-assed cosplay of a Pokémon trainer. It was pretty damn awesome.

[Copypasta from Twitter: A cute guy came up to me, aimed his Pokewalker at me, and said "If you don't have one, I'll be disappointed." I don't have one. FML]

My favourite part of AMV competitions is, hands down, the new music and anime I get exposed to, media which I would have probably never heard or seen any other way. If I were to be completely honest, I'm not that big of an anime fan, but I will choose to watch and ultimately obsess over certain series if I hear good things + if they're interesting. This year, thanks to the contest, I'll be watching Legend of Black Heaven, which from what I gather is about washed-out rock stars regrouping to relive their glory days, and Fate/Stay Night, which--get this--goes off on an Alternate Reality tangent where King Arthur was actually female. The action sequences look epic. I was exposed to a brilliant essay entitled Everybody's Free, one which fills me with an emotion and perspective about life I can't really put into words--if you only click one link in today's entry, for the love of God, let it be that one. I also discovered a kick-ass techno-ish track full of energy that probably makes you feel like a total pimp if you decided to work out while it's playing, a melancholy-yet-strangely-hopeful song with an indie-like sound that makes my heart hurt in the most glorious way possible while listening to it, and a slightly-repetitive dreamy instrumental reminiscent of Mogwai on synth. As for AMVs themselves, there was only one I actually liked enough to remember. I effin' laughed my ass off at 1:37, along with so many other parts (DEAR GOD SO MANY REFERENCES). This video is an example of why AMVs exist in the first place.

I had some time to spare afterwards, so I went down the Artist's Alley and bought a print of some Joker/Harley fanart. I met the artist and shook his hand and tried not to get jealous of the fact he couldn't have been older than I. Dude's a real talent.

Then I returned home, for I was scheduled to work until closing that day. I spent a couple hundred dollars on a mobile internet stick because employees got a discount, and I'm using it right now with thankfully little problem.

Today I worked again. The best part of the day was my store manager, the manager of our in-store mobile phone kiosk, and myself crowding around the box of foam mini-soccer balls we received to sell in preparatory celebration of the World Cup. We spent a healthy majority of our respective shifts attempting to peer through the light stretch marks across the gold wrappings to get a peek of the colours lying beneath, wildly guessing at the teams so that we could buy only the ones bearing the flags we wanted. I wanted Switzerland because it was red and white and the little cross it had on it reminded me of Medic from TF2 because I'm a tard like that. Guess which one I got? Shit was so cash.

Tonight I ran to the corner supermarket to pick up a couple of missing ingredients for dinner. I now realize the only driving thought which encourages me to do anything that involves me leaving my room is 'maybe something interesting will happen'. "Sure, I'll go grab you a lemon from the store. Maybe something interesting will happen." "Sure, I'll walk the dog. Maybe something interesting will happen." "Sure, I'll go to school today. Maybe something interesting will happen." Unsurprisingly, something never does. As a watched pot never boils, it's not a wise idea to spend every day of your life holding your breath...but at least in that case you won't find yourself constantly drowning in pointlessness.

oh there they are

2010-05-21T22:44:00.001-07:00

Today in real life I opened the store at work and kinda-sorta got ready for the convention I have tomorrow morning. I'll try to get some half-decent pictures of whatever interesting happens but to be honest I'm only there to pick up cool cheap homemade merch from the Artist's Alley, cool overpriced licensed merch from the Vendor's warehouse, and watch AMV competitions on a massive screen.

Today on the internets I was surfing /b/ and stumbled across an anti-baaaaw thread--amidst the flood of Courage Wolf and gore pictures I know and have saved in my 'random' folder and love all too well, was a comic I hadn't seen before. I found it quite touching. I also went over to my LiveJournal and unlocked the posts you guys might be interested in. I only have two up so far, but I promise to update whenever I get a new idea. I--if you wanted to see it, of course. ¯\(°_ೄ)/¯ But just so your visit here wasn't a complete waste of time, here's the best site ever.

Today in fiction I wrote and wrote and wrote and still managed to get all of diddly squat done today. Now that takes talent.

where are all the funny redirects

2010-05-20T22:54:00.001-07:00

Today in real life I went to school, then transited halfway across the city to apply for a new Social Insurance Card during my break between classes, then went back to class. I cannot feel my legs. Also I am extraordinarily tired and really don't feel like doing much besides sleeping right now so forgive me if this entry is a little short.

Today on the internets...somehow I spent a lot of time online but didn't actually get anything done or find anything interesting. How...how is this even possible

Today in fiction I got tons of stuff done as well. Started off some long-due betaing (I'm surprised they're all being so patient), got a chance to talk to Pyro and get some spontaneous single-sentence prompt chatbox-fic responses written to remind me that hey look writing fic can actually be fun sometimes, and in Creative Writing class we did a Sky Writing exercise, which is more or less a stream of consciousness using a single phrase from a pre-existing work as a prompt / first line. Here it is in all of its uncorrected glory.

Tide of respiration rises and falls like moons of Jupiter or the chest of a drowning man. The essence of suffocation is not a mere physical sensation, as morality weighs down conscience or banners advertising toothpaste wrap around our mind from all sides. What do we see when we breathe? Lost gasps and missing words of reason punctuate the air of innocence until holes fill and pervade the room, yet you are far too polite to take notice. The plants and trees survive off transparent intentions, greedily swallowing stolen exhales filled to the brims with missing words. And everyone wonders why their hearts are empty.

Holes fill and pervade the room until even the elephants get jealous. Too much in life is left unsaid, and perhaps this is why ghosts exist. Perhaps everyone has a limit, a word count kept tallied by the keepers of souls, and your afterlife is determined by how well these words are spent. Like money. Coins. Words are the currencies of the spectres, and they are valuable.
I don't know what the hell this is supposed to be, but it was a liberating exercise that I recommend highly, for writers and non-writers alike. You might surprise yourself. In other news, we're going to have to submit a 10 - 15 page story, writen, edited, and critiqued upon during the course of the semester, as our final examination. I'm planning to do it about zombies.

Vague shapes outlines in blurs

2010-05-19T20:58:00.000-07:00

Today in real life I attended a mandatory eight-hour Emergency First Aid course to fulfil my promotion requirement as a manager at a movie store. You never know when someone might suffer a burn in the Drama aisle, after all. I heard the critics' reviews can be quite...acidic. Anywho, I got a perfect score on the final exam and now I'm officially certified in First Aid until May 2013. I get a neat little card to keep in my wallet and everything. I think I'll have it laminated.

Today on the internets I realize this blog has gotten just over 1200 hits and, although I find myself wondering where you're all coming from, want you to know I fully appreciate your reading along just the same. Seriously. Thank you. Even though every blog post, every LJ entry, and every tweet is akin to shouting self-important musings to the wind in the egotistical belief that anyone in this world gives a shit about your existence, it's nice to know that once in a while someone out there's listening.

Today in fiction I am once again stuck in a rut. This isn't good.

With the nail on the end of a stick

2010-05-18T23:11:00.000-07:00

Today in real life Spring term has officially started at my school. Technically it started yesterday, but since my regular classes are Tuesdays/Thursdays, my first session was today. Or, at least half of it. Protip: don't stay up until three o'clock in the morning when you have to wake up at seven thirty-five. My mother was also gracious enough to pick me up from school, in the new van she just purchased. tl;dr due to money, time, effort, and future complications regarding legal ownership rising from the pending divorce, it was more logical to obtain a new vehicle than re-registering the one we already have. Those of you who follow me on Twitter may be aware of the process in which the aforementioned vehicle was obtained. tl;dr I was not particularly impressed with the trouble it took, although in the end, it was all worth it.

Today on the internets my Naruto fandom BFF (for all intensive purposes, she is Rem from hereonout) linked me to this handy little program that fluctuates the brightness of your computer screen according to the time of day. The pink-ing takes a bit of getting used to, and anyone who works with colours must remember to turn off the tint to reduce risk of mis-colouring, but I find it greatly reduces eye strain. I'm trying to kick-start use of my LiveJournal account again, and, inspired by the styles of Peter Chiykowski and Emily Horne / Joey Comeau decided to be far less awesome at the style by taking random pictures and adding random captions in half-assed attempts to be entertaining. I also apologize to my dearest dotcomrade Pyro for not being able to speak with you in the last couple of days--my mornings have been consumed by hopeless inanity and I haven't found myself online at a time not unreasonable by both our standards of it. I'm hoping my part in our fanfic trade and this picture of a cat will be able to make up for it.

Today in fiction I have been trying to figure out a way to draw inspiration from one of my most beloved childhood series and channel it into my own original fiction without directly plagiarizing the idea. Looking back, I realize that the show itself was nothing remarkable, but it was the concept it portrayed that I fell so hopelessly in love with. I'm going to try creating a concept that invokes the same feeling within myself, and with any luck, within my future readers. I'm failing hard at it thus far, but I've only decided on this path three hours ago so it's not all too bad of a track record.

idek

2010-05-17T23:11:00.000-07:00

Today in real life I closed at work. I bid farewell to my coworker and we parted ways on the journey home. When I arrived, I began packing the items my father had listed in his most recent voicemail into a great black plastic garbage bag. Fifteen minutes later, I receive the signalling phone call. I get into the car, and my mother drops me off in front of my workplace, barren of life and bathed in the orange glow of the streetlamps. I take the garbage bag with me. She drives off before I call him back, and he pulls up around an unseen street corner, far outside the boundaries of the restraining order. The wind whips at the navy blue tie around my neck and it's only then I realize I'm still wearing my work uniform. Light blue short-sleeved work shirt, tie, stone-grey pleated skirt, knee socks. I feel ridiculous as my father's car parks in the lot. I feel odd as I see him for the first time in two weeks. I feel used as he pulls the groceries out of his trunk and leaves them on the curb beside me while we exchange paperwork, spare clothes, and idle chatter. I feel blank as we hug and he bids me a farewell. Something breaks, and I'm not sure why. I don't shatter until he's driven far outside the boundaries of the restraining order. I don't call my mother to come pick me up until I've stopped crying.

Today on the internets my payment is cleared and the item's been shipped: I will finally be playing Pokemon for the first time since ever. My TF2 fandom BFF--let's call her Pyro--had been rather fond of the gameplay since the day we first started talking, so I asked for the first I should get my hands on, and she eagerly suggested the title. I personally cannot wait to become immersed in this universe. If only because I am in need of a new obsession. Not to mention the pokewalkers look adorable.

