i'm gonna die and have no fear

how should memories function?

2011-11-15T02:02:00.001Z

i've considered myself invincible on many levels. i'm invincible because i do not feel or rather, the feeling doesn't not linger with the memory and the memory is as present to me as a beautiful film that i no longer carry the patience to see. like atonement. i shook and held myself back through that film, never shedding a tear. the thought of the ending affects me like a magical sentence, the words are so beautiful that they linger with me, but in a sense that i can only wish for those feelings again. and i get them, for the present, at the present, but as time and people fade and no longer become a staple, i become detached and lose them to a memory that does not occur to me as reality. but is this invincibility or is this a bulletproof defense mechanism?

i haven't been sleeping properly for the past week or more.

2011-10-27T11:53:00.002+01:00

in that wild insomnia, i wrote a raw short story that my professor really liked. and that story ate at me. i couldn't put it down, i couldn't stop thinking about it. i kept drawing it up again, rereading it and trying to figure out a way to build and improve it - it wasn't until i spoke to my professor that i knew what was wrong. still, i couldn't sleep. then i talked to a friend who broke down how internally the story related to me. then i started to get obsessed with connecting the dots. reading in between the lines to see what kind of answers i could find, but nothing worked. nothing until i opened a page and just started writing again. i rewrote the story rape blossom into one complete short story and now there's a larger sense of peace. for now. i think i've sated this demon. i might be good to sleep for a few days now. or maybe one more night's worth of writing and then it'll leave me alone. but let me sleep. i can't think of another story. and they're all set in cars right now. i don't know if i can submit both pieces in my portfolio like that. anyway... im such a liar. i don't have the guts to tell either of them. or anyone. or even myself, i think because there's so many mental blocks that i don't understand what is bothering me. there's obviously something on my mind that only the metaphors in fiction can release...

nevermind,

2011-10-11T15:21:00.001+01:00

I heard this song, and now I know how you feel. By that look on your face, I know this is exactly how you felt at the moment. And I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I just don't want to see your face and be reminded. Perhaps in both routes, it's not about the one I want to take or the one less traveled. I'll just take the risk, and not use the road at all.

How does swimming sound?

on my period. thanks.

2011-10-11T07:31:00.002+01:00

What does any of this mean anyway?

I used to be so patient with people. They could say things I would listen, care and not judge. The past year my patience has worn thin. I sincerely don't give a crap about certain things or people. Perhaps I'm more genuine, more genuinely a bitch in that sense. In many ways, I think back and prefer the other girl, the "nice" one that could be swept under the rug. She kind of reached out and tried to build friendships. I feel that in the past, I would make an effort to try and connect with people. Now, I could spend hours alone and feel a certain comfort. The emotions that filter down the stairs never concerned me, or the tense emotions that cross between the residents of this place.

Every single time people see me they ask the question. "How is your house?" I just shrug and admit that I don't hang out with the other girls. They have their lives, and I have mine. Why the expectation for us to hold hands and be buddy-buddy? Sure, it's a great picturesque way to describe this place. Some people want the face of a warm home, as if they want to be transported from their house into yours, but this house 725 Ostrom is a tenant-rental situation. And I'm okay with that.

How can I explain this.

Forget it, I'll be the first to admit that I'm not close with anyone in this house. And it doesn't bother me, so why all the questions asking me, "how the house is doing?" If you want to know, then ask the individuals you care for, not the gossip you're digging to spill. Secondly, I'm the worst person to ask. My answer is always "I don't know, I don't talk to the other girls." And I'm fine with it like this. Fragments. Whatever. You can have me like an open book.

Why the expectation that we have to be all sisterly and lovers? The conception of this house was a shipwreck from the start. The forced nature (albeit of good intent) to portray a happy family is ignorance to a sinking ship. I'm okay with it as long as you acknowledge that this idea of familial perfection isn't going to happen.

Look, I like sinking. I'll sink, you can swim.

Or give me a reason to appreciate breathing.

I'm heartlessly uninterested in creating some homey atmosphere.

the LA board game

2011-08-01T04:59:00.002+01:00

If you haven't noticed or know me (because I fail at writing blogs and just writing in general these days), let me tell you now that I have been in Los Angeles for the past six months. Oh my god, no - even longer. Jan. Feb. Mar. Apr. May. June. July. Aug. Eight months - almost a year - and just a confirmation that I can just get by in a blah blah blah attitude towards Los Angeleese.

The highs of discovering myself: Being less restrictive about my choices for careers, understanding myself.

The lows of discovering myself: Become more of a bitch, unsure about my opinions.

Is this a result of not taking any shit or experiencing so much shit?

I'm starting to realize the more opinions you have, or the more you understand things, the more complicated defending your own beliefs are. How do I explain why I'm okay hugging this person but not that person - and I've known them for the same amount of time?

Internally, I feel as if I've become this bitch just because I want the right to pick and choose my friends. I don't want to conform to other people's idea of reality or comfort zone... That's fake. Yet I get told off for not playing the game. People are so happy when you play along with them. I don't know what's worse.

Although, is achieving friendship a right, a privilege... chance? I know in Syracuse I want to be closer to some people than others care for me to. Like, at SU there was a person I liked hanging out with. Deep inside I always knew we weren't that close, but I wanted to be close. (Our conversations never got there though, so now I'm realizing it'll just never happen.) When I finally heard the confirmation about how the person felt... yeah, it hurt. Still, I backed off. I didn't go "I WANT 2 NO U. LET ME IN UR LYFE." Not going to lie though, the tone I got the information in makes me really adverse towards so and so. It was so bitter.

Some people say I'm independent, others say I'm not opening up, and then some say I'm disrespectful. Disrespectful to who? Me or them? By forcing me to act the way they want me to, isn't that making me uncomfortable? But am I making them uncomfortable by acting the way I do?

Pleasing people is so hard to do, I just want to DGAF about it. I thought it was okay to open up accordingly, but I got judged. HARD.

In these eight months, people have told me what/who I should be. It makes me so uncomfortable, unhappy and upset.

I've been told:

I need to have more confidence (because I don't like being in pictures).
I need to be happier (because I'm not smiling 24/7).
I need to be less "dark" (because my humor isn't understood).
I need to open up (...why? I don't know you, and I know you think information given to you is privy to everyone).

They frustrate me so much because they don't believe I can be happy the way I am. To them: I can only be happy according to their definition of happy. It makes me uncomfortable. I don't play games, but they get hurt when I try to play the game and fail. I never thought being yourself could be so difficult in a group that claimed to be accepting, but didn't like the way you were.

So here is what I have learned in LA.

You have to play the game to win.
Just don't get caught cheating.

what do you do

2011-07-18T08:16:00.001+01:00

Fifteen minutes ago, I found out someone I knew of has passed away. I reviewed life around those who knew them, and it was almost as if things had become normal. On the outside. But for me. Curiosity racked my brain as I tried to figure out, what happens to those left behind? Beautiful words they'll never read. Emotion they'll never know - why does it come out after the sentiment "too late now."

Death is not so glamourous when the deceased doesn't know how much of a ripple effect they have caused. the irony is that death is for the living, some reminder that there are goals to be reached or that words should be said. the greater irony is how forgetful we can be to resume life as if death did not affect us directly. Thousands of people in Japan. Hundreds elsewhere - numbers are just vessels.

I barely knew this person, but somehow I feel their after effects pulsating around me. It's like being bowled over again. Graduation in a year. the real world. Loneliness. Apathy. Marriage. Relationships. Life. Having experienced a funeral, then vicariously experiencing through others how they will attend a funeral ... my hands are shaking. I've lost a lot of words that I want to force out, but every time I write, I delete. Every time I look back, I puke and want to shred... bits and parts of me.

With the knowledge that life is more... or that death never just around the corner waiting, it's just always waiting right there - could you or I leave the world now as someone satisfied? Or would you go with some regret, some "wish I could've" statement.

I don't know where I am yet. But I think I know how I want to go, or where I'd like to be when I go.

Only. Where is this person that I feel like I must gut myself to find? Sometimes I feel so angry I wish I could ...

reducio!

2011-07-10T21:49:00.003+01:00

Yesterday I went to Alhambra to Gallery Nucleus, one of my favourite spots outside of LA. I'll be honest though, I haven't been outside the corner the bank because the two times I've been there were for gallery openings (because those are the BEST). The first time around was for an Edward Scissor Hands Fan art exhibit, and the other was for Harry Potter Fan Art Exhibit with easily over than 1,500 people. It was such an awesome experience it made me want to re-read Harry Potter and just seriously become apart of this phenomenon. While Hollywood was craving over the LA BAFTAs, I swooned in a Harry Potter fan event.

Oh yuck, why is my necklace always screwed up these days.
Double yuck did not care about my hair this day.
Triple yuck, I was too lazy to wear makeup.
Quad yuck, also too lazy to buy a sharpener to fix my eyeliner pencil.
My fault.

I swooned around in line for Butterbeer (yum!) and played around with a mystery Bertie Botts beans. Licorice vs skunk? Top banana vs pencil shavings?? Strawberry jam vs centipede? Coconut or baby wipes?? I actually preferred baby wipes over coconut! I didn't have the guts to try peach or boogers or was it vomit? There was both options... How is it that I am willing to walk through the night at 3AM, in the middle of London, but the thought of chancing mystery beans shares the shit out of me?

Sadly I also experienced my number one regret of the year. While we were waiting in line, a very cute Draco Malfoy drove up and got stuck in a full parking lot. As he reversed, he yelled, "Reducio!" and backed up. I fell in love with a boy who Tom Felton should've grown up to be. Big eyes, sandy blonde hair and skinny, skinny, skinny! Of all the pictures I took, I really wish I asked to take a picture with him. Oh my god, I regret not talking to him so much. Where is a better place to crush on someone than a Harry Potter event?!?

art in the streets: moca

2011-07-07T08:57:00.001+01:00

In an art gallery words aren't often spoken.

A street art gallery none the less does not contain the "hide and seek" joy that true graffiti has.

Got yelled at twice. "Please stand 18 inches from the art work."

"Please keep off the grass." Okay, I will

Obey.

dress like summer

2011-05-28T03:20:00.004+01:00

Slightly inspired and amazed at Elizabeth's ability to pack light, and fueled by my cousin's declaration: "You need to clear out some of your stuff from our basement," I closed my eyes and threw away anything that I gave second thoughts about keeping. As a result, I now have six pairs of shoes, two shorts I'm holding onto cause I own nothing else, and tank tops that I use for sleeping in. I have more "camp" and "school" t-shirts than my own clothes. A ridiculous amount of hoodies and jackets too.

So today I decided to walk with my friend down Melrose Ave and go shopping. I got some summer stapels for about $50 and a little more, along with an un-pictured purple and grey men's flannel shirt. Have I ever mentioned how much I like Crossroads and Goodwill? I need to remind myself that I never have to shop anywhere else again. There were necklaces and rings that I envied but didn't get.

A vest cardigan, a yellow and blue tiger print tank top dress, a crochet cream top, pastel-lime/yellow shorts, boyfriend shorts and heart printed maroon shorts. Can't wait to wear them!

Current inspirations... ah, I'm so in love and jealous.

I've been inspired by Lookbook.nu's Olivia Harrison from Manchester, who wears the same essentials over and over but in different styles. She has a bit of a muted style that would catch your eye when you look for personality in a person (I'm making this shit up, aren't I?), but I love how it looks so carefree and don't give a fuck it looks.

And Jean Greige from LA, who has some "out-there" looks, but I love when she does simple outfits with a kicker accessory or textured shirt. She knows how to balance and create looks with that one special item to attract your attention, but it's not overly bold and outlandish where you need super confidence to wear it. I also love how plain it looks from far away but close up, there's so much beautiful detail.

I love how both girls were these outfits so effortlessly. I want to reach that stage one-day.

this city is going to eat me

2011-05-22T06:24:00.000+01:00

In three hours I'll be on a Super Shuttle that I ordered via my trusty iPhone towards JFK, onto a plane back home. Home, oh how I miss thee so much, that I've come to hesitantly hate certain aspects of this city. It's really sad that a lot of my good friends are from this area. Sometimes I think I can swallow it and stick it through the dirty roads and grimy air. A friend once told me how he hated being alone, and didn't care for traveling to places unless his friends were there or with him. I thought I could love this city for the sake of my friends, but I'm trying. And it's frightening. This "concrete jungle" or "city of dreams" that Jay-Z describes it more like a jail to me.

For the people that know me, they know I'm slightly crazy. I'm not afraid to walk alone in alleyways. My friends constantly whisper, "Oh my god, Christal, where are we going?" before I bring them to a shady ass restaurant that takes cash only. And yet for the first time last night, I was frightened to take the subway alone. This is coming from a girl who walked from 22nd st. to 42nd st. at 2AM on Thanksgiving weekend, who walks around LA KTown by herself - I don't get scared. But last night there was the worst uneasy feeling in the world as I hailed a cab home. Even in the cab I thought I was going to die. The car felt like it was flying, lanes didn't exist - the taxi driver purposely bumped into the car infront of him... I learned how to drive in LA, and people here cannot drive!

I'm aware of the appealing aspects of this city. I love wandering around Soho, East Village and Chelsea. The other day I sat with a friend in a darling french café and spotted Ethan Hawke talking animatedly to his daughter. I listened to two theatre actors talk about the new Aaron Sorkin HBO pilot. I went gallery hopping, saw a breathless play, and ate great food. Everything is accessible - I really shouldn't complain, but I feel like there's an underground discomfort flushing through the city, probably via the subway system. In my opinion, there is a huge distance between quality, quantity and payment; and in a sense, NYC seems more pop-culture driven and "Hollywood" blinded than LA. But that's my opinion.

Someone convince me what's so great about this big city? I don't feel any inclination to return after this trip.

subtext in the matrix

2011-05-18T05:19:00.004+01:00

Do you ever feel like you're the "best friend" of the main character in a drama? Sure, you'll have your moments of breakdown, but no one will ever see it or care about it because the real drama surrounds someone else. You're in on the situation, but that's about it - people will come to you asking about the main character. It's your own life and somehow the best story lines goes elsewhere. Well that just sucks.

Recently I've been talking with my friend about drama. We complained about how people just talked shit about other people. Passive aggressive refusal for confrontation. Why in the world was everyone so dramatic? So and so aren't friends... this and that aren't working well, she doesn't have any real friends anymore... I'm staring at a glass box of Polly Pockets, and I'm wondering if I'm apart of that world too. This is already too early to say, but what if, I think I'm not apart of any drama but I'm apart of hidden drama? The worst bit is sitting and shaking your head, knowing that people are gossiping about others, and not knowing that someone is talking about you.

The other end of drama is stressful - the seemingly "I'm not apart of it" end. Being the one who is told everything is a heavier weight than one who spreads and interacts with the drama. Pretending that you never heard any of it when confession comes is so difficult. It's not about being passive, platonic or neutral; but about crafting responses to defend everyone. After a while, even the least judgmental person starts to question the details. Then, you realize that conversations are crafted with subtext cause it's the details that save judgment or create it.

and...

Subtext, subtext, subtext - the most annoying word of the semester! My acting teacher insisted on talking about subtext every class, and how each sentence in a script had deeper meanings. Since then, I've been sitting and listening to people talk. Dangerous past time, I know. Because suddenly, a sentence that sounds like consideration is actually underlying sadness. Like "I don't think he wants me to be here" didn't actually sound like "I'm giving him personal space for his friends" but more like "I want to stay but he said no." Oh that was a bad example, but you get what I mean. Observational drama, the most dangerously accurate kind, is a bad skill to master.

To this moment, I'm not sure which aspect of drama I'm most... okay to be apart of.

Everyone is involved in some way. Completely oblivious? ...but that's horrible not to know people are talking shit, because what if everything is preventable? Right in the middle? ...horribly stressful and tense. Just a bystander? ...eventually wears you down.

Although worse! What if you thought you weren't apart of any drama, but in reality, you were the bunt of it all?

Despite all this, what I can confirm is: Drama doesn't disappear with age. It doesn't go away just because you decide to be alone.

mixtapes & playlists

2011-05-16T23:41:00.001+01:00

Where did the beauty of making playlists and mix tapes come up? Actually, when did it leave and become so digitalized? I kinda wish technology delayed just a little bit so that I could still experience the feeling of getting an actual mix-tape from a boy. Then again, if I really wanted technology to advance that slowly, we wouldn't even have gotten as far as iPods.

