Sesquipedalia

That Semiannual Affair

2011-08-16T18:15:00.000-07:00

It's that time of my life again: The Haircut

Let's have a moment of silence for all the dear hair that have lost bits of themselves in this tragic event.

As you know by now, this is usually a semiannual thing (I think I may have gotten it wrong a while back the last time I blogged on haircuts...ahh, yes I did, I said it was a biannual thing. Which would mean I get my hair cut every two years), but this time could probably be rounded up to biannual for once. It's much easier to escape the fate when you live far away from The Decider (also known as The Payer, or mum). But yeah, I've been letting my hair grow and grow and grow, and have finally achieved my unofficial goal of being able to walk around topless without being unseemly, and of looking like a Korean chick from behind.

Let's play Guess Who's Korean!

If you guessed the right, then obviously you picked it up from the pixelation of a badly ripped DVD, duh!
But yes, long hair.
Long wavy hair. I figured out how to get my hair to hold shapes (rather than just the kink from having it in a ponytail all the time) by doing lots of twisting.
I don't know why I'm still so hung up on having long hair. It stems from childhood gender associations that long hair=girl, and being quite envious of girls who had long, braidable hair, when I was stuck with shoulder-length, unfun hair. But good lawd, I'm almost in my second decade, this shouldn't be my mindset anymore. *shrugs* I guess when your mother never let you keep your hair long, you may as well get slightly obsessed with having it long. Anyway, goals accomplished!
I mean, the other thing is that I never like how I look coming out of a haircut. Short hair is like an energy drink for my low self-esteem, as its many muttering mouths begin to slink about my ears, pointing out how the new style serves to emphasize my ugliness. At least when long hair, I could hide my ugly face behind it. Strangely, this time I had no objections on how my hair looked. I was reluctant, getting off that chair, to feel happy that for once, to accept that I looked okay. And then, when my self-esteem didn't turn up all dejected about it, I became carefully giddy about liking my haircut.
WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
In the spirit of my old haircut posts, here's a better blurred out face with an appropriate emote. Happily, my face-melting skills have improved, and I'm actually flesh colored for this one.

----
In other news, and I can't believe time has really passed so fast, I'm a junior. High school junior status took forever to get to, b-but here I am, so slose to donning a cap-n-gown again. It's unreal. But it is, and boy do I have a lot of ass-hauling to do. Yeah, I didn't think college moved that fast, but WOMG, for something so big, it sure zips by. Maybe because it's on a hill--momentum and all that. Anyway, I'm about to evolve from the primordial soup of undeclared into...well, Legal Studies.
Not very impressive, is it?
But as the timer counted down, I panicked and had to pick something, and nothing seems as blatantly obvious to be about law then something with the word law in it.
Kaffy no make good decisions *grunt*

Well, that's it for this post. Getting my life on track (fo srs this time, guys) means blogging more again.

By the way, now that I'm scrolling through my tabs, I missed a fuckton of stuff, like BEING IN THE SAME ROOM AS NEIL GAIMAN! AHHHHHHHHHH

Take That Inefficient Government Agency!

2011-05-17T14:42:00.000-07:00

HA!
In your FACE! In your, slow, begrudging, nitpicky, understaffed and underopened FACE!

I finally have my license. I can finally drive. I played your games, o devious DMV, o odious online appointment system. You may have made me cry, but I and finally fucking DONE with you.

[phew]

Glad to get that out. I have had such a vehement hate for DMV and its inefficiency and inflexible hours and frequent closings, despite probably being in the group of most important agencies in America (dude, everyone drives here).
I passed my driving exam. I have a license (well, and interim one. The actual one comes mailed in 6 weeks), and I am one step closer to being considered a functioning adult in the American sense.
Goddang.

It was raining when I left for the DMV office this morning. Not hard or soft, just enough to make me miserable about having to take my test today. In the drive over, I revoked my atheist-leaning agnosticism to hold a kinda crazy conversation with God in my head. Mostly it's me being crass and ribbing Him. I asked Him (mostly jokingly) to perform two 'miracles' for me: make it stop raining, and let me pass my test. We also talked of more philosophical things that I probably won't get to today; am far too giddy.
Anyway, rain continued to not let up, and I waited in lines, and got my documents ready. Now began the protracted jury selection. Waiting, hoping to get someone who was not a perpetually pissed, overweight, middle-age Caucasian woman whose sole goal in life is crushing the goal of nervous Asians to get a driver's license. I got a pretty neutral/grave-looking Filipino dude. Things are beginning to look up.
Then I begin to drive.
When we started, I went to pieces in my head. My paranoia was on an "ohgodohgodohgod" loop. My organization was on a fritz, dashing to-and-fro between lobes. My eyes decided not to cooperate with my head, and my thighs decided to spontaneously devolve to jelly.
And then I realized that driving is so easy, stfu and let me get on with it. And I did. Albeit not as well as I liked, when my in-pieces brain managed to spill out now and again. Managed to get through with only 5 marks off. Hurrah for lenient testing!
I had my windshield wipers on when I started driving, but halfway through the rain let up and I, rather belatedly, sheepishly turned them off and hoped the tester didn't notice...or at least judge me.
...On the drive back, I realized that both my requests were granted. I thought for the briefest moment, "are these miracles? Did God do this?"
Then, saner, I thought, "What would Tim Minchin think of this?"
Well, he'll sing this.
So we'll agree that I was delusional and that it was all Tefnut's doing.

The Journey to Carpal Tunnel Syndrome

2011-04-24T22:58:00.000-07:00

As noted in my bleak and emo post below, I'd gotten into a knitting class...

...and found it to be stuffed with insufferable hipster snobs, gossiping chicks, and a couple of sweet guys.
Anyway, I did learn how to knit in the round and with double-pointed needles, both of which are so much easier than I thought they would be. Hrmph!
I did learn a couple terminology and now have a vague and hesitant knowledge of knitting lingo/shorthand/code, but overall, am still a novice/amateur (I forget which one means you're a beginner that does it with no profit in mind).

This does of course mean I get to inundate this post with pictures of my gloves. I'm very proud of them!

Okay, so I managed to restrain myself and limit it to one.

Real post eventually. Probably when I need to study for finals...

Troglodyte amongst the Pillows

2011-02-01T02:54:00.000-08:00

I read my earlier post on being lonely and a third-wheel in the presence of a strong friendship duo, and it doesn't make me feel better. Let me whine, Internet. Sometimes, I just want to wallow in pity and marinate in rejection. And be jealous. Oh yes.
*sigh*
Maybe it's just that I've never clicked with anyone the way they have, but at the same time, I feel like I'd be a good match for one of them, but, like all my relationships, seem to be unrequited.
I need sleep, and I need to quit being such a selfish asshole. There are a lot of things in my life that are awesome, and I am pretty damn lucky.
But.
Fuck.
...
Self-abnegation.

Goddamn I'm pitiful.

In happier news, I'll be knitting more. I got into a knitting DeCal.

What is Wrong with me?

2011-01-30T00:54:00.000-08:00

Ashton Kutcher is actually not unattractive.

(Suck it Orwell.)

I'm watching Killers at the moment.
(also watched No Strings Attached earlier. We'll get a movie trio later)

Edit 1:
Wait no, I lie. He is not attractive.
He's only kinda attractive sideways, and where a tablecloth is hiding half his face.

Edit 2:
Fake looking french alley/cafe is fake.
Oh look. Guess I'm doing running commentary on this.
edit 2.5 (from earlier): "I'm going to go marinate in shame now"

Edit 3:
"His physical, godlike perfection"--Heigl
I snorted chocolate up my nose. Not good.

Edit 4:
God, men shooting guns in movies are hot (so none o' ya'll bring up soldiers or real life situations where this fact does not hold true).
Augh! Ashton Kutcher! Stop flip flopping on being attractive!

Edit 5:
*in awed and appreciate voice*
"Oh Spence! You remodeled my office! It's so organized!"
Oh hell yeah, Heigl, way to be typecasted.
WHOO OCD
Mini edit 5.5: not the best color for the office, imho.

Edit 6:
"How did I get a guy like you"
"It was your charm--" *kisses one boob* "--and your wit." *Kisses other boob*
...well. Crap.

Edit 7:
Implied sex in the office with the window blinds not drawn. All kinds of uncomfotable and UNORGANIZED!

Edit 8:
Guys in suits/business casual=<3 I have said this before, and I'll say it again. Guys always look attractive in suits. Noooooo, must. Stop. Finding. Attractive. Aspects.

Edit 9: EW. NORTON PRODUCT PLACEMENT. Sad face.

Edit 10: All the materials needed to set up the misunderstanding of an affair. C'mon movie industry, hit me with it. Make me groan.

Edit 11:
Fake driving is fake.
NO SEATBELTS!
I doubt the verisimilitude of your driving scene, Lionsgate!

Edit 12:
Kutcher: "where are your pants?"
mini edit 12.5: yeah, ashton. Where are they?

Edit 13:
Keeeeeep going, movie industry, you've almost got me to groan. Reluctant Kiss, hurrying the spouse off, suspicious tones.

Edit 14:
Shakycam during fight scene is a no-no!
Ugh, you'll make the motion-sickness people and good filmmakers puke.
mini edit 14.5: CROTCH GRAB!

Edit 15:
Man, I love heigl.
P.S. loud fight music during dialogue is also a no-no.
Especially when the music is so......igh.

Edit 16:
Heigl. You make amazing faces. Never stop acting in comedies.

Edit 17:
Counting the rounds on his 'Glock 45' which, according to wiki, doesn't seem to exist.
2 so far.
...okay, that's 7. I can doubt the verisimilitude of your movie a little less now.

Edit 18:
AUGH! STOP LEAVING YOUR FINGERPRINTS ALL OVER THE GODDAMN ROOM! YOU SO FORGOT YOUR TRAINING.

SPOILER ALERT

Edit 19:
Pregnant, really?
Really?!

Edit 20:
..Touching music. Tacky.

Edit 21:
Knockin' guns. SO COOL

SPOILER ALERT

Edit 22:
WHOA. That is one HARDCORE dad. Put sleepers in your daughters neighborhood?
Wait? The armsdealer wasn't that smug looking dude? What?

SPOILER ALERT

Edit 23:
Baby solves everything...
ALL that action, all those people dead, for nothing? What?
Esplain! Trust circle needed indeed!

Edit 24:
Terribly unsatisfying ending...
Eugh. Okay, you have totally ruined any attraction you have garnered for yourself Ashton! You+baby mustache=EUGH.

--[end of running commentary]--

Extrinsic to the Assemblage

2011-01-19T02:51:00.000-08:00

Here I stand, before the laptop, softly illuminated by the screen, going cold. Not sleeping yesterday must have really addled by brains, or my hormones are rollarcoastering around until I start my .
I have always felt third-wheelish. In any situation with a group of familiar people, I find myself at odds, in an awkward, vaguely unwelcoming way, shunted from everyone. Perhaps I'm just messed up, keeping everyone at arms length. You know how sensitive I am. Or maybe I really...don't belong.
Even being in the same room, my room, with two people, it's as if an invisible glass door has been drawn between myself and the rest of the room. people seem to click better with everyone else but me. I am a rock, I am an island, yeah yeah, I really should be used to this, an only child, a sheltered child, a shy and awkward child, but my capacity for self-pity is neverending.
I had intended to moan about this, but wheedling about this to the faceless internet just makes me annoyed at myself. Blahblahblah, 'therapeutic' to write about this, express my feelings, keep in the practice of writing. Really, what am I doing? Making sure I sleep easier?
Ha!
As if letting it all out here means I get to deflate like a balloon and lie shriveled in bed, sleeping peacefully. I am far too...overthinking about this to slag this out and prepare to see the end of it. Note to self, blog does not cauterize your feelings, but is merely a trick mirror, showing you both how you want to appear, and how silly you are too.

Augh, I need sleep.

"It Doesn't Matter"

2011-01-15T23:22:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I watched two films. Well, one is hardly a film. Most film critics would have my eyes for considering it so. All right, all right, I'll get on with it.
Sliding Doors starring a startling young Gweneth Paltrow with a jarring British accent. Not saying it's not a good accent, just...well, I'll explain it later. The other is one of DC's direct-to-DVD animated movies, Justice League: Crisis on Two Earths with jarring voice actors.
Two movies that are quite different, and yet made a sort of sense to watch one after the other.

Sliding Doors is a late nineties romcom? dramedy? It's a nineties film, okay? Complete with blocky cell phones, nineties haircuts, and those silly midriff-baring shrunken-looking t-shirts. Gweneth Paltrow is a British woman, Helen, who's not really having a great day. The movie gets interesting (and its title) when it branches into two intersecting movies that show the direction her life would have taken if he did, and did not, catch her train home. I read up on the synopsis on Wiki (bad habit, reading plots ahead of time, sorry) but did not expect them to edit the film the way they did. When it first started to skip between the two timelines, I figured it would be terribly confusing, and if you really aren't paying attention (like I can), it can be, but it really flowed quite seamlessly. It's a good film. I liked it, despite lacking, what was it that someone wrote on Wiki...'philosophy and deep bullshit' (paraphrased, obviously. You know how I feel about inserting that stuff into the arts sometimes). Oh come ON, lady, it's a decent film, meant to entertain us, not to make us terribly nihilistic. [rantrantrantrant helpfully excised]
It's not a great movie; some of the characters fall a bit flat and two-dimensional, making them seem a bit unrealistic. As does Paltrow's accent. I don't know about you, but somehow I can't see her as 'British.' Her accent's good, but wobbly sometimes (I hardly noticed. You tend to let that slide since the movie's good enough to hold your attention). It's not the accent, but her face and demeanor. She just looks so...American. Anyway, it's filled with a variety of accents, which I have such a soft spot for, you know, and for all its dated nineties-ness, flaws (and obvious allusions to its title. Alas, English class has ruined me forever) it works. Plus it uses Monty Python!
After that, I took a break from acting and decided to watch one of the DCU Animated movies I missed since I figured it would be no good, plus the casting was a mess! Ugh. Yes, I am a fangirl, and much much much rather have Conroy (but Greenwood did a marvelous job in Under the Red Hood), but William Baldwin. Really? Batman never shmoozes the way the Baldwins sound. Ick. But I'll get to that later.
The plot for this is pretty comicky as comicky goes. In a parallel, or rather, mirror, earth, the supposed good guys are the bad, and vice versa. The good Lex Luthor manages to planet-hop to this Earth and seek the help of the Justice League against their evil counterparts, since they're planning to blackmail the planet with a deadly bomb...or is that all? It's pretty well-written, a bit cliched in places, with a dose of Martian-on-Parallel-Earthling action. I couldn't understand why I passed over it when it first came out.
Then my fangirl gave me a firm pinch in the cerebellum.
Oh.
The casting. So many of the characters just sounded so...disjointed. Unlike Under the Red Hood, it's not that they aren't competent voice actors. This time around, performances are not wooden at all, it's just who they chose. Not so attached with Superman's voicebox, he sounded pretty good. Wonderwoman sounded too...sweet. Yes, she's supposed to balance feminine softness and superpower, but her voice actress generally lacked both the power (I'm guess tone makes more sense) to back up her Amazon prowess. There were times when she sounded like Wonderwoman, but generally...a little off. She acted well, it just didn't fit. Flash actually had a really good guy. He nailed the character. Martian Manhunter and Green Lantern didn't bother me.
Batman. Did. So. Much.
Balwin didn't bother, at all, to sound gruff or disinterested or Batmany. Maybe he did, and just came of sounding underwhelmingly....normal. I'm expecting a tone that is emotional without emotion. Not someone throwing out well-spoken, but emotionally-empty lines, as Baldwin does. He does not account for the unspoken feelings. Chris Noth, who voices Batman's evil persona Owlman (think grey Niteowl), sounds like a better Batman than Batman. Noth had husk and repressed rage and worn patience and subtle lack of emotion. They should've switched roles. All the other villians shmooozed. Baldwin would've fit right in.
Still, there are quite a few good lines thrown in, and as usual, Batman saves the day.
"There is a difference between you and me. We both looked into the abyss, but when it looked back at us, you blinked." --Batman to Owlman.
How, HOW could they make Baldwin say something so fantastic. Oh Conroy...
Anyway, the common thread between Sliding Doors and this is the idea that while in this reality you made this choice, another one arises where you didn't. This ever expanding number of realities from unmade choices is called the 'multiverse.' Which is kind of the plot of Sliding Doors, where it shows the two realities in which Helen either catches, or misses, the train. From the existence of the multiverse, Owlman becomes nihilistic, figuring nothing matters, since with any choice he makes, there is a reality where he didn't make it. So there are no choices that matter.

Just remembered another movie to write about.
My Dog Tulip
Remind me about that. I think I want to watch that again before I blog about it.

I Don't Have A Dagger!

2011-01-15T22:04:00.000-08:00

Standing by the window early this afternoon, I looked out into the sunny streets below, being a bit of a voyeur. I spotted a trio of white guys my age or younger walking down the curb that faces my window. 'Skater punk wannabes' I muttered in my head. I moved off to the right and opened the other window with a clunk. I moved back to my spot of observation to find one of the boys waving. I watched him wave, wondering who he happened to know across the street. His friends turned to him. He stopped waving, pointed up. They follow his finger.
Oh.
He's waving to me.
He must have caught the sound of my window opening and followed it to see me gazing down. Guys in a group get cocky and confident, wanting to prove something to their brethren, and spurred by that, I guess he waved.
Struck with a sudden shyness at being discovered, and yet filled with a kind of boldness at being addressed, I waved down as they gazed up. They waved back. After the moment was over, I backpedaled, sat down on the bed, and grinned like a mad jackal. That just cinched my day.
I moved back after my facial muscles let me look sane again, and followed their progress around the block. No longer were they punks in my books (okay, they still kinda were) but were now fellow humans who had something in common with me. I was amazed how happy being spotted and acknowledged by complete strangers made me. Well, okay, that sounds weird. Lemme try again.
It made me very happy that there are people out there like me, who like to make a facetious and fleeting connection with complete strangers. That still sounds strange. Hrmm.
Last year (and I may repeat it again this year) for a while, alone in my dorm and utterly bored/lonely, I would sit on my desk, which was next to my window, and shout out 'Hello!' and waved to the students walking by some dozen feet away and a floor down. It was amusing to have them look bewildered while locating the sound of my salutation, find it, and then go through a host of expressions on how to respond. Some of them squeaked out an uncomfortable "Hi" and hurried on their way. Most grinned at my cheekiness (or so I'd like to think) and responded with "Hi, how are ya"? or some variant, while still walking, and I'd call back "Pretty good, you?" And they'd tell me. Others simply waved back. Still there were those, usually in a group, or the rare confident ones among us, that stopped and had a pretty complete conversation with me. Good times.
That's how it made me feel. Connected and acknowledged, even for a brief space of time, and several hundred feet away both vertically and horizontally. Just for that moment, a kinship and friendship passed between us.
Even if they were skater punks wannabes.

My Father

2011-01-04T17:35:00.000-08:00

I realise, with a lump of regret and sadness in my throat, that I don't really know my father. I love him, yes, but in the cool, distant love of a relative. Not the way I love my mother, a roiling relationship that covers the entire spectrum of emotions. I never sought to learn about him as I did my mother. I don't know his favorite color, his opinions, thoughts, and philosophies. I don't know his favorite foods, his preferences, and what he feels. What I do know of him is superficial and at most, gives me a caricature of the man he is.
My mother, on the other hand, I have a dictionary of scenarios and stories. I can predict her response, pick up her moods, recite her anecdotes and quips. She is so much my mother.
I've been so unfair to my father. He has done so much for me, and undoubtedly, in his stumbling, awkward ways, loves me very much. Yet, in antagonistic situations, I have always cast him as my foe, and I have always dismissed him more easily than I did my mother. I had already inherited his face, I justified, I would take my character from my mother.