Today in fiction much got done today...but somehow I don't feel like discussing it.

Goofing off

2010-05-16T22:28:00.000-07:00

Today in real life hope is provided by the Multiverse theory. If correct, then there exists a dimension where this family isn't broken. Somewhere out there, this blog is nothing but a blank blue page, for I have no use for it. Somewhere out there, we are happy. Unfortunately, I was never one to live in the here and now.

This day was otherwise occupied with heartache and hassle, sprinkled with a light helping of last-minute call-ins at work. Thankfully, I was paired with the single co-worker who never fails to lighten my spirits, and we spent the healthy majority of our shift together pigging out on junk food and listening to my mp3 player through its internal speaker.

Funny how Billy Talent and a bag of Twizzlers can do more for you than any counsel ever could.

My hair smells sweet and I'm not sure why

2010-05-14T23:11:00.000-07:00

Today in real life I woke up a bit earlier than usual and got some internetting done before I went to work. This was a mistake because I was still late for work. I also finished up a couple of official character statements to be used in court during my parents' separation proceedings. Things could be better, I suppose, but hey, at least today's story at work was fun to conceive. It's kind of surreal, y'know? After nineteen years of destruction and repeated attempts at reconciliation, they're actually through with one another--for real, this time. Get on with your life, self. Be strong for the kids. Smile.

Today on the internets I found out that I had become a role-model for a complete stranger. To know that something of my creation has affected someone on such a level fills me with a joy I never quite knew existed. It makes me feel like I have purpose. It makes me want to finish that novel.

Today in fiction I finished off another TF2 fic--everyone who's reviewed so far has seemed to enjoy it and this makes me a happy little recluse. Not much else got accomplished today, though. I'll have to make up for this tomorrow.

idek

2010-05-13T22:56:00.000-07:00

Today's post will be about yesterday, if only because today was a rare day whereas I spent the majority of it in bed writing. Every day that isn't this wonderful only makes me appreciate just how wonderful these days really are.

Anyway.

Yesterday in real life I went to work, where I realized just how awkward questions regarding my weekend are. I know my co-workers are only trying to be polite by pretending for a moment to be interested in what I did with my Saturday and Sunday, but I find myself at a loss for a response. Do I tell them I spent it studying and writing? Do I tell them I've rejected offers to various clubs and house parties so many times my acquaintances have learned to no longer waste breath or text inviting me? Do I tell them I enjoy being a wallflower? Answer. Everyone knows there's no such thing as a happy loner--how could anyone possibly enjoy solitude, it's just not normal. So, for the sake of saving face, I lie. It's a different lie every time, of course--you have to keep track of these things, or else they'll start getting suspicious. Lies don't warrant weird stares and intrusive inquiry. Lies can be swallowed without question. Because it's what people are comfortable with. Because it's normal. I don't mind the lying, personally--I enjoy pushing the boundaries of what people are willing to believe. No complications as of yet, so once more into the breach, dear friends...once more.

Yesterday on the internets I was forced to realized just how harrowing the internet can be. We must get out now, while we still caaaaaahahaha oh who am I kidding, the internet is my anti-drug. Or rather, my replacement drug of choice.

Yesterday in fiction I didn't get much done, but I got TONS done today, so this is good.

Today's entry is unfunny, even moreso than usual

2010-05-11T21:51:00.000-07:00

Today in real life I find myself apologizing once more for the boredom I find myself in. I really want to save you from reading about constant monotony and hope to find something within every day that may provide some kind of enjoyment, to me as I write, to you as you read along. Today has produced no such fascinations. Aside from the fact that I've spent a good part of my day watching Frasier. And the fact that it's 11:00 in the evening my time and I don't remember leaving my room. I think I have a problem.

Today on the internets comes the greatest thing to happen to my desktop since Rainmeter. My inner fandomtard thanks you, wallbase. You can expect a donation from me soon.

Today in fiction I got a lot of writing done...all in my head.

I'M TYPING

2010-05-08T21:13:00.000-07:00

Today in real life I ate spare ribs and ~~that's all that really matters~~ have no shame in admitting they are the main reason why I am out of shape. I also went to school today, and upon being assigned another five-minute class project I discovered there was in fact no animosity--my deskmates are in reality extraordinarily uncomfortable with public speaking. I rather enjoy it, on the other hand. The rush of adrenaline I feel when everyone suddenly looks to me for a speech or an explanation is totally unmatched. Yes, you heard that right. I like being nervous.

Today on the internets I highly recommend that everyone who is in possession of a YouTube account go subscribe to 5secondfilms. They've got so many skits up right now, I find myself clicking stuff in the related videos section until I've forgotten I'm not on TVTropes. Anyway, here's the video 5sf released last year for Cinco de Mayo. Just when I thought they couldn't possibly top it, here's the one they released this year. There are no words.

Today in fiction I've started working on another fanfic prompt even though I'm up to my ears in writing projects but hell I just like burying myself in 'em I guess. What would that be called, anyway? Taphophilia?

Nothing but my laziness to blame.

2010-05-07T19:26:00.000-07:00

Today in real life I'm frightened by how little things have changed since the beginning of my father's absence. Certainly, my mother has random emotional breakdowns on a near-daily basis worrying her head off about financial issues and the future security of our ex-family. But I still cannot ignore the fact that ever since the two-week emergency restraining order was put into place, things have gotten...much less tense. You know there's something wrong when your father is suddenly gone from the home for a mandatory fourteen days and you struggle to find a tangible difference. How is it a major player's life without its major player remains largely unchanged? I can't help but feel sorry for him because of it, in spite of everything he's done. Maybe I'm too sentimental. Maybe I'm just a fool.

Today on the internets I re-watched a wonderful short film I'd forgotten about. As one commenter quoted from the Bible (here's looking at you, Miss You-Know-Who-You-Are--I know how much recent Lost episodes have made you love Bible quotes), "What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul?" (Matthew 16:26). ~~Answer: YOU STILL HAVE THE MOTHERFUCKING WORLD.~~ But in all seriousness, the six or so minutes is worth the watch.

Today in fiction busy busy busy. For my original novel, I'm sacrificing detail and proper English and meticulous writing in place of just getting it done and filling in all the details later. I'm 74 pages in and nowhere near an ending, but it feels damn good to finally get this all out. My mother also read a small sample of my 'other work' and enjoyed it so much she suggested that I try writing it professionally and become a bestselling erotica author while still being an asexual virgin. I might actually consider it if my concept of an interesting romance didn't always involve one of the parties being psychopathic to some degree. Wait a minute...that could actually be pretty fun...

2010-05-02T14:21:00.000-07:00

I was an hour late for work this morning. Ended up sleeping right through my alarm, and waking up to a much-less-frustrated-than-expected call from my store manager.

I receive a call not too long into my shift from my mother, who is having a nervous breakdown over the phone. She tells me my father has done something unforgivable. She tells me a sequence of events that transpired last night, and between my stomach turning and the bile rising in my throat, I can feel myself trembling.

Keep your voice steady.

I won't tell her how I bit back all signs of emotion until a co-worker of mine came in to start his shift and I was finally able to slip away. I won't tell her how alone I felt scrolling down the list of names and numbers programmed into my cell phone and realizing there's not one of them I can turn to. I won't tell her about the embarrassment I endured while calling nearly every other manager to get today's shift covered so that I could be home for her, or how as my voice fails me time and time again, my heart sinks another step while another fellow employee becomes aware that something's wrong. I won't tell her how I began writing my future blog entry on the back of a spare deposit envelope because writing--just writing--was my only true solace, or how I cried over her in the back room until an associate had to come in and see what was the matter.

I won't tell her how I failed to be strong.

An hour passed. I was still on the clock, and there were still customers left unassisted.

Put on that smile you do. Get back to work.

I wash my face before putting on another, and I go out there and do my job, regardless of how the missed minuscule trails of dried salt crinkle against my skin with every helpful smile.

I get a hold of the closing manager and I manage to leave an hour early. The police were in the middle of taking my parents in for questioning when I arrived, and their cars are parked neatly across the street for the world to see. The weight of the cul-de-sac's collective stares bear down on me from behind front porches and second-floor curtains, but I can't seem to bring myself to care.

I receive a call not too long after from my father, who is gaping in bewilderment over the phone after hearing the voicemail I'd left him earlier about how I no longer recognized him as a parent. He tells me my mother misconstrued everything because reputations cannot recover from such accusations, and with the pending divorce, there's money and custody on the line. He tells me he does not have it within himself to do something so grotesque, and between my slowing heartbeat and the mercifully numbing haze washing over my consciousness, I can feel myself not knowing who to believe.

Today in real life my faith is collapsing within itself, and there's nothing there to cushion the fall.

I might actually try this time

2010-05-01T12:47:00.000-07:00

Today in real life marked my first Spring class, Abnormal Psychology. The class is in fact very interesting--the instructor keeps the audience active and involved with the material in the most direct and awkward way possible: 'group up with three people around you and answer the following question'. Thankfully, my nearest deskmates are solid people to work with. I was chosen by the group to be the spokesperson who presented our ideas and arguments to the rest of the class, and suddenly the instructor brackets the group as mine while referring to us. ~~I immediately start to wonder if this will inspire animosity.~~ She also makes us think. She encourages us to defend our ideas, rationally and logically, and this level of engagement knocks most of the class off-guard. I admit, it took me by surprise as well. When asking for class input, voices are usually either supported or proven wrong by the instructor with facts regurgitated from the textbook. We aren't used to our professors asking why. Anyway, besides a surprisingly satisfying 270 minute class, my mother picked me up from school and we had a very nice day out together, involving spectacular Italian food and watching How To Train Your Dragon in IMAX 3D. Allow me to say it's every bit as brilliant as you may have heard or may have been mislead to believe it isn't. ~~LOL I POSTED A PICTURE WITH GEORGE BUSH LOOKING UNINTELLIGENT IS THIS BLOG COOL YET.~~

Today on the internets I'm not sure if this counts, but OK Go's Shooting the Moon was today's earworm. No offence to any readers who may be Twilight fans, but I personally believe the best thing to come out of the movie series was its soundtrack. Is that some Thom motherfucking Yorke? Why yes, yes it is.

Today in fiction there was much progress--I mean, did you honestly believe I spent the entire 270 minute lecture listening to the professor? IT IS TO LAUGH. So yeah, some character development in original fic, some prose addition to Snapshots, more work on an upcoming What Hath Fandom Wrought subsection, The GoogleDoc Adventures. More on the way.