Mix tapes are a wonderful innovation. I could write a letter, but there's no narrative Mr. Darcy reading it aloud to actually convey the emotions. Whether it be a handwritten letter or an e-mail, the emotions don't get across as eloquently as music does. Even if the song isn't specific, the meaning behind the lyrics throw out a much larger net than a personalized letter. Maybe that's why I can find myself listening to one song on repeat for an entire day. I would not stick to lyricists, but any musical composer is a better writer than me.

The art of making a mix tape, to have one song lead perfect to another, is such an admirable skill. Much more efficient and better than writing a letter.

But like any speaking person, a mix tape could get long winded. Could just be creepy if they decide to put a song like "Invisible" by Clay Aiken. Like letters, there is a perfect length in correlation to content. For me, a mix tape shouldn't be more than 18-25 songs. A letter shouldn't take me more than five minutes to read. Anything over that seems a bit pretentious, overbearing/overeager and stalkerish. Of course, you could send someone a mix tape and they completely get your intentions wrong. For example, when I sent you "Turning Tables" by Adele it wasn't about me being heart broken, but about becoming independent. So in both cases of letters and songs, I always end up holding back. I make playlists for myself though... like I'm writing letter to myself, writing entries that the intended never reads, and eventually move on to other feelings.

If only I could send handwritten letters that open up to the sound of musical components. Oh they make annoying greeting cards like that already. And e-cards. Damn it all.

the return

2011-05-14T08:43:00.002+01:00

I'm blogging again, and I am in Syracuse. There seems to be some correlation between the disjunct of loneliness and discovery that such a desolate place like this brings. I hope, I guess, I wonder if I have, by now, isolated those curious minds to completely leave me alone so that I can write as if no one is reading, or that those who are reading are people who I don't mind at all.

A couple things have crossed my mind since I've been here. The first few days, I was deliriously happy to see my friends again. But I realized that there weren't many I was excited to see; and I felt a bit lost. A year gained in the self is a year lost in others. I may have made good friends abroad, but I feel as if I have lost a lot in the friends that stayed here. Not only that, but I think I have grown physically and mentally to a point where I am noticed as a person and as a girl (awkwardly, and honestly not pridefully). But as you know me, the main point is that I've come to realize exactly what it means to be "at the end of the road."

Someone told me I was career minded. I really don't think I am. I think I am relationship driven. I am obsessed with the relationships I hold, but I don't trust anyone. Today, this morning, as I waited, I knew I didn't trust anyone to understand me. Other than my family and the exception of one friend, of course. But my theory has always been to leave before the other does; and I think I believe this so much that I hold people at a distance. I think I hated relying on people so much, despite wanting to, that I left so leave things at a stand still.

To be honest, I'm here and this could be the end. I believe so feverishly that this is it. I don't believe relationships can progress further than the visual. Than what is proximity. So yeah, it does hurt to discover what people's plans are for the future, but I can't say I'm not a hypocrite to take into consideration what I am driven to do. In the end, it's come and go. And pray that separation doesn't hurt.

I try really hard not to let things get to the emotional stage.

the new response

2011-02-20T19:20:00.000Z

For the bloggers out there, they know what I'm talking about.

ANON COMMENTS

Certain anonymous comments are a pain in the ass and brutally heartless. Personally I've never been an anonymous that has written a mean comment. I know I purposely wrote under anonymous once, but I forgot what it was for. It was probably to tell Sen Mitsuji that he was hot or something stalkerish like that. Little pleasures of hiding behind the title of anonymous is often abused because bloggers like me don't know what to do when we get them.

Do you respond?
Well, what was the comment about?

Was it rude or nice? If nice, just a heartfelt thank you. If rude, do you fight back?

Oh wait, but I'm above that.

LIES.

Everybody wants to win the battle with a rude anonymous. Personally I have a problem with snarky anonymous people because I don't know if they are actually anonymous or friends hiding behind "anonymous." Ah, I've been saying anonymous so often it's annoying me. Anyway, I've had my fair share irritating comments and even had lengthy blog posts commenting in response. Sometimes I feel like I'm making myself sound too self-righteous by defending myself (I mean, my blogposts aren't bulletproof... I'm not sure what readers are expecting, I'm 20 with a mind of a 16 year old), should I just ignore those comments that irk me?

In my last post, I got a rather annoying comment. There were almost fifty different ways I could've responded. Now though, defending consists of overly long responses. Not fun to read. Too long to write. Apologies aren't even appreciated. I gone through the whole "I'm right, you're wrong" defensive route, but now I'm starting to grow sick of it. The thing is, sarcasm and wit doesn't translate well over the internet. By wanting to give fuck-all to those comments, I feel like I'm regressing in maturity. WHATEVER. I'm fly like Peter Pan. So I'm going to ignore anonymous comments that have no ground or respond with sarcasm.

I've said enough to defend myself and people who a). know me b). honestly read my writings/posts will know who I am or what I strive to be.

I'm too cool for hate.

annual expectations

2011-02-15T09:12:00.002Z

I've written a blog post passionately about Valentine's Day each year, and it just seems so lost not to do so this year. This year I can honestly say I did not anticipate it. Well I was completely unaware that it was coming around the corner until some friends kept asking, "What are you doing for Valentine's Day?" or other uselessly related questions. Even then those questions just bounced off me because I just thought of the day as February 14. Right now it's February 15th, and I just want to go to bed.

In a short re-cap, my first Valentine's Day post is so sickening to read, I won't link you to it. I can't believe I wrote that or even felt that way about someone. I haven't really felt like that about anyone since, even if I have liked someone, simply because I now just move-on and find better things to do like sit in quaint cafés called Bricks and Scones and type frantically with a pretentious writer's flair. The second v. day post was about the three type of boys I have loved, lost and bleurgh. So my third post is going to be a 180 turn-out as I try to play devil's advocate and imagine what it's like to ... desire sex.

Sex in a primeval manner.

With church and high school friends I never explored this topic, but since being in LA, immersed in a secular world, sex seems to be quiet the popular topic. Church families and friends seem to avoid this topic like a plague because it's "uncomfortable" while this new group unabashedly declares their desire to "get it (one) in." No joke, this is the joke of our program. "GET IT IN!" means so much more than having that ping-pong ball in the red cup. Yeap.

I have no clue why people want to have sex. Other than the idea that it feels good - genitals are just really dirty and unappealing to me. The ravaging idea of "I'm horny" really shocks me beyond belief because of how far people can go for the sake of being horny. I sound so condescending, but I just don't get it. Maybe I'm asexual.. but I like boys!

But when I have this plethora of pictures of male models, which I send to my friends, etc. I feel like we look at them differently. Most of my friends objectify them as "I'd do them" men, like Channing Tatum, who I think is beyond unattractive to a point of grossness. I think the only time I actually wondered about sex was when I watched Yuri Pleskun eat a banana. And I thought, "Am I gay if I am turned on by a boy eating a banana?"

I like the idea of holding hands (when I'm in the mood). I like the idea of having Yuri Pleskun next to me as we watch a movie. I'll admit that it feels good to cuddle or sleep next to someone, but to have a nekkid sweating body on top of you - I don't get it. A few days ago I learned that car windows actually do fog up when you have sex, so that means two sweaty bodies... Uhm, have you ever hugged someone after they played basketball? That's nasty, and had I the desire to have sex, the thought of a sticky frame turns me off right away. That and the idea of a mouth connecting with any other part of the body that most likely isn't washed prior to the act...?

Well, the world is out there probably getting it in tonight on Valentine's Day and I have no desire to have anyone with me right now. Yet here in LA I'm known as being sexually frustrated because I like to send pictures of male models.

Ok. So. Mostly topless pictures.

P.S. Henry/Stephen, this Ash Stymest gif is for you. For the most part, I moved onto Yuri Pleskun (cause Stymest has the most unattractive yet attractive personality) - who I want to know your opinion of, hahaha. Google him. Watch his NYLONTV interview.

Happy Valentine's Day guys! Use a condom, hopefully the kind with the Pope on them, but you know what's better, cleaner and safer? No sex at all. Take a shower, I hear that works wonders when you're dirty. Just so you guys know, I'm not a frigid nun. I just can't grasp the concept of wanting sex ... constantly, with different people, comfortableness, etc. Someone care to explain the need/desire?

complete downtime into oblivion

2011-02-07T07:14:00.002Z

I haven't been blogging over here for a while. A part of me is trying to roll this blog back into oblivion so that people think I don't update anymore and I can start anew by having a slew of readers that don't know me in real life. It's hard to have a blog that often says different things from the very physical me. At the moment, and judging by the responses, most people must think I have died from the blog-o-sphere. Now I can write whatever I want.

What a lie.

But I want to believe it. The reason I haven't been blogging as much is because a). I've been incredibly busy, and b). I don't want to write blogs for people who don't talk to me to "fill in" on my life. It's terrible when people know the general gist of my personal life. It's worse when they think that's all they need to know. It's horrible when I tell them something and they go, "Yeah, I know. I read it on your blog." Not sure that's the first reaction I want when I spread my excitement. Suddenly, age-old friends have become ...readers. Personal has become disconnected. And even if people come to apologize or try to reconnect, I don't think I care anymore. It is too late. I've become so disconnected and separated from the fantasy of relationships that when reality comes back around, I don't want to deal with it. Social network, I hate you - or maybe you've just become a filter. I feel like I'm on television, and my once close friends have become viewers. They know all there is to know about me, but I'm completely unaware of what their lives are about. Conversations have become dismissible. History is dismissible. After a certain degree of disinterest, I think I'm going to stop updating my life to certain people. What's the point when there is no trade... I feel like a TV show with good ratings but no real feedback to show for it.

So now I'm canceling some personal subscriptions. You can join those who don't know me in real life and find out when they do. It was nice knowing you; but a long running tab means nothing to me when I can't see the present working out towards any real future. Harsh? I'm more disappointed to care about fixing anything, because if you can't notice that it's broken then it may have never been important enough to be used.

Like a cracked vase that never needed to hold anything but fake roses.

the younger fuckups

2011-01-31T20:19:00.001Z

As the age 21 comes closer around the corner with each passing week, I think about the things I do that kids at the age of 18 are doing now. How much faster the younger generation seems to be growing up in comparison to how I lived, and how much more ...immature yet older they are.

I've been thinking about advice people wanted to give their younger selves. Most people want to go back in time to give themselves advice on how not to fuck up your life, what do to better, etc. This is not appropriate advice, but I want to tell myself to do more. Be a little more daring, make more mistakes, and be a fuck up before it's too late to clean up your resume. Recently I've been itching to make mistakes and other things I never dared to do - smoke (not drugs) - get tattoos, dress up more and live a little before graduation comes and I'll be living my days from 8:30AM to 9PM, going to bed by 11PM and waking up at 7. It'll be a work life with no social life until I open up a bit more.

Ah well.

I'm craving cigarettes that I have never smoked. I don't even know why.

upon misunderstanding

2011-01-09T07:53:00.002Z

"...if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best," says Marilyn Monroe.

This is quoted so often on tumblr by indie hipsters, independent fucks and so on. I thought it was some great self realization quote until I realized how horribly selfish the implications of misquoting/quoting out of context this quote was. Sometimes people have great ideas, but man, with the wrong words, they not come out right.

Recently I've been on a trip with a someone who's been cranky and entirely unpleasant. So she's at her worst, and I just quietly sit through it, ignoring her side commentary and ~~smart-~~ass(inine) comments. I think this quote is something she would reblog and follow like a mantra.

but.

How conceited can you be by believing quotes like this? It's such a self absorbed thought to cut off the beginning of the quote and live by the latter half. Why? Because it doesn't recognize humility in a human being and it's just making excuses to live selfishly.

Tell me, how does making someone suffer while you are at your worst make them worthy of handling you at your best? If anything... if they can't handle your less than average personality when you're ill, on your period, "at your worst" then maybe they don't deserve you at your best, but this way of thinking is what makes people so selfish. To think that no one is worthy unless they can tolerate your horrible behaviour - sorry, mister, but they aren't even going to wait for your best to come around before they go running. Maybe you should show them your best so they are willing to stick with you through thick and thin during your worst.

Excuses like, "I'm on my period" or "I feel ill"are not even proper excuses. They're plain ignorantly selflish as if to say, "There's no need to apologize." There is never a reason to make truly mean snide comments or cranky bitchy words in such an agonized, tense tone as if the world wronged you or I don't know... forcing me to sit with you in a hotel because you're ill while I'm at Disneyland. If you want to go back, just goooo. Don't make me sit in a hotel with you. How is this "handling you at your worst" thing working out for you when at the end of the day, I would rather pay $90 to get your ass home? Your best?

note this marilyn monroe quoters.

Life, likability and compatible personality is not about finding people to deserve you. It's about how you interact with other people so that they will want to deserve you and in turn, be someone you can trust. Not because they can "handle you at your worst" but because they want to be with you during your best.
"I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard
to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best."

The beauty of this quote is acknowledging the brokenness. People who only quote the last sentence
normally don't want to recognize that; they just want "If you can't handle me when I'm a bitch, you don't
deserve me when I'm a saint." Doesn't work that way. Show people you're a saint, and they'll want you even
though you're a bitch. Of course, Marilyn Monroe means "If you can't handle my mistakes, then you don't
deserve my perfection."

Honestly though, there is never a reason to suffocate your terrible attitude until it comes out in
sniveling comments. What I try to do is tell people I am cranky or in a bad attitude and apologize in
advance and afterwards. It's about being understanding because no solo person deserves anyone to walk
on needles around them. Not even the Queen. Walk on needles around other people and they'll offer the
most amazing comfort for you afterwards. When I'm at my worst, I try to be at my best. ...I don't expect
people to cater to me when I'm a horrible person. What kind of logic is that?

wow etsy, wow

2010-12-23T18:46:00.001Z

I'm sure you guys have all heard of Etsy. Well, I just went on a little Christmas shopping spree and purchased a few items:

What I want now are high waisted shorts in denim and white cotton, which I can easily thrift at Super Savers or other charity shops. And a nice skinny belt that isn't weaved, again easily thrifted. My other debating purchases at the moment are these following:

Go for it, or wait it out?

rant: you don't know sh...

2010-12-13T03:17:00.001Z

To get a clue, here are pictures to describe my emotions whenever these conversations with that person occurs. One by one, go through them in order and read: BIG BALL OF ANGRY UGH !!!

Don't you hate it when you talk to someone who actually has no idea what they're talking about but insists that they are right? This person, if they still read my blog, will probably know who they are. At this point, I really don't care because I have plans that I will go through with when five days are up. Just when I thought things could possibly be swept under the rug, this person comes rushing in and blowing up dust.

You, you, you are drawing me to the last line of tolerance with your opinions that you insist as facts. You, you, you who walk like a Snapple bottle with incorrect statistics. You, you, you define the world according to your terms, thinking you go against the grain, but completely ignore terminology and technicality, making your opinions moot point. Your feelings and experiences are not facts. Sometimes when it comes to facts, there is a truth that overrides opinion and preference. Preference holds no weight. Personal viewpoints are useless against actual definitions. At certain points, different views on certain topics can be wrong. Categories and labels are there not because someone decided so - and they aren't restricting - there is a term called crossover.

Ugh.

Just shut up if you're basing it on opinion and preference or admit that you know fuck all in technicality. Or read wikipedia and then come back to argue with me. You prolong those arguments using those fucking annoying American comments like, "Well I'm entitled to my opinion." One of the greatest lies Americans believe in. If your opinion rejects reality, then you are entitled to a fantasy, which holds no weight. Or you can say, "Oh I didn't know that..." Which actually, you did do, and then continued to argue that you were right (WTF?!). And this happens repeatedly. Popular culture is not a substitute for education! Colloquial language is not the correct definition for most things. Stop using the word gay!

Technically I would've won these battles with a face as immaculate as this:

Instead I'm left pissed at your ignorance.

thanks for wasted energy.

some apologies

2010-12-12T04:59:00.002Z

I feel that I have been cruel the past few months. These are sincere apologies as sincere as I can get them to be. Yet they feel forced and if I had my way, I would not write this at all. The only reason I am is because I feel as if I must defend myself. Must I? I don't know. My behaviour has been most unusual as of late, and this is mostly because I've been bottled up this general I don't care attitude. This blog is more revealing than I would like to admit, but whatever. I don't really care at this point who reads it or not. I'm actually probably going to disable the comments section soon because that's utterly useless. If you have something to say, you can e-mail me or dump it in formspring.me.