My father is an intelligent man, who seems to know a bit of everything (and a lot of structural engineering). Yet, sometimes he can be so stupid about human nature. He lacks common sense and knowledge of social cues, making him an embarrassment to watch sometimes. He sometimes stutters like a broken record in animated conversation, but is a marvelous conversationalist. He is a coward, but also terribly brash. He's reasonable, I suppose, but so terribly childish at times. He has his eccentricities and his obliviousness, but beneath that I can't say much more.
He does not like to be touched, or is it I who has found less and less of a reason to hug him, hold his hand? I speak with him less and of trivial things. When he was here, I think mostly we argued. I left him to his own world, cooped up (barricaded? Sheltered?) in the master bedroom watching TV. I see him so little. I used to ask him so many questions, delighted and awed that he knew so much. Now I'm a veritable Mary Mary Quite Contrary towards his advice, whether from our different viewpoints or just opposing him out of...habit.

So why this sudden 'eulogy' for my father? Oh, I don't know. Today was a good and sunny day, nothing sad or father-affirming. My dad's doing well *knock on wood*. I've just been thinking, and in my ruminating journey, have realised (or rather, rediscovered) all sorts of mortal things. IT crystallized when I picked up Sixteen, a collection of short stories for young adults, and read Pigeon Humor which involved the death of a character's father, and it struck me how I know my father as well as a perhaps a character in a book, emotionally, but not terribly, involved. Thoughts condensed like storm cloud, and the words began running themselves over in my head. It sounded so much more eloquent and beautiful in my head, but like my father, I have bungled what I've tried to say, and have only ungainly conveyed perhaps a heavily diluted version of what I mean.

Felicitous Neophyte Revolution Around the Sun!

2011-01-01T23:42:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year!
Ahhhhh, 2011, the year those silly new years glasses become improbable and finally go out of style for practicality's sake. My mother and I spent the evening cozying up in front of the tube, trying to find a live feed of the New York ball dropping on my basic cable...Could find none. Finally, at ten, a recording plays, but Jesse McCarthy and Ryan Seacrest were too annoying, so I popped in the Netflix we got this week. The Ideal Husband Pretty good, lots of prettily framed cleavage and stars lots of famous females: Minnie Driver, Cate Blanchett, and Julianne Moore. A sweet and fulfilling comedy (meaning, everyone gets married at the end).
[Quite fittingly, Young Folk comes on Pandora. The first verse fits the synopsis to this film]
Anyway, the movie ends, and the TV is switched back to cable. Sweet. Only 15 minutes of watching Seacrest and McCarthy jabber away. I channel swap between the local channel (yay San Francisco's annual fireworks). Finally, we get reprieve from the godawful voices of the hosts as Dick Clark, oh you old cinnamon bun, you, counts us down. My mother and I count along when the timer hits ten, and at the stroke of midnight, we yell in the new year to each other as the first booms of the fireworks go off. I pour each of us a cup of sparkling apple cider, and drink to our cheer. I hum Auld Lang Syne as we watch the fireworks from the pier from the television, yet hearing the dull explosions surround sound from outside. After the finale, lights remain off, and I spend another two hours surfing basic cable for something worth watching (I know, so hard, right?). I manage to catch a rerun of Late Late Night with Craig Ferguson (Oh Craigy <3) and stumble on an episode of Sherlock Holmes (I don't know which of the older series). Then. Bed.
It's a personal, quiet, seemingly unfestive way to spend the new years, but it's the third year (or more) year my mom and I have done it, and it feels just right to me. It seems lonely, two women shouting HAPPY NEW YEAR, but there's nothing pathetic about it; rather the anticipation of the countdown and the intimacy of being with family witnessing the passing of a decade makes this a moment of happiness. Sentimental sappiness seeping from my pores, but I wouldn't spend it any other way.
The first picture is a quick scrawl of the new year scene. Darkened room, apple cider, New York Giant Shiny Ball of Shininess. The second is my concept for the 2011 glasses (drawn in 2009).
P.S. Yay Period on New Years Eve. My uterus decides to celebrate with us.

Today was all of rain and cold. We chased it out with a hotpot. Mmmmmm, I love hotpots.

The A in America is for Arrogance

2010-12-31T01:15:00.000-08:00

Protip: Do not go out on New Year's Eve's Eve to get errands done. Somehow, it's impossibly crowded and there are lines, lines, lines everywhere!
Gah!
I got back in the driver's seat after failing my driving exam five months ago. I'm still just as nervous, still hate lane changes and cutting across traffic, still drive far too slowly for American tastes, but I haven't really forgotten much. Whoot?
Going to try fishing the DMV for an appoint for Spring Break...at Daly City. Or San Mateo. I am NOT going to retest in San Francisco.

Anyway, went to Japantown today for some shopping. Cold, wet San Francisco winters are good for hotpots! Aaaaand where do the best hotpot ingredients come from? Japantown. Iunno. We had lunch there too, and had to jostle through scads of tourists. The couple at the table next to ours were European tourists (bah, currency exchange values!). I was watching them count out the their bill when it struck me...American coinage has no numeral denominations.
No really. Here. Google it.
Don't believe me? Or Google?
Go dig through your coin purse/wallet if you're an American, and see for yourself.
Done? Good.
Furthermore, did you notice that most of the coins do not even say what denomination they are in letter form? The dime does not say "ten cents" but "One Dime." Same goes with quarters (25 cents). The nickel doesn't say anything.
Do you realize the implications (or is it connotations?) of this? The assumption, or the demand, that visitors and immigrants to the United States must know the national tender (or be literate). I mean, okay, if you're gonna be a tourist somewhere, it's good to have done some research and be familiar with money, but America doesn't even give the user any helping hand, she just blindly assumes that whoever's janglin' change knows quarters=25/100, dimes=10/100, and nickels=5.
...
Okay, okay, I'm not saying America's the only country to do this, but as a nation that boasts internationalism and inclusiveness as bones her national body, to others, her money sure looks a lot like this.

also, if you really were too lazy to either google, click links, here you go.

“People are always telling me that change is good. But all that means is that something you didn't want to happen has happened.”

2010-12-19T03:26:00.000-08:00

--Meg Ryan

No no no nononono, I'm losing it! I'm losing the words that danced from my brain not ten minutes ago, fresh from the shower.
I'm so tired. I'm so tired of making up blogposts in my head and discarding them when I come to this page. I'm just too tired of the person I have become.
...Aha, it comes back.

...

Back when I was a prolific blogger, I used to scoff at those writers who would keep a blog for a while, only to abandon it. I had contempt for those who did it to seek attention, and had no endurance when they got nothing. I sighed for those with interesting lives and beautiful writing, who gave me a tantalizing glimpse into it, only to trail off...
Looking back to my first post, I did not have high hopes for my own blog, but halfway into this shindig, I realized I had so much to say and why would I ever stop?
Alas, readers, I have. I have become one of those who I despised. It's been a hearty two months since I've blogged, and while I visit this page daily for my blogroll(and wince at the hubris that is my last post), I have made no move to pick up what I once did. Until now.
The semester is at an end, and I have found myself unchanged throughout it, despite promising to at the beginning, and all it does it dredge up some sludge of hate, betrayal, regret, and frustration against myself. This sludgy monster lives in the sea of my mind and gets caught on the hooks of memories on its way out, and as it drags these fishing lines of recollections through the city of my brain, I'm forced to think...
A high school friend at the same college as I has mentioned, more than a couple times, that I've changed. I roll my eyes for the statement of the obvious. Everyone changes, right? Change, you know, the only constant. But I've stopped to think, is this change really that neutral of an entity? I mean, looking back on who I 'was,' I like being her. I liked how she wrote, how studious she was. I like the grades she got and her abounding creativity. I read old posts in wonderment at the girl who could write like this, and thought like this. I liked her a lot.
Who am I now? Heh. Well. I suppose I am very different. And I've found myself to regret not being who I am any more. Not to say I hate who I am now...although I do dislike some parts of myself, but I regret not hanging on to me.
So, what happened in the year between my last semester in high school to my first semester in college that changed me so completely, lead me to stumble the way I have into who I am now?
I think the answer to that tumbled out of my mouth a few weeks ago.
"What's the point?"
Readers, up until now I have not been very personal (and yet also quite personal) before on this blog. Partially because this is the Big (Bad) Internet, but also because while I will answer any question you ask up front and honestly, I am also warily protective of my privacy. Not even just warily, I'm just a dragon hoarding my own, and other people's secrets. So for me to type this...I don't even know any more.
Anyway, I screwed up my senior year. My college apps were not...eh. They just weren't. So come March, disappointment was shoved through the mailbox. And while I didn't fall into depression, I think, at that point, I sort of gave up.
I reasoned to myself that throughout high school I had done everything to the best of my abilities and achievements, and it didn't get me where I wanted.
So what's the point?
If I wasn't 'destined' where I wanted to be, or meant to go where I wanted to go, then there was no force (my force) that would change that. I had already given my all, to a disappointing result. There was no point in trying, in excelling, if in the end it got me nowhere.
And I think, from there, I just let myself go, and ceased to try, perhaps even self-sabotaged. And so I've fallen, quite willingly, and unpainfully, to the state I am now. It's going back to who I am that's going to be painful and difficult.
SO what am I saying, reader? Am I going to to the American way and celebrate my holidays ahead of schedule?
Damn right I am. My New Year's Resolution, even before Chanakwanzamas has passed, is to once more be who I was.
---
At this point I am reminded of a blog snippet I concocted as I walked back to the dorms after I failed a final...

I used to be so puzzled at students who did poorly in class. Couldn't they see the merits of doing well? Couldn't they see that it really wasn't that hard? How could they tolerate that grade?
Well.
I am on that side of the spectrum now, and I can answer those questions. Mostly, I realize that I don't like it here.
---

"Self-destruction is the effect of cowardice in the highest extreme." --Daniel Defoe

And I shall begin here.
Not when, but where.

Salutations, My Neophyte Readers

2010-10-14T02:16:00.000-07:00

Actually, I don't know if ya'll are even reading this. Narcissistic to think you are.
Anyway, I've gotten over my hiccup of illogical psychosis of not letting people I know and live with read my blog. What the hell, right? I've pretty much made a goddamn fool of myself already. This is not gonna hurt me. Actually, given my narcissistic nature, I'm probably going to start blogging more (and actually follow one of my resolutions from last post...yes, the one with boobies).

So it's two in the morning, and I have not done a blessed thing today, except perhaps fail a stats quiz. I have ANOTHER late four-hundred word thing which I will attempt to do after I've plied my writing glands with a blog post. I have a Chinese homework assignment due today and an oral I need to work on. I have to ~~catch up on~~ start my Scandinavian reading and somehow stay awake for my history class.
Ugh.
Sorry.
I forget I'm blogging to the wide Internet, not the suite alone. I generally don't grocery list my workload. It makes for bad blogging. But what do I know.
So
I feel so...apathetic this week. Nothing worries me. I let things fall past deadlines without a worry. I sleep when I should work, and vegetate when I should work, and procrastinate and detour and be A Bad Academic Person. I am not getting into law school.
Augh. Back to the topic of school. I'm sorry, dear readers, this really isn't the best welcome to my blog. Let's just scrap this and begin again.

***

It's two in the morning and I am not tired. It's either insomnia from the heat or the desperate urge to work that I am running on right now. I rove the corners of my mind for some interesting tidbit to talk about, but I am coming up blank. My mind is dead, as is the rest of my creativity and motivation. I have not tended the temple pool and my muse is annoyed. Welp. Next time will be better, I promise.

A Jumble of Broken Prose-ry (Crockery)

2010-08-29T02:54:00.001-07:00

The water runs in hurried rivulets over my skin, while my shoulder catches the spray and stragglers catch on the geography of my body, forming lonely droplets before gravity pulls them with the speed of the preoccupied to puddle loudly at my feet. I keep my eye trained on the slight swell of my left breast, concentrating to see the shudder of my heart beating under the surface. I remember doing it when I was younger. It seemed easier to see the tremors. I glance to the right to see my heartbeat showing through too. As I turn back, I tilt my head to the left, placing two fingers under the soft skin and feeling my pulse through my neck match the faint jump of breast.

It seems the words come easy in the shower. They bloom and burble like a river fed to bursting from spring rains. The courage and the motivation to write swell like flood. As soon as the handle has made its clockwise turn and I step out of the class stall, the easy half-passages and inventive ideas evaporate with the steam on the glass walls. I tumble out of the constant white noise of hissing, living water to the passive hum of the vent. The world and its obstacles fall back in place and I towel off, half-hopeful to put the phrases to use, half-optimistic at regularly updating the blog.

So the new year has started. I no longer count the year as beginning in January. Like the fashion world, I find it starts in September. A new academic year, and a lot of new brass promises. They have already begun to dull, but the night is still young, and so I swoop in to catch myself from falling into the trenches of my mistakes from last year.
My resolution is as follows:
1.) Apply myself seriously and do well in school
2.) No procrastination is whatever I have committed myself to do
3.) Blog more
4.) Get all the projects I swore to do rolling
a. School clubs/activities
b. Webcomic
5.) Remember my dreams more. Sleep more so I CAN dream more.

We'll see how well that turns out

OH MAH GAWD MAKE THIS A MOVIE!!!

2010-07-24T17:54:00.001-07:00

Batman: Under the Red Hood

2010-07-19T20:50:00.000-07:00

Ahhh! Welcome brethren, to my cozy Gothic library with its nonsensical fireplace. As per tradition, I am ensconced in a Turkish robe and bedecked with a fez, nestled happily in the high-backed velvet plush armchair, puffing away at my cheroot...
Pfft, who am I kidding. This is nerd fare. *crumples Gothic library setting*
Anyway
I came across a YouTube vid talking about the 'upcoming' DCU Animated feature a couple of months ago, and I bit my knuckle and squealed. And drooled over the stills/production snippets. And sighed when the cast list came around to find that Kevin Conroy would not voice Batman, and then fist-pumped when Neil Patrick Harris would be in it. All in all, I was a very happy fangirl.

So I watched it. And I liked it...enough. It wasn't anything to ZOMG! over. But satisfyingly good.
I liked the art this time 'round--I wasn't partial to the blocky, overtly cartoony-ness of Public Enemies. I noticed the eyes are a bit more stylized on teen Jason, and some of backdrop (the painted bushes outside the batcave) have maybe a hint of anime in them? The opening shot of Gotham was very classic B:TAS, complete with painted gargoyles and police blimps that, though dated, still felt very now. Still, it had more color in it than B:TAS and thank you crisp modern animation. The theme music was very heavily influenced from the current reboot--which is nice to keep continuity, but is also just good music. Despite the similarities, it put its own spin on it. Me like. (The action/chase scene music, I have to say, is just typical).
Character design also gets my approval. Batsuit is clean and nipple-free, the ears are just the right length. The only problem I have is the highlighting on the cowl. It reminds me of the batbrows. I never liked the batbrows. Nightwing is mullet-free, thank you! Robin is classic unadulterated Robin, although they may have changed the 'R' logo...I think. Jason Todd has the pixie boots and the Aquaman speedo as a kid, but is wearing a Red Robin suit when he's older...now I think about, makes sense as a sort of foreshadowing. Anyway. Joker is nothing to frown at, and does not take after Ledger's Joker except for the eye make-up (I'm scrolling through the movie as I review so stay tuned for such contradictions). And what he says about the Red Hood getup couldn't be truer: "When I wore that number it was classy, more flashy maître d’ than motorcycle fetish." Although, I have to say motorcycle wear is kinda hot.
The voice actors I'm a bit disappointed about, since they're more actors than voice actors. I may just be coddled too much from Kevin Conroy and Tim Daly. Bruce Greenwood does a pretty decent job (but he's no Conroy, says my fangirl). His Batman is softer, more like pebbles, less like gravel. The smoke/husk is still there, but it's more like a steam bath than a burning building. It sounds more human I guess. NPH as Nightwing is a really, really well-made casting choice, and I really wish I could commend him on a job well done, but he doesn't quite make the character sound natural--probably more from inexperience than lack of talent. His delivery is impeccable, he conveys the emotion, but there's not quite the oomph that makes me think "this is Nightwing speaking" rather than "this is NPH speaking as Nightwing." The Joker, oh Godiva, he sounded so freakin' familiar--that lisp! That range!--I had to look him up. It's the guy who, among other famous roles, played Drakken in Kim Possible. Oh man the nostalgia. He's a deeper Joker than Hamill, but it suits his frame/look for this movie. Red Hood had good lines that were spoken the right gusto, but still, "Jensen Ackles speaking as Red Hood/????? ????" rather than "Red Hood/????? ???? is speaking."
Despite everything, the script carries.
The storyline is good and tight. It's light on plot and mystery, heavy on the glorious, glorious group fight scenes. The choreography is soooooo good. And yet, there's so many fight scenes I found myself kinda bored. These aren't the trying-to-have-a-conversation-*grunt**kick*-and-bantering-while-*punch**dive*--fighting scenes. There's talking before, a bit of foreplay fighting,David Caruso line to sum up an act, fight, finish fighting, talking resumes. So I do focus on the sweet moves, but I'm also muttering "come on, come on, let's gooooo."
Batman: "Shut up and fight."
But man, those fight scenes......
Storywise, there is no twist ending. It is who you suspect. I feel like I've been cheated, but probably because I've only read Hush, where there was a twist and so I was kind of expecting it not to be him. All characters have balanced face time and contribute to further the plot. The meshing of "A Death in the Family" and "Under the Hood" works. The ending is implicit, but there is closure.
Overall, succinctly done and I was more or less satisfied with it. But I'm a fangirl, if it's Batman standing there for 75 minutes I'll like it.

Teal Deer Season (TL;DR)

2010-07-17T01:06:00.000-07:00

While I was gone, you missed...

Self-Flattery
In Chinatown a while ago, while grocery shopping with my mom, a tall white dude kept glancing at me. My ego, ever the bullfrog, puffed up and croaked that someone was checking me out, while the rest of me was divided into Creepo Alert and Yes I am an Asian, may I help you?-Irritated.Just before the elevator arrived, he, ever the Caucasian, gestured to his neck and said, "Um, you have circles on your neck?"
Said circles:

Cool, innit? They are the side effects of acupressure and are the proof that something went wrong there. If the muscles are fine, it doesn't leave a bruise. I was afraid of fans of pseudo-vampires and those that rag on them to bother me about how to fake/faking a vamp bite. So anyway, I palm the bruises and explain, "oh, they're from acupressure."
White guy: "Acupressure?"
Me: "...Yeah"
We get in the elevator and he goes from being on my left to my right and deduces brilliantly, "They're on both sides."
Yessirree, they are indeed. I just smiled.
A few days back, my neck had felt like being Frankenstein's monster--you know, with the bolt going through the back--and no amount of self-massage had helped. However, I did feel a hard lump of muscle that reminds me of those two circles of meat on a chicken referred to as "oysters". Hrmmm....definitely not normal. So I reached for the accupressure kit and suctioned away. The relief was immediately palpable, although my neck still hurt, but instead of being a jolt of midget lightning, it was the stab of a cold fork muffled through cotton. And I had cool bruises for white people to eye.
Needless to say, my ego felt like a fool, and has been serving penance ever since.

Also: The acupressure kit I use, since Wiki says that acupressure is strictly massage (I googled 'haci acupressure')

Faaaaaaabulous
Pride Parade!
This year I was not awoken by the Umphf, Umphf blaring from the speakers on the floats, but from my mother for matters I do not remember anymore. I pulled back the glorious curtains, squinted extra-Asian against the noon sun, and delightedly went for the camera. Forty and Fabulous was this year's theme, and among the scantily-clad bodies, Hawaiian-dancing troupes, Cowboys (probably of the Brokeback Mountain kind) on real horses, and the ever-present Rocky Horror Picture Show float was two vehicles belonging to...Churches! It made me smile.