Uneventful Events

2010-04-30T17:26:00.000-07:00

Today in real life I worked, cleaned my room (THERE'S A FLOOR), and got ready for my first day of Spring classes tomorrow. I'd usually have a two-week break seeing as I just finished my last final a few days ago, but this one Spring course (out of the three I'm in) is a weekend class. Spring course + Saturdays only = four and a half hour classes. I've heard good things about Abnormal Psych, though. I hope it's interesting. Then again, anything with 'abnormal' in the title's bound to be fascinating. Or maybe that's what they want you to think so that you can sign up for the course and pay your $600 for the class only for it to end up a huge snorefest...oh, goddamn it. ~~p.s. if my professor ends up having a twirly moustache I will laugh out loud~~

Today on the internets I laughed so damn hard. Mark my words, my doctoral thesis will be related to the internet somehow. Maybe about the correlation between the mask of Anonymity and humanity's true nature. Or why LOLCats are so appealing. HAHAHAHA IT'S FUNNY BECAUSE IT'S IN A BOX.

Today in fiction I got surprisingly little done. I'm disappointed in myself.

The Blog about Nothing

2010-04-29T23:55:00.000-07:00

Today in real life was one of those days where you just wake up and feel bad for no real reason and make everyone around you annoyed because you don't feel like talking about it so then you find a way to suck it up and put on a war face and take on the motherfucking world. At least until you get home and talk about your day like the world gives a shit. I also went to work tonight where my CSR and I spent more time playing Never Have I Ever than doing actual work, and I got a new debit card earlier this afternoon because I lost my old one yesterday at the Yogen Früz we went to after sushi. The strawberry-banana + white chocolate chip combo was worth it. And my debit card has a chip now. Fancy.

Today on the internets my day is made and my next paycheck is spoken for. I want to collect every piece of Valve-related merchandise this website dares to conceive. Imagine the possibilities. An entire line of TF2 classes. Desktop turrets / dispensers / sentries. MINI-STRIDERS.

Today in fiction was, once again, all about the smut. I should really lay off the stuff for a whileahahahaha sorry couldn't say that with a straight face.

Warning: Fangirling Ahead

2010-04-28T14:36:00.000-07:00

Today in real life I just realized I completely missed yesterday's entry. Not much happened--I pulled an all-nighter studying, went to go take the test, came home, then crashed until about...ten o'clock in the evening. If I were to do a log for yesterday, though, sleep would go in all fields. Feels good man. Early this morning, though (midnight to four-ish), I threw in my copy of Watchmen and...Christ, I forgot how much I loved it. The movie itself is nothing spectacular--it's a lot more awesome after first being familiarized with the comic and then reading the comic again to see all the cool shit you missed the first time around and then watching the movie to fully appreciate how faithful Zack Snyder wanted to remain to the source material, considering Alan Moore's infamous stance on modern cinema--but hot damn if Jackie Earle Haley's performance did not make that film. I went for sushi today, that was pretty fun. Oh yeah, and I went to work this morning. It's raining and snowing outside. Rainowing? Snowaining? Rainizzarding? Someone consult UrbanDictionary, I got nothin'.

Today on the internets DO FUCKING WANT. ~~I'm sorry I'll shut up now.~~ Also, it seems this blog reached 1000 hits sometime while I was absent in dreamland. I want to thank you all for reading along with this blog--I hope it's as entertaining to visit as it is for me to write it. That picture is kinda related. It's what I had when I was about three to teach me how to read. I think I might still have them in a box somewhere. Oh wait, this is the internets section, isn't it? Have some Russell Peters on beating your children. And of course my obligatory reaction video.

Today in fiction this about sums up my production nicely.

Updates are shorter when there's nothing to say

2010-04-26T19:39:00.000-07:00

Today in real life I was supposed to be studying for my Economics final tomorrow, but instead ended up spending most of the day in bed on my computer writing stuff and watching Frasier. Didn't help that I managed to sleep away a good fourteen hours last night--thank god I crashed at about six in the evening or else this'd really throw my sleeping schedule off. Not that it matters. I don't even have a sleeping schedule.

Today on the internets I ordered a commission in honour of a newly-found dotcomrade of mine, from a recent fanfic we collaborated on. Hopefully she doesn't choose now to start following my blog regularly or else she'd have spoiled herself long before I intended, i.e. when the commission shows up in her DA inbox because we're subscribed to the same user. Either way, what it actually is is a surprise, so shhh.

Today in fiction my aforementioned e-buddy and I got a lot of fic writing done over GoogleDocs, but there's no telling how long it'll take before its completion. I also had way too much fun writing more to a certain...*ahem*scene*ahem*...for Snapshots & Virtues. I have an unhealthy attraction to necklaces. Is good.

Distractions

2010-04-25T19:16:00.000-07:00

Today in real life I attended the final day of the local comic convention. Aside from spending a bunch of money on memorabilia I never even knew I wanted, I dished out an extra $60 for a photo of Leonard Nimoy, from who I may have gotten an autograph from but still couldn't seem to stop my hands from trembling long enough to get a half-decent picture of the guy. ONE celebrity interaction and I turn into Michael J. Fox. Later, during the remainder of my journey, A WILD TF2 SOLDIER APPEARED. I used RESPECTFUL REQUEST FOR A PHOTO and it was SUPER EFFECTIVE. He's a lot nicer than all the fanfics and videos and in-game taunts make him out to be. Did you know he's a photographer in his spare time? High point of the day, though, would have to be coming across a shirtless black guy wearing khaki pants and a sweater around his neck. Upon my asking if he was cosplaying who I thought he was cosplaying, he then held up his bottle of Old Spice and said "Why yes, yes I am" in his best imitation voice. I snerk'd harder than I would like to admit. Here's a picture of my loot if you wanted to see what I bought. [In case you were wondering, those two decals are actually pins that are supposed to go on hats to express your emotion in the most anime-esque way possible. Like so. I do believe they may be the geekiest things I have ever purchased.] Sorry for the complete lack of pictures including myself at the convention--I kinda went on my own and didn't want to have to keep bugging random strangers to take my picture all the time. Have some Jedi as compensation.

Today on the internets I've uploaded a YouTube video in the spirit of Pink Floyd / Wizard of Oz crossovers, but instead of psychedelic rock it's Top 40 synthpop and instead of a classic American musical it's the introduction video for a zombipocalyptic video game. Even though my production is about as 'in spirit' as Switzerland war participation, it's both amazing and scary just how well the two actually match up.

Today in fiction ideas were conceived but no actual writing got done, aside for some more tidbit adding to the Scout/Auxi coming-home fic, now tentatively titled Snapshots & Virtues. It'll make sense when it's done, I ~~hope~~ promise.

2010-04-25T03:58:00.000-07:00

Tonight my father was arrested.

In retrospect, they were both at fault. If either one had reacted to the situation with calmness and respect, it would not have escalated into what it has now become. I refuse to believe she asked for this, no matter how angry she may have been with him. I refuse to believe he would let himself lose control again if given the chance. But hindsight is always looked upon with the clarity of privileged knowledge--if hindsight was worth anything in this world, I would be the richest person on the planet.

The recited words of the officers drift around the room like a familiar song, lines of reassurance and comfort found crammed between the domestic dispute pages of any social services textbook. Ensure the accuracy of both perspectives. Ensure the blame is properly divided. Ensure they take responsibility for their actions. Relate current situation with personal experience to forge a temporary bond of familiarity and encourage trust.

If any part of their speech was delivered with the slightest hint of authenticity, the demographic that might have been fooled into believing they actually wanted to be here might have been bumped from kindergarten-age to that of a slightly retarded prepubescent. And yet they talk, voices heavy with illusions of wisdom, intonations rising and falling with waves of casual indifference. You're the mandatory results of frantic 911 calls made by raging husbands. You're the black scuffs left by city-standard boots against my kitchen linoleum tile. You're the words we've heard before, the calls to emergency hotlines we've already made, the domestic violence pamphlets we've long built ships out of carrying the hope that there might be an escape and that maybe the paper will last longer this time before it sinks.

You're only human.

My father rises from the basement stairs, his jacket smelling of the cigarettes he's ensured us he's stopped smoking. He's taken by the men in uniform, and as the garage door shuts I'm already running through a mental checklist to gather up the pieces left behind and somehow make them whole again. Clean up the mess. Assure the children. Keep mama sane.

Mother holds my hand within her own and the newly cracked tooth in her weakened smile helps me promise her that I will never allow a man to treat me that way.

She remains oblivious to how tonight's events have only made to solidify my detachment from this world and the people in it, and for her unawareness, I am thankful.

Tonight I am numb, but I am free.

Comic convention tomorrow, I am excite.

2010-04-24T19:35:00.000-07:00

Today in real life it blizzarded outside. I don't care if it's not a word. I also took a Sociology final I'm praying to have simply passed. This semester has been one of complete and utter failure and the only way I could be more disappointed with myself is if I ever, ever let myself do this badly in school ever again. I wore one of my super special awesome t-shirts to school today. When I got on the train home, the first thing I did was draw an awesomeface on the condensation that gathered on the window, because it's just what I do. A small group of girls started laughing knowingly upon seeing it, before discretely pointing at my shirt and saying "Aww, Scout." They thought I couldn't hear them because I had my headphones on. But I could hear them over the song that was playing. Oh, yes. I could hear them.

Today on the internets I created a little promo-sheet thing for me and my coworkers' upcoming webseries. (I'll post details once we get things in motion.) Multiple copies of the sheets were printed and handed out at the table we had at our local comic convention today. Long story short, the episodes weren't filmed in time and we were stuck with an expensive table at a huge convention for an awesome show that didn't even exist, so the table was turned over to another co-worker of mine who's in the show so that it wouldn't go to waste--he's a really talented freelance graphic designer and it'll help pimp his talent out. Last day of the con's tomorrow, and I plan on buying tons of stuff. I don't even know what kind of stuff. Just stuff, bro. On an unrelated note, a long-time dotcomrade and I have realized our MSN conversations are so amazing they would make for an awesome webcomic. More on the way.

Today in fiction I rectified the fact that my original novel failed the Bechdel Test. A certain two female characters of mine have just become amazing.

Nearly there, nearly there.