Forewarning, below is repetitive. And if you don't know by now, you must know that I believe love (the romantic kind) is one of the most useless things in the world. That should probably give you an inkling about my personality. In defense of the fact that I write about love, well I enjoy writing about fantasy and magical realism. You might find that what I believe is sad, but is that really sad or is it the fact that the world has convinced me of this that makes it so sad? Anyway read on:

To Whom It May Concern:

I'm a conundrum, a sort of distorted paradox of religion and absurdism. I can tell you straight in the eye that I don't care about you, but feel guilty that I love taking the piss out of you. I can outright tell you that you annoy the shit out of me, but I won't because what if I'm just having a mood swing? But it builds up like a bottled cocktail bomb. The gasoline slowly leaks through. That's every drop we argue with until I just like taking the piss out of you. I'm thinking you might tell your friends about how mean I am. As long as you don't say I'm annoying, then I don't care - but at the same time I realize that my jokes no longer make sense to the American culture. I offend, I cause discomfort, I dare.

This is who I was in high school, who I hid in university, and who I recovered in London. Yes, the one who will take you up on your word and be so vividly independent because she doesn't trust anyone to keep their promise. Everyone bails. Everyone leaves you. That is my firm belief. Jane Eyre had it right for me when she said, "Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless?" Well, you think right. I make jokes and they hurt because I can only make jokes based on truth or my observation. I won't take your cues for compliments, and I'm not going to pretend to agree.

And I really don't see a reason to change because the girl that was just tolerating Syracuse allowed people to run over her, drag her according to their schedules, and never enjoyed anything because she waited. Waiting just pissed her off now. And the second reason I don't see to change is because the people that matter are the people who loved me before. Love me now. As the person I was and am.
Sure, they liked the nice complacent girl, but she was terribly unhappy. Terrible. I decided to let one person - after two years - be really in there, be apart of the life outside of school, and it didn't work. Never again will I let that happen. You can't trust anything that comes out of people's mouths.

Hypocritically, I don't like hurting people though, but sometimes I just can't help it. Words slide out or I just don't say anything at all and negative energy just radiates from me. I can no longer hide or pathologically lie as well as I did in Syracuse. For those that don't matter to me, I honestly do not care anymore. You. are. nothing. The mere thought brings a curl of distaste to my lips. This is not how God wants me to live. But I'm a sociopath. Have been since 9th grade, and the only people that matter to me are those who have proven themselves to me. This is not how God wants me to live, but if you think all Christians must be pure exemplary Christians, then you're just as narrow minded as Christians the picket against homosexuality.

Sometimes I realize that I'm a bitch. A little bit heartless, more so soulless and over all an empty shell. So many people don't believe it when I say this, and they piss me off more than they know when they assert their opinions as my truths - I go absolutely mad when someone tells me my opinions aren't my opinions (does this make sense? Like for example, when I said I hate people, someone told me I didn't. That made me just hate people even more...). Don't tell me what I'm feeling when I just told you the opposite. Most of all - Don't tell me that I believe in love when I tell you I think it's a farce. Love is a farce, a joke in your own face. And just because I say that doesn't mean I can be infatuated - think philosophically, really. Words are not rules and boundaries, they're doors to infinite boundaries.

Anyway, this is a justification? no. This is a letter telling you that I am sorry I cannot feel for you any more than I feel for the goldfish I want to flush down the toilet. In some ways, your pain and discomfort causes me glee. I hope you understand that you cannot draw from me anything that you do not offer. If I find that you are repeatedly failing to hold up to your word, I will leave. If you drag me through the dirt more than once, then I don't want to hear it. I don't care anymore. I really don't. Of course, those who I do care about will know who they are. Those that have fallen off the map, might know who they are.

I just can't bring myself to care. We're growing up now and I already have to waste my energy pleasing people that are worth pleasing (i.e. in the working field), so I won't be wasting it on someone who can't be bothered to put in even less than half the effort without turning it into some shit show.

Sincerely,

the Sociopath.

apex of crisis

2010-12-06T01:48:00.000Z

I haven't been blogging about my emotions recently, but I haven't been blogging here at all; I'm surprised to see that people are still following me.... In fact, all I blog about are my emotions - so I'm surprised to see that people are following me anyway since I don't discuss universal topics of conversation. Ugh.

Moving on.

photograph by freesia88

Have you ever been at that apex of crisis where you wonder if you really know who you are? Or for the lack of better terms, if you really want to be who you know you are.

One of my favourite questions to ask my highschool friends, or anyone I haven't seen in a long time, is: Have I changed? Do you think I'm different? I'm obsessed with the dynamic between then and now, but at the same time what I want to hear is not necessarily that I have changed, but that I have improved. Tell me I look prettier than before, tell me that I'm nicer than I used to be, tell me that...and this. Now that I think about it... That's quite an irritating trait isn't it?

But at this moment, I'm scared to admit a change that I see in myself. The change is becoming more secular and it's so dangerous. Some of the thoughts that I'm considering to put into action aren't that bad; thoughts, as I have found, never are bad enough to condemn anyone - but I seem to be taking the next step by considering the reality of thoughts and wondering if I would actually put them into action. Thinking, yeah that's okay, I want to do that. It's no longer a fleeting thought. It's a growing, manifesting worm in hopes of being a butterfly.

Forgive the vagueness of this subject. This is something, I'm too afraid to admit it to the public, let alone admit it to myself because I know if the cards are played right, by the other hand, I could fall into a pit. I'll come out with dirt and grime and not care because I know I can just shower.

And that's the danger. I know the wrong that happens - is it a sin, God, is it a sin, because how can you condemn me for that when it's something so solely so personal and mine. I don't understand, I really don't. It's not a ten commandment, not even a derivative of something in that list - is forgiven and washed clean. But what am I supposed to say, Lead me not into temptation, but allow this void to grow until I have been consumed entirely. Is the answer to that yes? For if it is so, then I do not know why I bother to build relationships.

I've been thinking about the relationships that are no longer existent, and how in the long term, these relationships are all based on proximity and memory. Soon, memories fade and you look back without even the thought of nostalgia, trying to figure out why the memory makes you happy but all you can conjure is the idea. The idea, so resilient, is just a skeleton of reality. Something you chase to make real again. If I am planning to be a traveler, then maybe these relationships aren't made to last - me to you, and back in reverse, we are just text on paper, hazy pictures that are soon forgotten. You and I are as concrete as a rape blossom field throughout the years; we die in the winter and come together again in the summer to flower.

I don't know.
Let me lie here.
You may do as you will.

Take the bed.
Take the floor.
I am a mannequin, emaciated and thinned,
Emancipated and beautiful after your touch.
Take the chair.
Take the table.
I am solely yours underneath these sheets,
underneath my skin, where no one resides,
only my own soul speaking to mine own.
Take the first.
Take the last.
I am gone, left, and the last breath.
Before it all, you were the best yet.
(mannequin, 2010 by dearskye)

At this moment, I'm scared. I'm scared because I will consider it and my mind is not considering this a wrong. My heart isn't telling me what it is. My brain no longer cares, and my soul is not speaking. This is the most conflicted internal crisis I have ever faced in a long time - it's a question of: How special should anything[memory] be? And I fear because I have no one I wish to consult.

21/10

2010-11-30T22:43:00.000Z

When it is home you think of, is it the people or the place? I want to find the city that I don't mind being alone in. A city that I can go home to because at the end of the day, we die alone right? So what if I can find that one city I am home to – if that (living in any country) is an incentive to be famous, I can think of no other greater reason than that of your home welcoming you What if we were only made to meet our maker? Created to meet the creator – born only to return to the state of un-birth?

I believe that existence is an empty plane. We float in search of grasp. We hold onto the first greatest thing we can find – love, care – family and we do our best not to let go. We try. We survive without every feeling the ground because existence in itself is a sort of flying. We aren't walking, we are wandering until there's certainty of ground. If this is right, then what is God in relation to all this? He becomes the man who has removed the ground, the man who has removed reliability, the man we feel costumed to hate because he is nothing but a rock in our shoe. Yet if the rock is the only proof of solid ground that we own – then would we ever be willing to throw it away?

my favourite, watch this:

2010-11-28T02:34:00.000Z

I was looking through my favourited video history on youtube and came across this little five minute clip of nostalgia. Gaspard Ulliel in the great era of his youth. In his boyish, wide-eyed, soft smile - life has not been good to him for his approaching 30's (he's only 26!) because he's gotten a bit wider and aged like a man who has been through war. If only he kept this youthful look... Watch this video and understand why I find/found him to be the most beautiful man in the world. How can such a gorgeous man grow up to look like a gnarly stub? The long hair and stubble only looks good on Ben Barnes and Matthew Goode. Oh Gaspard, if only normal people looked like you. You are a work of conceptual art.

sweaters! inspired by grand(men)!

2010-11-27T20:33:00.000Z

If you've seen kittens! inspired by kittens! you should know the tone I am speaking in. If not, ah, well - here's the link to the following video that may annoy you and thus annoy you even further when I continue speaking. Whether or not this trend has hit America, it's booming over here and I love it. I saw it once on a girl and I fell in love with the look. I wanted to take her sweater, steal it - wouldn't that be something - a thief that stole clothes, bags, socks, shoes - a fashion thief! Someone who stole because they were too lazy to find it on their own, because they knew that stealing it from someone would just make it more unique than buying it on your own. It's not an issue of money - it's just an interesting concept.

Well, here's my fashion post for never....

So. Sweaters. These sweaters, made of wool, are amazing. They're cute and rather homely. Extremely warm and practical. They match almost every type of wear. Now I have two - which according to the tag is "crafted by Doogans & Sons for men of the sea and men of the field." It's too legit! They're also going to last me forever AND will never go out of style. But in all honestly, I'm still searching for that perfect tacky grandma sweater. Do you know what I'm talking about? The one with awkward and geometric patterns that are far too big for your body? The one that usually goes for $5 at Salvation Army? Yeah....

So how I got these: I stopped by an independent designer who was selling these, I saw the sign say: Jumpers £20 for 1, £35 (55$) for 2. These types of sweaters are currently going for £40 in vintage stores so I jumped at the chance to get legit Irish woolly sweaters. While I was trying them on, I asked if they all counted as jumpers. The owner laughed and said, "Yes. What do they call them in America? Just sweaters?" My friend and I confirmed that question, but of course, me being ecstatic about finally getting a legit "grandma" sweater starts babbling (something I do rather innocently when I do get excited) and I say, "Jumpers huh... what are jumpers in America? I mean, what does that word mean for us? Is it just people who jump?" I say this all with a slight British accent, and my friend and the owner just laugh. What a blonde moment. Either I get the "aw, aren't you cute" or "wow, that was stupid." Hah, story of the day.

On the other hand, today I watched Birdsong. You've probably never heard of it, but think of the movie Atonement. It's quite similar to that with the war separating lovers and reuniting and all that, however it is also very different. I'd tell you to watch it, but you're probably in America... and well your loss. Birdsong is so moving, real and humane. I nearly cried. I am also a fanatic for beautiful set designs. I've seen Phantom of the Opera here, and we know the famous falling chandelier. No, Birdsong has a special effect at the end of Act One that is more powerful, more moving, surprising and sudden than something like that. And then the very last scene, there is a real, truly beautiful design that just fills you with hope and beauty. Each actor was perfect in their role, portraying exactly what they represented. Independence, frailty, beauty, naivety, hatred, war - and in the last act, there was a scene where his memories come to haunt him. Utterly poignant and thoughtful.

Not only that, but Ben Barnes, yes Prince Caspian Ben Barnes, was only five-ten feet away from me. His glorious beauty, face, oh-boy-oh-boy, was in front of me for three hours. And let me tell you, after watching his shitateous film Dorian Gray, which ignored any literary merit of the novel and turned it into a focus on...basically porn. Ben Barnes has earned my respect as a reputable actor. He played the role with incredible humanity, intensity, and passion. His lines were delivered perfectly and he gave his character such life that it was real. Yeah, I know, you thought he was just a pretty boy. Nope. He's incredible. I'd give him the honor of playing Hamlet if he ever desired.

So this was my fun, fun weekend. Photographs of the market I went to after the jump (the quality is terrible. Thanks blogspot). Oh and I went back, ready to spend $40 on a rabbit necklace that opened up to a hollow inside and it was sold. I have never been disappointed by not purchasing something so expensive before in my life. I want my rabbit heart.

abs, lips, pecs, eh...

2010-11-24T01:35:00.000Z

Body parts... Most typical girls get turned on by male body parts or organs to be more specific. Several weeks ago I remember my flatmates uncomfortably talking about sex while I was in the room and all I could imagine was, "Eh, why would I touch that?" Just a few days ago I was watching a movie and falling asleep during it when I suddenly realized that I am not currently attracted to Asian guys whatsoever. Yes, even the gorgeous Jay Park failed to astound me. Shocker, I know. Then over this weekend, I realized how different I was or rather how asexual (?) or sexually different I was becoming. Several weeks ago I went to Rome and sat in front of The Ecstasy of St. Teresa in complete frenzy. I was completely in love, high off the visuals, and excitedly content just to be sitting in front of a Bernini. Let's just say after that trip, something in me began to develop.

Beginning again...

Most typical girls from the most innocent to the sluts get turned on by different aspects of guys. Some like the charming white smiles, some like the abs (or lack of) and some like the... I don't know what else there is to a guy... body parts? So over this weekend, I discovered a further extent of my weird behaviour. I am not turned on by guys whatsoever, physical attraction blah blah doesn't occur to me unless I'm intoxicated, but that's not genuine. Genuine physical attraction has never occurred to me sober except for once, and that was when the boy had a tattoo. So in a roundabout way, I'm saying that I am attracted to art. The thought of sex or touching revolts me - but in an odd way, I would consider it if it was coupled with art.

I've never been more excited to see The Ecstasy of St. Teresa, to which I sat three hours in front of in complete rapture. When I saw David by Michaelangelo, I don't think I ever felt such a high running through my system. Oh god, I had to suppress myself so much from bursting out with adrenaline.

The time I enjoyed a kiss was with a boy who had some talent in a form of art - but the thought of touching a "normal" boy makes my stomach sick. So I guess what I'm saying is, romantic candlelight dinners and beach walks won't even simulate a mutual hug from me. Although... take me to a museum and let me look at Carravaggio (!!), and I'll be all over you. You won't believe the oddities it takes to understand me. I mean, what is it about physical attributes that attract a person? Not saying that my perspective is better - I just don't operate with the same neurons everyone else does. I'm not completely asexual... I do find some guys really attractive based on looks alone but even in reality, I'm not convinced enough to even want to hold hands with them. Celebrities are a slightly different story when it comes to attraction. They are merely a photograph to me. They are art.

So let's say a boy takes me out to a gallery. I die. Get our panties in a twist, blah blah blah. Sadly, we have to work past this issue I believe in called abstinence. No sex before marriage.

Oh wait.

I don't believe in marriage. Hm.

Eh, here's a picture of a hot octopus tattoo.

this kind of loneliness

2010-11-13T11:05:00.000Z

Everyone knows I'm having a great time in London, I tell them that often enough, but there are small segments of my time where I feel the definition of loneliness crawling up on me. What I mean by this is that normally I don't mind when I go places or travel alone, but I feel a deeper meaning of being alone when I realize that the reason I am by myself is because there's no one that has the same taste as me, and/or the only people I feel comfortable calling for an impromptu concert are halfway across the world. The fact that I pick up the phone to call someone here, only to know that they give half hearted smiles, makes me really depressed at times. It's hard to truly enjoy a city without true friends... in a sense of friends that you can hang out completely without inhibition. It's even harder when you feel like the social planner and, when in the event of not "doing your job," they settle for areas of completely second rate. I much rather go home or go to a music venue alone, and while I do have a better experience, it's sad when the fact that no one I know here can or will enjoy the experience as fully as I do. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I have no one to truly share the experience with; and this is the type of relationship that defines the majority of my university relationships. While there is one girl who I can enjoy these things with, she's always busy... :( I miss... my... real friends. Juggling between wanting to do what I want and having to keep other people in mind is exhausting... and I'm not sure things will get better when I go back to the States.

an indie author's dream:

2010-11-13T02:59:00.000Z

1. olivetti typewriter

2. textual tattoos

3. a musician lover

4. one story flat

5. guitar

6. mac book pro

7. polaroids

8. digital camera

9. sketchbook/journal

10. ramen + eggs

a little update

2010-11-02T14:11:00.000Z

My computer broke last week (currently: three weeks ago). There was a time where I went without a mobile and it was surprisingly liberating. I thought going without the internet, the constant checking of facebook would help me develop my social skills. You know those internet articles that talk about how the computer stultifies the mind. It gives children ADHD, makes them more prone to stupidity, lowers their reading comprehension, etc. Perhaps in a world of Amish traditions, the choice of writing essays by hand is more preferable, but in this world of 2010, closing to 2011, it isn't. Being without a computer sucks ass.