(Nekkid peepels, Hip swayin', and Church-pride! [click 'em to make bigger])

Mild Irritation at Hollywood and M. Night Shameonyouasian
So, The Last Airbender came out, after several wonderful-looking, albeit rather white, trailers. And it has been a flop, to my delight. Yes, I am very much mildly agitated over the casting of Caucasians in this movie. At first I was placated with "well, it's a fictional world, so white casting is acceptable" until I realized how much effort and research the original creators of Avatar (the one with yellow-skinned aliens, not the blue ones) went through to set this in a heavily East-Asian-and-Inuit type setting. Then there was no excuse, especially since Shayamalalalan shmooozed about how he really 'got into' the back story/world of Avatar. And casting white actors in the lead roles when he himself in an East Asian and knows very well how hard it is for us to break into the industry. And then he complains about all the hate mail and defends the movie for having the most diverse cast, lyke, evar!!!!!!!!
No, Shmalayasialan, I don't want diversity in this movie. I want an accurate representation of the world this is set in. Which means: screw diversity, more Asians plz. We're not criticizing you for racism because you favored whites in the lead, and yellow and olive-hued to make up the background; we're criticizing you because this movie is all about the yellow and and olives. There is no white. Would you cast Caucasian actors thrown in with some Indians and a token African-Chinese actor for good measure in a film about a rural, isolated farmtown in China? No--unless you're an avante-garde director who has tripped one too many times on acid--because it wouldn't make any sense since there is no diversity in the population of that rural Chinese town. Avatar is that rural Chinese town. And you are the frikken eclair (brown on the outside, white on the inside) that has tripped horribly and miscast it.
I understand you wanting to work with a certain actress, but you can put it off until a suitable film shows up (or cast her as Yue. She does have nice blue eyes, and being white wouldn't be much of an anomaly since she's kinda doesn't belong to the world anyway)
So I am very glad when the movie panned. Crash and burn, baby. I didn't keep up with the show when it started to devolve into fanservice, but I am still very loyal to it.
P.S. Your daughter would've made a pretty fetching Katara.

Older/Miscellaneous News that are still worthy of mentioning
-->Jim Butcher's Dresden Files series are SO GOOD, SO AWESOME, WHY IS IT A SERIAL?? I hate serials. But I love this. Augh.
-->I CAN HAS TABLET. FOR FREE. DANGNABBIT! :D
-->I've been off for summer vacation for about...two months already. Haha
-->Picked up knitting again. The first thing I ever started, I am going to finish this damn scarf if it means drowning in it.

Progression of my Batman Crush
I watched Batman: Under the Red Hood. Review to come.
Needless to say, my inner fangirl squealed very, very happily, despite it not really attaining 'fangirl worthy' status.

I KNEW It!

2010-05-21T21:50:00.000-07:00

I KNEW Jeff's getting with Annie.
AUGH.
It's always the pairing I hate. DX

He's like twice her psychotic age. ;__;

GAAAAAAAAAAAH

Sorry. Community finale.

Also, Jeff is such a gary stu in it. And a pimp/player/hustler/virile/whatever you call men with lots of women.

As Blank A Slate As I Can

2010-05-18T23:43:00.000-07:00

One year down, six semesters to go. One horrible, wonderful, fatalistic way of bursting through college. I have enemies, and maybe friends, and now they're all scattered the the far corners of campus come next year.
Next year, I promise myself, I WILL succeed.
But a niggling corner of me rolls her eyes and tells me I will not change. That I'll still haphazardly scrabble my way through college.
I bite my lip and try to scrub the slate clean.

On the other hand. It's summer, which means time, oh sweet time and attention, for my long-neglected blog.

Oh, salad days

"If it Wasn't for You Meddling Big Brother"

2010-02-20T15:52:00.000-08:00

This has now troubled me enough that I can't concentrate on studying for my midterms. I have to write it down, or tell someone. Since I'm so awkward at the latter, here I am.

In my dorm is this precocious, tech-savvy, business-owning, really great--affable, kind, generous--sophomore who's taken upon himself to make himself our big brother. It's awesome most of the time--he takes us places, tells us stuff, organizes events--but now...it's come to bug me. You see, he's trying to make us into better people, and while it's not a bad thing, maybe I don't want to be preached to and I don't want to be meddled with. He's become a bit overbearing and if we refuse to participate with solidarity, he manages to make it feel like your fault. I'm usually compliant but...
It's my turn this time.
This week has not been a good week. I'm insanely tired and go to bed ungodly early. And I've felt like I've been spending way too much money. So when he proposed a trip to SF to see Wicked, I passed. He wheedled and cajoled and made an offer I usually couldn't refuse, but I didn't go. I went home to do some housekeeping, and then watched a movie for a DeCal of mine (it's a class on creative writing and Miyazaki's films). So then I crash back at the dorm, and he and the group come back from the show, and promptly leave again...for an early morning road trip.
So I'm both glad and jealous. Glad that I managed to throw off my lethargy, and jealous I didn't go. Of course they had a terrific time. But underlying this glorious trip, I felt like it was a revenge of sorts--a "ha-look-what-you-missed-out-on." He was angry with me yesterday, and might still be, and I did expect something like this from him, I just didn't expect it to trouble me so much.
I hate being manipulated like this. And I hate how it's affecting me.
Or maybe I'm just being a paranoid bitch who resents not being invited along and missing out on a great 24 hours. Maybe he's not angry, just disappointed at me. Maybe maybe maybe. It's not making me feel any better though, is it?

What a bad reintroduction to blogging; a whining post on people.
The worst part? It's a whining post on a nice person.
Why am I predisposed against nice fellows?

2010-01-15T19:21:00.000-08:00

Dear Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer,

Congratulations!
When's the date? What's she gonna wear? Where's the ring? How'd you propose?
*girly squeals*

Ahhh, and the wedding bells will ring with the chiming of the breaking hearts of thousands of fangirls and fanboys.

Signed,

A Fan of No Consequence.

Happy Bicentennial and a Decade

2010-01-06T01:08:00.000-08:00

For those wondering what to do with those 200[...] glasses now that it's not a double-oh.
Trimmed blog, will post on excursion t'morrah...er...today.

Where is the undo/reset comand on life?

2009-12-18T15:20:00.001-08:00

Aw, feck it.

Bing Crosby on the Eve of December

2009-12-01T03:42:00.000-08:00

Strains of White Christmas snake languidly around. In a clean-cluttered room, a couple sways to their own rhythm, dressed in rumpled jeans and shirts; floss thread trails from the girl's thigh. Their arms encircle each other completely, isolating, encompassing the pair as inseparably an island. The boy, his hair shaggy and long, shadows his face as he bends into the shoulder of the girl. It is both a tired, reluctant, and introverted pose. The girl tilts back her own head and rests it on his shoulder, and turns her face towards his neck, nuzzling into the warm curve of familiarity. Both crave the dark caves they create between them.
As they sway, their arms smooth and clutch at each other in fussy intimacy and with the absent-minded electricity of touch. Despite being three-thirty in the morning, together, they crystallize the tired sludge of an all-nighter and yet revel in the languid timelessness of a dancing couple. The song fades to an end, and they curl and crumple back in bed.
Sprawled like a rag doll on a rumpled bed, watching them through alert writer's in bleary sockets, the writer admires them over the top of her laptop, clicking her way towards her blog. As a romantic and a sleep-deprived (and thus delusional) member of humanity, she can't help but subconsciously bite her lip. She breathes deeply and quells the hormones, twitches her right ankle and returns to the dead, papery essays.

Edit: In a fit of madness, showed part of it to the couple-in-question. Ergh. I know this should be in WWHNtG, but eh.

What Would My Mother Say?

2009-11-17T03:21:00.000-08:00

I'm typing this on my dorm-mate's computer, in his room. It's the triple at the end of the hall, and I've taken refuge here while my roommate cuddles with our neighbor/boyfriend. I tried going in earlier to drop off some stuff before heading to a meteor shower, but apparently there was hanky panky, and I got my head hit and crying never looked so appealing at that moment. I reined in my tear ducts and breathed: at least I got a good yell out.
So yeah, hanging (oh shut up. Pun so intended) around three guys. Two are unconscious, while the last and I plug away at short papers we have to write that's due in a coupla' hours. I'm bloggin' to get the juices flowing, and just to drop in and talk. Sometimes, I just need the world to know what's goin' up on my lil' corner of the world so I feel...not as alone.

But yeah, meteor shower. Not...fantastic, but I got to see so many stars. It was beautiful. And cold. And beautiful. Looking hard enough, you begin to see and fall into the depth of the stars. You see those tiny ones far away that flare like pinpricks and crumbs, and realize again how the sky never really goes black. Just a deep, rich blue. *sigh*

I painted! Something pretty good actually. Will put up eventually.

Sleepover!

2009-11-11T04:39:00.000-08:00

So it's four in the morning, and we've just settled down to sleep. Well, most of us. Obviously, I'm awake, running on one hour of sleep from last night. And by we, I mean the five of us. Once more, I'm on the floor but this time overseeing a sort of 'sleepover.' Two guys from the triple were locked out, and so have bedded over on my bed and the sleeping bag. My neighbor also takes this chance to stay, sleeping with my roommate...er, it's totally Platonic. Although it's both very obvious, and mildly stinging to see, that they like each other. I'm very supportive. And no, I do have a line drawn, but yeah, I think it's lovely. They're very compatible.
I know I should sleep, and I probably could, but I'm always a bit of a martyr for my own well-being and situation for others. This is how I make up for being loud, obnoxious, and obtuse most days.
The symphony of sleeping voices abound, and I relax about typing loudly. I even begin to enjoy opening my room to overnight lodgers. That's a lie, I'm already enjoying this. I'm weird. Anyway, in four hours, a great honking group of us will be sleep-deprived and on our way to San Francisco for a day to the city--to ice-skate and see sea lions. Maybe. Weather permitting. This is fodder for the rational corner of my brain nagging me to sleep and rest up. I'll be the tour guide, as it is, after all, where I live. I don't take the planning to well, or leadership either. Although maybe that's just being so horrible at being grown up.
But I have been improving. I'm inching my way up to being productive, and am now only half as horribly behind as I was. I inspire myself with the amazing maturity and hardworking aura of The Berkeley Students I know, and with whatever elixir my poor liver is pumping to keep me running. I need to shower. I'll do it in 4 hours.

So yeah, ice-skating. a chance for my ego to puff up and devour shallow praise greedily. Great. Oh well. I do miss being on ice. Hopefully I won't be as stiff as last time. Gotta impress!
I'm also stream-of-consciousness to the brink of nonsense (again). So I'll stop.
I've begun to see the pattern of late-night, sleep-deprived blogging. Whoo! That's sooooo college!
:|

"Someone's been sleeping in my bed...

2009-10-29T03:08:00.000-07:00

...and he's still there!" exclaimed Baby bear.

My neighbor has fallen asleep on my bed, and I'm very proud to let him sleep there. I don't know why, I'm proud for strange reasons. I think it's because he chose my bed. But yeah, my bed is a guy magnet. Yesterday was Math 53 midterm study galore, and everyone was crowded around my bed studying. I feel like those French ladies who host forums in their parlours (forget the term at the moment...). Anyway, I'm on the floor typing away because tonight feels like a cozy non-laundry Laundry Night. On the floor. In the dark. I like it. I'm sitting between the two beds and am like an overseer of their slumber. Ignore me, I'm silly like this when I don't sleep.
So I promised a blog on my ideal marriage and life, but I'm in no state to adequately describe it. Prease to come back soon. Sank you, sank you.

So, college is amazing and horrible. Amazing because of late nights, dorm laughs, learning thriller, amazing weather, walking, grass, more laughter, sleep and naps and not sleeping. Amazing because of Berkeley time. It's amazing because it is. Oh man. so many little memories. A guy zipping by on a unicycle; stealing plastic compostable utensils at the dining commons because it's the only rebate for the overpriced education. Catan and Bang! and Big Two and countless games in various rooms. Studious moments in our room, where we're all quiet and two-thirds of us are working furiously (I'm the slacking one-third). Boiling water often for drinking water, ovaltine, and endless bowls of instant noodles. Having the Kimmunicator (Kim Possible beepy thing) call me to class. All the inside jokes in the world. And just meeting people, forgetting them, and then meeting them again and knowing them without knowing their name. Karaoke in the rooms, with music blaring from laptops and off-key lyrics belted from out throats. CON TE PARTIROOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Horrible because it's so much more intense than the laid-back class structure let on, and thus I'm slipping horribly behind. Because I feel inadequate and stupid and slow and undeserving in all my classes. Because my dating prospects are bleak and I might as well turn off the hormones to make it easier on myself. Because there are a surprising number of Christians. Devout ones.
Oh hey, Christian tangent. They really know their scripture. Catholics don't...but we know our dogma and tradition!
*cough*
Anyway, I don't know what I'm saying anymore. It's all just stream-of-consciousness and this hurry to type and type and type because if I stop I'll be...something I had but just a minute ago but lost now.
I'm killing my eyes here, but that's okay.
I feel like Adam Young of Owl City. He composes music in the wee hours of his insomnia; I write nonsense. I think I'll update WWhNEtG. I haven't done that in a looong while.

Early Morning Talent

2009-10-08T05:13:00.000-07:00

On non-Laundry Night insomnia days, like tonight, I spend at my desk, either surfing to web, or more productively, painting. So far, I've found that I'm far better at painting during these hours. I've completed three pretty good works in these silent, unhealthy-to-be-awake hours, and I feel great and accomplished. There's something satisfying about a sleeping roommate, a warm room, a mess of paint and paint-stained tissues and papers and paintbrushes creating a nest of work. I bend my lamp until it seems to kow-tow the desk, and I pull out the tray under the desk, and I squeeze my pigments, wet my brushes and I paint. I paint and look and paint and listen to Pandora, and paint. When the clock reads 5:00 Am, I leave my nest the way it is, and I turn off my computer, turn off the lamp, and clamber into bed. In the light of day, I take a look at how well my paintings turn out, and I survey the mess with halfhearted OCD and a small weed of pride. I caused this, and from this came something of merit. I'm carefully proud of my work. I smile, I gloat, and then I chastise myself. I point out the flaws, and the erroneous brushstrokes. And still I am proud. I look at Deviantart, I look at Wiki pages. Show myself the painters and works I can never rival, and I still have this iggling of pride.

I really shouldn't be doing this. I have a midterm next week, a 5-7 page paper due, an essay to rewrite, a Chinese grade to salvage (not to mention a test on Friday), a dense excerpt to read, and so many things still to get in order, and they can all be accomplished in these dormant hours, and yet I choose to paint.

Because. Because in painting I don't think of my responsibilities and mountains of tasks. I'm in my bubble of colors and tints and hues and tones. Of songs that fade to background noise, and water that might as well be alchemical in changing colors. I shut out everything that's not a color mixer, a tube of paint, tracing paper, canvas, and reference photo printouts. I study intricate intricacies on how paint leaves its trace. I study how to achieve realism, how to paint highlights. I can paint over mistakes and wash out smears. Because it's the easy way out.

Oh, I don't know. This is part stream-of-consciousness, part emerging from the bubble and getting ready for bed. This is painting.

Laundry Nights, Late-Night Reading, and Perpetuity of Today

2009-09-23T10:39:00.000-07:00

Another trifecta of of topics to be blogged in my title. Aye. I'm good at those. It's like those five-paragraph essays that are so standard they have to be bad, but really, they aren't, sometimes. Anyway

Laundry Nights are what I'm planning to call my bimonthly, or maybe even weekly, bouts of voluntary insomnia. Like most of you've already heard, there are days (or rather, nights) where I just don't sleep. Most of the time I'm horribly disheveled and tired, but not today. Yes, I pulled an all-nighter yester-to-day (haha, pun). I had to do laundry (at three in the morning, yes), and instead of the usual plethora of things I bring to entertain myself (computer and various wires, knitting, reading for class, etc etc), I just brought a book I bought the past week (a small book-shopping excursion on my birthday): Houssini's second book A Thousand Splendid Suns. I was actually hesitant about buying it, since second books never really match up to the first. A fellow dormmate recommended it, and trusting my Berkelians, I bought it. And so don't regret it. It was a slow page-turner. As in, it's a page turner, but the action builds like a lazy creek, as opposed to Dan Brown's fast page-turner. Comprende? Anyway, it was brilliant, and I finished it in one sitting during and long after I finished my laundry. I started in at around four-thirty in the morning, and finished at eight-fifteenish. A brilliant, touching, shuddering, heart-deep and bone-strong book. Maybe I found it so good because sleep-deprivation, but it was engrossing and comfortable, and such a relief! to read deeply and enjoyably. I haven't done that in a while. But the laundry room is such a comfortable place to spend my crazy insomnia impulses. It has bright lights, a warm atmosphere, a clean whiteness, that clean laundry smell, and the fuzzy white-noise hum of machines. So much better than the dim, dingy lounge with dirty carpet. So yes. I have designated Laundry Nights to be my now-comfortable insomnia hangout.

I've already covered my late-night reading, but the serious blogger in me wants a semi-concise book review, sort of. So. A Thousand Splendid Suns. It's still set in Afghanistan and the surrounding territory, and about the endless conflict the region has seen. This time, however, it's mostly a female protagonist cast, as unlike the platonic love of The Kite Runner, focuses on romantic love, and stays local. When I finished it, I wanted to weep, only because of the series of events that just keep happening--relentless like ocean waves. I couldn't put down the book; I wouldn't even notice the chapters passing. I was so starved for fiction; I should've savored and appreciated slowly, and read in sections, but I couldn't. I still savored the story, the bittersweet, the sharp, and the heavy sensuality, but I devoured it. Think of it this way. I luxuriously devoured the bursting peach. The image I associate with this hunger and enthusiasm. Of course I'm going back to reread it, languidly this time; maybe in bed, or laying on the floor of my room, under the soft, slanting afternoon night. Anyway, back to the book. My only irksome point, that I just realized, was that, despite the surprising disasters after another, it still played out a little predictably, and the inevitability of certain events dulled not just my spirits, but took the edge off the book. As well as the preachy/expose undertone. See, what went so spectacularly right in the first book was that it was the perfect blend of realism and romanticism and tasted so novel and new and endearing. It wasn't just a father-son/coming-of-age story; it was just the wholeness of it. All right, I'm officially rambling from lack of sleep.

So, last, philosophical-sounding part. Perpetuity of Today. It's just how, engrossed in a good book with it's own passage of time, in a lit room, and staying awake without the break of sleep to break the progression of time into 'yesterday,' 'today,' and 'tomorrow'...It's like it doesn't happen at all. Having witnessed the dark sky lighten, and heard the birds wake up and cause a royal racket among themselves, and then totter up the stairs to realize I'm beginning a new day? What? It's like time, or the day rather, stretched to eternityish for me. I look up and the sky's dark, and I look up again and the sky's light. But the date associated with the breaking day has no meaning for me since I didn't end yesterday with sleep.

Since I'm beginning to get a bit tiddly, so I'm going pack for my classes, and micronap.

The Flurry of College

2009-08-28T12:46:00.000-07:00

A collection of random freshman gushing.

Holy Bovine, college in amazing. Move-in was stressy, but straightforward and smooth. My roommate didn't show up until the afternoon, and she isn't like what her youtube vid sketches her as. We're getting along very well. I'm actually being nerdy and waiting for an hour outside my next class, Chinese. I just came from Anthropology (archaeology) and the professor is AMAZING. First day of class was Wednesday, and she was my first Berkeley class ever, and it just means this year's going to be great.

My only complaint is the walking. I live in Foothill, and it's such a long and horrible uphil walk *weeps* the food is meh, but overpriced. However, my suite is full of amazing and nice people. And I'm right across from the bathroom. :D My window faces the rec room, and the piano always seem to be in use. I'm not complaining. Free live entertainment, albeit sometimes imperfect.

So the first night, even before school starts, I've already gone wild and did questionably legal things. In looking for a lost friend, I trespassed construction areas and climbed fences in search of orange portapotties.

I've laughed so much, met so many people. It's amazing. I wish I could name them here.

Ahhhh, running out of time and memories. I'll post again when I have more time and am not all scatterbrained.