2010-04-23T17:48:00.000-07:00

Today in real life I opened the store, meaning it's my job to take the previous night's deposit to the bank next door. It was then when the bank manager approached me at the counter and told me that one of the managers there frequent my store and constantly commends me for my outstanding customer service. I was then told I should feel free to drop off my resume any time. I believe I will. I believe there are many more opportunities at the bank that I may take advantage of to further my economic pursuits. I believe, that if it all goes well, I will still work a couple of shifts a week at my current job because the free rentals I get as an employee will probably be worth more than I earn. Free games, man. Free games. I am also studying for my Sociology final tomorrow afternoon. This is going to be fun.

Today on the internets My Buddy Keith is almost at seventy watchers and I am freaking out [/shameless self importance]. Reorganizing my favourites on DeviantART has renewed my love for my current desktop wallpaper. And Collegehumor's Jake and Amir just got awesome again. ~~March 15th is my birthday, dammit.~~

Today in fiction I was murdered by Rorschach. May I rest in piece.

It's been a while.

2010-04-23T00:59:00.000-07:00

I've missed you so.

CRUISE CONTROL

2009-11-04T23:38:00.000-08:00

Today in real life marked the first day I have ever stayed home from school due to an illness. No, it isn't the swine flu, and no, I don't regret deciding not to get vaccinated; it's just a silly little head cold that made me want to fall over anytime I stood up straight. I really hope I didn't miss anything terribly important in class today. Now watch as I go to all five classes on Friday and no longer know what the hell's going on anymore. FML. On violin, with minimal squeakiness, I can play Lightly Row, Go Tell Aunt Rhody, Song of the Wind and six variations of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. HOLY MOTHER OF SPANKING MEXICAN BEANS YOU BET YOUR SORRY BEHIND I SAID SIX BECAUSE ONLY NAZIS, FURRIES, AND PEDOPHILES CAN LIVE THEIR LIVES KNOWING LESS THAN FIVE.

Today on the internets I LAUGH AND LAUGH AND LAUGH and no I'm not bitter for not being cast as the princess even though I was much better than who they selected why would you suggest such a thing? I also vow to draw all future academianspiration from this fandomsecret, which I made myself, so I guess by confessing that it isn't much of a secret anymore but who cares DEATH NOTE IS AWESOME.

Today in fiction Mizuki gets his ass kicked. That's...that's pretty much all that happened in fiction today. CAPS LOCK

Short entry is short.

2009-11-03T16:38:00.000-08:00

Today in real life I went to work, then I came home.

Today on the internets I accomplished little more than this blog entry.

Today in fiction Tensai Generation's sixth installment is just about finished. Also, I struggle to have Hidan develop while staying in-character. Why does he have to be so hard?

I just wanna play Fallout 3.

2009-11-02T10:11:00.000-08:00

Today in real life school was fantastically boring. Or perhaps its still fascinating and I'm the one haplessly losing interest. In order to keep myself going, I must find a novel way to encourage myself. Welcome to my new academianspiration. For some reason, I realize whenever I imagine them watching over me, the very thought drives me to study harder, because even as a non-genius, I know I could still gain their respect if I tried hard enough. Sure, it's a completely friggin' crazy reason for getting awesome grades, but whatever works, right? Right? Ah. [I smell a new Secret in the works.]

Today on the internets I recieved a glowing review (id # 3000177376) that reminds me it's all worthwhile. [Thank you for making my week, Anon. Reviews are the heroin of the writer's soul.] I also lol'd at this revelation during Anthropology class, as in 'why the heck hadn't I thought of this complication before?', 'why the heck hasn't anyone else thought of this complication before?', and 'why the heck am I thinking about the potential obstacles of time travel when I really should be paying attention to Anthropology class?' Damned dirty polygamous infanticidal apes.

Today in fiction Rorschach is about to kill me for not updating since July. After months of verbal and emotional abuse, Yuni finally starts getting upset over being rejected by her Sensei, forcing his hand to take a proper course of action. Light and Misa are becoming focal points in the new chapter, and I've doomed a character to being a servant of Hell for two millenia because of a completely selfless decision. Life's a bitch. [As the saying goes, if it were a slut, it'd be easy.]

A day off? In MY calendar?

2009-11-01T12:49:00.000-08:00

Today in real life I missed out on trick-or-treating with my family for the first time ever, due to my recent move to the area and hence, me being the last person to book off Halloween night. It was depressing to miss such a tradition, yet the overall candy haul was above average even without my participation, thanks to the generosity of this new neighbourhood. I am now booking off Halloween a year in advance. Later on into the night, I took on the role of the goddamned Batman and was thrilled with the smooth gameplay, great voice acting, and every little graphic detail that went into creating the Asylum. Kudos to you, game developers; you've made quite a gem. Other than that, and for the first time in two weeks, I have absolutely nothing else to do outside the house today. Best get to cleaning and studying. Both my room and my academic mind are a fair mess right now.

Today on the internets I sldkjfsadkjfhusydfh'd. So many good posters lately, so little wall space. To think, I might actually have to give one of my wall scrolls away to make room for this. The torture! The depression! The inconceivability! щ(°Д°щ) I also found this Cardcaptors lot that I am more than willing to pay for right this minute. Have you any idea how rare those collectibles are? The Lasin Board and Clow Card Shooter alone were pulled from the Taco Bell toy lineup soon after their release in 2002 because of religious communities' complaints of their resemblance to dark magic! Dude!

Today in fiction I'm just about finished ironing out the kinks for Until Life, so that should be getting updated again on time as of next week. Hopefully. Same goes for Decent Society, although the hiatus for that one is more properly attributed to a mixture of laziness and too many more important things to do IRL. (Damn IRL.) The next chapter of Tensai Generation is coming along wonderfully, aside from the fact that I have apparently forgotten how to write angst. Me. Forgetting how to write angst. I believe the world may be coming to an end soon. Or maybe I've grown too content with my current surroundings. Note to self: be moar emo moar often, it helps you write better.

Games and death and fantasy.

2009-10-30T01:37:00.001-07:00

Today in real life my boss decided to put a co-worker and I at war for a super special awesome poster the store received recently. (I have the spot on my wall prim and proper and prepared and everything, right there in-between the Akatsuki and Rorschach.) Apparently, we both preordered The Master Assassin's Edition and must prove ourselves worthy of having Ezio in our room (/innuendo). Now, if this were a battle of strength or wits, and as those links are extremely related to my personal advantage, I would have kicked my competition's sorry fifteen-year-old bum from here to whatever era Assassin's Creed III will take place in, but unfortunately this war was revealed to be a matter of selling the hell out of everything our store manager tells us to. Well-played, SM. Well-played. No matter how much effort it takes, I will outsell that boy, and come November 17th, I will be taking home both my box-set of magnificence and win AND one wicked poster to boot. On an unrelated note, I also added another entry to my bucket list: to play this with true friends.

Today on the internets I officially diagnose myself helplessly addicted to Poisoned, and I don't even ship Mello/Near. Good game, Akane. Literally.

Today in fiction a horizon was born. Right now, neither Until Life nor Decent Society exist, at least not until I get my time more efficiently organized. I'm finishing the next chapter of Tensai Generation! Honest! And murder-suicide is looking like an extremely attractive option for my original series; now, to build up their characters to make the scene worth a damn.

Late again, but still alive.

2009-10-30T01:33:00.000-07:00

[Entry from September 9th, 2009]

My professor for Linguistics was a thin man with short, dark hair and glasses, carrying an accent I couldn’t quite place. The electronics podium for room 139 was malfunctioning. I notice the maintenance crew for this university is much more well-composed than it was for my last school, although that isn’t saying much; I’m sure this college at least has more than two of them.

“Introduction to the History of Latin America” blazes across the splash screen, and I realize I’m in the wrong class.

So much for listening to redirection notes plastered on the front of classroom doors.
I arrive a few minutes late. My actual professor has the same general characteristics as the last, minus the accent.

The Teacher’s Aide shows up even later than I. She’s trembling slightly, wide-eyed and nervous. It makes me feel better, as horrible as that may sound.

I’ve lost my direction cheat sheet. I suddenly regret not writing two copies.

The next classroom I rushed to is most likely the largest of all four. My Anthropology professor is an older woman, one who looks as if she’s been on the field--one of those experienced types, rough around the edges. She has a microphone on her, and her speech makes it obvious she’s from Montreal.

This class is the introductory session to the University’s Anthropology department. I look throughout the crowd of two hundred and can’t help but wonder how many will actually stick with this major.

I realize she’s speaking a lot about apes and monkeys. I realize ‘Primatology’ is short for ‘the study of primates’. I realize just how smart I am.

I take a seat front row center. I wonder if people consider me a keener, and soon realize I don’t really care.

My chair swivels in 37 different directions. Comfy.

My first Psychology professor is a Caucasian man identical in description as my first professor, minus the accent and glasses. He uses a laser pointer. I’ve honestly never seen that before. You’d think it would be a more obvious and convenient choice.

What is it with college professors and the Mac operating system, anyway?

He showed us a clip of the Matrix in class to express the summary of the method of the brain’s perception. That is awesome. He’s somewhat energetic, encouraging participation from an unfortunately lackadaisical classroom.

Notes from a 400-level Mechatronics class is still on the chalkboard, and I vaguely recognize the mathematics. Kind of want to switch to an Engineering major. Word around school says they’re master pranksters, not to mention their building constantly smells like peppermint.

My second Psychology professor was late. He is a larger, older man, who entered in silence with a stern expression. He was balding slightly, as all my male professors seem to be. Apparently managing hundreds of young adults in the classroom stresses the hair right out of you.

Another technical difficulty. I somehow suspect he called the area’s maintenance-woman over on purpose. That was cute. I ship them.

I was mistaken. He turns out to be a fairly jolly individual. He podcasts extra information and answers to students’ e-mails on the course website.

The class in question was an introductory session, and hence, abnormally short. I sat on the ground by the lockers outside my next classroom and ate applesauce. It was the first time I’d ever eaten in a school hallway. I felt unreasonably giddy. “So this is what normal students do.”

I notice a male eyeing me as he enters the classroom. Out of all the available seats in the room, he claims one three down from my aisle. He won’t stop staring. I smile gently at myself, pretending rather it’s the screen which is keeping me amused. A girl with a smaller waist and a shorter skirt sits next to me. My temporary admirer’s attention is newly drawn. I feel nothing.

The history professor steps in. He’s a younger man, perhaps early to mid thirties, who possessed the same stature and hairstyle as Ricky Gervais and has the voice of a motivational speaker. He makes History interesting to listen to.