It means that I cannot be at home to type up three 1500 word essays; that I need to stay in a computer lab with shoddy internet and stranger characters. There is no sensation of relief or release when you don't have a computer. The sensation of liberation comes from the idea of knowing it exists but not depending on it as sadly as I must admit.

The two paragraphs above were written several weeks ago. I survived midterms with a general grading of B+/A-, things that I probably could have achieved via procrasination but didn't. It felt great to go home and have nothing to really do but play guitar... yet yeah. While there is something liberating about working without a laptop attached to my hip, it's only a momentary liberation. After a while, e-mails, blogs and messages get neglected leaving behind this long 1009 unchecked list (and the number is still counting although I'm too lazy to check them anymore...they're probably out of date as well). It also limits the way I receive information, but oh well, what can I do.

While I have been here my resume has been wonderfully updated by three events. An internship with Constance Media where I do coverage work, watch films and just gain exposure and knowledge about production; an unpaid job as a writer for a new up sensory experience theatre company called Beyond Pedestria; and another unpaid writing gig for Subtle Magazine. Then there's personality resume that's being updated. I've gained a general all-out behaviour I'm exerting while in London. All out as in I go out three nights a week, sleep late and wake up early to head off to work or walk through a market. Yes, in the photo I'm drinking a British alcoholic drink that's like slightly bitter ginger ale mixed with pineapples and strawberries. And while I do drink, socially, I find that the British version of clubbing/dancing is vastly different from the American version. People don't really grind here unless they know you're American. It's like rocking out... To sum it up: British women are slightly less objectified than American women. American women willingly and purposely set out to objectify themselves at times - in the case of Halloween. Proof? Well since I can't show you Halloween exactly, just look at the ads in Cosmopolitan, the hypocritical magazine of the feminist era, in the UK and US versions.

Halloween here is not just a dress-up (or rather "dress-down") act. It's literally a costume party, a convention, an event, a festival that has clubs opening its doors. One event I wanted to attend was called The Haunted Ballroom by The White Mischief. Too bad the tickets sold out early, but it sounded amazing! Bands, swinging gymnists from chandeliers, swordfights and booths to get fake blood drawn on you! I want to bring something like that to America; bring a new culture of purity than an evolvement moment of ...dressing down. Let's face it, Mean Girls had it right... for America.

I know by now you're thinking: Christal - pictures! Yes, yes, yes, but my computer is broken. I didn't bring my camera to Athens + Rome, but I did manage to draw everything I saw out, so pictures of those sooner or later. I'm also vowing to bring my camera out everytime I visit markets and such from now on. Whether or not the photographs make it to my blog, at least you'll see them on Facebook. I think. For now, I have just stolen other people's pictures...mostly of me because there's at least some sort of reason I would take them when I wasn't the one who took the photo.

God is a rock in your shoe

2010-11-02T01:58:00.000Z

crazy dog, a play

act 2 scene ?
J: That's the funny thing. People expect God to be some vast hurricane, pillar of fire, destroyer of the earth and run the apocalypse in order to prove that he exists. No one is going to believe in God when he's described as a gentle kissing wind that you feel but can't see.
E: Then what do you compare proof of God's existence to?
J: A rock - no, a pebble in your shoe. An irritating itch that you can't be bothered to take off your shoe for because it comes and goes, but it's there. It's a nagging feeling that you can either become emotionally desensitized to or constantly wonder what it's doing. God is an annoying rock in my shoe.
A: That sounds like a brilliant way to convert atheists. He had me sold on the word annoying.
E: That sounds like a brilliant way to convert atheists. You had me sold on the word annoying.
J unfazed by her sarcasm. A beat. A sigh. A smile and he grabs her wrist gingerly, pretending to let it float in midair.
J: Your hand is existing in a plane of emptiness. You are existing in emptiness. The existentialists got this much right and there's no tether, no rope that lets you prove anything except that rock in your shoe that makes you feel that there's something more. He tickles the inside of her palm in short beats. And for all you know, that's God or that's something that makes existentialism shit.
E: It's like...with the rock, at least you know the ground once existed.
J (takes his hand away): Something like that.
E: Is that what you believe?
J: It's what I like to believe.
E: Based on what?
A beat. A long look. A short chew of the lips and they stare at each other intensely, so many words, thoughts, feelings and sentences unspoken. Muddled, jumbled and confused.
J: Those little nagging feelings.

Currently semi-working on Crazy Dog, A Play. If I could cast anyone I wanted, Sen Mitsuji would be John and Dianne's pretty friend Naomi Sundberg could be Emily. Wait, no that's too perfect. Sen would have to play Andrew, and Naomi can still be Emily. Or no, well either way Sen would be in it, and then everyone else has to be a bit average looking or it'd be a overloaded sensory experience.

when i cry, everyone's looking

2010-10-05T13:01:00.000+01:00

Five minutes before I meet a Yelp stranger from the Internets and I'm rapidly typing away this quick blog post about a photograph I found on tumblr.

Click it to enlarge and read carefully. It's a story beyond the words of the letter from his mother; it's a story that reflects this current generation and the self-serving attitude we carry as a technologically advanced, threatened generation.

The boy who received an eye looked through one eye his entire life, while his mother who gave one had to live with one eye shut to her son's terrible personality. How can so loving a mother produce so selfish a son? This isn't about realizing too late, it's about a foundation that wasn't there to begin with, a foundation governed by society and the immediate environment that has allowed us to be judgemental upon appearances.

I read this, almost cried, but because of the people around me in the computer lab, I stiffled my tears and will walk away, smiling as I meet a stranger. I can only hope that the people I meet from here on out have a heart unlike this boy. Nobody enjoys a regretful soul. It is wholly, an aspect of grace experienced that I know I should treat people right.

the shock factor

2010-10-02T22:42:00.000+01:00

Yesterday I attended the Raindance Film Festival as a photography "intern." In reality I was just accompanying my flat-mate so that she didn't have to face her first professional day alone. As film festivals go, this was perhaps one of the smallest venues I've ever seen, then again Sundance may have become something much more different, since it's a rather popular trend to have Sundance stamped on your DVD cover rather than Oscar-Winning/Nominated. It's a bit like, "Oh everything has been Oscar-Nominated... it's so commercial." So people are turning towards "Sundance Awarded" instead.

Well in effort to please my flat-mate's boss, we decided to sit through a screening of LA Zombie. If you haven't heard of the film, the basic synopsis is that a gay zombie "fucks people back to life." I went in thinking it would be making a statement about urban life in LA, about the "decay of the city." Many films in independent festivals strive to make a statement, even if it means crossing several taboos (like AntiChrist) but this was the first film I walked out of.

What most people would aptly describe as "gay zombie porn" was gay zombie porn that probably did have a point, but I was not compelled to finish the last half hour of it. However, a film composed mostly of sex scenes rather than a commentary of the urban life, does not provoke my thoughts whatsoever. I suppose the film is challenging the audience attention to look beyond the sex, but the directors obviously had intentions to make the audience feel uncomfortable.

At first, the zombie man with his fake penis was humorous because the costuming was so fake, and the scene itself was ridiculous. But then it got gritty, grimy and I was unable to focus on the non-sexual scenes because I spent my time closing my eyes. At least the music was phenomenal... I just... I don't even... I can't... I walked out of the theatre wanting to throw up, looking pale and making a bad impression on the bosses.

There is a certain tolerance I believe when it comes to everything. Some people might disagree and say, "We should be accepting of all factors." The film isn't even a statement about homosexuality anymore. Had it been heterosexual sex, I would've still walked out in disgust. I do not believe in standing for everything in the freedom of expression. Let's take a scene from LA Zombies, right before I walked out, for example:

A group of men in S&M outfits making out - fine whatever - and then urination? How is urine in any way attractive during sex? It is basic biology that urine is the filtering of toxins from the body, why would that be an attractive addition in intercourse? It's degrading; it's not even about gender issues, it's a simple act of disgrace to be ... I don't even ....

There's a certain shock factor that can make an impact, that can send a message, that can refine society brilliantly as displayed in Requiem for a Dream or Brokeback Mountain. Even AntiChrist makes a certain bold statement in it's own shocking way, but LA Zombies crosses the line for me. In a strange way, I commend the director for managing to somehow balance plot and action/drivel, but it didn't even feel like porn I was watching.

At the same time, I was all for watching Cannibal, a film about a rescued girl who eats men to death while she fucks them (basically), but there's something deeper within the characters (to me). There's more depth than the porn quality acting of LA Zombie, which isn't really acting at all.

This seems to be an on-going habit of many activist groups. PETA recently put out an ad with girls dressed in whips and chains. PETA is one of those groups that I believe go to far to get their point across. Shock factor comes in small doses to relay a message; it won't work if the person walks out, not even wanting to hear the finale.

On the other hand, I met Idris Elba, an actor from The Wire. Legacy looks like a film that too good to miss. Check it out since I'm sure it has a distributor already and will probably hit the big screen. Thomas Ikimi is a solid, sound director. I loved the last scene of the movie where we watch as a spectator, just like the rest of the audience within the film. It's beautifully shot, reminding me a bit of No Country For Old Men's television shot. Two drastically different films: La Zombie and Legacy try to get a message, a goal across, and one is going to hit the box office while the other will remain an underground cult classic. When it comes to extremities like this, I'm not even sure if it's about social acceptance or just simple humanity. I never want to see the day when a film like LA Zombie is a social norm.

I don't even know if people are going to respond to this post. It's just... I can't.... scarred for life. Don't worry, I wouldn't know what to say either than "Ew" or "You're such a prud." I'm not a prud. I don't find necrophilia or bodily waste related intercourse attractive.

been a while, been a while

2010-10-01T14:53:00.000+01:00

Forgive me while I re-use this photograph everyone has seen. I appropriately got this "breakup" haircut early in time for last night. You know how girls always cut their hair after a heartbreak to re-invent themself? Good for me! Blah.

It's been a while since I've been churning out... "quality" blog posts. Being in London, where internet seems not to be a big factor, has muddled up my goals and priorities. Remember long time ago when I decided to finally admit I was romantically inclined and motivated? Remember the times I swore off fake friends and marriages, love and children, faith in humanity and the general pish-posh that makes me connect with every moping teenager across the internet? Well, I'm not a teenager anymore but the feelings are relevant no matter the age gap.

I wish I could get over emotions as easily as I do when the moment has passed. I'm also starting to get a hang of the life of the working world where I sleep early, wake early and have only vague amounts of time for myself. There's no sketching, planning or work to be done of my own interest because that could easily suck up hours. I've turned to miniature posting on tumblr because I get a greater response there, but I don't want to abandon my blogspot either. So let's do a typical, complaining by chasingfivetwo blog that I used to do.

Friends.

Friends are great to hang out with, great to seek advice from, great, great, great! The only problem with friends is that they are your friends, who hold biased opinions of putting you in the utmost honor. I've been in plenty of situations where friends have encouraged me when my hesitancy was right in the first place. Suppose I'm complaining about the "Tyler incident" upon which I chatted with a boy to avoid a creep, and subsequently garnered enough emotion to label "crush" due to the teasing nature of friends and strangers. But deep down, I knew I didn't care for him, I only thought so because of the influence --- like that film He's Just Not that into You, which is so true, girls give terrible romantic advice.

Anyway, I've learned that just wait for the guy that's into you. I should've known this after my little May incident. Whoever tells you "guys like assertive girls" or "girls should take initiative" should be only telling you that if they're certain that the guy is into you (i.e. his friends, his texts, his mother) but too shy. There's no such thing as "he's sooo into you but he's too shy to get your number." Guys still know the general rule - they make the move first.

Is this a bitter-aching post? Only a little. The boy I had my eyes on has a girlfriend, which he's failed to mention in between his 10 hour daily shifts and every other topic we've crossed. But he's got this personality, interests and quality that I would like to displace onto another person. Plus that octopus and skeleton tattoo that you guys know I have a thing for... octopi..... drawings. A huge thing for octopi.... and machinery.... gears... and boys with the same music taste.

But I have to say, I was disappointed with his DJ skills... a tad bit. Oh god, I might as well tell you I'm on my period and my cramps are fucking aching. Two nights ago, I laid on the dirty, dusty wooden floor for an hour because I couldn't move whatsoever. Well, have I changed since I've been here for three months? London has made me more bold, vulgar and sociable. I also wear makeup and bother with my clothes because the rest of the city is donned in appearance. Do you like it? Ugh. I'm missing laid-back California, so I can't wait until I get to LA (lies). I miss Disneyland, I can't wait to apply for a job there.

Art work featured: http://somefield.com/

blind beholders

2010-09-26T21:41:00.000+01:00

Yes, I'm drunk. And you're beautiful. And tomorrow morning, I'll be sober but you'll still be beautiful.

The Dreamers 2003

A lot of people I meet tell me they have high standards. Back in high school I was known as the girl with high standards, but that was when we all liked similar things. Now that university has come in to broaden my horizons, I realized that there is no such thing as high standards. At least, not in the larger concept of beauty. There are personal preferences, maybe to go as far as saying you have specific standards, but you don't have high standards.

You can't have high standards and then tell me you think Cameron Diaz is drop-dead gorgeous. Cameron Diaz's highlight of her physical beauty was only prominent in one film. Shrek. She was gorgeous with red hair, olive coloured skin and cute freckles. Again, how can you stare at me saying you have high standards and then go, "Ew" at Charlize Theron? Exactly. What world does someone live in when they think Cameron Diaz is more stunning than supermodel Theron? I haven't even gotten over the fact that so few people find Eva Green to be lovely.

Haven't you ever met that friend, when you galk over a pretty person, just snarl and say, "Meh, I've seen prettier" or "Nah, maybe I just have high standards, but it's rare for me to think someone is pretty." A lot of my friends use it nowadays, and I get so irritated when the conversation turns down that road! Can't they just say, "Oh, they're okay. Not my style."

It's just a technicality, but the terms annoys me now. "I have high standards," so and so says. Really? Have you seen yourself in a magazine lately (okay I will probably publish a contradicting blog post in a month to this comment)? This is often said with some sort of pride that their taste is classier than others, but there's no such thing as high standards.

Not even for Karl Lagerfeld... especially when he designed Coke Light's bottle to be so ugly. I don't care if he's Mr. I Know Fashion - That bottle is ugly, and the only justice he did to the product was have Coco Rocha model for him. Now she's gorgeous! (And I say that because I have picky standards.)

Just... don't talk as if your standards are the general basis... unless you write for some teen magazine where you have the yearly top 10 celebrities or something meaningless like that.

cockblock part ii

2010-09-19T19:15:00.000+01:00

I'm not a video blogger. I try, but I'm not alone enough to say something. I saved a draft of part I, and some people will know what I'm talking about, but here is cock-blocking part ii. After hanging around a pub called Camden's Head and realizing that paying five quid (8$) isn't worth bands that no one else is listening to, we made our way to King's Cross. I was extremely close to going home, but thankfully Nicole convinced me to stay. And here is where I learned the most obvious definition of cockblocking.

I'm waiting in line with a friend, getting ready to buy a pitcher for my friends when this guy comes up and asks if I'm alone. I say no, I'm with my girlfriend. Unfortunately, his English isn't very good and he translates that as "girl friend." Somehow we aren't brave enough to tell him no, and he ends up buying us drinks. As he sits with us to lament his rather sad story for sympathy points, we decide to move towards the crowd. I remain silent the entire time, despite his "Christal, are you okay?" After he goes out to smoke (and buying me a second drink), we run off and ask three American boys to sit with us. This is where cockblocking officially finds it's definition.