Going home this weekend though. so yeah.

Sunny-Side Between the Lines

2009-08-17T18:15:00.000-07:00

Today, is a crappy day. Mondays are generally crappy (although exempt during summer vacation), but today was a whole heaping of crappiness.

But.

The thing with the world that can be considered fair, or maybe just annoying, is that it's more or less balanced. Not literally (the earth tilts, and the rich>poor ratio is not 50/50), but I'm talking general intangibleness of my part of the world. So despite the crappy start, I tripped into a pretty good day, ran into a knot of trouble (in my head I called it an adventure), but the day evened out with Stargirl.

Enough abstracts Kaffy! I hear you lament. This is a blog, not a philosophical hypothetical!
I'm still squemish about putting anything too personal here. I don't know. It's lame of me, considering this a public blog and whatnot. But meh, crazy spinsters-in-training will have their quirks. Let's just say I rolled out of bed during the wrong revolution of the clock and into the valley of hormonal imbalance. Don't understand what I just said? That's okay, neither do I.
So, without ceremony, breakfast or a jacket, I walk myself to a bus and take myself to Japantown, to be a third wheel in a novice shooting for a commercial. I generally run away and skulk around. Being lame. Perk: I harrass dogs and their owners. So shooting done (or at least I think so), I grab lunch with friends and dally about before returning.
So the cosmos, being (what they think is) fair, send me farther away from home on the wrong bus. Before I can panic, I find myself at Point Lobos gnawing at my absent-mindedness and anxiously peering at the return bus, praying fervently to routine. So yeah. My adventure.
I get back safely, and sit in the musty business center typing away and being a sore loser unwilling to lose. Stalemater?
But all throughout my day, I had Stargirl (or rather Love, Stargirl), and reading that was enough to keep me from riding any and all buses around town for the rest of my life, or until I run out of quarters.

Wall-E

2009-08-16T20:38:00.000-07:00

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Oh my holy bovine. It's so amazingly adorable.
And so anthropomorphic and pathos-based. I'm telling you, English Lit and English Lang. have forever ruined my enjoyment in books and film.
*weeps*

But, uhm. I loved it. I'm amazed how far CGI has come.
Most of all, the ingenuity of the people who worked on Wall-E and thought up all the antics and slapstick and the story. The ending doesn't rest easy with me (blame English Lang/Lit), but meh.

Anyway, not so much a review, since almost everyone's already seen it.
(Yes, I've only just watched it yesterday)

The World's Most Expensive General Hobby

2009-08-16T20:29:00.000-07:00

...well, at least I think so.

I went book-shopping today, and after the great famine of July, I went slightly crazy and bought seven fiction books, totaling seventy-eight dollars. So...eleven per book.
Good lord, it's good to have books.

Books One and Two of The Dresden files. I read an excerpt of Butcher's writing and decided I like it very much. And I have a secret soft spot for PI stuff. Coupled with my love for the supernatural..Yum.
Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. XD I HAVE to read this.
The Sequel to Stargirl. I need this to give me closure.
Waiting for Godot. A bit of a prep for Philosophy class at Cal.
The Gun Seller. Hugh Laurie wrote this. He is the type of person that should write books. So I bought it.
The Book of Dead Philosophers. >_> Prep for school and future snobbery.

Talking about books, I also got my textbooks. It's CRAZY. $147 dollars, and all paperback.

Nietzsche, Kierkegaard, Dostoevsky, Godard, and a Chinese primer.
Mr. Humanities-Snob, however, has close to seven hundred dollars worth of thick textbooks, charts, and mathematical miscellany.
Good Grief!
I might actually like college, if only for the light backpack.

Oh, yeah, I move in next week, and I am not in the least prepared...We haven't bought my supplies at all. :\ I'm still living as if school's a month away. *sigh*

Watch for a movie review next. Today is a double-post day.

Not-Exactly-Scenic Velocipede Traversing

2009-08-02T19:02:00.000-07:00

So my inner exercise fiend roused my urges to cycle today, and my dad, who was originally going to the fitness center, went with me. So I dusted down the bikes and off we rode. At the corner of the street, while waiting for the light to turn, I hear a random, "Hey, you! You guys on the bikes." I ignore it the first time, too intent on spurring my muscle memory along to remember how to ride a bike, but by the second time, I turn to face the beat-up, dark red car, from which a gangsta/wigger hangs from the back seat. "Hey, you guys on the bikes. You got any marijuana?!" He asks with a grin. I stare at him blankly for a second, thinking Really? You're really asking us? You must be stoned out of your mind (and perception). Then I remember the news article of a Chinese fellow who rented his place out to a young, rich guy who paid twice the rent the landlord was looking for. Turns out Mr. Young-White-and-Rich is growing weed. Moreover, he actually has a license to grow and smoke the plants. He was still arrested for making a commercial business out of it. Oh, I thought. That's why. Then they make a right turn in front of us, yelling obscenities and laughing like a bunch of immature 6th-graders. I look at my dad, and either he didn't pay attention, or he's ignoring them. Ignoring them well...
It's while they're turning the corner that I wanted to yell 'flock off,' which I would've, had my dad not been there. I sneered instead. I keep thinking of what I should have done, and decided on flipping them off behind my father's back. Next time, I vowed in my head. Moving past that, We get on the Embarcadero and ride down to Pier 40 and beyond, towards the baseball stadium (currently AT&T, until SBC buys them out again). Great sunny weather with a nice sea breeze. Not surprisingly, my thighs begin to strain five minutes into peddling. I roll my eyes and mentally chastise them. Buck up, I scold. You used to be able to take far more than this. They whine and acclimate.
Finally, we wend our way to the back of the stadium, and rest by the water, where a bunch of kayaks and people-in-small-boats float about. Waiting for that rare ball that flies past the park into the water. "It's never going to happen," My father comments. "They're wasting their time." I'm just enjoying the sun, and idly watching a nearby middle-aged guy eating nachos when I hear "SOMEONE GET IT!" and a pretty anti-climatic plop in the water right in front of me. A ball really did sail past the ball-park into the water. It landed quite neatly within 5 feet of a lucky kayaker in a yellow raft. He paddled towards it, and was swatting the ball towards him when a strong gust blows him just out of reach. By this time a small crowd has gathered and cheers him on. As he begins paddling forward, a guy in an orange kayak slides up and pulls the nose of the other man's kayak back. Despite such an act, the man in the yellow kayak managed to get the ball. The crowd dispenses a pattering of applause then disperses. As did we.

The triumphant kayaker. A bad cell phone image I took as we were heading back.
So anyway, we were riding back, with me leading the way, and I begin tourist-spotting. I look to my left, and there's these two wiggers in white and I mentally roll my eyes, and then I think, aren't you..? He glances up, sees me and says to his friend, "That's her." I turn to look over my shoulder and conclude, You ARE! The guy from the car! I narrow my eyes and am about to raise my hand when my father catches up behind me. I sigh and turn away from him, and pedal just slightly faster.
Damn it. I should've flipped him off, although...you know, since he's not in a car, he might've given chase had he felt offended. Ah well. At least I got a good Asian glare in this time.
Haha, but next time, lame white boy, next time, you're getting the bird. D:<

In other news, nerd pictures! (taken with my cell phone on various days where I've been nerd-spotting)

You know how there's a japanese festival where people tie pieces of paper with their wishes onto trees? Japantown does the same thing, but with lame plastic bamboo plants. I was just walking by and this caught my eye!
They got it a bit wrong, but still.
Live long and prosper!

(The pic says Long life and prosper with a picture of spock, btw)

Andre the Giant and his Posse (is what the sticker says). Made a bit famous from The Princess Bride.
On one of the pedal-boats at Stow Lake, in Golden Gate Park.

XD Getting Hit on in the Intermet

2009-07-31T01:57:00.000-07:00

So I've taken up GaiaOnline again for the sake of boredom, and apparently, compliments.

First time:

And, just now, I was wandering in one of the new worlds, "virtual Hollywood or something, and this guy goes "Amelia Air Heart" // "Ur cute"

Get it? How punny.

Anyway, just wanted to let the Internet know I'm quite the desirable avatar.

Flock It!

2009-07-29T16:27:00.000-07:00

So I guess I'm not taking my driver's test Thursday as planned, since I'm a horrible procrastination and put off my appointment. As of this typing, I'm listening to muzac, hopefully getting some sympathetic motherly DMV worker who might be able to squeeze me in tomorrow...

[insert swearing section here]
I'm an idiot.

And now I'll have my mother and father after be for being such a useless fart.

...Oh, the written test can be taken on an 'walk-in' basis (only I have to wait in line for quite a while). Well, at least I can still go tomorrow (wake up way early). So my father's most likely still going to be horribly insulting, but at least I can take the test :v.
Now about those contacts....(the vision test)

Simple Insomnia

2009-07-27T03:05:00.000-07:00

I couldn't sleep...so I decided to blog. It seemed logical, since I always plan to blog but never get to it, and here I am with time to spare, I might as well do it. So I snuck the laptop under the covers, and am typing away, trying to smother the loud clack of the spacebar.

I'm going to college, and I'm setting up all these 'grown-up' things: proper bank accounts, a passport renewal; I've got my debit card and my checks and my student ID. And people take me seriously, which is a funny feeling indeed, when I'm so used to being a child and having my decisions to situations of gravity made for me. You know me, I'm indecisive, so it's frightening to be suddenly given the reins without any prior practice or preparation. It doesn't make me want to grow up. I can see tax forms looming in the future.

But through all these things, one thing has been consistently annoying: everyone assumes I have a driver's license. I actually don't know whether to be embarrassed that I haven't learned to drive, or shocked that, to an American, a driver's license is the main form of identification. It really does say something about American society and the prevalence of automobiles in it, doesn't it? But I'm remedying the situation. Am reading the driver's handbook and hope to pass the written test next Thursday. Dear Godiva...be afraid, be very afraid: Kaffy's going behind the wheel.
My arms are beginning to ache, so I'm going to wrap up, browse a bit, and then try to sleep again.

oooh, tabs!

Nerds in Google!!!

2009-07-23T14:04:00.001-07:00

*Fangirl scream*
That's actually what I did when I flipped to Google today.

Getting on with Life

2009-07-19T20:54:00.000-07:00

So I've told myself that just because I haven't finished my massive blog about my month away doesn't mean I can't update on what's been happening in my life recently. :v Chronology is whack on the Internet anyway.

So today, my mother put off intensive stove cleaning to visit the outside world. Yes, it's sad that I really haven't left my home since I've been back. But we went to Golden Gate Park (yes, I really have totally let go of being anonymous etc etc on the interwubs) and pedal-boated around Stow Lake. Also met Mr. Nice-Hats. Then I went to feed the various fauna living in the woods and feel a bit like Snow White.

Apropos of nothing, I really actually wanted to put up these photos of arm paintings I have done a few days ago. I got the idea in combining those crazy ink-pen nazca lines I'd draw on myself when I was bored in class back in high school and paint (and maybe even runes and cosplay, but that's something to kick under the closet)

Done two nights ago:
Totally on the spot. I mussed it up a bit (it's not exactly straight) and despite some lines that really shouldn't have been there, it's pretty good.

Done last night:
Just a quick practice on painting lines, but damn, really nicely done. Neat and has a nice overall shape. Slight smudge was due to faulty first dab of another design; the brush was too wet and the paint consistency was off.

Ego Takes A Beating

2009-04-26T17:57:00.000-07:00

Maybe it's because I only got four hours of sleep, but still. I don't think so.
Practice Chem AP.
Totally failed.
I feel so awful not knowing how to do any of it! I'm not lying. I barely answered twenty questions, and I was just despairing, flipping through the pages.
How dangerously unprepared I am! So close to AP season. And for ALL of my APs.
I don't know whether to weep or cram.

Am only beating myself over it a little bit. It's still only a practice round. right?

Anyway. Yeah. *sigh*
At this point, I do wish my life was a book that I could skip these difficult weeks by flipping a few pages and write myself out of failing. I pick up reading where I've passed all my AP's and am waiting for graduation and stuff.

Heh.
Back to backlog of homework.

P.S. I've noticed that I've given up playing safe on my blog and am pretty much sketching my real-profile to the Internet. I don't know. I guess seeing so many strangers doing to same makes me feel safe. And besides. No one reads this but you guys. And even if the occasional lurker comes by (hi lurker!), it's, well, I'd like to think it's no biggie. I don't have a very interesting life.

OMG Shoes!

2009-04-25T16:58:00.001-07:00

Prom looms like an upcoming menstrual cycle, so I've decided to tackle my shoes. I took them out from the closet and put them on, tottering around the bathroom (the rest of the house creaks too much) for a bit. I've since sat down and started blogging--shoes on of course....and half an hour in, my toes and the balls of my foot have numbed. Yeah. >_<
I always feel like a fraud, wearing heels, because there's this irrational voice that tells me I still haven't grown up enough to wear them. Dunno, I am pretty childish, and disappointing in the tit department, but well, my cells prove I'm not five. So...why?
My inner psychologist says this repression and denial of being able to wear them and not feel foolish comes from being discouraged from such frivolous shoes at a young age--being indirectly told they are for adults and that I'm not one yet. Dunno. My mother did successfully keep me from her heels for most of my life and has always bought be sensible shoes in black.
My inner nerd says that I don't wear ornamental shoes because they're not practical, and I'm a dork. I'm not allowed. Dunno. I like what she's saying. Self-elitism. Like how I won't wear bright colors etc.
Mostly, I think it's because I judge what I wear based on what my mother would say. Yeah no, it's not that she's a domineering, controlling figure. It's just...she's done this when I was younger, and doesn't mince her words when I try to dress myself. I think I end up afraid of what she's gonna say. It's, well, it's the classic let-parents-approve mindset. Especially coming from my background.
So college...She won't see what I wear. It's both a relief and a worry. I mean, I wouldn't hear if she didn't approve, but I'd most likely construct a mental Mommy to tell me whatever ensemble I have on is hideous.

Maybe I just have an inferiority complex. Meh.

Okay, okay, enough of being a girl. Back to nonsense.

I Know Why the Suprised Fiancee (to-be) Cries

2009-04-21T17:54:00.000-07:00

Just watch the first twenty seconds :B

That is how I will date XD Go Stalker Habits!
(the rest of the trailer: I want to watch!!!)

Now you're in the RomCom frame of mind, lets move on, shall we?
I love watching surprise proposal videos. It's so touching that someone would go through so much trouble to ask for another's love forever, and the love on his face as he's down on his knees with the shiny, proud and pleased to have surprised her--to evoke such feeling from her, but open and vulnerable, a wobbley smile waiting to taut up for a yes. I love the look on her face, be it tears or screams or wide eyes and sharp gasp, and perhaps her hands over her face, seeking a small, closed space to reassure her this is really happening. And to remember how to speak. And hopefully, say yes. And then the throngs of family who were in on it close in and happily ever after.
Each video, I smile and wonder if my proposal will be like that. I wish I could be in the bride-to-be's shoes for a sec, just to see what it's like.

So, uhm, whatever wish-granting fairy is out there decided to perversely grant it.
I'd been hearing about Mr. Prom-Date arranging a romantic "go-to-prom" proposal. I said it was redundant and unneeded, and quite a while too late. And then I was told he gave up. I was relieved (okay, also mildly disappointed, but relief >disappointment). Anyway, my friends drag me up to the library because one of them has to print econ hw and the other is looking for a book. Nothing out of the ordinary. While I wander the aisles with madam book-finder and econ-printer (waiting for the computer to free up) I'm still unsuspicious. Mme. Book has trouble finding tne book, and I have trouble with my big-arse backpack, so I sort of half-sit, half collapse by the correct section and look up. I'm busy reading labels, not titles, and the three of us find it at the same time. Tall, skinny book with a black spine and a grimy plastic cover. Mme. Book pulls it out and lowers it to my face (I'm on the ground, still).
"It's for you." I glance at the cover to see a couple caught in mid-twirl. Then my gut sinks and my brain whirs into gear, I look over my shoulder, taking to book to pass it to Mme. Printer, since, well, she learned to dance in Jan, and needed a follow-up. When they insisted it was for me, my stomach jolted and began to eat itself. Hoshit. I thought, as I made the dancing reference. Squatting on the floor, half-standing, I awkwardly open up the book, expecting...I dunno. I look left and skim the inner flap, and then I look at the pocket where the borrowing card is kept. Oh, it is for me. I see my name scrawled with the words "Hey, wanna help me with a calculus prob--" before I snatch it from the pocket and stuff it in my capris. It was really hot, so it would be fatal to blush, so I didn't. I just avoided eye contact and tried to remember what face my muscles were pulling when I found out. I then fail several times at putting the book back (despite two extra pairs of hands helpin' out). Finally decide that standing is the solution and finally get the book in properly [officially, that didn't happen]. So I hoist my backpack and the three of us stumble out of the aisle. I gesture for Mme. Printer to get printer. Guess what. She was in on it.
Traitors, geez. And very good actors. That is also the reason these proposed to ladies cry, because they realize everyone was in on it but herself, and there was a small twinge of an appropriate reaction to betrayal. And then the diamond does its magic.
:v
So yeah, I really didn't properly read the invitation until I got home and ironed it between my fingers. Nice math pun.
It was cute, okay, okay, I'll admit that. And very sweet of you, Mr. Prom Date. But still. Redundant.

so, here it is, taken with my built-in webcam, so excuse the fuzziness.

"Can you help me with a calculus problem? ∫dp+∫dr+∫do+∫dm What do you say?"

the paper behind it is the book ref. number 793.3 R66

Seriously, from the stories I had been reading, I was expecting frosted cupcakes, P-R-O-M flavor.

Y Hallo Thar!

2009-04-13T17:35:00.001-07:00

At long last, a blogpost! I've given up trying to keep pace with K^2, her love of writing is greater than her laziness. My laziness? Overpowers everything.
Uhmmm, where can I start? Well, let's go backwards.

I just finished watching the first episode of a new anime "Ristorante Paradiso." It's like "Ouran Host Club," but with older gentlemen...and glasses. I like the idea of it, but am still getting used to the art style: Ouran+R.O.D (ova)+One Pirece. It's a bit slow, but pilots tend to be.

Uhm, oh! On Spring Break (finally). And instead of lazing in the sun and good weather, I've been indoors signing up for college. I heard a million doors slam when I clicked "Intent to register."
On the other hand, college means...Credit cards and Laptops. Oh my.
Yes, I have my very own credit card. It's stowed away at the bottom of my nightstand, and I'm not going to touch it until September. New laptop, as noted by yesterday's post. Toshiba Satellite E105-S1402. The nerds approve. I breathed a sigh of relief. Best asset: The keyboard lights up (the fingerprint log-in is a close second).

no, I didn't remove the information sticker. I will eventually
New Laptop (which I've christianed KafTop. Thanks JohnBot) brings up waves of guilt. My parents have invested so much in me, and, well. It's a you-don't-have-to. Add the credit card, and the looming horizon that is college, I'm scared. I don't want to go. I...can I just stay seventeen forever? (pervs and stalkers go away)

And with this new laptop, I have lost my videogaming virginity (well, officially tonight). JohnBot has been ridiculously awesome and bought me The Orange Box. You are ridiculous, and I owe you my soul, yes? So yeah. I'm going to be pwned (I can officially say that *snubs nose* HA) by the computer.
Yay Portal!

*cough*
While digging though the trashheap that is Sentimental Drawer, I came upon this:

It's a patch for my house, when I was in school in Hong Kong. Like Hogwarts, there are four, divved up by color and animal: Dragon (yellow), Lion (blue), Phoenix (red), Unicorn (green). Yep. We got housepoints too. We always won PE Day relay because we had the fastest guy and gal on our team. Haha, nostalgia.

Aaanyway, let's see...I've got two more Sandmans to review...a bunch of dreams to post.
[finished on the fourteenth, Portal was too fun. heh. Now I can't remember what else I wanted to write]

Hello World!