All in all, it was a fascinating first day. I look forward to seeing where this semester takes me.

¿Para qué existes?

2009-08-12T05:32:00.000-07:00

Today, I'm restarting my life.

Tomorrow, I will wake up a better person.

Shameless self-promotion.

2009-07-01T05:40:00.000-07:00

Today in real life I taped up the Vault Boy poster which came with my purchase of the Fallout 3 Add-On Pack (an expansion set featuring such terrific exploits as venturing through The Pitt and undertaking Operation: Anchorage). Now, if I ever got around to actually finishing the original Fallout 3 in the first damn place I might actually end up inserting this disc into my 360 one day. Either way, the poster is amazing win. I keep looking at it and manage to make out something new each time. Ha ha, I see a bunny!

Today on the internets I was in another bad mood and I ripped a poor, unsuspecting foreigner a new one. I have no regrets. Bad!fic writers must be stopped before they grow into the epitome of all which fandom despises most. Next to radical fangirls. And furries. Contrary to popular belief, normal members of fandom do not condone this behaviour; it is looked down upon universally. Of course, please keep in mind this is coming from someone who has written erotica for a Japanese children's graphic novel series, and visits /34/ sites on a regular basis. The former for great justice. The latter for the lulz. Remember, kids: shame is an emotion saved for people who possess the species of pride which is susceptible to injury.

Today in fiction Rorschach has been silenced and I'm beginning to miss his rough voice nagging in my head about how important it is to catch this criminal and how the longer I procrastinate writing the story, the further he slips from justice's grasp. I am a freak. The plane crash of doom has been written back into a main storyline, and so has the understandably over-worried parents and the black-suited men determined to reach a monetary settlement out of court. Because of my recent lapse into nostalgia, I considered writing fic for Card Captor Sakura, but the series itself is far too flawless and innocent to be tampered with. On a more ironic note, I first discovered I enjoyed the art of guro based on the gratuitous amounts of CCS fanart I found scattered throughout the Japanese fanbase. Thanks, /34/!

Libraries are now On Notice.

2009-06-18T15:06:00.000-07:00

Today in real life I am in pain. A good pain, though. A day-after-working-out / I'm-going-to-feel-this-in-the-morning kind of pain. I regret nothing, except perhaps the way my friends stare at me whilst I peel the stickered labels off of anything and everything I purchase. I'm not entirely sure how this is at all related to the relentless burning sensation in my thighs, but I thought plucking something from my stream of consciousness would keep my mind off of aforementioned sensation, howsoever temporarily. Reading Kesey's One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest may help as well, although I can't be too sure. I was forced to invest $19.95 in overdue book charges and a membership renewal in order to borrow this classic piece of literature from the library. So much for trying to improve the quality of my life by exchanging PDF files for the supposedly romantic ideal of reading from physical copies. I knew reality was overrated long before I felt the aged, fragile pages of a $20 rented book feather gently across my fingertips; I just hadn't properly come to terms with the fact until I was rendered penniless by yearly charges and back-fees. The thieves!

Today on the internets my irrational fascination with concept art has lead me to irrationally lust for things which I cannot afford right this minute. [Thieves, I say!] I thank the Lord in heaven the item's back-ordered or I would have been far too tempted to put it on my credit card, and continually trusting yourself to charge things now and pay them off later, my dear friends, is how debt is formed.

Today in fiction my mind became stuck in Ryuuzaki's over-analyzing character and I ruined(?) the ending of Donnie Darko for myself. A plane crash and its circumstances were written completely out of a plotline, yet the war-esque visuals from the protagonist's POV were stored, to be used at a later point in time. Academy Student Uzumaki Naruto finally has a female peer involved in his life who isn't a complete douchebaguette, and Rorschach is scolding me in my head for procrastinating his fanfic update. Frightening sentence fragments are frightening.

I need to work less and play more video games.

2009-06-12T15:24:00.000-07:00

Today in real life I reconsidered the idea of giving up writing forever to dedicate all my free time to Fallout 3 and Diablo 2 upon realizing that if I continued down this path I would end up with nothing more than frustrating level caps and the ability to mow down homicidal bipedal cows, whereas if I continued with my writing I might get an actual book deal which might garner an actual fanbase which might make me actual money. I still think "Saviour of Megaton" and "Three-time Slayer of Satan" looks more impressive on a resumé, but you can't really help the world. Speaking of jobs, Watchmen placards were received by my workplace today in lieu of its pending DVD release [insert squee here]. Of course I took one home with me. A close friend of mine suggested I put it under my pillow so that I could say I slept with Rorschach every night; she believes she can get away with this statement because she rides Edward Cullen every morning, her bike which incidentally shares the name of a titular character of some literary series I can't quite remember the title of. Either way, let the record show that Rorschach, along with Kamina from Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann, Nagato Yuki from The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, Hidan from Naruto, L from Death Note, and Thomas Harris' Hannibal Lecter, is nothing more than a character!crush, and I am not one of those weirdo fangirls who would totally have sex with them if they were real. I just admire their characters. Honest. Given, if I ever had an older sibling, Kamina would be him. And we would break through ceilings and pierce the heavens and probably both end up getting arrested for the stunts we pulled but come out of it laughing our asses off anyway. Just saying.

Today on the internet Blogger's auto-save feature failed me and I had to rewrite this entire entry from scratch. I shall discuss the fail of my university's website tomorrow.

Today in fiction Rorschach's mindset takes over where my empathetic imagination fails, and his method of thought is beginning to frighten me in the most wonderful way possible. My novel has a definitive beginning and a definitive end; all I need to do is create a definitive middle and I'm golden. The art of the Australian school uniform does not go unappreciated, and my original characters are having a difficult time staying IC. How would he react if placed in such a supernatural situation? I feel like I'm writing fanfiction here.

Made you read.

2009-06-11T00:07:00.000-07:00

Today in real life marked my twin sisters' fifth birthday, necessitating the obligatory cake-and-present ceremony at the fine establishment for children's entertainment, Chuck E. Cheese's. My family and I had thought it best to make most of the occasion for as long as a trip to Chuck E. Cheese's was still the girls' idea of having fun. There was Hawaiian pizza and Strawberry Cheesecake ice cream cake involved, and not much can go wrong once those two party-makers enter the picture. We all had a wonderful time. Much video and photographic evidence of my presence had been taken, almost perfectly fashioned for my alibi. Life is good.

Today on the internet I have decided to accept Twitter into my life. I used to believe that a website dedicated entirely to Facebook statuses served little to no prevention from inevitable boredom, but now I've come to realize exactly why use of the site is so popular. The idea that someone out there in the big, wide, nasty world actually gives a rat's ass about what you're doing at any given point in time throughout the day gives the user such an inflated sense of gratuitious vainglory they can't help but become drawn to repeating the very process anytime something remotely interesting (or boorishly uninteresting) happens to them. On the other hand, people who enjoy reading other user's Tweets are lead to think real-time blurbs and spontaneous sentence-long emotional gushes are giving them insight to that individual's processes of thought, hence arousing a warm-and-fuzzy feeling within the reader which assures them they are a special little snowflake for continually being allowed to see that far into someone else's mind without ever having to interact with another human being. Twitter serves as the crack cocaine for the attention-junkie side of the human soul. Withdrawal symptoms include attempting to make daily life more fascinating through mental literary narration and gaining an inexplicable need to vocalize one's every thought.

Today in fantasy several Akatsuki members from Naruto were cock-blocked by another unexpected scarcity of writer's inspiration, and Rorschach of Watchmen fame hit a woman who totally deserved it.

The Triad of My Days

2009-06-09T18:59:00.000-07:00

Today in real life I have made it this year's goal to turn my siblings, who hate the act of reading to their very core, into Pottertards. I'm not too involved with the fandom myself, but dooming my brothers to master both proper snarky literature-to-cinema critique and the use of the word 'exasperation'? I mean, what are big sisters for? Besides, page 556 of Half-Blood Prince (2005 Canadian Hardcover edition) makes one hell of a bedtime story. Sweet dreams, kids.

Today on the internet Pokefreak, resident artist BNF in the Naruto fandom and overall Pretty Cool Guy, received my request to sketch out which would probably be his 2823794th Naruto OC. Even though I'm looking forward to having a visual on my character's new design for future reference, I can't help but feel sorry for the poor artist doling it out. Even though he's making a killing by reopening cheap commissions to the public, any more fan-made Naruto characters and I wouldn't be surprised if he snapped and just made the switch to Bleach once and for all. And although I don't regret my purchase in the slightest, the reason why I insist on spending my hard-earned money on having various artists infinitely more talented than I concept-sketch my original fanfiction characters is yet to be realized; though, with my recent purchases of Watchmen: The Art of the Film and The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya: Cho Gekkan Nagato Yuki, I believe I may be becoming a wee bit obsessed with character creation and concept design. It's fun and oddly satisfying to have an original description realized in ink, in spite of the fact that I could be saving that cash for many more important things. Like school. Or a car. Come to think of it, I would probably be better off getting my driver's before picking out different shades of fluorescent orange and Hello Kitty seat covers. [Don't even get me started on the fuzzy dice. I bought those when I was sixteen.]

Today in fantasy several fictional characters remained completely stationary due to their writer's apparent lack of inspiration. All my writing-in-progress is stored on an original Windows 95 hard drive: the first computer I ever pressed a power button to, an OS free from needless distractions of internet connection and addictive Blizzard-produced RPGs. When Word Processor boots up, I have eight separate projects pop open at the same time, so that whenever I write enough to become bored or uninspired with one document, I can just switch to another window and delve back into a completely different universe. In spite of this seemingly flawless system, I manage to win at least seven Solitaire games a day. What's wrong, muse? After that whole poetry anthology fiasco we went through last year, I really thought we had something together...

No more pencils, no more books.

2009-06-07T11:53:00.000-07:00

It was only this morning when I truly realized that I've been out of school for a little more than a month.

It was only five minutes ago when I realized that I shouldn't waste this precious free time feeling sorry for myself and posting faux!profound emotive ramblings on a page identical to the 97.54% of blogs on the internet I mock healthily on daily visits to Encyclopedia Dramatica.

Shameless hypocrisy is why I'm deciding to turn the voice of this blog around to finding some kind of humor in life everyday, along with some various lulzy updates courtesy of my numerous, numerous webspaces.

Life is much too short to only highlight the bad sides of things.

Therefore, I intend to go crazy with my bright yellow marker.