We are paired up boy-girl, boy-girl (x2) and finally one guy asks me, "What's up with the guy behind you?" I just tell him he bought us drinks and I feel obligated to talk to him. So we sit spots and thus it becomes guy-girl-girl, guy-guy, guy-girl-girl. Cockblock part one. Then we decide to play pool, which leaves me alone to watch over all the bags, and the smoking stranger. He just stares at me smiling (sounds creepy, I know, and even if he was really genuine at heart, he was still smiling creepily). When he opens his mouth to speak, one of the American boys run over and starts talking to me. Cockblock part two ensued. After a while, I decide to get another drink and leave the guy alone. He brings in a random person to distract everyone else's attention, who only effectively takes away all the attention from him. That was my fourth experience of cockblocking. Finally, the DJ starts playing the xx VCR. If that's not a sign, I don't know what else is. I run up to the table and start chatting up the DJ. I voluntarily stick around the DJ's table all night until the guy leaves. This might not be cockblocking, but it could be...

If you've read this far, congratulations. The guy went to another group of girls drunk enough not to care that he reeked of cigarettes and bought them drinks. When the pub closed, I thought our nightmares were over, but he followed us to McDonalds. We all ordered food while he sat at the end of the table talking to no one. No one even looked at him. As soon as he went out to smoke, we ran out and said goodnight, leaving him behind.

The sad thing is, sometimes you think your worst nightmare is over and you let your guards down. We said bye to the American boys and waited at the bus stop when suddenly... we looked across the street and the guy was jumping up and down, waving at us. So we ignored him, ran to the next bus station and waited there. The nightmare I got that night though consisted of him following me everywhere. Moral of the story? Never again will I say okay to a man who will buy me drinks. Instead, ask a table of single guys and have them buy me shots. And don't tell them that I'm a tank.

So the people in the photographs were the nice American boys we met at the pub. I don't really like this post, but it's a story that needs to be told. If you don't want me writing like this again, let me know. It's strange blogging in another country. So many experiences that don't come out the way they normally do in writing!

how to meet people 101

2010-09-16T14:05:00.000+01:00

Eh, long but overdue post of TEXT.
Real pictures next time.

The type of people you meet almost directly correlates to where you meet them. If you don't believe me you can go shove your opinions up your ass. This is my blog (I'm kidding but watch as people rage and spit fire as if witch trials existed or bra burning is still in). I just feel like spouting out random angry bits once in a while.

Being here in London brings me back to when I was in middle school. I loved this city (or the idea of it). The what I supposed was the culture, fashion and trends, well - basically everything I thought this place could offer. History and contemporary at the same time, good to God politeness and down right shameful racism, the pretty and the ugly, the talented and what the fuck. If you didn't notice, I described every cosmopolitan city out there. Finally being in the place I've dreamt about since middle school has made me realize that people don't always make the place.

There's architecture, history (arguably people), and just the normal day-to-day living that makes a place so drastically different. When I travel, I'm not interested so much in sightseeing. Last week I went to the famous Stonehenge, and well...

rocks, rocks, rocks!

The whole lot of it is just huge rocks that we cannot touch because if they fall over, we're screwed. I was pretty disappointed simply because seeing a huge circle of rocks isn't very impressive, especially when there are so many people and grey skies that you have to be pretty lucky to get nice photographs of rocks. Let me say it again (as I said it before): It's just rocks to me. The history and how-it's-done is pretty cool, but... 1 hour of looking at them? Rocks, I say, effin' rocks. I guess I'm the type to enjoy places that people live in, such as cathedrals, homes and the lot. At least I can say I've been here, but on a normal daily basis, I believe looking at Stonehenge is equivalent to looking at a scene like this:

Oh I've diverged nicely on this topic. Back to what I was getting at: In my last post I talked about how I went to a club, and out of the experience we did meet a nice American boy, Korean but adopted, who keeps in contact with my other friends. I know he's nice and I know he's a good person, but I have this aversion towards people I meet in clubs and parties. It's hypocritical, I know. Why be an ass about meeting people there when you're there as well?! Maybe it's because I'm not a clubbing or party person. I just have this idea that the club isn't some place you make good friends - the idea being if you meet a clubbing friend, all they'll like to do is go partying, and for me, that's not my idea of fun... at all. I also have pre-judgements that the person is just after ass or sex. I can't help it!

But circumstances differ like this: it helps if a friend I trust has introduced them to me first, which is why I can make friends at house parties. For me, I don't get people who go clubbing "to meet people." Does it really work out that way? How do you feel when you meet out of the darkness and with less make-up on? What if in the light you realize they're not so great after all? And how does it work - letting people you don't know touch you? My alarms ring danger every time that happens. This is me, over analyzing, and it's no wonder I don't have fun at clubs. I'm usually the droop in the corner, sitting and watching people... mainly cause I don't like to be touched by strangers.

My best friends are made at school. Maybe I like studious people.

Or if my best friends were made online. Maybe I don't like people.

Just kidding! I really do think that where you make friends says a lot about what type of people you like. If you think about how you met your best friend, doesn't it correlate?

On my graduation day, from high school, my class went out to a hookah/bar to celebrate. I drank alcohol and hated it, and as a result went into a cafe to get a smoothie. There I met a dashing Brit who was better looking than any guy in a club I've ever been to. To this day, I only know his name was Ryan and he's from the UK, but we had a nice experience of me asking where the bathroom was and walking the opposite direction of his instructions. He laughed, I blushed, and I never saw him again. He was terribly cute and worked in a café. In. A. Café.

Now that's where I rather meet people.

and so you'll be surprised

2010-09-10T19:59:00.000+01:00

of the ideas, of the sensations and expectations, i don't know what to think here. while i do appreciate being in another country, i do not appreciate ignorant comments or this accessory feel as i travel with friends. i hate the random calling of "ni hao!" out on the street, makes me feel like shanking them all. (really, really learn something new you assholes) i don't like the stares as if i'm a commodity or trophy because i don't know... they watched crouching tiger, hidden dragon once in their life, or even more embarrassingly - memoirs of a geisha. this could be temporary but how are expectations so terribly met?

while i am having fun, i am also not. it could possibly be a little result of feeling unstable and unsure, of still having friends that are purely American. it makes me want to run back to my roots, wonder why i forgot the importance of being myself. i make it sound horrible here, but it's great as well. somethings are lovely. the people, when not drunk, are nice and honestly approachable.

okay, well the deal is. how to meet a londoner without needing to party or club? i'm honestly not interested in drinking alcohol (since i'm a tank) and not interested in dancing with guys. it happened once. he was a fucking creep that went through all my friends (who rejected him) and tried to dance with me. i just wanted to sit down or have fun with my friends, not him.

"is this your first time dancing? you need to relax."

"no... i've danced with other people before."

"oh, it's just me then?"

"yeah," and i walked away.

another time i deflected another guy to my friend, telling him she never danced before (lies). he said, "oh, i see how this is," but went to dance with her anyway. two other people tried to dance and i just shook my head. i really don't like this party scene. i need to make friends that have an apartment where we can play kings cup. gosh, i sound so bitter. maybe it's just the lack of sleep.

so here i go moaning, but what happened to nice boys like charlie or alex day? or "a nice guy" the way wongfu talks about them as if they're hiding behind bushes.

anyway, since you're all really wondering, the answer to the question is:

yes, british boys wear oxford shoes everywhere. all the time.

new romantic

2010-09-06T00:21:00.000+01:00

Home is where the heart is, or wherever you are as we all say. We're a generation of get up and go, move across the country before your mind regrets the decisions your heart has made. Push, push, push - collect your bags and travel as far as your problems can take you until it is a numbing feeling of reality. The fastest route today is by plane, the fastest way to flee from you to here is all the trick work of a jet-plane. We're off the train tracks and we have no plans to return.

ah, so this is me.

london from space

2010-09-05T01:32:00.000+01:00

This week without internet has proven intensely interesting. When I first came to London, I felt homesick and terrified... ironically. I've been excited to visit this country for more than half my life, and now that I'm finally here, I can't help but wonder what will happen. What if I don't have enough money? What if I run out of food? What if I get raped or assaulted? Hit by a bus? Being here has reminded me of Hong Kong so much that I've forgotten how out of touch I am with my home city. I miss Hong Kong a lot, simply the cheap food, inexpensive ways to have fun and living without a worry about whether or not I'll be able to afford it. This city is ridiculously, almost unnecessarily expensive.

There is also a weakling part of me that wants to see what Syracuse, in Syracuse, is doing right now. Oh and British blokes, I have a lot to say about that, which will be found here in the future. But Syracuse provided a bunch of student guides to help us out with housing and settling in. One of them was ridiculously hot (and I don't use that word lightly), as in Matthew Goode in Leap Year attractive. I spent my fair time staring at him until he noticed, then I stared a few more seconds just to pretend I was looking at something else.

all my summer

2010-08-21T03:52:00.000+01:00

play this song first.

Currently learning/have learned the following songs:

Pursuit of Happiness - KidCudi
Failure - Laura Marling
Valentine - Kina Grannis
Falling Slowly -Glen Hansard
Catch Me - Demi Lovato
Leaving on a Jetplane - John Denver

After I get a capo, I'll be learning these songs:

Wedding Dress - Taeyang
New Romantic - Laura Marling
Don't Think Twice - Bob Dylan
Teenage Dream - Katy Perry

My goal is to excel at finger picking. I'm not too bad at it, considering I haven't played guitar for years, but dude I want to play like that Korean kid who makes the guitar sound like water rushing down in a small stream. One day I'll play acoustic finger picking style, but for now I'll stick with pop songs. I'm absolutely rubbish at strumming, maybe cause I have no sense of rhythm and I can't clap on beat - or I haven't been able to change chords perfectly... Pluck, pluck pluck away as if each string was a raindrop. I want to play songs that people listen to when they sleep and bring them into dreams where they walk on clouds. Then peel that silver lining so they all fall down (just kidding, I was watching a Jack N Jill short film last night. in the end, they died).

Of drawing, writing and working, my entire summer this is the most successful thing I've accomplished. If you play guitar, what other songs are fun to play?

uh...

2010-08-19T20:27:00.000+01:00

artist: sam weber

Well this is embarrassing. I woke up this morning with no idea why I cared so much in the post below. I think I just wanted to rant, and that gave me a good reason to. Stress, lack of sleep, missing periods, the usual reasons. On a normal basis, as I've done so many times, I would've just shrugged the internet off my shoulder. I would've curse that person out or just've said, "You don't know me, so shut up, boy" (kpop anyone?). All I can remember is wanting to use the F word a lot, because I haven't been for a while. Someone once asked why I don't swear, is it cause I think it's not classy? No I'm the most unclassy swearer there is. I say shit when I hit my toe and it doesn't even really hurt.

Anyway, I'm just going to leave it up anyway just to leave it as a mark on myself. If I had to sum up my feelings in one post, I would've done so with a photograph. Remind myself not to write such posts in the future even if I'm looking for a good reason in reality to scream out, "Fuck you."

ah, once in a while it's okay, right?

iBitch.

2010-08-19T10:39:00.000+01:00

Warning: Angry Christal, then she calms down. This is also long and gossipish toned.
Mostly entertaining for people who haven't seen this type of me.

I can only describe this phenomenon to what I've seen in Elizabeth's & Stephen's blog as "iBitch." Most people know I have a formspring.me, and I've been glad that I never really had a "hater" comment; I guess because I don't really throw myself out there.. First time for everything. Today I got my first one. This is an official rant, because I am for one, officially offended because they've called me on my personality rather than the content of my blog/writer.

You seem insanely shallow, narcissistic, and small-minded to me. I was following you on Tumblr and blogger, but some of the things you posted made me wish I had never "discovered" you in the first place. You say in a question answered below that your "hig.... (unfinished question)"- Anonymous Tumblr Follower

It's mostly because they've sent this to me via formspring that I feel compelled to reply. If it was tumblr's ask, then I'd just ignore it, but I take it to heart. And I, believe me, have taken this to heart very much, because he/she has called me out on everything I try not to be in life. I don't care about the "lost follower" shit.They've called me everything I don't believe I am, and it hurts for the most part because I try really hard to keep away from these terms. This is worse than those "slut" or "fugly" comments because this person is insulting my personality as if they've "read" my words deeply. Fine.

The reply on formspring is too long, so I'm going to address these issues here, and after the rant, I'll say what is underneath all these words. I guess this will also be my "go-to" post to everyone that writes these comments because I get similar, mini-ones along the same vibe.

Shallowness
Narcissistic
Narrow-Minded

But how to defend myself, when I am so offended, without sounding egotistical? I don't know.

All I can be is completely honest, and say who I am IRL (in real life) without any hidden meanings or secrets notes that only my friends know. This isn't me fighting back selfishly, this is about pride for the person I am, believing that I've been raised right. You can hate my work, my religion, my lifestyle, me but you cannot hate me for what I "seem" to be to you. I've tried to keep my posts short so people don't have to read it, but that all got misinterpreted and now I'm so shallow, egotistical, narrow minded iBitch. So I'm going to take my time angrily explaining.

Shallowness.
What I have said in my blogs are this: I am shallow, I do look at people's looks first, I admit that many times, but who isn't shallow? I don't believe people can read personalities based on first impressions of looks alone. Nobody looks at someone at first sight and thinks purely, "Oh they have a wonderful personality" without knowing zilch about them. I never said this shallowness doesn't prevent me from knowing someone.

Deep down, I believe everyone starts off shallow. Some people just stick to it longer than others, okay? Mine fades as I get to know someone. Get over it. Why do you think people adore celebrities and gossip columns? I don't only make friends or choose boyfriends because they are good looking, that's stupid. The friends I have, the people I meet and bond with, are people I've gotten to know because they have genuine hearts not because I think they'll look pretty next to me. Fuck you for thinking if me so shallowly and not reading into my words.

And I meant high expectations. Not standards. That was my bad, but am I bothered? No. If you read my blog enough you'll know the real reason one I've never dated. If you read my short stories, you'll know why I don't date! Followed me on blogger and tumblr, my ass.

Narcissistic.
Obviously you haven't read my blogs enough to know how much I put myself down. I frantically talk about my errors and rant about the problems I go through because of my inability to speak up. Do I think I'm good looking? Fuck no. I dress like a hunchbacked bum and wear makeup only when I have hours to kill. Over and over again I've stated that. Just because I take pictures of myself doesn't mean I'm narcissistic. Sometime I like to document change or the day or I just want to take a picture. Hell I even wrote a blog post about I have deserve to be unhappy, doomed to be lonely - something like that.

My pride is not equivalent to narcissism. Pride does not equal narcissism. Everyone needs pride, that's how you move on and forward in your life. If I don't have pride in my work, it'll get nowhere, it'll get stolen, it'll get raped when I cannot defend it. For the most part, I don't even have that much pride in my produced work. I barely have enough pride in my abilities. I only have pride that I can scratch the surface of what many greater people have done, and that people relate to it.

Oh and if you're referring to my formspring.me comment where I said I'm on the level of Kristen Stewart/Miley Cryus, I don't mean them literally. I didn't know how tell you "how pretty do I consider myself" by saying, "I think I'm ugly" so I referenced to you what I believed would make more sense by relaying it to people you know. I didn't want to say it straight out because the question was "consider" so it meant some scale thing going on (well that's how I interpreted it). If the person asked "Do you think you're pretty," which other random people have asked, I would've just typed "No," like I always do. I look like Kristen Stewart's stoic, drugged face if entertainment beauty was normal, but I don't look like Kristen Stewart, she's really above average in reality... - I'm just saying I'm below average. ~~getthemetaphorright,asswipe~~

Small Minded.
I don't know what you mean by this, but fine. I don't need to prove this to you because I don't know what your standards are. If you were looking for someone who smokes, fucks and drugs and does whatever they please, then follow a hipster, not me. What I can tell you is this: I'm a Christian and I have boundaries, I live by certain guidelines. But I will still respect the fucking choices you make, even if you earnestly think Spongebob really lives under the sea. Especially your psychological persona depended on it. Anyone you talk to who knows me personally will and can tell you otherwise.

I don't hate you.
I really can't be bothered.
For the most part, I don't know what I've done to offend you so

which is why I'm leaving the comments section open. At first I thought I was gonna close it, but I'm going to leave it open so you can reply the hell there (instead of formspring). It's still anonymous for you and everyone else. That and because I need the egotistical fuel from my friends telling me if I'm really like this or I'm not. If I am, I need to change. If I am, to hell with how I've been taught, I need someone to help me change to be a better person.