2009-04-12T22:52:00.001-07:00

Greetings from the new laptop!

more later

WHAT?

2009-03-31T22:13:00.000-07:00

WHAT?

about time. Just over a decade.

Bugger it all!

2009-03-29T16:12:00.000-07:00

I've left my black folder, with all my must-do homework, somewhere in school.
Bugger the school holiday on Monday.>D<

I keep irrationally digging through my bag, hoping it'll miraculously show up. Argh. I'm even thinking about going down to the car. Maybe I left it there?
If not, argh. Stupid, stupid me. >_<
I haven't lost something for so long....

Edit: Ah, bollocks. I remember. It's at school. Emerald room. I remember I put it on the table in the messy room. XP
Craps. It's totally going to be ruined on Tuesday. ;_;

---
This is why I shouldn't go to school when I'm sick. Bugger it. >_<

Fables and Reflections & Worlds' End

2009-03-22T19:45:00.000-07:00

Six and eight respectively.

I've skipped over five and seven. Those are part of the canon storylines, these are just more stories. Yah.

Fables and Reflections really gets into backstory, which marks the seriousness of Sandman as it's own universe. Well, okay, only one story. But that's pretty good already. Orpheus.
You know, I never really thought of Dream as a "father" or male or remotely possible of firing anything but blanks (American Gods reference. Brownie points if you caught it). But yeah. I tend to think of him as Batman, a playboy eunuch (well, there's Damien...but I seriously don't consider him a 'son.' A genetical parasite of Bruce Wayne, but not 'son.' Yeah no). Obviously, Batman has his family: Alfred and Robins, and they're happily dysfunctional enough.
Also, the Endless in Greek attire. So not historically accurate. I was hoping for a Grecian interpretation of what they looked like as well as their name change >=[. Was sorely disappointed. Harumph. Destruction, Dream, somewhat Death and somewhat Destiny (actually...he doesn't change at all) were the only ones who fit in.
Um, the other stories. Time for a run-through: they're all named after months.
The one about the French Rev--I liked, especially coupled with the Orpheus story later on...
YAY EMPEROR NORTON! (Is all I will say about that one)
Werewolves...hrm. It was only implied, so I was a bit confused, but the art was pretty. Go Baba Yaga!
And Fiddler's Green. I love him. But not so much the involvement of the other historical figures. It was...well, too much text and trying to make the Sandman universe part of the real world. Redundant for me.
Ramadan: pretty, colorful pictures...and enough scantily-clad reclining women to, excuse my french, beat off to if it suits your fancy. Coloring is getting better, but still messy.
My favorite by far taps into almost my fangirly-gothic side. "Parliment of Rooks." More Daniel Hall, but this is more about Cain, Abel, and Eve than about Daniel. Also Goldie. So adorable!

But yeah. The story. I love the cordivae family. I don't know where it comes from. Probably Matthew and Master of Ravens
It's an interesting story. Abel's "'Lil Endless" are adorably illustrated too, and Abel is the kind of friend I'd want to meet in my dreams.
Eve's story...that one is probably why Sandman appeals so much to teenage girls (also, lots of nekkid women, so good exercise for the thrid leg too...I should stop pointing that out huh?). Coloring is generally good for that one, but in one panel, the colorist colored part of Eve's hair as if it was her face. It...was not. I was mildly irritated.

I don't like Hippolyta Hall. That is all.

Worlds' End is more stories within stories (metatheatre for comics, iffen I may). It's also a bit spoiler-tastic, but since I was all spoilertastic on myself, it didn't sting.
I was actually getting bored of all the tributary stories. Probably because I'm reading them all together (it's not my fault. Mr. A gives them to me. I'm just grateful he will). I get why they're intersect between the main storyline too.
The stories don't fail to entertain, but they also fail to stand out in my mind. A bit didactic, a bit fantastical, and all featuring cameos from previous stories...wait...well. Yeah. A Jesus story, A Charlotte Doyle story, A Dream story, An Elf story (not about elves, more about popes), A Hob story, and a Death....Corpes story.
I don't remember much, mostly because I'm tired, and kinda sick. See my not-book-review post coming up.

Indignation Upon Indignation (Job 10:17)

2009-03-22T19:17:00.000-07:00

"But after this natural burst of indignation, no man of sense, courage, or prudence will waste his time or his strength in retrospective reproaches or repinings." --Robert Peel

Alas, blogging had not been invented, and Mr. Peel probably wasn't as anal as I am.
[3/3/09]

Okay, it's been 19 days since it's happened, and I'm just gonna let blogger post this today, as opposed to back then because it's not a big deal anymore.
At that time, it was horrible. As most horrible things do feel. Time heals all wounds, cliche. Time scabs, much better.
But yeah. I don't know. I'm still not cut out for a leadership position. Confrontations and conflict. Tch. I don't like to get personal, okay. It wasn't personal, but she escalated it to feel like one.

And most of all...I hated how I couldn't adequately describe my perspective. Ugh. I suck so much at improv. I really shouldn't be a lawyer. Well. Okay, no. I've already decided: I won't be an attorney. >_<
I mean, I came up the the best defense the afternoon after it happened. Yeah, no, no wonder I suck at standardized testing essays.

Dream Country and Season of Mists

2009-03-22T19:12:00.000-07:00

Olol. Two in One ^3^
Just wait until I get Absolute Sandman XD

Dream Country was pretty cool as a break from the regular storyline. Plotlines all swirl around dream (now that's a surprise, huh?). "Dream of a Thousand Cats" was cool. The anthropomorphizing of kitties was a bit 'meh' for me, and the idea that cats wanna enslave the human race, well. >=| Nao.

There's the script and comic "Calliope" where you rape muses for inspiration. Very Gaimanesque, no? Funky sex with not-quite-humans. I see a pattern emerging.
Uhm uhm uhm...Oh! Charles Vess! And "A Midsummer Night's Dream" I love Vess's art, but it came out a bit...flat and hurried. Most of the art of Sandman is, and it irritates me, and even though it should be the story that matters. Hrm. No. Pretty pictures matter too.
(Although you can make the case that messy art is to reflect the chaos and weirdness of dreams...or something)
More DC cameos in the last one: "Facade" (with the squiggley tailed C) and no dream, but that's okay, it's everyone's favourite Death. I liked it, I sorta got it, and it made me wiki "metamorphae" to get the background on the DC characters.

Seasons of Mist was the one I read in my local Barnes and Noble. Yes, I sat next to those wretched Asian manga-obsessed fourteen-year-olds reading Sandman. But yes.
Anyway.
Hell closes down.
I liked it then, even though I skimmed through it, and I like it now, since I've had time to read each panel. It's an interesting gathering, and very...diverse. What each diety offers and the interaction...I can't think of the word for it, but I appreciate it. And the forshadowing of Daniel Hall...erk. I've ruined it for myself with Wiki the while back, but yeah. It's blatant to me.
And I've also realized why he visited Hob this time.
Yeah, even though they tell you Sandman doesn't have to be read in chronologicl order, it does help.

Wonderwoman

2009-03-15T17:53:00.000-07:00

Animated Movie

Quotables:

Pilot (has lasso of truth around him): I don't have to put up with this crap!
Hippolyta: We...do not know the meaning of this idiom. What does crap mean?
Pilot: o_o; Uhm, forget I said anything
Hippolyta: *womanly glare*
Pilot: It's another word for excrement
Hippolyta: See, [didactic about how men are all filthy, depraved being etc etc, to Diana] We wonder what else he could be thinking
Pilot: God, your daughter's got a nice rack.
...o_O;
Artemis: Should I kill him now?

Should

2009-03-10T22:43:00.000-07:00

I should be writing a long overdue English essay.
I should be catching up on Calculus.
I should do CSS Profile.

I should, I should, I should.
But I'm not.

Instead. I'm blogging.
Well, catching up on blogging.

Stay tuned for massive post hiccup.

aaaand, nevermind.

Ugh...

2009-02-26T15:46:00.001-08:00

No energy for long posts and titles...
This is a bad week. It feels like a Friday every day.
I'm more outta whack than usual.
*big sigh*

Not a good week.

Oh My Holy Slumber

2009-02-21T16:02:00.000-08:00

Mmmmmm, sleep...

P.S. Seminar Dream Journals <3

'S Outta Character

2009-02-16T20:48:00.000-08:00

I went Sho~pping today!
XD
I'll wait for ya'll to stop puking...

And I bought, womg, FOUR, oh-my-holy-bovine, FOUR pairs of shoes! That's more than I own...I think
Trainers, boots, mary-janes...
Yeah. I only own three pairs. >_<

But it was like Crazy-Shoe-Sale down at Macys. 40% off plus 10% off plus 5% off. Yeah. WOW.
Four pairs of shoes...

One point five o' them is for prom. XD

and the other two were like, it's crazy cheap. Get 'em.

Okay, okay, I blog stuff I usually blog about next time

Kaffy's Life in Alphabetical Order

2009-02-15T20:53:00.000-08:00

Long-arse post for not bloggin' regularly.

A is for Amours...
In the spirit of Valentines, a shoutout to my love life. Most of ya'll know all about it anyway.

B is for Ballroom Dancing...
I forgot to blog about Apple Goddess's amazing feats of dance! Huzzah! Go You! Man. You are AMAZING! Nevermind you make mistakes. I couldn't do it if I tried XD I just like butting in and making lessons harder.
Even though this should be under C for ChaCha, I've got...

C is for Creepos...
I had a run in a while back with an Indian Creepo who liked to reference the Titanic, had horrible spelling/grammar, and tried to play me online. I was a bit of a fool in the beginning--could you blame me? I have too many people from Nerd Camp poppin' and sayin' hello. I went bitchy on him and he disappeared.

D is for DC...
Go Ubernerd!
I've been solicited for Watchmen tickets, Fanime, and Comicon...

E is for The Eraser...
Radiohead binge continues. <3

F is for Failure...
School and life are not my friends right now. Rollercoaster of grades comin' up!

G is for Graduation...
In three months

H is for Hot Chocolate...
It's cold. It's the kinda cold that isn't COLD, more like 'I-wanna-stay-under-the-covers-nice-'n-cozy' cold. It'll be hard to wake up to go to school during these mornings.

I is for Inauguration...
I know, I know, I really shoud've blogged about this 'historic event.' Please leave my political views alone.

J is for JohnBot

Hallo my Kentucky Friend! =3

K is for Koala...
Boo wildfires, yay touching animal moments!

L is for Little Gold Men...
Academy Awards!
I'm rooting for Dark Knight (comic-to-movie as a widespread success...and for creating the 'y so srs meme'), Milk (<3 SF and Sean Penn), and Slumdog Millionaire, because EVERYONE's rooting for, eh?

M is for Matchmaking...
Prom season is about to start. I've got to start pairing people and hikin' up my skirts to get m'self kneedeep in lurve.

N is for Nostalgia...
See R first. Whenever it rains, I'm nostalgic about Hong Kong. I don't know why. Maybe it's because the air...it smells like Hong Kong when it rains: humid, wet, and...clean? I dunno. But when it rains, or the sky is overhung with dark clouds and the day is gloomy, I think of Hong Kong.

O is for Oranges...
I've been eating them steadily. >_< Preparing for the cold sores...but man. Is it orange season or what? It's like candy.

P is for President's Day...
Praise the Presidents! Holiday! Holiday!
Weekends pass far too quickly for me. A three-day weekend is in order.

Q is for Quiet Canary...
Buddy has been shedding for an extended period of time. It's more or less finished (still waitin' on some wing feathers) but he's not singing. He hasn't sung....for a bit. I'm only mildly worried, but worried still >_<

R is for Rain...
It's raining! It's RAINING! Halleluja! I love it when it rains...well, most of time. I love rain. ^_^

S is for Seminar...
It's baaaack! I love it and hate it again.

T is for That Time of the Month again...
Oh yeah -_-; Remember how I wasn't hungry monday evening? This is why...

U is for Umbrella-ella-ella-eh-eh-eh...
Rihanna and Chris Brown...Abusive relationship. =\
I wanna make a joke about how this is karma for making the addictive song "Disturbia" and the pronounciation gone wrong "Umbrella." But abuse is not funny. Maybe the tabloids are wrong, and Rihanna just feels like falling down stairs (oops, sorry. That one slipped out)...Yeah no.
Shoutout for Nurse Ratched and Awareness of Violence Against Women. Go Eve Ensler!
For me it's bizarre that Rihanna would be on the bruise end of a relationship like that...I mean, she always portrays a badass, biotch dominatrix image. She's always like, "Grar, touch me and I sic beefy bodyguard on you!" as opposed to, say, Beyonce, who's like, "I'm an empowered woman!"
Also...continuing the rain theme. Brownie points if you caught it.

V is for Valentine's Day Gift...
For the Nerd Guys...

W is forWatchmen...
Not gonna watch the movie when it comes out. Yeah, When it gets down to it, Interwubs...^^
Also
PAT! BOOK! NAO!

X is for Xanadu...
Beginning a poetry section for Lit. Class. Not looking forward to the in-class discussions and amalysis, but will love the creative writing part.

Y is for Youth...
I'm growin' up. =) Also a filler

Z is for Zur-En-Arrh...
Batman RIP storyline. I wanna read it!
I also think it's such blasphemy that Grant Morrison's gonna KILL BATMAN!
No! Nonononononono!
You don't kill Batman! You can kill Superman and WonderWoman all you want, and bring 'em back too if y'want to, but that's because they're not human, so it's okay. With Batman, he's HUMAN. Dude. C'mon. You don't kill the human member of the Golden Trio. ;_; It's not cool!
Anyway, yeah. Whoever buys RIP and Final Crisis. I want.

The Doll's House

2009-02-15T17:46:00.000-08:00

Whee~!

Got to read the second book. Am waiting on third.
Have Radiohead's "In Rainbow's" playing right now. Great theme to be blogging about Sandman in. <3

Anyway.
Uhm, there's an intro in the beginning which summarises Preludes and Nocturnes, which I started reading, and went, 'oh, psh, this is all text. I know this!' and moved on. So I did. The art remains scratchy and inconsistent and icky (I've been pampered with Rags Morales art; see two posts down), but the story is still a good one. It doesn't quite feel like a series yet. I know it's a typical Neil-Gaimanesque thing to start out with a tie-in story, or something not-quite-part-of-the-storyline but is really quite related, but yeah. Confusing if you're just picking it up, not having done quite a bit of obsessive research on it *raises hand guiltily* aye. Ummmmm. Really cool. Desire makes me facepalm. I can't help it. It just does.
Mmmmm, once again the variety of storylines that converge impresses me, and the twists make me go, 'huh.' Also, alsoalsoalso...Gilbert is love. Lovelovelove.
[Happy belated Valentine's/Single's Awareness Day]
Gilbert and Matthew. <3
Morpheus has been stirred to a certain consistency, but still makes me wince sometimes. He has good taste in shoes, I gotta tell you that. DC Cameos don't abound, but they're there, and after having actually read DC comics (see same post as before) I know who they are now. Also having researched, I know what becomes of, um, some of them later on.
I don't know what else to say that won't be spoilerful...
Oh, coloring. Tacks along with inconsistency, but some of it's just plain laaazy! I keep mentally muttering about how Absolute Sandman fixes this (hopefully), but really, Rose Walker's hair needs to be consistent! Jesus...-_-;

Also, Nurse Ratched. There are drag queens in this one! XD

I forgot to link the gal who reread Sandman, where I siphoned the idea from: Comicsgirl
[as much for my reference as yours.]

P.S. Big post coming up. Will involve my love of letters and words, mos def.

OH MY HOLY MOTHER OF BOVINE

2009-02-10T16:36:00.000-08:00

SEASON FIVE OF HUSTLE!
(saw a snippet of one eppie)

but with new people. And a blonde chick. Ewwww
No Danny or Stacie. And I loved them too ;_;
well...Even if Adrien Lester is back...

No. I want the original crew ;_;

Nicole's Birthday Post

2009-01-31T19:18:00.000-08:00

Hurrah legality!

*huggles* You are so awesome, but everyone's told you that already.
You're an uber-talented chick, and beautiful and funny and clever and espeak espanish like a nativo.
;_; will you marry me again?

I'm so proud of you. No, really, I am. Three-inch heels and a hundred hours of endless toe-tapping with amateurish (okay, maybe not) lessons.
I don't remember how I met you, but I'm so glad I did. You are amazing. Determined, cheerful (for the most part), obsessive about apples, much to modest and clueless about how sexy you are, and can write a damn good blog and vampire ficlet. You are a great friend and babysitter and so seamlessly fit in with any group.

I Love You! <3

Celebratory Coordinated Movements in Honor of Unfairly Favourite Author and Other Things

2009-01-26T16:41:00.000-08:00

...Like Hawesome Hats and Geeky Goodness.

First off....

CONGRATULATIONS MR. NEIL GAIMAN ON WINNING THE NEWBERRY AWARD FOR THE GRAVEYARD BOOK!

Y'know, I used to use Newberries as a way of gauging books. I'd read a Newberry author and from there branch out and find other books. So good job, you!
Wowie. <3 from this fan. Really though, you've been my favourite author for far too long. It's about time my taste in books get acknowledged. Haha.
Mr. Gaiman, on the slim off-chance you're actually reading this, I just want to congratulate you again, in saner tones, about getting the Newberry Medal. It's about time, methinks, and I'm glad you blogged about it, sharing your happiness...
Okay, okay, I'm gonna stop now before I start seriously brown-nosing. But yeah. Am happy he won.

Moving on...

Um um um, first off, more pictures (no, no more dancing babies, you can come out now Aunt Eller).
I got two epic hats in DC. A Lincoln hat and a reporter hat that looks much more like an Indiana Jones hat or a cowboy hat.
It was epic. And thirty-six dollars. I am Asian. The epicness overpowered the price.
Oh, the Lincoln hat was only 10 bucks.

Lincoln hat first. It's actually a bit short for a stovepipe hat, so I'm pretending it's a top hat. I've always wanted a top hat anyway.

"Ma'am" Doffing my epic hat. It's actually black. Nevermind how retarded the camera is that makes it look blue. Man, I'm looking at this, and my arm's doing the Angelina Jolie thing in Wanted.
See?

Lawls. XD My pictures are photoshopped!

Uhm uhm uhm...

Maximum hat awesomeness. Dashingly cocked at a jaunty angle

My Happy Hat Face:

And my 'Hat? Pshaw, EPIC' Face:

I look like a douche. >_< Totally not photogenic at all. But, haha, for the sake of the hat (and to save me Carpal Tunnel from coloring over my face that many times)...Voila! Kaffy's Identity is discovered!

Please don't steal my identity ;_;

Lawlsauce. Um, you can tell I get happy just thinking about my hat, no?

Moving onto geeky goodness....

BAM! BAM!

I read both of them over the weekend and the only thing I can say is: "Dammit, why couldn't I have gotten into comics earlier?!" I think it was the hardcore fans that really scared me away (same with Linux). Anyway. They are SO SO awesome. The art is AMAZING! The story is unbelievable (in all meanings of that word. Think about it...think about it...). Oh my holy bovine! I need to read it again, just to oogle everybody.
Did I tell you I love Batman, Flash (Wally), and Green Arrow (not in order of <3) so much more now? Well, I do. I love them so so so so so so so much. Bruce, Wally and Ollie. XD
I'm not gonna spoil it for any of y'all, because you will read it. I will forcefeed you it, but you will read it.
Heh, sound a bit fangirly, no? ^^;; Sorry. It's just that these are great reads.
You know what I've got next?
Batman, More Batman, and Watchman (if they remember/finish it to give to me)

Yah. Not so rabid to buy my own versions yet.
Um um. Running out of steam. So gonna shut up before I sound too stupid X3

Logorrhean Post in the Spirit of Blog Title

2009-01-25T14:24:00.000-08:00

Big arse post coming up.