Robber Brought Down By Teenage Girl

2009-05-05T14:45:00.000-07:00

(AP) - An unusual turn of events yesterday evening has placed a would-be robber in the hospital and his intended teenage victim in court.

Alexander Goldberg, 37, was charged with two counts of attempted robbery and assault with a deadly weapon for trying to mug a young woman at knife-point on Centre Street yesterday evening. Little did he know that his eighteen-year-old victim, who has chosen to remain anonymous, had acquired a first-degree black belt in Karate.

"It was crazy." says Goldberg. "I just remember waking up and everything hurting."

Goldberg turned into the emergency room of a local hospital last night with an abdominal stab wound, a broken nose, a mild concussion, and a hairline fracture in his left arm.

Charlie Oak, Goldberg's legal representative, has pressed aggravated assault charges against the young woman, suing for the total of his client's medical bills and compensation for pain and suffering.

There has been no response from the victim regarding these charges.

When asked to comment on her retaliation, she replied, "I was having...a bad day."

I had an apple after it was finished.

2009-04-20T21:07:00.000-07:00

No verbosity, no dawdling.

I have been feeling depressed for the past few weeks. Not in a sense of self-destruction or suicidal ideals, simply...depressed. I couldn't find a reason why, instead attributing my unfortunate state to a combination of smaller internal and situational factors. Those who attempted to help me became frustrated with my inconsolable predisposition. Others didn't care enough to try.

Last night, I walked to sit on my bed, and accidentally stepped upon a protruding metal piece from the wheel of my former-canopy bed frame for the 19985662nd time in my life. I got up on a whim and walked into the garage. At a few minutes past midnight, I retrieved a few of my father's tools; among these, a keyring set of Allen wrenches, pliers, and a flathead screwdriver. I stood my mattress up against the wall, followed by my box-spring. I opened iTunes.

And I single-handedly dismantled my bed frame.

Given, I did need my father's help carrying the un-dismantle-able (not a word) lower frame to the basement. I placed all the bolts, washers, and screws into a small Ziploc bag, and took them downstairs along with the metal poles. I was officially sleeping on a mattress on a box-spring on the floor. Very low to the ground. I enjoyed the new perspective.

I figured, why stop there?

By the time I'd transferred all my space-consuming, unused books to the storage closet across the hall, dusted, reorganized, vacuumed, did three loads of previously-neglected laundry, and showered, it was ten o'clock in the morning.

And I felt fantastic.

[Physical labour + music is the official cure to all emotional imbalances. Next time I'm feeling emo, I'll remember to break out the DDR set.]

Adequately Inadequate.

2009-04-05T15:38:00.001-07:00

Sounds of high heels chipping away at iced pathways; scarves worn for decoration over warmth. Torrents of rain and heaps of sleet replacing the assumed normality of snowfall. Members of my demographic sporting push-up bras, accentuating heavy cleavages revealed by ridiculously low necklines.

Spring at last.

I want to be free of this, God. I want to go somewhere where no one knows me and dash my way through some abandoned wheat field far from all civilization, yet at the same time I want to waste money on an energy-guzzling mini-fridge and lock myself in my room for a while, entirely undisturbed. Which is more beneficial to the creative process? Solace in nature or isolation of self?

I am ridiculed for maintaining a lack of desire for sexual contact. I am bashed for never having experienced the effects of drugs, I am belittled for possessing no desire to consume alcohol. Simply because immorality has become socially acceptable, why am I considered to abnormal to abstain from it all? Who are these beings to make judgements of me? Who do they believe they are?

I don't deal well with these individuals, these people surrounding me. A lingering feeling heavies my heart, one which tells me that I do not belong here. Why do I continue pretending? Because it's socially non-redeeming to act the contrary? Because I've become disillusioned with the notion that I am meant to become one of them?

My identity is tangible, but simultaneously, lost.

And the fact I even feel this detached forces me to question my own integrity.

Honestly, how much more pretentious can I possibly get with these goddamn entries? Perhaps I'll write something less self-important next time.

My sincerest apologies.

Concrete

2009-04-05T00:01:00.001-07:00

I've finally decided what I want to do for the rest of my life.

The assurance is comforting.

This past Thursday in Forensic Psychology, my class watched a documentary (an old episode of PBS's Nova) on the mind of a serial killer. I can't be too sure whether it was the eloquence of the doctors interviewed on the show or the fact that it was Captain Jean-Luc Picard narrating stories about homicidal psychopaths and prostitute evisceration, but something about that film sparked my attention. I'm not sure how my life will change now that I have a discernible goal to plan out and strive toward, but I'm more than willing to spend a little more than decade of my life working for it.

If all goes well, I'll be a full-fledged lawyer and forensic psychiatrist before I'm 35.

(Thanks, Patrick Stewart! Is there anything you can't do?)

Diary of a Kid

2009-03-22T20:27:00.000-07:00

I'm so...angry right now.

And I know there's something wrong with me.

Because I'm at a mental point where, if you put a gun in my hand right now and asked me to kill them all, I would have no qualms doing that.

And that's a bit of an overreaction.

I'm high-strung. Tense. It's been like this a lot lately.

If you talked to me right now, like mom just did trying to support me through this drama, you would never know.

Total apathy.

But I'm raging inside.

And I hate the fact that people can get me this way.

Because having a reaction to something means that you care enough about that something to have a reaction to it.

And I'm trying to convince myself I don't care.

I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. I don't care.

Life was so much better as a hermit.

Me and a computer screen.

All I need, honestly.

Without that behaviour, I would have never gotten active on the internet. I would have never had real fun for the first time in ages. I would have never met you.

I don't know where I would be right now without you to talk to. Without you to listen.

In an emo ball somewhere with a gun in her hand.

On thin ice, waiting to sink, knowing no one's gonna risk a rescue for an insignificant scrap like me.

2009-02-09T16:14:00.001-08:00

On my way to work, there was a shopping cart sitting in the middle of the frozen lake.

On my way back, I realized the ice had begun to melt and that the cart wasn't there anymore.

That's kinda how I feel right now.

Bam! Pow!

2009-02-06T14:24:00.000-08:00

I'm always fighting in my dreams.

From the most whimsical of settings to the most realistic burglaries and murders, I'm always fighting someone along the way, some stranger I don't even know.

I wake up angry.

Sometimes my palms are bleeding from nail marks, from the force with which I'm clenching my fists together. Sometimes I wake up blindly striking at whatever's in front of me, most commonly the wall or the metal of my bed frame.

(Ow.)

I haven't written in a week. My grades have been steadily declining. I've lost all passion to do pretty much anything that has previously inspired me to appropriate action.

All because I found out I was right.

I'll try to sound as little emotive as possible with the following: I was right not to have hope. I was right not to trust him. I was right to follow my nose and automatically assume he was lying to me. This incident is nothing more than positive reinforcement for already screwed-up trust issues, and I find this utterly depressing. I'm descending into a character role which I don't want to assume and with this, I've temporarily lost sight of how reluctant I can be.

I enjoy writing fiction, doing homework, having an e-life, because it allows me to be in control of something. Whatever slice of escapist haven I had was completely separate from whatever bullshit was going on with the people my life, and I once took pride and solace in that notion. Lately, everything's been slowly melding into one another, tainting my reserve with drama and distrust and anti-lulz. Not even the internet is safe anymore.

I know what I'm doing wrong, I know I have to turn my act around, I know I have to get it all together again.

This was simply a minor setback.

(Note to self: Sorry about that.)

I've lost all ambition for worldly acclaim.

2009-02-03T14:28:00.000-08:00

The day began with Bon Iver.

I’d dyed my lips for the first time in a long while, a colour with which I was unfamiliar. I wore a tighter pant size, as if a smaller set of jeans would magically lead to slimmer thighs. There were red stains on my cuticles from failed attempts to paint my nails the night before; I was quick to reach for the acetone upon realizing the attribute was completely impractical for my lifestyle.

The shit kept chipping off.

Mind you, there was no particular reason for this abrupt change in behaviour, no insults which have pushed me into action, no boy that I admire from afar. The lip gloss was an impulse buy at Wal-Mart; my good jeans were in the wash; I procrastinated from studying for mid-terms. Freud would argue subliminal and subconscious desires drove my actions each time, so that all these initiatives-for-feminine-improvement would conveniently fall into place because my mother didn't hug me enough as a child and I'm a closet homosexual furry trying to attract a mate.

(...excuse me. Much too much school-oriented thought lately.)

I step onto the bus and find it was generally empty, considering the time.

The bus I take to the train station, the 301, is one of those monstrous machines, two buses adjoined at the center with a plastic, foldable section, allowing for flexibility during turns. There are four seats located on this section inside the bus, and I always claim one of them. Public transit might as well be fun.

A man soon sits across from me, somehow resembling the bastard love child of Hugh Laurie and Chris Martin. I try not to stare at him too long, but at this point I begin wondering what Gregory House would say about Coldplay.

(Hah)

The school day went by considerably fast. Introduction to Research Methodology revealed no response from my desktop graffiti pen-pal. The girl next to me in Critical Issues in Psychology wore a perfume which made me hungrier than I already was. I skipped lunch during History of Political Thought because the debit machine was down and the cafeteria was cash-only. I discovered in Macroeconomics my mechanical pencil was in my jacket pocket the entire time. No one in Forensic Psychology took any good notes because the computer was down for the duration of the class.

I learned that the language of Portal is nonetheless universal. I learned cinnamon makes a very good scent of body spray and that I should buy some as soon as humanly possible. I learned that a chocolate bar can substitute lunch altogether if you eat it really, really slow. I learned to pat myself down before freaking out over something so trivial. I learned my education is much more dependent on power point presentations than I'd be willing to admit.

The day ended with The Ink Spots.

2009-01-31T00:51:00.000-08:00

I don't know what to say.

Boredom is my recurring villain.

2008-12-30T00:59:00.000-08:00

When I was fourteen, I got my hair coloured because I was bored.

They were stripes of purple the first time. Around a year later, and another year after that, I bleached it to the root again and switched the colour to red. It was a commitment I didn't mind undertaking, a style of my own I enjoyed having.

Today, I dyed my hair back to normal because I was bored.

The process was filled with unwanted recollections and unsolicited nostalgia. I compare myself to who I was when I got this first done and who I am now, and hope to God dyeing my hair back to normal was a movement of progression to a mature self, rather than a regression back to an old self.