The last time I got so worked up about someone saying shit about me was in middle school when people complained and bitched about me being "too negative" or "pessimistic." ....Now I forgot what I'm trying to address, so whatever.

I've calmed down and now I'm simply sad that I've managed to come across as this type of person. I'm sorry I can't answer all my questions with dignity, without letting my mood swings interfere. I'm sorry I try to be precise and cut out the words, leaving people out of my train of thought, not realizing that many people don't live in the same world as I do.

I realize that I do many things that appear shallow, narcissistic and shallow minded, but once you get to know me, you'll realize that I live on a very different plane. A different universe where if you got to know me personally, these methods of thinking make sense and helps me be a better person. When I explain, it'll make sense, but I doubt you're going to come around again. So for the most part, fuck you for making me feel as if I'm a shitty human being. And you wish you never followed me, god, believe me, I can send you in the direction of at least 10 people I've un-followed because of their personality. That is why I mostly follow picture blogs and fuckyeahpeterpan.

But really, again, again, again and again.
I don't have one personality all condensed in one blog.
I don't cater my blog towards you to get to know me, but for me, and mostly me to think things through so that I can be a better personal person. This. Tumblr. Blogspot. It's all an outlet. This is so I don't fuck up relationships, ruin someone's life or be a jackass in reality. It's just unfortunate that this blog has always been centered around negativity in my life. That's the theme.

where is my happy themed blog?
That's my life and I keep those pages with my friends.

teenage(d) dream

2010-08-18T11:13:00.000+01:00

I like Katy Perry (so sue me). A lot and not just because she looks like a more approachable version of Zooey Deschanel. People will think I'm crazy because I don't advocate for Gaga, who has stellar musical skills and an amazing sense of fashion/art. Everything I should enjoy, yes? To anyone else, I'm enjoying "second-rate" Katy, who has a stunning body, but dresses in clothes that make you gawk rather than envy. Just because I like Gregory and the Hawk, Laura Marling and the xx doesn't make enjoying pure entertainment a musical backstabbing relationship on the scale of indie respect or social standards.

Although, I don't like Lady Gaga for her disrespect towards the Catholic religion in her latest video (and I don't find attraction in the names Alejandro, Fernando whatsoever). I might not be Catholic, but I know respect and what some things may mean to certain people. Religion is not something I feel comfortable playing around with - Yet!... I have no qualms towards Katy Perry singing she kissed a girl. Whenever I bring this up, a lot of people know say, "Yeah, well she (Perry) wrote a song about kissing a girl." And here we bring a new sleuth of arguments regarding whether or not God hates homosexuals (I believe he doesn't) - and if you think about the truth, Katy Perry makes music to entertain, while Lady Gaga creates music as her life. Hence, take Katy Perry with less seriousness than Lady Gaga.

In a previous post (here), I wrote how I didn't like Lady Gaga because she had her fingers in too many social, political and personal pies (so to speak). For the most recent reason - other than her failing to beat Stephenie Meyer to writing a Bad Romance - her video Alejandro has viewers telling others to "grow up" about the stigma of abusing religion. Contemporary society has everyone telling people to "get over it" because religion is simply a stupid thing that blind people believe in. Personal experience aside, the matter of using religion is not just about using religion artistically but respecting the idea that religion may belong sacredly, personally and real to someone else. You don't take a symbol of someone's dead grandmother or their necklace and use it as a sex symbol - unless you're into necrophilia. The idea is: Even if you don't agree with the truth someone else's personal issues, it doesn't give you the right to turn it into something offensive as a big F-U to the society. I guess it shows how far our generation has fallen from the tree when other cultural religions forbid desecration of their beliefs, and ours is one that glorifies the distance.

That being said, many call Katy Perry a talentless bitch. Katy Perry, whose "I Kissed a Girl" controversial storm was dashed away by the mere appearance of Lady Gaga, is talented. I think she's proven that with "Thinking of You" and other songs on her last album, and now she's making songs that are fun and radio worthy. Perhaps I'm at the stage where she is (religiously) so I understand how she doesn't run buck wild with a cross over her sentences, but hesitates at blasphemy. I'm still confused but hurt when others poke fun and play with the name of God because I know I don't completely make my own path.

"I am sensitive to Russell taking the Lord’s name in vain and to Lady Gaga putting a rosary in her mouth. I think when you put sex and spirituality in the same bottle and shake it up, bad things happen. Yes, I said I kissed a girl. But I didn’t say I kissed a girl while f-ing a crucifix.” - Katy Perry via Rolling Stones

Anyway, I lik(ed) Katy Perry's latest songs. California Gurls and Teenage Dream because they are put out to entertain. I don't get where people have this idea that Katy Perry is trying to make serious music with California Gurls, or how they think Katy Perry is messaging underaged sex in Teenage Dream. If you listen to the lyrics carefully in the second one, she says that she feels like she's in a teenage dream (stay young forever and all that) - as in where everything is rushed, new and for the first time type of excitement - although she's an adult already.

As a critical society, constantly looking for something "real," constantly growing up so fast and judging, it's no wonder we find it so hard to relax. It's times like these, Katy Perry's song is a serious head reliever in comparison to Bob Dylan's Don't Think Twice.

Not everything needs a message....
(except my blog posts often do).

the disney we forgot

2010-08-09T09:28:00.000+01:00

There are people who have jobs that require them to discover the "next hit." Someone told me I could get that job because I tend to listen and pay attention to the next trend (or rather my taste just happens to fall in that order). So to those people who have that job, are you the ones responsible for this generation? This generation that George Gerbner described as one "govern(ed) by global conglomerates" is pretty screwed. In a country that slowly suspects parents, churches and communities, it's going to be hard to raise your children if all they have is Hannah Montana to tell them what's important.

A lot of people blame children entertainment programs like Disney, but I've been watching a lot of Disney Channel Original Movies this week (which are AWESOME). Disney used to put out a lot of good shows; maybe they weren't making enough money to continue these shows or they put them all into high budget films like High School Musical, but these shows were good and well missed. Maybe Disney switched presidents somewhere along the way.

There's a show called Tru Confessions, which has Shia Labeouf as a mentally disabled teenager. That boy is so dope, so talented - I got really sad when he kept getting into unfortunate news, especially knowing his history. Anyway, Disney used to have these movies that taught children to be kind, be accepting, be happy and live for what's right. They used to put out three to four of these movies a year, with many now well-known actors/actresses (Katherine Heigl, Justin Timberlake, Camille Belle - to name a few). I've linked the first show here. A lot of people might think it's boring, but the show is amazingly heart felt. Plus you get to enjoy vintage Shia Labeouf.

This underlying honesty of humanity in films, movies and tv shows is almost truly gone. One of my favourite movies is Dead Poet's Society because of the extremely well developed individuality of each character (and there are so many!), the power of Robin Williams as a host actor and the touching ending that breaks you away from the student's world into reality. Nowadays films - like Inception - really do a poor job of creating a truly developed ensemble cast and forget the power of less screen time.

Now that these amazing shows are gone, I've been thinking. Do people create the next entertainment or does entertainment create the next generation? Is our fanatic behaviour the cause for unnecessary screen time from so many characters?

And who knew Shia Labeouf would grow up to be decently good looking? I've been following this guy's career ever since Even Stevens (can't believe he used to do dirty comedy when he was 10, just to make money for home).

If you're still bored this summer here's a small list of Disney Original Movies to watch:

Model Behaviour
Wish Upon a Star
Flash (LOVE THIS)

"You know, who tells the stories of a culture really governs human behaviour. It used to be the parent, the school, the church, the community. Now it’s a handful of global conglomerates that have nothing to tell, but a great deal to sell."

George Gerbner

why I don't Glee

2010-08-07T08:53:00.000+01:00

and why Glee has just become another Gossip Girl show for me. Gossip Girl as in, I'll watch it when I want to waste time - shows I don't even realize I've been missing episodes from unless I watch the recap. My iffy feelings towards Glee started after their spring hiatus, when they returned after the much publicized, much raved about initial episodes. They went from being a fun show to one trying to give out social messages, a big no-no from a show that doesn't have honest portrayals to begin with.

I began to dislike Glee after the episode with Kurt and Finn. The writer's purposely called out society on the usage of the word "fag," and while I agree that Finn was completely out of order to use that word, I was angry that nobody found fault in Kurt. He had the "shield of homophobia" excuse, where insulting any part of him meant you were homophobic, not just offended. Personality is not homosexuality. If you're an asshole, you're an asshole, and calling you out for invasion of personal privacy - no matter how artistic and fashion forward you think you are - is not an act of homophobia.

This show falls into the trap of telling you, "You are perfect who you are." That is the biggest, most perfect load of bullshit the American dream has ever fed teenagers. You are never perfect the way you are, especially in high-school, especially when you don't realize that the head over your roof, the food on your plate and the computer in your lap hasn't actually been funded by your own hands. Glee likes to portray everyone "perfect" for who they truly are, when their personalities are flawed. For example: Kurt who wanted to be a straight boy for an episode was then told by his dad he was "perfect." No he isn't. As a person, Kurt is terribly arrogant, selfishly air-headed and inconsiderate of the people around him. The reason people don't like flamboyant characters is because they're a palm in your face, a stick up your ass annoying; not necessarily because they're gay.

It's the pothole of "Just because you're gay, does it mean people can't call you out for being an ass?" Just because you're gay doesn't mean you're fashionable. Doesn't mean you're artistic. Doesn't mean you look great in everything. Doesn't mean you can't be good at sports. And it doesn't mean your opinion always matters. For the most part, a stupid question is a stupid question - it doesn't matter who the asker is. ARHGHJ. It's a bit like feminism and how certain girls want the privileges and no responsibility.

Likewise, Rachel is prideful, insipid and ignorant. At least the show admits she's a bitch. Finn has been useless cast aside after finding no conflict in his own persona or desires. Or the teacher, while being very handsome, is a cheater, and your typical Sister Act story-line of a poor kid who is now getting his payback through singing.

Everyone else that appears to have problems are just cut-out token characters from stereotypes. "Shy" asian girl (who they dress as goth to give some illusion of independence?), shelved disabled nerd - his dreams about wanting to walk ...what a waste of tv time..., stupid slutty cheerleaders, playboy who can't control his dick - and honestly, are any of these characters actually given their own personality? Oh I forgot about the token black girl that wants to sing, but oh dear she's too fat to be seen.

I was going to do this whole post about Maxxie from Skins vs. Kurt from Glee (both homosexual characters depicted in different ways) but it's too much work. Plus British culture is drastically different from American, so I'm gonna just lead you to this clip here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0RWn2rxKH3E

So my beef with this new turn of the show is, don't ask for so much credit. Glee is not groundbreaking or trendsetting. It's an enjoyed cliche that will run it's course because it's fallen into it's traps of fame, disregarding what made it honest in the first place. It's a show that tries too hard and thinks it's the shit. Well it is pretty shit.

But I love Sue. They don't try to hide her in the least. Question is, why hasn't she fully bashed Kurt yet?

the romantic inheritance

2010-08-02T10:45:00.000+01:00

I'm sure most of my readers aren't parents now... but did you ever wonder what kind of parent you'll be?
Or even what kind of husband/wife you'll be. I'm sure you weren't naive enough to think it would be perfect - because the marriages and relationships I always thought were perfectly fine are creepily, freakishly flawed in the worst manner possible. The more smiles on the outside, the more cracks on the inside.

Some people consciously think "I'll never do to that to my kid" when their own parents go bat shit on them. Then when the situations comes, those people do what they promised never to do: Be like their parents. Whether it's in marriage or towards their children, a part of your parents come through - is that true? Is it really an unavoidable factor of living and growing up? That or you become the opposite.

Recently Ben told me about the generation differences between our parents and us. We're the "go for it" generation and our parents are the "deal with it" generation. Maybe that's a similar cause for our increasing divorce rates. If we're uncomfortable and too lazy to work it out, we'd just leave and sign some papers, while our parents - some no matter how unhappy - work it out for any given reason. Kids. Money. Religion. In-laws. Just trying. Hope.

That explains why my thoughts (after listening to an arguing couple for a while) were: Gee, if I were him, I would've packed up and disappeared a long time ago. It seems like the marriage will never work out, especially since I sympathize with the male perspective in this story. For me, I suppress my feelings and just agree because it's generally not worth the fight. Too bad marriage is a war of the gods; not a Trojan battle. Like Grecian gods, sometimes no matter what you do, the fights are always with the same characters.

Now completely devoid of Freud, I wonder if I'll marry someone like my father. My dad is only home three times of the week, sometimes two - so for me that's someone who is hardly around. Someone who allows me to be alone for most part of the week, because the way I see it, that type of marriage sounds pretty awesome right now. I also can already see myself smothering my children and possibly spoiling them in hopes that they'll turn out okay (by luck).

I don't know. After reflecting on personal experience, I think I'll make a terrible spouse. JaeHee tried to reassure me that my marriage won't be like the rest, but all I can think of right now is:

I don't want to become someone who is resented.
And I certainly won't stand for being blamed all the time.

to those who don't understand

2010-07-31T05:32:00.000+01:00

God.

or why Christians believe in God in the first place.
Here we go on a long journey.

Today I read that Anna Rice denounced being Christian... Christianity, but not God. The basic reason was that the Christians she knew from church simply just hated everything in existence*. They were against homosexuality, feminism and other obvious things that I don't recall --- And in today's society, I don't know why I find her perfectly reasonable. It's probably because it's something I would do, and have thought about doing. Can you separate God from the Christian, because is Christianity today still the same as it was originally? Of course not, but some things should be kept.

There is the complication of God's love vs. God's wrath, and all we hear from the media is about God's wrath. I'll take the prime example of homosexuality here. To all the idiots who proclaim God as king, you cannot say that God is the creator and the hater of "fags." It says in the Bible that man shall not lay with man, that God despises the act, and to that I will agree. But it doesn't ever say that God hates a person for being gay, I don't even think God hates someone for being gay. I think that - here comes my complex theory - that God knows of the struggles homosexuals go through and that the acts of homosexuality (male/male fornication) are temptations that shouldn't be acted upon.

I guess that means I'm not really for gay marriage, but at the same time, I don't think gays should be shunned, hated or put down for their sexual orientation. It's a tricky concept I don't want to soil myself with just yet.

I'm not going to go in depth because I can't prove it. But I can say that the God I've been taught to know, the God that I've been growing up with - he's someone I know who loves the person unconditionally. Your sexual orientation is a facet that he accepts, but trusts you not to act upon. Am I implying that gay people may be meant to live a life of celibacy? Yes, my theory* hints towards that (as the only way one can hold onto their sexual orientation and God in accordance to the Bible). But everyone who stands up to boycott homosexuality also disproves God's love and what we claim God to be.

There is also this complication of homosexuality and what defines it. I think it's something that goes beyond attraction to men, what the media requires of a gay man and knowing yourself vs. rebellious desires. What I'm saying is that I honestly believe that some homosexuals aren't really homosexuals and have been brainwashed by the media (a case of psychology* so to speak) ---- and how God created man & woman, but that logic is debatable with anyone who doesn't believe in Christianity, but then again you can't take out parts of Christianity to argue against the non-believer or else you're not arguing right anymore --- but there's that case with everyone and everything, so whatever.

There comes a point where you have to draw the line and know that not everyone gets the same treatment. After all, who are you to say who gets what? What is a privilege and what is a right? In my opinion, love is a privilege, something to be earned (which is why we have agreed that the emotion is built over time). ---And that goes on to say why I don't like Lady Gaga, because she stands for everything, which to me, means she stands for nothing.*

I believe that as long as you believe in God.

You have to believe in his love.

And if you believe in his love, then he loves everyone.

No question.

That is what we have to acknowledge because gods of other religions have their virtues. Like peace, patience, non-violence, etc. From what I've grown up with, my God has always advertised parental and relationship* love.

p.s. My xanga from 2005 used to be filled with blog entries like these. Sorry if you don't like them, but this blog has always been my more... philosophical outlet than personal. So if you noticed these little critters: *... It means that there are hidden ideas I haven't fleshed out or won't talk about in this post and will bring it up later.

Goodbye & thanks for reading.
I'm probably going to get butt-hurt if you attack me, but I cannot and refuse to believe that the God I know truly hates someone for their sexual orientation when there are much worse people out there, repetitively offending. I also refuse to believe that God makes allowances according to society, and denies what is the in Bible.

do you, do you really

2010-07-23T09:43:00.000+01:00

I saw The Piano Teacher today. Well no, that's a deliberate lie for a witty opening.