As most of you know, I've been away the past few days at the Inauguration. Woopee. Go me.
Yeah really.
Anyway. It was a great experience. I'll have to embellish it for the interviewers, but meh. The program I went with managed to book a variety of famous people, such as Doris Kearns Goodwin, Lisa Ling, Colin Powell, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, the Creative Coalition (with semi-famous people, some of who I recognized), and last but not least, Al Gore. Haha. Impressive list. Impressive speakers who left more of an impression on me than President's Obama's speech. I mean, his speech was 'meh,' I've sort of heard it all from him before, and his Inauguration hype; frankly, I was tired of everyone raving at how 'historic' and 'amazing' it was. It is not. =| His election and inauguration marks the end of prejudice against African-Americans, not all races...Actually, it doesn't even do that. I'm sorry. You've all heard this before. But yeah, it really wasn't life-changing, standing out there in the cold watching him take the office and listening to him speak. It was, meh. Truth be told, I think I'd be more awed listening to Washington's Farewell Address and FDR's Inaugural speech. I was disappointed, sure, but truthfully, I was expecting it. Yeah yeah, I was a Hilary supporter, but that really shouldn't have dampened my enthusiam. It really was the...ordinariness of the peaceful transfer of power.
In the crowds, I cringed everytime they Booed Bush. And they booed the wrong Bush too. It was so childish, so immature, so...narrow-minded! Sure, he eff-ed up big time, but I don't see YOU up there being president. And if you know ANYTHING about how our government is run, you'll know that it's not ALL his freakin' fault. >=| Yeah, sorry. I'm a bit pissy about that.
I really, really wanted to give him a hug. Because, you know what, utlimately, he's human, and I don't think any single one of the boo-ers realized what it's like to stand up there and turn a deaf ear to 1.8 million boos. ;_; I'm sorry Bush.
Even if you did royally mess up.
But at least this means we won't have a Bush Dynasty with Jeb running in four years. Hopefully.

Um um um, oh, well, the other speeches were awesome. Although Al Gore was a bit of a bore. ^^;; Sorry Mr. Almost-President, out of all the speeches, yours actually did make me snooze. Desmond Tutu had the bed crowd reception because he was so funny, but lacked substance in proportion to his topic. Colin Powell was great, but we all held back a bit, since he was the first Actually Famous Person and a Military Man at that! I enjoyed Goodwin and Ling; they were amiable, engaging, and managed to coax me out of the irritable rut I was in. And Lisa Ling...well, you'd tap that if you were a guy...
Here, see?

Uhm yes. Don't look at me for choosing one with cleavage. You know you wanted to see it!

Moving on.

I regret not taking the camera, or else I'd have my own memories to share with y'all; I'll get some from friends and roommate.

Hrmm, I had a bunch of other stuff to tell you guys, but I can't remember right now. Oh, sleep deprevation, how cruel you are to me. I'll just double or triple post.

Madness of Political Correctness

2009-01-10T18:32:00.000-08:00

The world has gone mad. Parents are shunning fairy tales because they are not politically correct.
Beh!

They were written at a time before political correctness, so it shouldn't even be an issue. Furthermore, children don't care. Not yet. They will grow up and figure out what is acceptable and not. Stories are just stories. It's told for entertainment, maybe for a little bit of intimidation or didactic value. It's not that important. Parents...are becoming more and more paranoid about what they expose their children too. That's good, but this crosses the line. I mean, come on. Look at the ridiculous nature of it: Can you believe it?
Obviously, fairy tales do have their gruesome origins, but Grimm and Disney have shot enough happy-happy into the stories that it's fairly dripping with syrup. And what's wrong with scary stories before bedtime? Just read the kiddies a nicer one and their attention-span will forget the first story. Children don't delve deeply into what they read/listen to at such a young age. They don't care. They just want to be entertained. We're not Victorians, we know children aren't just mini-adults, so why are we still anthropomorphizing them like that?!
My child is going to read Grimm, watch Disney, and surf the web. If she's scared, I'll reassure her, if she likes it, I won't worry she's going to grow up with some sort of complex, if she comes across porn...well. Maybe I'll explain sex and then buy her that Barbie she wants and hopefully she'll forget about it.

Gah. Sensitivity of human. Overanalyzing entertainment. *facepalms*

Stroketh the Ego

2009-01-10T00:45:00.001-08:00

I fixed a sink.
I feel proud.

Intertwining Flaxen Material to Represent an Anatomically Incorrect Differentiated Structure of Cells

2009-01-06T20:37:00.000-08:00

It's about time I post a serious, long-arse blog like I used to. I've just been a lazy git. Heh. 'Pologies.

Anyway, I've squandered my vacation like the piggish libertine that I am (I love the word libertine; it sounds so moral and upright, but actually means something closer to 'downright unpuritan). On the bright side, I finished the secret santa I volunteered for...sort of. I'll be sending the part I was too lazy to do in June...like an Australian Christmas XD
Uhmm, I also knitted cutesy things!
Hearts!

Yes, they're all the same heart.

XD They're so fun and easy to make! <3

More pictures, because they are too adorable...

<--I stuck a pin there to have it stand up like that

You know...If you were wondering.

Uhm..I also knitted a bunch of doubloons...Don't have pictures of those...they were kinda lopsided anyway...I should take a picture of the Secret Santa gift...Nah...

So yeah, what else? Hrmm...nada.

Le Gasp!

2009-01-04T23:26:00.000-08:00

No more no tabbing excuses...Mass tabbing drop down menu in managing posts place X3

Belated Tidings of Joy

2009-01-04T20:40:00.000-08:00

Aye, lasses and laddies. Belated Separation of Church and State, Government Sanctified Religious Holidays!

And A Very Very Happy New Year.
Moo. (Year o' de Ox, man)

Inventory of Gifts:

Awesome fuzzy socks. Lookit. They've even got the little nubs of rubber/plastic thingys so I don't go skidding (and proving physics) around the wood floor like when I wear normal socks and can stay warm too.
Danke Clarissa! (even though you don't read this XD)

Penguin Bag (isn't it adorable?) from Heidi, which had the Little Blue Book of Snobby Goodness. T^T Heidi, you shouldn't have. Haha, she packed the book in the bag...in the box. Lawlz. The UPS guy looked at her funny, but she was the customer after all. Um um um, Isabel sent me the necklace and the notepad with the owl on it. Man, if the necklace got in from the mail sooner, I could've gone to the Christmas dinner looking vaguely 1920's.

<3 Danke Gwoc'mole friends....who don't read this blog -_-;; (don't worry, I thanked them over at the forums)
I only sent them chocolate X3 Easiest thing to order and mail over the internet. XP I'll make up for it eventually...

Thanks to the economic decline (and finals and college apps) AppleGoddess and Aunt Eller have booted giftgiving offa their lists. So've I. We stuck to cards and t'was good enough, methinks. After all, all the hugging makes up for it. <3 all ya'll.

Ahum...what else? Oh, Fox and Hound.
Makes my eyes well up as it did before, and I noticed so much and understood everything better this time, Disney wouldn't do it intentionally, but there was something very Brokeback about the canines as kids. The bird, not the woodpecker, reminds me of Buddy. Vixey is a very blonde bimbo...she made me facepalm.
And
Whhhyyyy is grown up Tod's voice so attractive...Same with grown up Simba (I saw the clip of the end, where he fights scar). When he says, "Run." I w

[also, I noticed a lot of voices from other places...mostly from Robin Hood]

The Fox and the Hound

2009-01-03T00:00:00.001-08:00

I watched it.

More later.

Accio Stalker Habits

2008-12-22T18:27:00.000-08:00

I need a LiveJournal. All my authors (yes, I call them my authors) are on there.
Delia Sherman and Ellen Kushner are the tip of the iceberg.

JLU--Witty Quips

2008-12-18T21:07:00.000-08:00

Huntress: "So, what are you wearing?"
Question: "Blue overcoat, fedora."
H: "Ugh, you really suck at this."
Q: "Orange socks?"

Black Canary: "Are you happy punching a bag, or would you like to go a few rounds with me?"
*starts to shed coat* "I am talking about sparring"
Green Arrow: "That would be nice too."

XD Superheros are peeeervs.
GA tries to watch BC change
BC: "You dropped something?"

And it wasn't that sexy. They just shed outerwear. It's like they sleep in their supersuits or something...

GA:" Care to join me for a cup of coffee?"
BC: "Yeah"
GA: "Good, 'cuz your buyin'"

...They're superheroes, and the best pick-up line is coffee?

Exhalting the Augasmic Nature of Pandora

2008-12-18T17:19:00.000-08:00

I've been trying to find something with a Coldplay/Keane beat and acoustic nods, while being lyric-less and spill over to techno/DJ/scratching. Something, y'know, trippy.
I found it on Pandora X3
Birdy Nam Nam, four Parisian DJs have joined together to create really awesome music.
Absesses got me hooked, thanks Gilded for introducing me.
But anyway. I wanted to see if they were on Pandora...and YESSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!

more later.

Batman sings, and Wonderwoman's a...pig.

---

more JLU quotes:
"Don't make me sic Black Canary on you, you've only seen her nice side so far" XD
"Your cute when your an insufferable smarty-pants" (yes, this is for kids, but the sexual innuendo in rampant)
"Lost them!"..."Like airline luggage!"
"Is that Canary? If you want a piece of me, then bring it, blondie!" (catfight, initiated by Huntress)
Green Arrow watching as they launch themselves from a ramp to follow Huntress and Question: "This is so unnecessary" TRUTH!
OH MY...I now know why Black Canary is named after the bird.
--
I realized again why I loved this series!

I Can't Live in CA Anymore

2008-12-15T21:19:00.000-08:00

I can't have cute exotic animals (hedgehogs, degu)
I can't find/eat/buy dragee (those little silver balls on cake and cookies. They're edible, and delicious).

Stupid dragee-banning drunk, profit-making Napa Nazi man! (
>=[
It's not like I'll imbibe enough silver from all the dragees I eat in a lifetime to kill me!
Silver is inert. It won't harm me! (hurrah, chemistry)

I remember in Hong Kong, they sold them, in Ichiban. They were coke-flavoured. I loved them
I still love them.

Darn. Now I crave 'em...

http://redforkhippie.wordpress.com/2007/01/28/free-the-sprinkles/
She writes it best

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chronicle/archive/2003/12/23/MNGS03SUEM1.DTL
actual article

>=[ mark pollack....

Bad Karma Day

2008-12-15T15:59:00.001-08:00

All my bad Karma whupped me in the arse t'day.

Didja get your part, NR?

Perfectly Good Strangers

2008-12-10T23:05:00.001-08:00

My food run yesterday didn't go so well. I ordered (without stuttering, hurrah) and waited. I was number 248. 247 got their order, 249 got her drink (so I pardoned her). Then...250, 252, 251, 253...
Uhm...Hello, Small, Timid Asian Chick, 11 o'clock. I asked one of the employees to take a look at my order and she said 'okay,' and went off to fulfill it. I watched her open a bag, plop the chicken tenders in, wait for some new fries, scooped up two large servings...and hand them to the drive-through guy. The drive through guy is confused at this order (because it's not what the guy in the truck ordered) but he grabs a drink and gives it to him ayway. At this point, I'm waiting with this hip, young, outgoing mother, who sees my silent gesture of WTH, and sympathizes.
"Yeah, I used to work at Burger King--Not this one." (I had an alarmed and accusatory stare, I think)
And she starts breaking down the logistics of the fast food chain (which isn't fast. She waited 10 minutes for food that is cooked in less than five).
"You've been here even longer, before I even ordered." I nodded unhappily.
"You should speak up. They would throw in a free drink if you were [bitchy] enough" (forgot the word she used, but it meant that)
I smile, shrug, and said I would when the next harried lady comes by. Who happens to be bearing nice-hip-young-mother's food. She speaks up for me, I become Japanese and bow and thank her, and dash off with my now useless food.
Useless? Oh yes. I wasn't ordering for myself, but he left, so I'm walking with seven dollars worth of food back to get my bag so I can go home, when, speaking of going home, I see a fellow Nerd.
"You want this?" I hold up bulging, steaming bag of cancer.
Glares suspiciously. "No." Continues walking away.
"For free?" I'm desperate. I don't even want the food anymore. The hell on the wasted money.
He stops, turns. "Okay." I hold out the bag like some beggar, and he takes it.
"What's in it?"
I list the order.
"Why is it for free?"
I prune my explanation.
"Because he went home."
Content now, he walks away eating the fruits of my agony.

So I dash a marathon--downstairs, upstairs, 'cross the block, downhill, bus station. And almost trip over the hip young mother who got me my food. She spots me (I was hoping she woudn't)
"Did you enjoy your food?"
I nod (the easiest answer) and hope she can't tell I don't smell like oil, salt, and cancer.

A little later this...almost stereotypical character walks on the bus. Sagging pants, gaunt, pugilistic face, bling in one ear, beanie, 'stache. He sits down next to this corporate looking old guy, who's fiddling with his PDA and has an earbud in one ear. Watching him squiggle away with his wand, he asks.
"What's that?"
So genial! You never meet strangers who enquire about your life anymore...
"Oh, it's a...game, on my...*gestures at PDA*"
This cracka gangsta lookie nods amiably and the executive gets a bit frantic.
I smile.
He's just trying to be nice, and the old guy now has images of being mugged.

And last week too, two buses arrived at the stop, one 38, the other 38L. Some of us don't want to take the one in front (crowded and lots of slow people) and were waiting for the bus behind. The first bus goes and the second bus...follows it. The lazy bunch of us curse at the inconsiderate bus-driver and stare in disbelief as we watch for the next bus. The old lady on my other side garbles something at me and I gesture back with the same indignance. Says the guy next to me,
"*chuckle* Muni. If there was anything else, we'd take it." I appreciate this and laugh.

Comaderie between a bunch of strangers who will never (don't say that) see each other again bonded because we all missed the same bus.
Humans.

Bundles of Joy

2008-12-05T21:46:00.000-08:00

Watching Maybe Baby, starring all of my favourite British comedians =3
Hugh Laurie,
Rowan Atkinson
AGD;LKJFDSA;!
Adrien Lester too. 8D

This is may new favourite movie already.

If I Had Four Arms

2008-12-03T20:30:00.000-08:00

I'm harnessing my ADD and am multitaking...Yes.
I'm actually getting work done.

Will update later as work progresses, but I'm watching 27 dresses (will also format later) and not to impose myself on fictional characters, my gut told me that I'll be Jane. o_o; only without the romcom ending...=[
edit one: I am only about 30 minutes in...so don't judge.

okay. back to calc

Update one: Awwwww, ack. *hugs Jane* ;_; worse feeling in the world. Your crush 1.) doesn't acknowledge you, 2.) always gives you hoooope 3.) marries your sister.
Last 5 problems of calc and we're good.
also, lawls goth wedding. It's sweet AND creepy. XD

Update two: HURRAH! Calc done...=P

Update three: Pedro is adorable.
...Actually, some of the dresses aren't that bad, puke green or whatever.
"Don't you have need?"
"No. I am Jesus" <--if only. XD Okay, first difference between her and me.
But yeah, the OCD/delusional(romantic)/Yes-gal aspect (you too, Nurse Ratched) ...still so me D:
"I don't think you want to be married, you just want a wedding"
"What? Did you have a fancy wedding and you wife left you or something?"
"bingo"
"what?"
"With my roommate from college. So that's a double bingo for you"
"oh...I'm so sorry"

Update 4: OH NOES! MISUNDERSTANDING TIMEZ!
edit two: nevermind...

Update 5: Drunk singing time
edit three: Drunk dancing time
Cursed buffering!
edit four: Drunk kissing/eat face time
edit five: okay, other differences. I don't drink, I don't dance, I don't sing, and I don't have drunk sex in a brokendown car during a rainstorm.
Yes. It's an American classic: Drunk/rabid sex time.

Update 6: "let me explain." time.
Edit six: excuses, justification time.
SLAP TIMES
Oh, how cliche. But I can't.stop.watching.stuff.like.this.
...Crapola. I'm turning into a chick.
Nooo, D: save meeee!

Update 7: BRIDEZILLA TIMEZ!
...she looked like a raving Britney. XD
edit seven: oh noes....destruction of timeless article of love. Her Face...;_; *more hugs*

Update 8: SISTER BIOTCHFIGHT TIME!
Yesh!
Awww, no

Update 9: SLIDESHOW OF TRUTH!
(yes, I wikied before I read)

Update 10: KARMA TIME!!!
and more begging n excuses etcetc
edit eight: reunion scene of our very lovable Jane and her Kevin.
The wedding is off...
PDA for a gift....
...

Update 11: Sappy-i-want-to-be-you part. I roll my eyes
edit: wow, they got outta bitchy mode real fast, um....selfish-introspective time.
more eye-rolling

oh no. makeover time.

Update 12: Getting over the crush. Because the crush is an oblivious meathead ;3
george kisses jane....to try to make her unquit.
nope. nada. coolio

Update 13: reunite! reunite! reunite!
...jumps a pier to a boat. Whoa. PHYSICS PEOPLES!
...declaration of love and stuff
confession

CORINNE BAILEY RAE!

Love for All

2008-12-02T19:44:00.001-08:00

Mreow

2008-11-26T20:54:00.000-08:00

Catwoman.
Yes, I know, it was horrible, and Halle Berry got a Razzie for it (great speech though), but damn. Watching that movie, you know it could be so much more! Yes. I just finished watching. Yes. I should be doing other stuff.
Yes...I liked it.
It's entertaining enough, but the plot's too...shallow. If they cut back on the shakey-cam, flesh out Patience's character, and make the backstory more logical, it could've been awesome. While watching it, it only felt like a couple of days have passed, and that feeling of impermanence is what soured the movie. It shuld've felt like Catwoman had weight and legacy, her story was told in lifetimes.
What they lacked in plot and good stuff, they made up for in cliches. George's wife, George's mistress, how nice-and-smoking-hot-(not my words)-policeman-finds-out-about-Catwoman, the said policeman, the fight scenes, the crazy cat lady, the girl-on-girl fight scene, how catwoman is framed, augh.
Another note: too much damn music! The non-musical parts probably don't even add up to Anthony Hopkins's screen time in Silence of the Lambs.
It can be a perfectly good scene to let Catwoman beat up five assholes with shattering glass, grunts, thumps and witty backtalk as the theme, not some orchestral orgasm. DX

But. I still think Halle Berry played her part really well, despite having nothing to go on. Being feline and slinky isn't easy. Trust me, I saw what the cast of Cats had to say, but she got it. I'm not even talking about the CGI, I mean her acting. The smile, the eyebrows, the way she mimics an observing cat. The whole movie goes a bit overboard with the sexiness of Catwoman, but that aside, she made a pretty good cat. She actually would've been up there as a good catwoman. Cursed directing. =| The "I-love-fish-and-cream-and-hate-water" aspect was too stereotypical of a cat. Most cats are actually lactose-intolerant.

And yay! Minor Asian character! He appears for more than a minute and speaks more than three words!
And meh to the fact she doesn't get together with Tom Lone (lame name, same guy as in Miss Congeniality. So I can't complain). I mean, okay, strong woman, sure, but sex is much less fun by yourself.

Yeah, yeah, I'll post something worthy in a few.

Damned Human Curiousity!

2008-11-22T19:07:00.000-08:00

I hate horror stories. I'm a damn coward.

So when I clicked myself to Encyclopedia Drammatica's "creepy pasta" page filled with horror stories, WHY did I read through a bunch of them?! >_<
Now I'm not going to be able to sleep well for a good decade or so.
Any remedies (I just thought...Disney movies might be a balm. Off to watch something cartoony)

Ah, not Disney, but close enough. Am rewatching (after so many years) Prince of Egypt from Dreamworks...
Don't know why I chose something religious. I think it's shiny...or features the voice talent of Sandra Bullock.
--
Update: Gave up on POE, am looking for sappy romantic comedy, preferably with a British slant (no, I will not watch Love, Actually). Probably will revert to Bridget Jones's Diary or summat.