Either way, I knew no one would notice. The only way anyone ever pays any attention is if I somehow manage to break the assumptions they make based on my physical appearance; being smart in contrast to my age, being childish in contrast to my maturity, being compassionate in contrast to my peers. The only way people turn their heads is if I become something they weren't expecting. This is why I'm always bored, why I'm always changing.

At least, that's what I'd like to think.

The failed attempts at conversation. The Fedex lady who says hi to everyone but you. The coworker whose appearance turns you invisible. Have you ever wondered why it's normal for people to care about their situation, but considered abnormal, pessimistic, emotive, for people to wonder why they care?

You care because you believe that, somewhere along the way, it became your fault. No matter where you went or where you ended up, it's been the same way for as long as you could remember. You're the constant variable. There must be something wrong with you.

No worries. I'm not going to shower you with motherly lies of how "it shouldn't matter what others think" or how "soon they'll all realize what they've been missing". Far be it for me to say that they're missing anything at all by not knowing you, by not knowing me. But what are you missing by not knowing individuals who do not desire to associate with you? A few parties? A couple of drinks? Some fat to chew? Are they among those worth associating with, those who will have a positive influence on your life, or have your societal ideologies and confounds compelled you to believe them as such?

Self-consolation for self-preservation: a fancy way of patting yourself on the back for saying 'sour grapes'. Maybe those on the tier you can't reach are great people. Maybe I am the freak; the chameleon who's forgotten her true colours, the reindeer who's lost interest in discriminatory games, the wall-flower listening to the lament of social butterflies when their fellow insects lack the ears to listen.

That's who I am, and that's who they are. I have no reason to regret my position.

I look into the mirror after it's all over and realize I don't recognize myself.

I don't think the hair's to blame.

Onwards to oblivion, dear friends.

2008-12-04T10:40:00.000-08:00

I apologize for who I am.

I'm not authentically sorry for it, but feel as if I should extend my apologies as a gesture to make them feel better.

Today marks the last day of fall semester classes for me, before delving into the purgatory more commonly recognized as 'Finals Week'. It was interesting to watch as the relationships between those classmates around me developed as I remained completely and bitterly unchanged. Perhaps I was too much of a detached observer to become associated with strangers in the method everyone around me seems to have accomplished with such ease. I find these people are...particularly difficult to relate to. They enjoy talking about themselves constantly, whilst my role as the 'listener' had been previously exhausted at home and at my workplace. Am I wrong in possessing no desire to exercise it here? Should I remain a constant variable for the sake of getting by with those I associate with on a weekly basis? Are they worth the effort? Am I worth so little?

From a purely societal aspect, this semester was utterly unsatisfying.

I will be sure to try no harder in the Winter.

(I wish the best of outcomes to all my readers who are soon also facing the depths of purgatory: remember, you are only capable of accomplishing what you lead yourself to believe is within your abilities. Don't believe in yourself. Don't believe in the me who believes in you. Believe in the you who believes in yourself.

Um...yeah.

Good luck, everyone.)

tl;dr - I was tired when I wrote this, feel free to ignore.

2008-11-19T03:03:00.000-08:00

"What is perceived by an individual to be real will be real in its consequences."

The above quotation is a paraphrasing of the expression coined by William Thomas, American Micro-interpretive Sociologist, explaining that the reality a person interprets will have consequences that are real to all.

I found it a fun idea to imagine everyone on earth is living in their own private alternate universe, ruled by their own values and norms, establishing a fixed order with which they can be most comfortable. Although all the world's stimuli is identical, the interpretation will vary from person to person based on how that stimuli is introduced into their universe. We are taught from day one what is right, what is wrong, what is normal, what is acceptable, what is real, and use these ideals to construct mental and societal confines within which we can reside, observing and dealing with others based on how the bubble is breached.

Physically, we may reside within the same universe, but mentally, we're existing, acting, thinking, judging, in worlds all our own. Abstracts, such as introspection and empathy, can be used to bridge the gaps from world to world, from point-of-view to point-of-view, from person to person. In today's society, it is much easier to judge and brush off another individual using our sets of standards, rather than by making an effort to construct that proper bridge.

The only question that remains is why these efforts have declined.

Spoons.

2008-11-13T18:42:00.000-08:00

My character / personality was positively commented upon by three different acquaintances today. Judging mainly by the key words they used, the one they each believe they complimented were, as I slowly came to realize, three completely different persona.

I never noticed exactly how much I adjusted my personality around different groups of people until now. Certainly, it's normal to do such a thing, but I assume it becomes unhealthy when you do it to this extent.

They all know me, but at the same time, none of them do.

I've become a societal chameleon, audience.

Am I winning or losing the game?

Smile.

2008-11-11T15:01:00.000-08:00

You wake up today, going through your daily routines without a second thought. At one point, you decided to spend your time coming here, to read along with some arbitrary journal written by some escribitionist some of you may be familiar with but none of you really, truly know.

Have you realized what day it is?

The concept you believe to be real, what you might call 'time', exists in a circuit, with mornings and nights, days and weeks, months and years repeating themselves, stuck on loop within an infinite cycle. The reason for this is that time is nothing more than a border, serving to shield their decrepit, malformed dimension from ours.

The good are those who have built this wall.

The bad are those who are being kept out.

Once every so often during this continuum, there is a scheduled lapse; a small space existent within this ring of time, an anomaly which would not exist if time were, in fact, a straight line.

Those who idle upon the other side are your Doppelgangers, your alternate selves, wearing your clothes, working your jobs, speaking your words, yet they suffer more than you do. They are the epitome of the wrongs you have committed, the proof of your corruption, the spiritual manifestation of your immorality. Lest you turn into demons yourselves, time itself allows your karmic state to affect their spirits instead of your own, forcing them to watch you from behind a one-way mirror to assume the blame for all you as humans have done wrong.

The eleventh day of the eleventh month is when this mirror becomes a window, and they are given a chance to trade places.

There are various recorded accounts on what encountering a Dæmon is like. Some say a Dæmon's skin is stretched taut against the alien skeleton reliefed through its blackened flesh, the latter rotting in ragged patches and open wounds carrying the metallic stink of diseased blood and aging corpses. Others claim if you dare to look directly into their eyes, you fall victim to their mercy within the split-second their soulless gaze meets your own, making you bear witness to every inhumanity ever committed by humankind, every pain they themselves have ever had to endure in your place.

For most Dæmons, this retribution is enough. Your screams are its blatant satisfaction, your terror is its ultimate joy. It is a sport for them, you see; they erase your memory of the encounter and anticipate repeating the experience next time around, wishing for you to perform evil, waiting for you to sin, corrupting them further and making their next retaliation that much more sweeter.

For other Dæmons, though, they decide they want more.

They say the Dæmon grins once he has you completely. Once your spirit is within its grasp, the spiritual exchange is complete; it bears its misshapen teeth with its lopsided smile, whereas it becomes the original and you are forced to become its shadow. It will begin clawing through your sanity as the days pass, ripping away the final vestiges of your reality until you assume the position of the spirit behind the wall.

The only way for a human to redeem themselves is for them to become the Dæmon and patiently endure twelve months of their normal spiritual insanity, waiting for their chance to reclaim the original body waiting for them beyond the borders of time.

To escape such fate, some of those who have recounted the tale ended their lives shortly after they'd done so. Most have passed from insomnia, as they say staying awake is the only way to escape the recurring, unearthly nightmares plaguing their dreams and making their breaths fall short. Some have died violently in a painless, illusioned haze, found during attempts to carve their still-beating heart from their chest before their Dæmon could stake claim to it. A few have been found with knives sticking out from either side of their head; the blades would be jammed into their ears from tip to handle, the self-inflicted stabbing reported efforts 'to make the screaming go away'.

Whatever the method of death, when the victim's mutilated carcasses are recovered from the scene, there is one thing they always share in common.

They're found with a smile on their faces.

The 'recorded accounts'--journal entries, Psychologist's notes, video diaries--are located and burned almost immediately after the incidents occur, as superstitious individuals fear the curse will carry on to whosoever is unfortunate enough to read the story next, tagging them as a vulnerable target for the next Dæmonic anomaly.

How much pain have you experienced in your life, human?

Find out which side of time you reside.

Look into a mirror and pray your refection isn't smiling at you.

Everything I may have wanted and possibly so much less.

2008-11-10T14:14:00.000-08:00

Who I could have been, who I should have been, and who I will be are three concepts of self I have tried in vain to harmonize.

Could presupposes an alternative. Should presupposes a missed opportunity. Will presupposes solidarity.

I cannot spend my life wondering about what I haven't done. Taking opportunity costs into account will lead to regret, a pointless sentiment to waste thoughts upon, time which could have been properly appropriated towards a more constructive endeavor.

I cannot spend my life under the assumption I know where I'm going with it all. To assume such positivism would be to assume myself a blind supporter of such inane concepts as 'destiny' and 'the inevitable', abstracts which serve as life's deus ex machina explaining why and how situations unfold beyond one's control.

There is no doubt in my mind these situations occur, of course; denying their existence is as close-minded as believing in fate itself. The difference is, I refuse to attribute all I am to such a lazy and faultless excuse.

I do not judge myself alongside the person I could have been. I do not contrast myself against the person I should have been. I do not measure myself by the person I presuppose I will become.

Who I am is who I make myself out to be.

My destiny is changing every day.

Shadows of the treasured east, privileged secrets born to keep.

2008-11-06T23:07:00.001-08:00

I don't deserve the hand that I've been given.

(In b4 you interpret that sentence in the stereotypical angsty!teen kinda way.)

I am much too lucky to have been born on this continent, a land overrun by dominant ideologies of freedom and opportunity. Suffice it to say billions of people on this good earth don't live life a fraction as easily as I am able to. Why was I given this chance, and not one of them? What makes me more deserving than they, these people with potentially much more potential than I?

I am much too fortunate to have grown up during this era, to live during the turn of the millennia, to witness the induction of America's first non-Caucasian president. I have witnessed wars in progress, societal development, technological advances, pure history in the making. Was there a reason I was born here and now, given the rare chances to experience once-in-a-lifetime phenomena multiple times in my one life?

I am insufficiently thankful for the abilities and talents I have developed and managed to maintain, taking my physical health and mental advantages for granted and rarely acknowledging the fact the majority of humankind does not have it half as good as I do.

I am much too glad my education and daily experiences have provided me with the chance to open my eyes.

I will take all I know, all I appreciate, all I have, all I love, and strive to employ it for the betterment of this world to the best of my human ability.

I think we can all agree I owe it that much.