After going through a list of "must-see" films, where I went through a phase of being interested in misogynistic works. I read the synopsis on Wikipedia for Antichrist, which boggles my mind how evil it is, and then The Piano Teacher. While reading, I literally saw the film play in my head, with every heartbreaking song that I knew of as the soundtrack. Ironically, I heard an acoustic guitar whistle painful lyrics. I foresaw a forty year old piano teacher reflecting in her own sorrow and desires to a point of psychological disturbance. It's famously about a piano teacher driven by sadomasochism and her own fantasy.

Honestly, I've only read the summary but I feel as if I've learned from her. In one part, she describes to her lover that she fetishizes - well, in lack of better terms - violent sex. Rape fantasies. On the side note, I just watched The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and people who indulge in these fantasies usually really mean them. Her lover (17 years old and adamant on forming a relationship with her) is evidently disgusted by her confessions and rejects her request. Her father dies later in the film, and her lover surprises her in her apartment, raping her in the exact way she described before she realizes that her fantasies are nothing like reality. Guess he really loved her, huh.

diadà on flickr.

I don't feel comfortable diverging into this new theme of nonconsensual sex, but the old one is still prevalent. So. As always. It goes back to love (for me) and anything possible (for you).

To me, I learned that sometimes fantasies should be kept as immaterial and as unreal as possible. Sometimes the wish of being in perpetual heartbreak, confusing that sadomasochism is "you" because it's so flawed and beautiful, is a lie. So many people quit and throw the mask away when they have a chance of happiness, excusing their change for "well, they changed me"... as if sadomasochism could really be cured like that.

The most dangerous thing about achieving your dream is achieving it without a future. No plans of then after, what happens? Even Alexander the Great felt empty after conquering an empire. Actually, the most dangerous thing about achieving your dream is realizing that you didn't really want it at all.

Maybe the piano teacher just wanted happiness to love her. All the pain - the 'sadomasochism' - hurt and self destruction she believed she deserved made her think she needed to hurt to feel love. In the end, the question is... do you, do you really want this? Be careful what you wish for. Really, most people don't even know what they want. I don't.

the deal with family

2010-07-16T11:06:00.000+01:00

I'm trying to remember a time where I exploded in anger at someone. As in the anger I felt was properly directed towards the target person and not some off-set ranting. I don't think it's ever happened, but I can gather a hand full of moments where I rambled about the same person to at least five different people. Five arrows all missing their mark and in the end, nothing got done. The same story told five different times... I wonder how I never got tired of it...

Well, being here in California, I don't have anyone to rant safely to. There's my family, but in that circumstance, what goes around spreads like AIDs in Twilight (but they are Mormons, so maybe not). To review my situation, I'm always with family. Coming again: The same gene pool. The same persona. Basically, we're a group of complacent members who don't like doing anything, really. So when it comes to decision making, we're like girls...

(( Semi-off tangent here, but to explain: I HATE playing strategy games with girls. I hate it. I hate it. I loathe it with my heart the way Voldemort hates Harry Potter. The way hipsters hate mainstream and real hipsters hate the term hipsters. In a large consensus, girls are slow at making decisions or they just suck at playing mind-games. They usually flop at Taboo, and tell weird stories that only one person understands. Girls are not fun to play quick games with, unless it's Cranium; then maybe there's a chance. Still. I hate it! Serious exclamation mark there. ))

There's always that sentence: "Oh I don't know what to do, why don't you decide" or "Well, tell me what you want and then we can decide." In any case, I'm the rare breed that really has no opinion whatsoever unless I feel an inkling towards something. For example: On a day out, I'll tell you: No beach. No sand. I'll tell you and anything else done otherwise is fine with me.

Don't you hate it though when you tell someone to decide and they get frustrated because you have no opinion? Then they get angry and say, "Well, we can't do anything if you don't tell me what you want."

Then what do you want?
Obviously, you want to do something but can't say it.

There's a lot of frustration in staying entirely with my family sometimes. There's a lot of expectation that I have to do something because it's family. And I do it like an automaton. This goes without saying I don't complain because they're family. At the same time, there's a lot of problems that I don't dare to address. It's impossible to keep the secret alone. Secrets aren't expected to exist, but they need to. In the end, it seems like nothing changes because it's family. They accept you as you are and there's no one else to do that except God.

On my side, my family likes mini-interventions. Somehow let the person know that we acknowledge and are aware of the problem. After that, we go back to the old routine with mild checkups until they smile. It's either healthy or unhealthy but that's how we stay together. And I like it. It's like Tyler Durdan's way of finding sleep - multiple addiction meetings.

Re-evaluating your own family sometimes makes you realize how you'll probably treat your future family - or figure out your current relationships and why it happens like so...

There are so many different ways to describe and deal with family though. I've read books and heard stories about families changing each others' lives. The way one person is affected by family doesn't necessarily concur with the way another family works. Some families work on just focusing on happiness and skimming the sadness with an address before moving on. Personally, I think I've been raised to be like a rock that's only affected by waves of friends, circumstances and death to soften up. Although I lighten up like never before here. A version of Christal nobody, except friends back in 852, have seen.

...

Oh, and nobody told me to do anything is Disneyland, so that sucked. I was using that to test out if I should do a London version of the scavenger hunt or travel blog where you could live vicariously in London through me - Give me a motive or incentive to travel out more with documentation. Regardless, I'll still have fun. Don't think I'll post the pictures unless there's a request or I feel like it, cause I can't tell if my readers care about stuff like that.

For the most part, I know they just like my text. All that black and white.
And some sky blue.

summer blues...

2010-07-12T09:10:00.000+01:00

...completely dispersed by the knowledge of going to Disneyland in two weeks! While I am excited to go to what is more known as Neverland than Wonderland, I am partial to it because I don't know what to do when I get there. I've gone already in the winter (and I'm buying an annual pass when I get there) so the excitement of certain rides escapes my attention - except Peter Pan's Flight, of course.

So what I'm proposing is... a scavenger hunt type of thing. I don't know if I have enough readers that care or enough friends that read this, but everyone has two weeks to think of something I can do in pictures. Before you get ahead of yourselves, I will not do nekkid or semi-naked photos. I wear whatever I want. Neither will I do any suggestive poses. This is a park for children! I refuse to go to jail...

People tend not to say anything, so I'm planning for this to be a fail. However, if you feel like you want to participate or possibly see a hint of me thinking of you this summer, feel free to give me a challenge. Examples are like:

Take a picture with Peter Pan!

And I'll go: TaDA! in some post.

Find ____ hidden Mickey at _____!
Eat the Disneyland popcorn!

I'm going to be there for three days, and will be going to both California Adventure Park and Disneyland. I'll wait two weeks and if nothing happens, whatever. I'll meet Peter Pan again. This time I'll get a picture with Alice and the Madhatter, and find the trio somewhere with my little niece so that they can sing to her. Unfortunately I don't think anyone is going to challenge me... so here's a picture of me in a chair. And I know Mickey Mouse's ass is larger than mine, so that's obviously not for him. And not for Minnie. I wonder if he's cheating on her with a human...

Oh the ridiculous of me!

of mice and men

2010-07-10T06:38:00.000+01:00

In my mind, I have pictures of what my future will look like. What kind of place I will live in, what it'll look like and the decorations I want. I guess everyone has thoughts like that, so no biggie. My focus is more on the apartment, the little details that really shouldn't matter unless I find the right place, and atmosphere. Most of the time, atmosphere is just a make-do issue because job hunting means go wherever accepts you first and pays well. Maybe because I'm still pretty adamant on being a writer and I need the right atmosphere to emulate my type of stories.

I want to live in a studio-like apartment. A single bedroom apartment. A loft-like area with hard wood floors. A place with large windows where I can look out the window with a cup of coffee. A high ceiling, maybe a staircase to nowhere? Just kidding, now it's just getting expensive. Sounds like the place will probably have very little furniture and maybe just a cushion for Charlie. I'll spare the bare necessities for the sake of my dog, Charlie.

Decorations of entwined coat hangers. A wicket basket like closet. Shades of grey, kahki and white. Some yellow and blue. Maybe some pink. A mirror that doesn't stay on the wall. A desk, and walls and walls where I can put my books. An easel. Some canvases and paints. Rugs and carpets, chairs and tables - I don't even need a kitchen, just give me a portable stove and a rice cooker - but I request a bathroom, please. Can't be always going down to Starbucks, you know, they'll get the suspicious. And while I imagine my apartment to look quite beautiful in a messy way like this:

Unfortunately, I know the pack rat in me. I'm really going to end up with a place like this:

Gosh, I hope not.

I won't even get a mother effin' bed, but you know what. I'm getting Charlie, my black shiba inu, and I'm going to run with him so he'll be calm in the night or afternoon when the sun comes in through my large, larger windows. He'll sleep by my side and replace the cold nights. He'll shed and make up for the lack of a man in the house. Most of all, Charlie will be serene in the lonely times when I bring out my sketch book, and I'll look at him for inspiration.

#7 I think guys that work at Trader Joes are hot. Even if you're old and ugly, you're one star better than an average old and ugly person... but the young ones working down in my town are pretty fine.

there are similarities

2010-07-09T03:52:00.000+01:00

Speaking of polar opposites. I've attended a wedding and a funeral exactly a month of each other. Funny, the opposite of death is birth - so what's the opposite of funerals? During the funeral, Pachelbel's Canon in D was playing during the slideshow, and I realized how similar funerals and weddings are. Of course, sarcastic me considered marriage a form of death - loss of freedom - but the set up and notions are just one procedure translated into another. I once wrote a story that could be read backwards sentence for sentence. Depending which way you read it, it could be about a boy watching the love of his life marry another man or about a boy watching his mother's funeral. In my stories, I often like to play the motif, confusing the reader about what ceremony is going on.

In both funeral and wedding there is a long aisle with someone waiting on the other end (depending on the situation, there could be a red carpet). Family sits closer up front, and guests in the back. Speeches about how great the person/couple are are made. Both situations call for a slide show of the person/people's life at some point in time. Tears are shed by everyone close. The only difference are the emotions brought in.

Can you imagine how messed up this world would be if we celebrated the opposite way? Twist and turn, flip our insides out and rejoice in the death, and cry for the marriage. In a way, marriage is the process of removing someone from a family and funerals are for giving someone back.

You could argue that marriages you get to still see them, but obviously not as much... after all, the couple will go and create their own family. Depending on the size, they might start their own legacy. I'm pretty close with my cousins and aunts/uncles. We all live in the Bay Area of Nor Cal, but now two of them are married and one has a kid. When those kids grow older and have their own cousins - well, you see the disconnect already happening? At some point family will segregate by magnetic blood. You can still have those large get togethers, but it's not the same... If I get married and have kids, and my husband is connected to his two other brothers and sisters, I won't be able to freely bring my kids to my cousin's house in the same way anymore. It's a whole new life, a whole new family.

So yeah, in both cases...death of life as you know it, but the start of a whole new family. Maybe the genius that created these traditions realized that earlier on.

here's the thing about summer

2010-07-08T09:26:00.000+01:00

#6 I just need the right teachers to excel because I can do anything...so says my Harvard thumb print tests.

Everyone has a certain writing voice, style - whatever you call it. Reading back on my Alaska blog, I've definitely decided that travel logs and "what I did today" voices aren't my type. I've never seen myself use such an excessive amount of exclamation marks or such a false sense of excitement. I guess if I were more of my mother's daughter, that voice would be real, but I'm not. I'm my father's daughter and I speak like him, act like him, but lack the familial desire that parents generate so loudly after not seeing their children for so long.

I'm a pessimist.Or a realist?
Possibly just an existentialist?
Is it a personality trait that can be altered by sheer force of will? When there's a will, there's a way? Story books, fiction and miracles teach us that, but sometimes the other six billion stories that didn't make the feature tell you otherwise.

Either way, a part of me always have been, always will be looking more on the negative side - I'm just wondering what's wrong with that?

...

My mom made my cousins and I go to a museum today. It was flat out stupid. A playground under the guise of a "discovery" museum. On a normal day it cost $10 for adults and $8 for kids, but there is nothing to do for the adults. Basically it's a scam where parents pay to babysit their own kids in dirt. There was nothing to discover; kids at the age of 5 and under could care less about what it looks like under water - they like how they look on the green screen TV. And so I digress.

I hardly talk about my parents, but here's this thing about my mom.

She loves museums. She's an optimist. She believes the email forwards, newspapers and doesn't listen to the second half of your sentences. We're dreadful opposites. I could care less about pictures and history notes. To me, some museums are a waste of time. If we're planning to preserve and save this stuff forever, then it's not going to move. My concept is: I'll look for it when I want it or need it. I doubt the city is going to throw away several Claude Monets because they're running out of space.

But my mom likes to attempt to get me hyped. She tries to rub her optimism on me and make me excited about things I'm clearly not (but I do love a good painting). As a result, you get a sulky reply from me saying, "Oh wow, that's amazing. I could've read that off the Internet!" That's exactly what I said when she tried to get me excited about how people in space take a dump. I feel like she's pushing false energy into a situation that obviously wasn't great. At the end of the day, I told her the museum sucked. It was literally built for toddlers, but she tried to ask me what I learned.

....I just said I wanted to sleep. So who is right and is there even someone who is wrong? Maybe optimism and pessimism aren't ways to approach or looks at things. For me though, sometimes pulling stuff out of your ass to find positive things is ...irritating. So is a huge ball of negative energy - so I try stay out of the way - but there are times when I look at my mom's face and I know that smile is just glue. It screams "This is great! This place is great!" It's unattractively forced and plastic, but my mom thinks she's giving a natural smile. So what I don't understand is, if you know it's a dead-end situation, what are you trying to prove? Just agree and let's go home to sleep...

To be honest, when it comes to traveling, I just don't care for scenery. Yesterday I went to the Conservatory of Flowers (forced by the mother-ship again). It sucked ass. For a place meant to grow flowers, everything was so fucking green. I didn't see flowers and the Venus fly traps didn't do anything. My mom and dad like to take pictures of the Golden Gate Bridge; I like to live near by and know it's always there at my convenience.

People have different sorts of traveling styles and mine is decidedly peculiar. I don't care about making every famous pit stop, show room, building or historical place. I travel by living. Learning history from the people themselves is the cultural experience. Reading plaques? Text was paid for in high school and university.

Sigh. I'm tired and I want to go to school now. I'm excited to be in London and LA for a year. Thought I would regret it, but my mind knows myself better than I remember. My philosophies haven't changed too much since... frankly since I watched Donnie Darko (if you get my drift). Thought I was more sentimental. Thought I had more feelings. Truth is I draw emotions from the moment. It's hard to relearn all the love I learned from Syracuse when I live in a house of arguments and avoidance. I don't know how to hold onto anything right.

pluck, cluck

2010-07-01T12:20:00.000+01:00

So I've picked up guitar again. This time I'm not gonna let myself down and fail. I'm playing my uncle's old guitar, which is still in excellent condition and well, I won't be opening a youtube account anytime soon to sing. Not that I ever will. Performing is not my forte or aspiration. Neither is becoming a YouTuber really, unless it means meeting Alex Day and Charlie McDonnell (unfortunately saying this in a blog post also means embarrassing moments if I ever come across them IRL). Charlie is rather dashing, but not as much as Logan Lerman... who I just discovered after Googling that he is 18...

Well, we all make exceptions in our day to day life and I guess lowering my age limit can be one of them.

That was also very off tangent. Many of you guys should probably click the "go to sleep" response after reading this post, and probably will, but I just wanted to say I'm playing guitar again. A more proper motivation has stemmed from just inner desires to be good at something new (or old) and well, frankly, after seeing a certain someone before school ended. Maybe it's to impress a guy I'll never see again or maybe it's just to give him a roundhouse kick of wow if I ever see him again. Or in the end, this is a hobby that will benefit me.

juneau, like the place in alaska?

2010-06-29T09:27:00.000+01:00

You know that quote from the movie Juno? Well, I finally visited that place that the movie talked about and it was amazing. It's a small town that is financed 60% by government funds and 30% by tourists in the summer. So it's a place untouched by mainstream metropolitan or cosmopolitan influences - kind of like the place where Regina Spektor would come from. The area doesn't completely reject tourism, but it rejects outsiders attempting to change their culture. I guess I could spout into life lessons here, but I'm sure you understand what can be derived here.