12:14--Right. Finished BJD...Hurrah for another sappy romantic comedy on my list. =P

“Inside every cynical person, there is a disappointed idealist”

2008-11-05T17:02:00.000-08:00

--George Carlin

[Semi-response to Nurse Ratched, or should I say Mrs. Sowerberry, in her recent post]
So shoot me. I'm proud that America has finally developed some common sense and open-mindedness to elect a non-Caucasian president, but why not a woman? Why can the race barrier fall, and not the sexist one? Isn't this just history all over again? African-Americans got to vote before women got to vote. Why is being sexist not as big a deal as being racist? Is it because if you're sexist, you're against an inclusive gender of all races, and thus magrinally more acceptable?
My country now tells me anyone can grow up to be president! (paraphrasing Katie Couric here, from last night) Not true. An immigrant, a female, an Asian or Native American minority still cannot be accepted in any race for candidacy. We're going crazy because we've let ONE man of minority take office, and that seems to give the OK to forget about the rest of human diversity.
I weep.
Have we simplified politics down to that?
It's just so frustrating how the nation is overdoing this 'pivotal historic event.' The truly historic event is when a presidential race involves people of both genders and any nationality, not just black and white now, making both their country and their ancestry proud.
I hear the counter argument: Then why don't I run for president.
I'm female. I'm Chinese. I should break the stereotypes and barriers, run, and maybe win.
But I won't. Because I know I don't have the personality or endurance for the presidency. I don't have the people skills, the resolution to keep smiling, even if my nation ceases to support me, starts to ridicule me. I don't have the backbone. When I was eight, I wanted to be president, because in my naivety I thought it was the modern equivelant of a princess. It's not, I know, but it sounded more celebritorial than anything. Then I grew up.
So I must say I admire any and all people who decide to hoist themselves in the limelight for their country, regardless of race/gender/whatever, but the public needs to stop this frenzy of putting Obama on the pedestal of glory, because just 'cuz we elect a black dude, does not mean we will elect a woman of an Asian.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not against Obama, or even McCain.
I'm just saying this is getting blown a bit out of proportion.

With Obama in the White House this new year, I turn my head and see poor George Bush.
I pity him, I really do. If I could get past FBI/CIA clearance, I'd give him a hug. No one should have to be hated by so many and not get a hug. I don't think he was a good president, or a capable one, but since he was elected, at least give him the respect of office. After all, who chose him? We (the voting 'we') did.
And...It wasn't all his fault. Think of all the people who work for him and make lesser decisions for him.

I love this image. It's the love I think Bush should be getting, not from the 17% who still love him, but just from sympathetic people. It's found here, thus my saying I didn't draw it, I'm not making money off of this. I'm just posting it. Please don't sue.

Anyway. Yah.

I mean, it's not like he can ignore this anti-Bush vibe. Turn on the TV, sees and hears people bashing him in satire and in news. Open the papers, reads about his failings. Go on the Internet, find himself being ridiculed.

Dunno. Maybe he'll stumble upon here and find that while he wasn't able, I recognize he's a human and what it must feel like to have such a vehement voice against you and, you know what, it's okay. People will be people. Words are words, but...

It's okay Mr. Bush. =) Politics aside, you're a good guy.

If I was in his shoes, I don't know how I can face the crowd and say, "My fellow Americans..." with a smile, as if he's heard nothing of America's complaints and harsh words. I admire all presidents for stocism in these situations.

Politics aside, because I'm never in safe waters when I talk about it, FINALLY rain has arrived! It is now officially Autumn. Daylight Savings has messed up my body clock again, but that's cool; I wake up to the SUN now. Right-o, my collapps have been placated a bit, but I've got another deadline looming. Irckles. My grades are sad pitiful pancakes in the face of Senioritis and I'm just floatin' along, waiting for another chance to go raaaftin'. Jeebus. Nothing to report, really. I have no life.

Oh, yeah. The post-a-nekkid-woman picture has ended. I couldn't face my own blog without having to facepalm...

Never Give A Sucker an Even Break

2008-10-24T23:13:00.000-07:00

Huzzah! I got you to watch Hustle!
This, to my left, is the clever and only female cast member of the show. Jaime Murray plays Stacie Monroe, who is usually the distraction, the love interest, the secretary and the giggling klutz, but nonetheless helps ratings by keeping people like you watching.
Sexy, no?

Haha, yeah. I love this show. It's clever, beautiful (as in cast members), and a bit predictable after a bit. *shrugs* But disguises and cons and subplots and antics just make it a great series to watch once, and rewatch in boredom. Some people say it's not worth buying becuase it's inane and repetitive, but well, I think it's fine to be amused by the show; I don't think I seriously have to take something deep and philosophical away from it.
But what's not to love with a bunch of classy thieves being idealistic and mary-sue-ish (they never get implicated) and steal from the rich and crude. Meh.
Idealistic or not, it's just fun. We don't have a lot of fun things left on TV. Everything's a Gripping, thrilling, unsuspecting Drama!

So yeah, I still salute the British for giving us awesome artsy stuff. PBS is my pseudo-BBC, and I love them for giving me Detective Linfield (at least, I think that's his name) and several British comedy shows. Dunno, being the anglophile that I am, I'll probably move to London to reestablish an accent and have fun filling my car with petrol, and having lorries deliver my furniture. Crumpets and milk in one's tea is overrated. I'll be the strange spinster curator of a Cambridge library or something.
The sad truth of the matter is that, no matter how much I love the British whatever, or the American whatever, or the European whatever, when others look at me, they see a Chinese girl, and probably tack on whatever prejudices they have about my nationality. So I'm always sort of shrinking back in upscale Western restaurants because I'm paranoid that the White diners look at my family and go, "wtf? You can't enjoy or appreciate Western dining!" while I order foie gras, pan-seared duck breast, and champagne (okay, it's apple cider). I keep thinking they have created a personality for me that's based on the Chinatown attitude and people they've faced, and imagine for me what I find tasteful and tasty and defined for me my world view. It's tiring and scary to think of a world prejudiced to think against you. I've not been conditioned to think that I'm necessarily below caucasions, but rather, I have been conditioned to think they believe they are superior to me. So for me to come back with an English accent, and say "oh yeah, I live in England!" There's this scenario at the back of my head where the reaction of others would be "wtf is a Chinese chick doing in England?! Canada and America I can believe, but England? Why does she have an accent that's not engrish?" Despite the fact that the world is international now.
This mostly happens because I watch too much TV, and you never see English-speaking Asians on TV. It's like in TV-World, the Asians only exist in their own country. =\ I need to stop watching so much TV.

Yah. I'm a crazy chick. >_>;

2008-10-19T18:04:00.000-07:00

It's really hard to find tasteful picures of attractive women baring skin. Especially asians. It was either her, Tila Tequila, or pornographic Asian chick washing car. So yeah. Not Chinese. Japanese. Model. Rather busty for a japanese. O_o;

Heh, I'm turning my blog into a brothel of sorts.
Ah well.
So, Was reading the Sunday Comics today, and I've had enough. Cathy needs to stop continuing this...stereotype of the deprived female. Not everyone thinks chocolate, sweets snacks and ice cream are off-limits. Not every gal looks for a substitute. A good bloc of us don't care. I know you mean it to be ironic (correct usage?) that 'we' have trained ourselves to deny ourself sweet (and thus bad) food, yet binge on Halloween candy, but lay off it, woman!
Cathy is such a...superficial, trivial character. OMG! FOOD! Must lose weight by not eating carbs!
-_-;
Okay, sorry. My feminism is flaring up a bit. Either that, or I have an ulcer. Lack of sleep might do it too. Stress from college stuff is more than likely. =(

2008-10-19T05:28:00.000-07:00

Say 'ello to Fabiana Tabosi. She's not Asian, but it's too early in the day for me to look for Asian chicks baring copious amounts of skin. She's pretty enough, and pretty well endowed.

So yeah, I'm pulling another no-sleep-for-really-long-time. And I've been wasting most of that time. Ah wellz. I'm not sleepy, really. I'll just go blind, I guess. =3

Anyway, this has made me renounce not doing homework and important stuff. Catching up is way more time consuming and hopeless than actually doing th damn thing. Go me, I learned a lesson today!
Huzzah!

Have worked marginally more on my essays. Look! Her boobs! Anyway, yeah, I'm still chugging away. I'm seriously gonna have a go at it tomorrow. Tonight, or rather, this morning, has taught me that. Amen, Yoda. The insomnia force is with me.

Belleh Button! Jelleh feesh. Calc-you-loser! Holy bovine.
I don't need sleep. I need sanity.

Bon Apetit.

When Were my Boobs this Big? Puzzled glance

2008-10-15T21:24:00.000-07:00

M'dear, implants are wonderful things.

Introducing a New Dating System (no pun intended)

2008-10-15T20:13:00.000-07:00

Right. Trying out a new attention whore tactic. Posting a picture of an attractive woman with each post, and having readers refer to posts by their respective, um picture. This post: Liu Yi Fei. Crystal Liu. Famous actress, seen her in Forbidden Kingdom. Requested by you.
Now, this is as sexy as I could find. No underwear/swinsuit shoot for her. Although I did find this, it doesn't really look like her. So yeah. Happy oogling.
Um um um...Do you know how disconcerting it is trying to think of things to blog about, and having her watch you?!

So, anyway, am confronting denial and making progress in the bewildering territory of Colapps. Good ego boosting and confidence restoration, as well as reassurance that I'm DOING IT RIGHT!
Yaargh. moving on.

Still haven't gotten The Graveyard Book, but that's like the carrot for me. If I can map Colapps, I can buy my book. Waiting on my computer, too. Yes. Mine! Finally, I can enter the materialistic world bearing something of worth! Haha, yeah. Nothing really to blog about. Just needed an excuse to try out this dating system.
Oh, can I just say, I love Bertrand Russell. If he wasn't dead, I'd marry him. Finally, there's a weak ray of sense in the bleak world of philosophy. His logic is beautiful. His humour is awesome. He needs to be resurrected, anti-aged, and married to me. Now.
I've been aimlessly surfing the web (huzzah) and have mostly been spending time at lolcat central: icanhascheezburger. My head imploded with the cuteness. I forgive bad grammar, just give me the fluffy animals.
Hmmm, I've just noticed. Instead of being an active annoyance, I have now faded into passive annoyance. I can get away with hairpetting! In a sense, I have succeeded in training them (like having them respond to oye), but on the other, I am now not a threat anymore. Graaaagh. Back to the evil scheming lair *creeps into corner of room to plot*
-Sigh- what will I do when I go to college. I'll have to train a new bunch of people. Hurgh.

Okay, enough senseless rambling.

Effectuate a Signification of Triumph

2008-10-11T15:21:00.000-07:00

Went volunteering today at the local zoo. Like I was expecting, I had to pull invasive plants. Unlike my expectations, this was not as labour-intensive or backbreaking or hot as my previous experience. And it was way more fun.
Ice plants are funny little buggers. And reeeally fun to pull up. If you get a good hold, you can literally 'uncarpet' an entire stretch of plant. After a good half an hour of such tugging, pulling, hacking, grunting, smacktalk and falling on one's butt, a 50 feet expanse of ice plant is pwned and demolished into mere root ends and dead leaves. Epic win. Throw in a competition between nerds to get the biggest hunk of plant. Uber epic win. Not getting sunburned. Beautiful.
So yeah. It was tiring, but invigorating. You really get into the groove of plant-pulling, plant-tugging, plant-futility, plural vs. plant root, and finally, plant-throwing. In the immortal words of Matsu: "You can't lose to a plant!"

But yeah, did anyone really participate in that warm-up? I mean, the stretches and arm-flailing were okay, considering the salsa moves that came after it. Look, sir, I like dancing and swaying my hips and the cha-cha...in the privacy of my own home. Doing it in public would make a lot of people fatally injure themselves, and besides, um, we're a bunch of socially-conscious teens. Only the white kids can dance the sals aand laugh it off. I know, isn't it weird?

Hrmm. Reading Chaucer, the saucy little bastard. Satirical as hell. Love it.

"I am a mountain goat!" <--my catchphrase as I bounded up and down hills. 8D

Of Shadow-Writers and Shadow-Walkers

2008-10-05T21:20:00.000-07:00

Mildly disappointed tonight, after I checked the Gaiman blog to find that he's come and gone from San Francisco. I keep telling myself that it's okay, it wasn't totally worth it (no signing or anything, just listening to him read), but I realize, well, it would've been a great opportunity to at least see him in real life, not via Internet or video or though words on a page. Welp. Come by San Francisco again Mr. Gaiman...No wait. Um. Come to where I'll be this September. 8D

Yeah. Not touching my college stuff. I should, but I'm not. It's a dangerous, fearful form of procrastination that will ruin my life and I. Can't. Care.
Moving on.

Watched the TV premire of Batman: Gotham Knight, six animated shorts written by six different authors, illustrated by different studios and strangely, beautifully cohesive. Batman is now my fickle favourite hero. Not superhero, just hero. Because he really isn't a superhero, right? Just a rich, idiosyncratic, martial arts master vigilante who's rich and gadgetastic. I loved it. I thought Gaiman wrote one of them (apparently not), but they were awesome in their own right.
Ah, no, Gaiman wrote a 'film noir'-type comic to accompany the new movie. He wasn't part of the animated ones...
Right, anyway. Lovely job on the Batman shorts, even if Bruce Wayne looks very...um, anime in one of them, and he's not consistent. But they all beat Christian Bale in terms of attractiveness, mostly because they lack the resemblance to Tom Cruise. I'm sorry, Mr. Bale, but sometimes, with that hair slicked back and your faced angled just so, you look like Tom Cruise, and I have to remind myself that you aren't, and for one thing, you're taller and more substantial. See, when I make that connection, you mysteriously shrink in stature. Right. Sorry. You are better-looking and incredibly more sane. But lay off the Bat-voice and don't slick back your hair and tilt-your-head-just-so, and I'll never make that mistake again.
...You were wonderful in The Prestige?
It was awesome, anyway, so, look it up on IMDB, then the Intermanets, and watch it.

Batman: "Alfred, how's the satellite photos?"
Alfred: "Splendid! I can almost see your pointy ears, sir"

That made me giggle so hard. I will draw it eventually...

Huzzah for paint MS and procrastination. I love Alfred. He's British and awesome and such a typical butler, but still so awesome. Anyway, a few weeks ago I turned on the TV and flipped right to the middle of Batman Begins, and there's Michael Caine looking down at me from the screen, concern furrowing his face, and said, "All you all right, sir?" And I opened my arms, as if to embrace the screen, and squealed. No, I don't have a thing for older men, I just love Micael Caine as an actor.

I Can Has Three Fingars?

2008-09-29T22:56:00.000-07:00

Greed:	Medium
Gluttony:	Low
Wrath:	Medium
Sloth:	Very High
Envy:	Low
Lust:	Very Low
Pride:	Medium

Take the Seven Deadly Sins Quiz

---

Totally clashes with my color scheme, but, well. As you can see. 8D
Yop. I don't take these things seriously, but, heh, it's a nice outline.

The Future is Awesome

2008-09-21T16:36:00.000-07:00

Preludes and Nocturnes

2008-09-14T22:25:00.000-07:00

It has begun!

First volume of the Sandman series.
Reading it wasn't anticlimatic or climatic at all, but it was beautiful.
The regular comicbook characters and their cameos made me chuckle and point and go "I know them!" The story was pretty straightforward, with little tributaries now and again for variety's sake. The artwork, wow, was psychedelically colored, and Morpheus has unconsistent hair and wardrobe. But eh.
The idea of the story, though, that was beautiful. I can see why it won so many awards. It creates an entirely sensible pantheon of Gods and Goddesses (for the Endless rightfully are), who are so achingly human and so engrained into the timelessness of humanity that you have to question if this is truly fiction. I'm heady and weird and crazy, and I can readily accept dying and being escorted to the afterlife by a lovely, genial woman with a penchant for goth. I can really imagine travelling to the realm of a Zeus of sorts, who sweeps the forgotten characters of my dreams into his castle where they become his employees.
It's all so readily believable.

I liked the third part, where he has a word duel with a deamon, for his helmet of Gods. *No spoilers*
And also, but this may just be my bias, the ending, where we first meet Death, his sister.

I await The Doll's House.
Until then, I subsist on manga.

Bringin' da House Down

2008-09-05T21:04:00.000-07:00

WHOA! Little earthquake a minute ago. It felt like the apartment was on Jello!

(4.2, centered at Alamo)

Sampling Kaffy, Snuffles, and Skipping Walkathon

2008-09-05T19:04:00.000-07:00

Sorry for being going AWOL on here. I didn't mean to. I wanted to blog, it's just that circumstances (and really entertaining IMs) steer my away. Anyway, I'm blogging now, and I shouldn't be apologising, not really.

Chronologically, first thing's first.
I went to Golden Gate Park last weekend, to Stow Lake to feed the ducks and get some exercise (paddling one of those faded paddle boats aren't easy). The ducks were...fed already, and actually nonchalantly ignored us as I pelted bread nibblets at them. Then I spotted a gaggle of Canadian geese and paddled extra hard to get over there to feed them. They appreciated the bread very much. They nibbled indiscriminately at everything, bread as well as fingers, and were content enough to mibble on me even after I ran out of bread (I tried peanuts, but they got confused). They ate like starving beasts and were very friendly, allowing me to stroke a neck here, pat a wing there. Most of my readers have seen the little videoclip of my hand being nibbled on by these really awesome Canadian geese. That was my right hand.
So afterwards, I took a walk through the big island in Stow Lake to feed squirrels. Fluffy, bushy-tailed, scared-as-hell squirrels. I found them right next to the waterfall, rustling through the leaves for human crumbs to nibble on. I broke out the salted peanuts, dumping a generous heap on my left hand, and offering it to a squirrel on a tree. Now, I just want you to know that these squirrels are scaredy cats. They will get close to one centimeter close to your hand with its delicious peanut/pinenut/food, sniff for a good 10 seconds, then run away. So I figured I'd just bait this squirrel and maybe lure it down the tree so I can lob peanuts at it. How wrong was I? So I stick my peanut-filled hand towards the squirrel on the tree, right under her nose, and instead of scrabbling a safe distance away, she lunges onto my hand, overwhelmed by the peanut-y smell and the idea of really easy food, and stuffs her face with nuts. Only...squirrels don't have the best eyesight, so she has clamped down on my index finger too, probably thinking it was a peanut. Man, she had some really sharp teeth. Her claws too! They hooked themselves into my pinkie and middle finger. She might actually sharpen them in the woods, scary thought. At this happening, instead of pulling away and dashing the animal against a tree, I stupidly left my hand there and yelled and screamed like a stuck pig. When she let go, I examined my wounds, praying there would be no blood, no blood, damn blood. Ohgodohgodohgod, RABIES! And my mind erupts into images of me going grand mal and frothing at the mouth, none of which even begin to be attractive. So I clean my wound, stick a bandage on it, and continue to handfeed the squirrel that bit me. I realized why she went wacko (and this also explains how I know her gender) at the sight of so many food. She was either pregnant, or just gave birth. Her mammaries were swollen and prominent. Poor mummy. She risks life so she can feed her kids. My worries of rabies gave in to thoughts of getting her enough food to stay healthy as well as feed her babies. Silly Kaffy. I would rather die then let squirrel babies die.

Yah. I woke up yesterday with a horrible case of tonsilitis, or what felt like tonsilitis. I couldn't swallow without wincing. It got better after I scalded it with hot soup (my cure), and I thought nothing more of it. Then, by godiva, came the runny nose, the snufflely, pathetic sounds, and sneezing. My indicator was that my eyeballs felt hot, especially when I closed my eyes and scrunched up my face. I took a Tylenol, and today, it got a bit better. Runny nose, really tired (maybe that's just because it's Friday) I haven't been sick for such a long time. I mean, I'm not uber-healthy, I'm just so determined to go to school every day that the flu gets intimidated. Only the snuffles aren't fazed. They love me for the relentless nerd I am; I remind them of themselves, relentless multiplying in my body. They must be having such a good time; my nose has been running all day. Don't worry. I'll get over it in about 3-4 days. Snuffles and I made friends. He'll come over and boost my immune system and partay under my skin, as long as he leaves as fast as he comes and doesn't give me a hangover.