/scratches cheek

2008-10-28T12:17:00.000-07:00

I can already feel the harsh grace of winter setting in where I live. The sun was only just rising when I left this mid-morning, signaling the significant shortening of days.

I was walking a few blocks to reach the bus stop. The bare contrast of early sunlight and glowing streetlight was almost surreal, making me feel as if I was strolling through the setting of some Hollywood movie. (Surprisingly enough, the remembrance which brought me to recognize the former as absurd was that the people in this film weren't very good actors.)

The sky was brilliant. Haphazard strokes of cirrus brush upon a canvas of periwinkle and violet.

I drag my head down from the clouds just in time to watch my bus turn the corner three streets down.

Every bus is a single opportunity. There is an expectancy one possesses while standing at the stop; one possesses the knowledge of the bus's arrival, therefore, one spends one's time waiting for something that they know is scheduled to arrive. Yet, reasons beyond one's control may have forced it to be late / cancel its appearance completely. This is a reason one will never know of, a reason one has learned not to care for, if only due to the knowledge of another opportunity eventually replacing the one that was first intended for you.

Out of breath and exhausted, I lazily hold up my pass at the driver and board last-minute.

I wonder if I'll have to spend the rest of my life running to catch the bus.

Kazekage, Mizukage, Kazekage, hey! Hasamimasho?

2008-10-26T16:53:00.000-07:00

Life is like a box of chocolates.

Sometimes there are nuts in them.

Some people are allergic to nuts.

Some people boycott the presence of the nuts because they pose a threat to the lifestyle of those people who are allergic to them.

Some people then attempt to divide the chocolates into two classes: the nutty and the normal.

But no matter how hard they try (and they do try so very hard), you realize the box of chocolates may always contain traces of nuts.

Similarly, life is like a box made of chocolate.

People spend so much time focusing on their outside it takes them a while to realize they're hollow.

It's quite breezy outside today.

2008-10-24T13:15:00.000-07:00

I only added that handy little counter on the sidebar four days ago; I’d never expected this many people to be reading along. I’m really honored, guys, seriously. This inspired me to talk about the butterfly effect today, admittingly a more theoretical take on daily life than what I’ve posted about so far.

I like to think I have a generally positive impact on the world in which I live; of course, that which we like to think of ourselves seldom has the tendency of being true.

It’s hard to comprehend what may be the ultimate results of our everyday actions. The slightest misunderstanding, the smallest lie, the tiniest good deed. Have I indirectly caused someone’s murder? Have I somehow helped save a stranger’s life? Am I single-handedly responsible for global warming?

(Egotistical act consequentialist, much?)

I am a part of a whole, an actor in a play, a cog of a friggin’ machine. I play no bigger role than any other human on this earth, but what is the result of my participation? What exactly am I providing assistance to every workday of the week, each school day of the month? Pieces of the puzzle never become aware of the picture they complete, but life and faith alike have suggested I take comfort in this ignorance, for the knowledge itself may very well be too much for any sane human to bear.

Life and faith alike have never been particularly kind.

I acknowledge that I am the wind whose origin was the movement of a butterfly’s wing.

Where the hell is my hurricane?

Time again.

2008-10-19T00:53:00.000-07:00

Admist life's dawn of early break and torrents of her sea,
I apologize for neither who I am, nor who I ought to be.

(in b4 lolwtfghei)

2008-09-22T20:29:00.000-07:00

I'm taking the shortcut home through a slightly-cloudy drizzle this evening, feeling cold and inexplicably ~~emo~~ crummy, when the song 'Singing in the Rain' comes on through my headphones.

Chances?

1 in 274.

The speed at which my spirits lifted?

9001 mph.

It's amazing how a simple song, a simple voice, a simple note, can be linked to inspiring such emotion, howsoever slight. It reminded me that sometimes, all people need is something simple to lift their spirits; a single gesture could be all somebody needs to continue their day with a smile and, pause for cliché, make the world a happier place. tl;dr? You can be the Gene Kelly to someone's rainstorm.

All you have to do is sing!

¯\(°_o)/¯

2008-09-20T01:27:00.000-07:00

_{* . . . *}
[_] . [_]
\o/
|
\o/ _/ \_ \o/

He who carries caek has friends.

_{* * . . * *}
|_| . |_|
\o/
|
_/ \_

He who carries dynamite sparkles alone.

Unrequited friendship means always having to say you’re sorry.

2008-09-18T21:56:00.000-07:00

Is it unethical to encourage another's approach in the sole belief that they may one day be of use to you? Is it worth it to re-spawn that which is dead for the pre-emptive hope of a later convenience? Is mutual manipulation equally beneficial or equally detrimental to both parties involved? Should I allow circumstances to unfold whilst my intentions watch cautiously from behind a fourth wall, ready to strike as soon as the tainted curse of a repeating history rears its ugly head?

Can the excuse of a well-planned retaliation work as a safety net if ever I am once again presented with the choice?

Should I not give this choice an opportunity to present itself?

The choices we make in life make us lose sight of the fact that we have a choice in the first place.

2008-09-15T19:11:00.000-07:00

If I was to be bold and claim to speak for all of us when I say things have been busy lately, would I be right?

Employment, education, empathy, emulation; where there was once no social interaction grows a mysterious and unfamiliar phenomena: what ED and several others, including myself, would tactlessly label a 'life'.

Once intrigued with the idea, I admit that, not much unlike a spoiled brat, I've grown dissatisfied with my recent schedule and how my calendar has been filled to the block with obligations rather than options. Although I have no desire to return to the daily boredom that was my previous un-life, I do miss the freedom once offered by it. Sleeping-in is now a foreign ideal, for even when I do have the rare day to myself, I wake at random points in the morning, compulsively checking my PDA and cell phone to make absolutely sure there was nothing I had that I happened to forget.

I took this telltale anxiety as a sign of becoming an adult.

Yet, only now do I acknowledge that this--all of this--isn't my schedule’s fault. How typical of me as a human being, blaming my problems on something that is in my control in the first place. It is not beyond my power to change whatever I want to do in my life however I choose. I can choose to be more efficient with my time management. I can choose to write now and study later. I can choose to blow off a friend's party just so I can wake up at 2:30 in the afternoon, spend the entire evening in my pyjamas and claim the day as mine.

I have no time.

I have all the time in the world.

And I honestly couldn't be happier.

Floating on a sea-torn boat, sitting on a lighter note.

2008-09-10T20:18:00.000-07:00

Discovering happiness within the insignificant is a psychological mechanism which takes place when the mind chooses to seek emotional solace within something other than what is most commonly presented to it.

I have been, and always will be, haplessly blissful in my unrequited content.

Apathy is a modern art.

2008-09-08T19:07:00.000-07:00

Today, a woman asked me if I was of Hawaiian decent. I told her that although I was not born in the state, I'd spent the better half of my childhood there. She responds by asking me why in the world I ever decided to leave. I don a split-second look of awkwardness before regaining my composure, reciting the long-practiced answer that most of my family on my father's side live in the city I reside in today.

This conversation is a fairly common phenomenon between random strangers and myself, and I'm still quite baffled as to why in the world I always end up experiencing that split-second in the first place.

What I don't tell these strangers, though, is that my relationship with said family members have been and will most likely always be completely stagnant. We are all to blame for this, for we are all by nature very apathetic people: people whom you can count on for a call on your birthday and a holiday card, people who would stop and initiate mindless chatter if they ran into you at the grocery, people who would show up to your funeral if they hadn't happened to schedule a dentist's appointment that morning. We are distant from each other, and this is the state in which we have all chosen to remain. They are detached strangers related by blood, often not making a point of proving they are at all concerned towards the state of my existence. We moved here hoping to change that, yet, no higher state of respect or familiarity has been reached in these past eight years of residing here that could not have been achieved three thousand miles away with a phone call and a Christmas card.

Still, who on earth would choose a secluded living environment over being close to one's surviving family? I moved here because I believed the answer to be no one, because I thought maintaining apathy would be selfish.

I soon find that my family is filled with people who are much more selfish than I.

In life, are we meant to do what we believe is right, even if all it leaves us feeling is empty and unchanged? Are we destined to constantly take the harder path as a preemptive measure to prevent future remorse, guilt which would have been a small price to pay for our ultimate happiness? Are we forever obligated to surrender our brightest days and warmest sand for forced smiles and bad potato salad at reunions?

We ironically select the choices which make us feel miserable because they are intended to make us feel better; morally, as people. Over the years, I have learned that selfishness is sometimes necessary to achieve what is optimal for one's well-being; one should look out for oneself and weigh all sister circumstances against this factor alone. Generosity should be used sparingly, or else one would risk forgetting to display such charity to oneself.

Choosing what is best for you over what is convenient for somebody else is not always so inconceivably narcissistic.

I should learn to stop being so noble.

I can pretend to be someone different, just like everyone else.

2008-09-07T23:09:00.000-07:00

I put on my makeup and fix my hair, making myself pretty for the strangers.

The most intriguing influence about my gradual acquisition of a social life is all the new people I've had the unexpected pleasure of meeting. Those whom I come into contact with on a near-daily basis. Those whom I speak to once and never lay eyes on again. Those whom I run into in the most compromising of situations and end up acquainting whilst circumstances of our mutual introduction become nothing more than a memory we look back on and laugh about.

The accountant who wanted to be a DJ.

A man I met at the bus stop once upon a Saturday morning. He had claimed he was new to my city, having lived and worked in Nigeria for most of his life before transferring to his current location. He explained he was a radio host in his country, that he enjoyed his hobby more so than the career he was educated for. He said he used the opportunity to explain to his listeners the meanings behind the music he played, in hopes that others could feel the same inspiration while listening as he did. He says today’s music doesn't have that effect anymore.

I find it amazing how influential a single-serving friend can be. I could forget about him a week from now, a year from now, a decade from now, but the fact his memory stuck around long enough to inspire this entry means that he was, in fact, influential. I soon find myself pondering how influential I am to the people around me, seeing as the accountant may very well have already forgotten.

I wonder how he's doing.

The art of socializing is not one I will be bold enough to claim I have come even vaguely close to mastering, yet compared to the environmentally-influenced condition of solitude I've both grown up with and used to, I find this whole experience to be rather...fun. It's almost like how they say it is on television; good screenplays can help you decipher real people if you read into them just right.

Reaching the middle of nowhere is the fun part--going back the way you came won’t always be so easy.

Thankfully, returning to where I once was is no longer my intention.