Yah. Am skipping the best school day ever. Why? Three letters, capitalized, and looks like what K^2 loves to do. I have been commanded to stay home and study it. It's not going to make my score go up (a walkathon might), but it's a dangerous, uncertain time right now, and the people who run my life thinks that skipping this to 'cram' is a good reassurance. I don't know. I have no power to change their minds. Maybe an even higher Authority on Academics might. Damn. Gotta finish that personal statement.
So anyway, I'll most likely be absent. Send me pictures and e-mails after it's over. I wanna feel like I was there. *Sad smile* Being Asian isn't all it's cracked up to be (though it is really awesome).

Blood, Sweat, Tears

2008-08-13T19:38:00.000-07:00

I've finished the Secret Project!

No photos until, um, Saturday, though. Don't want to ruin anything =D
It turned out okay.

Watch this post. In-depth explanation to come on Sat.

Not Reading My Age

2008-08-09T16:08:00.000-07:00

People who hate to read, yes you, go away now.

Instead of meticulously checking and rechecking Neil Gaiman's blog, I just generally haunt it now, when I see an update in my 'Plethora of Beneleganes'--Blogroll. Anyway. He posted a link about a woman who reread all of The Sandman and blogged about it. Not only did it make me want to get my hands on the graphic novel even more, but I dance a little jig on how I do that too. Okay, so I don't wait half my life to reread it again (for her it was 14, then 28) but umm, with the recent moving, I have come back to some books from when I was in single digits...wait. That is half my life. Nevermind, then.
Take this morning, for example. I wake up and crack open my Bloomsbury version (fellow booknerdettes, you know what that means) of My Favourite Harry Potter book, Prisoner of Azkaban, and just read through all of it in one setting. It was a bit disappointing, after so many years. I still remember the excitement of the first reading, but, I don't know, I was expecting it to arouse the same suspense and mental involvement that was running through me when I was 8-9. I can still complusively read it (as in sit down and read for a good half-hour, neglecting everything else I have to do), and I still do love the Golden Trio, but.
It's become a bit childish, it seems.
On the other hand, The Old Man and the Sea, although not exciting and plot-full, reads with new meaning. I still try to ignore how it's saturated with symbolism. At 11, it was a straightforward story of a crazy old man who goes to catch a giant fish in a tiny boat. Now, it's a straightforward story of a crazy old man who goes out to catch a giant fish in a tiny boat written in beautiful prose.

KINK Bonding: Success!

2008-08-07T21:35:00.000-07:00

Yes. No, the apocalypse hasn't come, the four of us really did meet up and go places together. It's a success like that, even with the minimal planning, and the on-the-spot-improv that we utilized almost every minute. But, we are all safe, and happy, and fed, and in pain.

We walked everywhere. I'm sorry INK. I know, even though I live Downtown and whatnot, walking that much is not fun...Even in comfortable shoes.
But yes. We walked down the entire Embarcadero to Pier 39. That's from Pier 1 to Pier 39, odd numbers only. That's still...20 very large pier buildings to walk by. Going was fine; we had no food in our stomachs (which means no cramps/stitches), and we were running (heh, no pun intended) on tea and ~~crumpets~~ chocolate biscuits and coffee wafters. We got there, and headed to a fish-and-chip shack, and devoured lots of fried oily goodness and walked around pretending to be tourist. The seals were smelly, thankyouverymuch, and the wind was intent on scruffing our hair. We did meet and greet several cute and fluffy dogs. We were awkwardly stared at by tourist who either thought we were very weird, or that we were weird tourist, or that four gals sitting on a bench is a weird sight. Ummm...I should say we enjoyed ourselves. And then, we walked back 20 piers, and barely stopping to rest our tired bodies, we headed off to either the Metreon/Union Square. Uh...So we walk to the fork in the road (the proverbial road being several city blocks, and the proverbial fork being a four-way intersection) and have to make a decision. Union Square=no money to shop, so'd we just slum around. Metreon/Yerba Buena=possible movie but nothing much either. Maybe a short hop to the Borders at The Emporium. Being indecisive people, we stood there breathing in car emissions and second-hand smoke and other dirty goodness, before deciding on the Metreon. We discovered someone shooting part of a movie in the green backyard of Yerba Buena and decided there was nothing convenient to watch at the theatre, slummed around the small bookstore there, and trotted (plodded, sorry) along to Borders. Just as we got to Borders, our Vowel left us, and we...slummed around the bookstore, picked up some books and complained about others, and left. We tunnelled under The Emporium and gratefully took the streetcar back to the vicinity of my home. Then we ambled (shambled) to a nearby restaurant and feasted on carbs, carbs, and a small animal! Dessert was cute (see K^2's blog to see pictures). Then it was a tired and sated farewell.

We must be such masochists to actually think and accomplish of walking so much. Feel free to hate me, INK, I won't take offence. My legs sort of hate me too. And my knees. And my hips. And my feet. And my uterus (actually, not really. Walking eases cramps! Or maybe the pain from walking quelled the pain of cramps). But all the while we were walking, we had fun; we talked and joked and walked and sat and walked some more. We caught up on stuff we've missed and dredged up the past. We swapped gossip and jokes and anecdotes. It was a Good Day, methinks. We must also be masochists for drinking repulsive protein shakes and actually liking them a bit, for finding Borders just to leave it, for purposefully spending so much money for all the food we bought at any tourist locations, and for attracting large birds with fries...okay, that's just me. But, I enjoyed it, maybe not losing so much money so fast.

I left this part out of the encompassment above because it deserves its own blurb. This money ($10!!!) was well spent (and I will repay the $2.50 I owe...just remind me) and it does prove that money can buy a little bit of happiness, and a lot of laughs. Photo booth. We all hate having our picture taken, but this was a tourist impulse, and we did it! In proper KINK order, we squeezed into the tiny booth twice (once at Pier 39, once at the Metreon) and managed some very...interesting group photos. I don't think anyone's whole face appeared, ever, so the shots could be considered sucky, but we has SUCH fun doing yoga, and squatting and positioning some part of our face in front of the camera, and just laughing the hell away. We looked rediculous in a good way, and smiled like...hyenas? Anyway. It was the most fun I've ever had getting a picture taken, and so far, the most fun I've had squeezed in a tiny space with KINK.

My lower half hurts all over, and my voice is getting that vaguely painful feeling which means I've talked--and laughed--too much, but as Adam Owen says, "Happiness! Happiness!" (A Corner of the Universe, Ann M. Martin)

A lovely thank you, and a thousand hugs to K^2, who spend A LOT of money and effort for a little book I only told her to Casually look for. I am forever in your debt. I am forever grateful. And I already finished the book. It was awesome. But short. And written for younger readers. But I love it to death anyways.
You are so awesome. You didn't have to go out of your way for it. I'm glad you did, but it kinda felt like I used you as a foxhound. I need to do more than just draw you a picture. I need to spend CASH! XD

End with a flourish~

I Smell A Dead Rat!

2008-08-04T18:59:00.001-07:00

Yep. Walkng down the street today I saw a dead rat. It was actually quite pretty; it had a faint white-beige underbelly with a lovely dusky sand color. The paws weren't dirty, but a ruddy pink. Quite fat and graceful, even in death, lying across the street with its forepaws stretched forward across its upper torso. Its eyes were closed. Amen.

Anyway, yesh! I'm starting a secret project because I finally got the materials for it. Mmhm, procrastination delayed the mystery. Now I'm just waiting for my muse to come up with a few curliques and I can get to work. If I'm dilligent, I can probably get this done in a minimum of 2 days, maybe even 1 if I'm careful and efficient...and if creativity starts flowing. And unlike most things I get involved in, this one has a deadline.

In other news, because I really do need a long post to spruce things up here...
Why is it so hard for me to write for smart people?!
Okay, so I recently contacted an old Nerd Camp friend out of sheer impulsiveness. We IMed a bit, and, as he was a writer, he sent me an e-mail with some writing attachments. I read, critiqued, and replied. And haven't ever since. It's rude and horribly horrible of me, but I have two drafts of letters that I started to write, and then scrapped. He's an amazing fellow: Writes Sci-Fi, sails, makes robots, builds/creates his own websites and online gatgetry (and is waiting for a domain name), codes, dates (as in: i can has grlfrend), complains to authori-tay, and *cough* used to make plastic utensil art.
So yeah. I returned the favor and sent a small story to him (Bluebeard)...
When replying to him, I'm constantly checking myself. He writes in a natural, intelligent way, while I pepper my conversational style with asterisks and emoticons. I try subduing my responses, and find I have nothing to say. I'm vaguely afraid of being judged by him and found rather inferior. Yes, that's rather typical Chinese-y of me, with my inferiority complex (or whatever), but I really want to convey the image that I'm a capable, intelligent, and level-headed, but against his words, I sound like a bimbo. Geh. So after this, I'm off to a third attempt, where I'm already sketching a confession of sorts, and then a winded ramble.

Today, Buddy sang throughout the entire day. He went through a few weeks without singing, and then, just this week, he's been a regular Frank Sinatra. Crooning all morning, then interludes of warbling. Maybe he's happy or needs to feel secure that this is his territory, whatever. He's singing, and I'm marginally less worried. The training is going better, and now he knows where to land instead of fluttering all over the bathroom. But he still poops like a bird. Guh.

The paparazzi, and Hotmail, have told me that Bradjelina have 'pimped' their new twins and sold the photos to the highest bidder. That is sick. In the old-fashioned, queasy meaning. Dude. What's up with the world? Why are celebrities/movie stars so popular and squeal-tastic. Why are their kids' photos worth a bradjellion (brad-jillion) dollars?! This heirachy of "who's important in our world" is drunk! Doctors and janitors should have screaming legions of fans, and people who'd pay billions for any of their soveniors, procreated or otherwise. Hello! Angelina Jolie isn't going to cure your cancer, Joe Unlucky, and Brad Pitt isn't going magically clean up the gum-tastic school with a smile. What the hell is WRONG with you people?! They pretend to be other people and have mild acting talent, and a lot of botox! They didn't spend half their lives learning to help Jane Average. They would never choose to clean up after snot-nosed kids for the sake of cleanliness and putting their kids through college. Why are actors paid the inflated wage they are?! Yes, they may work hard and have artistic talents, but the their 'job,' if you will, is not NECESSARY! Movies are nice, A clean street is awesome, and needed. If I never see Johnny Depp ever again, I'll survive; if I never see a doctor again...I probably won't.

Okay, rant over. Just wanted to spiel a bit and take up cyberspace.

C is for Chirpy Canaries, Curious Curtains, and Crazy Conversation

2008-07-31T19:52:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting on the floor of my bathroom, across which is my canary. I've Keane serenading on Pandora (Leaving So Soon) and Buddy's chirping along with 'em. I know, I know, it's close to his bedtime, but I can't help it. I wanna bond with my little yellow bird. I've been training him recently, getting him used to being handled. He totally spazzes when I make a move or come towards him. BUT! In the dark, with his poor eyesight, I can touch him, and nudge him onto my finger and carry him around. So, by doing this over and over everyday (or every other day, depending how hard he's breathing at the end of the training session), I hope to get him handtamed...even if he isn't a chick and was probably not handfed. Lucky breeders who hand feed and imprint their chicks...
Loads of YouTube vids of handtamed canaries...
When Pigwigeon (Buddy's christianed name, remember?) dies...a long time from now, I might get a budgie instead. They're very sociable; no need to abduct them in the dark -_-;

Anyway, I also finally have curtains in my room. Halleluja! They're the wrong color, but still match, and are luxuriously dark. But they've drastically changed what my room looks like. I don't know how to really describe this, but my small room seemed bigger and...whiter, and now it's shadow-touched and dramatic. I don't know. I sort of miss how my room seemed to be encaspulated sunlight, but I'm also grateful to be able to keep a twilight-y feel when I draw the curtains...awesome for sleeping in. Like really sleeping in.

Yesterday, a friend plopped me into a conversation (both IM and voice convo) with people I don't know...his friends. But listening to them make singing fools of themselves and talking and having a random karaoke festival online struck me with the idea...we could do this too!
I mean, when we all disperse and go off to distant places, we've got to keep in touch! IM, true, e-mail, great, blog-keeping is meh-ful, but what's more uniting than hearing each other's voice? We've all gotta get Skype or something, and agree that once a month/once a week/whenever, we've got to clump in front of our respective computers and just talk to each other. Skype is free and safe (and very shiny) and mic's aren't that expensive anymore...unless you get those really shmancy ones that only pick up your voice in crystal HD...yeah.
Sooo...I really don't want to fall out of contact with you guys, and I'm not just saying KINK, I mean all of you. Mmhmmm. Mull this over, 'kay?

My inner nerd wants to update you guys that the e-mail poem is still ongoing.

O Pomposity!

2008-07-23T20:25:00.000-07:00

Ugh, went through Invisible Man in one day, the day before yesterday. Numbing, I tell you. N-U-M-B. I couldn't feel my brain after it.
Honestly, it was pompous and overbearing and naive and narrow-minded and a nuisance.

(too sapped to blog further)

Should I Say Good Morning or is it Still Good Night?

2008-07-19T01:30:00.000-07:00

I'm sick of it. I'm sick of dissecting words and meanings and shit. Yes. I just swore. Get the bloody 'ell over it.
It's about halfway to two in the obscene morning, and I'm effing tired of procrastinating because of this stupid shite. Can't we just read and enjoy an effing book for once.
Gawd. I've got to pick something 'significant' out of a chapter where the author jumps higgledy-piddledy from one topic to another, throwing out facts like confetti and not actually contributing much philosophically. Which is what the assignment wants, but which I can't do because there is no-effing-material that qualifies.

And furthermore, while I'm ranting about blasted effing books, I can't believe what was mandatory for All Pathetic Little imps twinkle. Wuthering Heights, by gawd. Invisible Man (which I haven't read yet) by sheer effing madness.
I can't believe such poor taste. That's right. I'm insulting the classics. (Jane Austen is also a terrible bore by the way. Can't stand the little snub's draggled writing.)
They're really horrible, you know. Quite disgusting.

You know, I'm actually not angry. Not really. I'm merely faintly irritated this is taking so long. I'm a bit fed up with my own behavior, and having to b-s all this crapola. I'll love the class, just hate this 'ssignment. I'm sick and tired of having to stare at Word for 9+ hours a day and goofing off for 7+ and writing a measy 4 paragraphs every day. I've got four chapters left (3,4,5,8) and I've sucked up and told myself off. As penance, I'm staying up until I finish the damn thing. Which isn't that painful, since I'm rather nocturnal.
That shpiel above is just letting my mind go mad a bit (no pun intended) before I really do start holding a grudge against Burke and Seminar and stuff. Hyperbolizing my emotions at the moment and blogging right now is just settling my mind and putting anti-itch cream on surfing devART, SmackJeeves, Blogs, webcomics and the rest. I'm just reminding myself: Okay, last ten minutes, Kaffy, then you've gotta type your fingers to the bone.

When I'm finished with this, I'm just going to to take a microgram of a breather and say...

Something Pompous this way comes!

Hold my breath and read IM in one effing day.

Blog-swearing is fun, actually. My morale is up already just by going boody 'ell, what the eff am I doing typing this damn shite and speaking crapola.
...Sorry, but it's too early to type shittake mushrooms.

Extra Extra! Watch Kaffy Make a Fool of Herself in Front of Famous (and Talented) People!

2008-07-16T14:40:00.000-07:00

I've always desperately wanted my favourite authors to come to San Francisco (it used to be Hong Kong, but nobody ever comes to Hong Kong). I didn't feel like going to them. Naturally, I wasn't old enough to hop on a plain to San Diego (or wherever).
And, it's finally happening!

Saturday Oct 4th, San Francisco

Disregard the fact that he (obviously you know who I'm feeling very happy about) was here about a year ago, and that he hops about San Diego, San Jose, and other such places quite frequently. Disregard the fact that there are plenty of spectacular writers whose books I have read do live in San Francisco (Like Christophor Moore. I've been meaning to send him an e-mail one of these days...).
The fact is, if I get up early enough, and put my snooping to the test, I can actually get something signed in real-live-time, and maybe a photo.
And meet a real-live famous person.
(for the first time ever!)

Most likely it won't happen. D=

Yep. But at least the thought of it makes a blog post. Be Grateful! XD

Irma's Birthday Post

2008-07-13T21:04:00.000-07:00

Haha, July is such a birth-filled month. You've got America Proper (July 4th), Katie (July 9th), and now, Irmaz.

What can I say?
We met in math, drowned in math together, and treaded water for a while too. XD
Actually, didn't we meet over a half-nelson and a stapler?
And Avatar reruns. Oooh yes.

Haha, have a good one, my friend. Sorry this post is so short (didn't do much in the past four days)

No, I lie. I attended a wedding reception.
I'm just to lazy to whip my fingers into typing.

Think of this post as special, and dedicated only to you XD

Cool trinkets

2008-07-10T23:03:00.000-07:00

You can now rate my posts!
My other blog is trying it out. So go over and be a critic!
*commercial announcer voice*

Sesquipedalia

That Semiannual Affair

Take That Inefficient Government Agency!

The Journey to Carpal Tunnel Syndrome

Troglodyte amongst the Pillows

What is Wrong with me?

Extrinsic to the Assemblage

"It Doesn't Matter"

I Don't Have A Dagger!

My Father

Felicitous Neophyte Revolution Around the Sun!

The A in America is for Arrogance

“People are always telling me that change is good. But all that means is that something you didn't want to happen has happened.”

Salutations, My Neophyte Readers

A Jumble of Broken Prose-ry (Crockery)

OH MAH GAWD MAKE THIS A MOVIE!!!

Batman: Under the Red Hood

Teal Deer Season (TL;DR)

I KNEW It!

As Blank A Slate As I Can

"If it Wasn't for You Meddling Big Brother"

Happy Bicentennial and a Decade

Where is the undo/reset comand on life?

Bing Crosby on the Eve of December

What Would My Mother Say?

Sleepover!

"Someone's been sleeping in my bed...

Early Morning Talent

Laundry Nights, Late-Night Reading, and Perpetuity of Today

The Flurry of College

Sunny-Side Between the Lines

Wall-E

The World's Most Expensive General Hobby

Not-Exactly-Scenic Velocipede Traversing

XD Getting Hit on in the Intermet

Flock It!

Simple Insomnia

Nerds in Google!!!

Getting on with Life

Ego Takes A Beating

OMG Shoes!

I Know Why the Suprised Fiancee (to-be) Cries

Y Hallo Thar!

Hello World!

WHAT?

Bugger it all!

Fables and Reflections & Worlds' End

Indignation Upon Indignation (Job 10:17)

Dream Country and Season of Mists

Wonderwoman

Should

Ugh...

Oh My Holy Slumber

'S Outta Character

Kaffy's Life in Alphabetical Order

The Doll's House

OH MY HOLY MOTHER OF BOVINE

Nicole's Birthday Post

Celebratory Coordinated Movements in Honor of Unfairly Favourite Author and Other Things

Logorrhean Post in the Spirit of Blog Title

Madness of Political Correctness

Stroketh the Ego

Intertwining Flaxen Material to Represent an Anatomically Incorrect Differentiated Structure of Cells

Le Gasp!

Belated Tidings of Joy

The Fox and the Hound

Accio Stalker Habits

JLU--Witty Quips

Exhalting the Augasmic Nature of Pandora

I Can't Live in CA Anymore

Bad Karma Day

Perfectly Good Strangers

Bundles of Joy

If I Had Four Arms

Love for All

Mreow

Damned Human Curiousity!

“Inside every cynical person, there is a disappointed idealist”

Never Give A Sucker an Even Break

When Were my Boobs this Big? *Puzzled glance*

When Were my Boobs this Big? Puzzled glance