What most Alaskan cities have in common is their amazingly chatty bus drivers, and their cultural life kept separate from tourism. What I learned from the bus drivers was more about their family or favourite place to eat - something tourist guides should work on. One thing I hated about past tours were the commercial generated pit stops and suggestions the guides made. With these bus drivers though, they are so genuine in suggesting that I don't feel like I'm being pushed by a company. Think of Yelp in real life.

I would love to live in Alaska for a summer or so. Perhaps I will, if I can get a summer job - people there are amazingly kind. And surprise - it's not a state of snow or ice, it's got normal weather just like every other state, only the sun sets at 10pm.

Well, here are photographs, in no particular order. Taken on my new camera, Wibbly. I desperately wanted a tilt-shift lens during this trip to make so many of scenery shots I took appear like toy sets. If you haven't seen it yet, check out other pictures. It's just adorable, in a sense.

Choo, choo boat.

Magnets with 60's style photos are all racist and sexist.
Love it

Went hiking up a mountain with my cousins. There were warnings of bears and signs saying we should walk loudly because we were in "bear country." Thus, much of that hour was spent with me singing "Following the Leader" exactly the way it was done in Peter Pan (Disney).

At first there were many disgusting gnats and bugs that wouldn't go away, but as I got higher and as time went by, they disappeared. Soon the air was just clear and perfect. I've never breathed such crisp, healthy air before. Might have something to do with Juneau's lack of extreme city life. I wish I could've gone higher, but I had to go to the dogsled summer camp!

Sled dogs are simply beautiful. They're so active and friendly (for the most part). Most of them just begged to be petted. The one on the bottom is my favourite. When I petted him, he immediately placed his head in my lap and I just couldn't go away. He's also one of the younger ones. The summer camp basically gives you a history of dog sledding, and then you get a trial run of being pulled by twelve dogs on a cart. So it's not sledding - but that's another $500 story. So remember if you ever visit Alaska, the slightly expensive dog summer camp is worth it. Plus you get to pet puppies!

A little hollow in the middle of the street with a Wonderland flair.

This is Ketchikan, Alaska. I don't know what to say about this place. I was there for a total of three hours and then went back on the cruise ship, which took me to Juneau. It's a nice small town where tourism is the main attraction. I only went for the ATV ride. Let's say I'm a reckless driver who doesn't slow down on turns or make turns wide enough. The kart died on me while I was going uphill and so I had to stop and let everyone pass. Quite embarrassing, so I made up for it by going 50 mph.

If you ever go on a cruise trip to Alaska, one of the more pointless pit stops is Icy Strait Point. It has a very small cultural life that isn't explored at all except by your chatty bus driver. The main business is tourism, and nothing but. They have the world's longest zip line, not that exciting if you don't go fast, and maybe the world's most boring tourist attraction as well. All you do is manmade tourist stuff, nothing special or unique that can't be done elsewhere. Food is overpriced and exaggerated. Don't come here unless you're planning to stay and live locally for experience. Most of the day was spent by kids skipping rocks.

Last stop was Victoria, Canada. Lovely place. Their Fisherman's Wharf almost puts SF's commercial run wharf to shame. I love their floating village. It's a complete storybook fairy tale to be a part of.

For the most part I didn't spend too much time with my parents or grandma, who played mahjong all night and did weird things in the day like watch people chop bits of log. The cruise had a lovely dinner where my cousins and I ordered about two entrees each and every single dessert on the menu. Basically we scared the shit out of the waiters, but made sure to go run at least twice (60 mins each). I also watched an insane amount of movies and had mini bonding sessions with the family. Did I mention I failed to go "on a boat" with "flippy floppies?"

Well, these are the minimal pictures I feel like putting up. Hope you guys enjoyed them, since I don't know if people like to read my "what happened today" or "travel" type blogs. I'm fairly bad at writing stuff like this. Ugh.

just a piece of paper

2010-06-23T10:22:00.000+01:00

How deep is the bond of love? People fight either over the stupidest things or the most important things - the subject of interrogation can be considered for both sides. Like kids for example. A mother considers her child's cry an emergency while the father recognizes alligator tears, and then the arguments happen. So and so doesn't care enough, and so and so cares more about little Bobby than them. Resentment, guilt, grudges and so then, basic mildew forms all over the relationship. Then it becomes mold and eventually falls apart, making other people ill. Sometimes children are the extra glue or poison to a relationship. Some adults treat children like glue and get angry when they don't make the family stick.

Recently I've been wondering about marriage again and what keeps people together through thick and thin. I was watching The Notebook on the cruise (it played over and over on the Romance channel) and admired Noah and Allie's relationship. Now I'm watching Lie to Me where Dr. Lightman and his ex-wife banter with sexual tension, and the only reason they separate is because the wife couldn't stand Lightman's constant reading of her. In other terms, they broke up because of too much honesty. But... is it really the personality that make people click or the people themselves?

Do you love the person as a being or for the personality? So if they have a face change, will you love them regardless? Or will you still love them if the personality changes - then if anything has changed at all, was it ever loved?

I wonder if I could be the person that loves someone for no matter what they are like, physical or mental. I think I could. Like I said before, I fall in love with everyone and everything, seconds at a time, strangers by faces. I could sincerely love anyone and anything, given the time and opportunity, forever not by the basis of who they are or what they look like but what we have gone through together. I think that's what keeps a relationship glued together. Experiences. It's dangerous to expect your significant other to remain the same through thick and thin, but it's not dangerous to expect them to be there no mater what.

That's why I don't care much for marriage. On my old xanga blog, I remember writing, "Is it wrong that I don't want to get married? That I just want to live with my boyfriend and not make him my husband?" I still oddly want to keep that lifestyle. Marriage is just a piece of paper, isn't it?

wtf accessories

2010-06-22T00:53:00.000+01:00

I like to look at guys, no shame there. Actually I like to stare at people, ugly or hot, I like to stare at the way they're put together or the way their face forms from their bone structure. I wish I could stare at people shamelessly instead of quickly turning away, but it doesn't work that way - not in a Rear Window or Disturbia manner as I would like. So I look at guys a lot, assessing them. Smile, clothes, looks... all that good shallow stuff. There is a certain way I like guys to dress, and those type of guys always catch my eye first. So far all guys I've seen here in San Francisco are hipster, quite stylish like. They all dress similarly in their skinny jeans and plaid button-ups, and it's great! ...unfortunately all guys seem to have this one problem that makes me stop and rethink. Like the times you think, "What the hell is that..." and suddenly their entire outfit looks off. Face it, a guy that dresses well is a guy that makes your heart smile.

So the WTF accessory is anything from that ugly spiderweb pattern bandana on their head, checkered vans shoes with plaid shirts, tight white t-shirts that expose their nipples or bellies, and you get the point. It's the item in their today attire that makes you stop and go "wtf" is that?

Just saying, in densely populated cities that are constantly competing for some kind of "The Sartorialist" attention, you're going to get some seeming well dressed people with a little wtf going on here and there. I probably have those moments. A lot. On the other hand, the nagging question in my head is (hint: take offense words with a grain of salt) - why do gay or metreosexual males tend to wear tighter shirts despite their size. I have to say it's gross - oh you know what, it's gross at anytime anyone wears clothes that are too tight for them, that exposes all their innards and things meant only for your mother to see. AND more so when such people proudly know their body size and still wear tight clothes to show off ...everything. Yes, california girls with their 'camel toe' leggings to hipster males with their nipples. I hate seeing people wear extra small clothes... I don't need to see your nips, and because of you people... you never know - one day someone might need to make bras for exposed nipples.

#5 Wearing contacts makes me feel more alert and prettier than wearing glasses... physically and mentally.

close to home

2010-06-07T11:20:00.000+01:00

While I was in the car, an hour or so ago, my cousin experienced "sleep paralysis" right next to me. I was awake but trying to go back to sleep when I kept hearing my cousin's breathing. It was going harder and harder, and faster, and once in a while she was making short whimpers - moans? Either way, I was wondering what the hell she was doing until she finally woke up and said, "Christal? I think I just experienced a night terror." All I could think was "Oh, shit."

In my knowledge, there's two kinds of sleep paralysis - in my mind at least - and it's the korean version, and the everyone else's version. For now, all I could think about was the Korean version, many thanks and no thanks to James Choi, master storyteller of gahwee happenings, and the first thing out of my mouth was, "What the hell! (said in a whiny voice) I thought this shit only happens to my korean friends..." Gahwee for Korean Christians is the idea that a demon/devil/spirit comes to challenge your faith while you're physically unable to react. You hear voices, see everything, and can't move. My cousin got a mild dose; she heard voices but didn't listen to them.

All I wanted to do was get at out of the car. It happened right next to me... and the worst part was knowing that my cousin was trying to scream my name the whole time. The whimpering and moans were my name, muffled, and the breathing was her harsh attempt to grab my leg and shake me. When I found out, all I wanted to do was run away. I am scared shitless.

See the things is, I've always been scared of these stories, but I go home thinking everything will be okay. Only now that it has happened right next to me... I'm not sure what's going on with my cousin's spiritual life, but I got this feeling God was telling me something. Maybe I'm next. This stuff isn't myth, and He's letting me know. I'm about to sleep tonight and my brother is staying up, playing games in the same room (that's how scared I am and I don't know how smart that is) --- if anything happens, I'll pray and I know that going through it just tells me all the more how real He is, even if the situation seems powerless.

At some point monsters stop hiding under your bed, and they come out to sit on top of you while you sleep.

But you know what, the Doctor is worth the monsters.

(Doctor Who fans, anyone? ...You didn't seriously think I would

post a related picture of gahwee, right? You're crazy!)

housewives & white dresses

2010-06-05T07:22:00.000+01:00

So I've discovered that I'm quite the family person - meaning I'm capable of doing all the housewife stuff like cooking, cleaning and that whole baby business - if I ever get married, but this is definitely not for me now. Or maybe even ever. Maybe I'm too selfish to dedicate my entire life to raising another being or I just don't understand "love" yet. At least I know I won't starve on my own unless I get lazy. I've also learned, don't mix family with business and never say yes unless you really mean it. Families take yes as eternal promises.

Also, don't get married - that's the next stupid idea you could jump into after deciding to dip into life savings for poker games.

Most of all, I learned that I'm either a selfish or easily cranky person. I don't like mixing my "talent" (writing, film making, etc.) with family because they just wow and aw at everything I do. So I didn't want to do a lot of things for my cousin's wedding regarding filming. I also like being notified in advance rather than be bombarded and told one week before the event that I should be decorating, seating the guest, photographing and all these other things as if I'm superwoman. I haven't been sleeping either, but I've been yelling internally and shutting down emotionally.

I was tired, exhausted and frequently sick/out of it from school --- I can't make a film if I'm not into it, and I should be excited for this wedding tomorrow, but god, I'm just not. I really don't care, I'm not that excited for them - I don't know why - I think the road before this big event was too rocky and chaotic for me to enjoy the event at all. All I've seen is probably the worst in my relatives so far. It's been great and difficult; an eye opener - and I know family is family, and gosh, I miss my own family the most. Back in HK, away from all this.

On the happier note, this summer I've made a list of things I wanted to do.

~~◊ Cooking~~

◊ Guitar lessons

◊ Complete Novel

◊ Make a short film

There's probably more to the list that I don't remember, and I've been wanting to blog but felt like there was nothing to blog about. I've been devastatingly stressed the past few days because my cousin's getting married. Suddenly my inner longings of looking at wedding dresses, cakes and decorations are dashed because of this event. Either I hire a planner, or I never get married, but more detailed log of my opinions on weddings later. This is what I've been productively doing this summer -

Fried/spiced rice + egg (half cooked yolk with sesame oil),

thyme marinated chicken

with steamed bak choi.

My first attempt at cooking this, and I have to say it was delicious

for someone who didn't know what they were doing. I didn't over

salt or pepper or thyme the chicken. Maybe a teaspoon of salt,

pepper, thyme, and drizzles of olive oil and seasame oil to marinate.

Left it there for 20 minutes and then pan fried it in lots of olive oil

until it's browned, but not crispy (I hate dry chicken).

Here is my cousin making spam musubi and me making ddokbukki.

Just make spam musubi yourself at home because the $3 you spend on it

is how much it cost to pay for the can of spam. I've also learned that

"shoyu" means soy sauce, oh you Americans trying to be all

"cultured" in your online recipes. The next morning I made

korean pancakes filled with brown sugar - that was amazing.

I love how they call it "jam" - well, it really was like jam.

Took care of the world's most clingy dog for a day. She walks everywhere

you go and refuses to be left alone. Barks incessantly and is awfully adorable

when you feel like hanging around her, but if not - she's a pain in the ass. I must've

looked like an idiot to the neighbors, some girl on the phone, prancing around

a dog who was basically trying to herd me (she's an Australian shepherd).

Also watched a ridiculous amount of TV while taking care of my cousin's child.

fox, a neighbour

2010-05-28T09:38:00.003+01:00

Or well, I don't remember his real name, but there's a whole novel written in my head
where he's the main character and his name is Fox. By birth.

In a way, this whole post is a random thing about Christal.

I had a myspace long time ago, and the only good that came out of that were those bulletin posts spams. Somehow I came across one from someone looking for somebody else, and then sparked my inner longing to find my neighbour who lived across the street. To this day, I think about him randomly, wishing that I could still talk to him and be friends. A nagging feeling in my brain calls him Fox, but I don't know his real name. I don't even have the information to find him on Facebook. The last I heard of him, he had moved to his aunts house ---

But when I was four or five, he always came over to my house. My house that was painted sky blue, and we had green grass. Behind was a sunshine yellow backyard with several red fruits; its remembered as the opposite of his home. I remember looking across the street through his windows, beyond his pale, dirty-pastel salmon painted house, and there was nothing but shadows. I don't remember his mother, except for the time she stood at the door telling him to come back in. In his driveway was a large truck or van, where his rather large ginger cat would run underneath to hide. He had long scratches on his arm from that fat thing.

I remember him with sandy brown hair and a white t-shirt. Maybe freckles, but he was tall and thin. I don't remember how we became friends or why we let a strange white boy into the house - or why I never went over to his. I remember him being patient. Understanding. A gentle soul trapped in a gangly body.

He would come over to my house and pick flowers for his mum. We would put our flowers in Coke cans and rearrange them to look nice. It always did, the yellow, green and metallic red. He played with me and he played with my brother. Not many boys pick flowers and play with cars.

And then I moved to Hong Kong, don't remember even saying goodbye.

It makes me sad. Kind of.

#4 Finding Fox again is some sort of satisfaction milestone in my life.

P.S. I'm contemplating making a tumblr in dedication to looking for him. I'm just plain creepy.

lazy, rich fashionistas

2010-05-26T00:38:00.012+01:00

#3 Sometimes I think I just need more exposure and I'll be famous.

What bothers me about these fashion blogs comes out through this comment I read, but will not reveal the source of: "...majority of my clothes come from banana republic, ann taylor and free people, but thanks to the recession my collection of marc by marc jacobs is slowly growing..."

Is this girl really serious? Either way, I can't stand about the fashion world or lookbook.nu in general because of this. I've taken a pop culture class, and one thing I've concluded is that fashion is a mass culture product. People who buy purely expensive clothes and don just that desire to be fashionable but really just buy photocopies. Give them a thrift store and they won't be able to pin together their clothes.

Yeah, I don't dress terribly well, but if I do dress similar I dress $500 cheaper than your wasteful ass. Even then I have friends who spend less and look better - so I don't understand people who spend so much money to look good with one dress when they could've used that money for something better and simultaneously get a cheaper dress -

I can understand the one dress or two but... Maybe it's uppity snobbery.

Certain people don't understand that money really doesn't buy you everything, or how some followers are tricked and mislead through the easiness of the internet that they can have some extravagant lifestyle too. I guess I've been tricked once, through lookbook.nu surfing, but then I realized... and now I only thrift shop or sale shop cause I'm a lazy cheap ass.

So here are some fashion blogs I actually like following:

http://www.liebemarlene.blogspot.com/

http://lookbook.nu/user/952-Erika-A

http://www.chictopia.com/Starrgirl - She's a little on the pricer side.

P.S. Aren't you glad I finally changed my blog song?

P.P.S. I'm also reformatting to prevent long, cluttering posts, so now I have a line breaker that will say "click for photos" (or something) if I have a long spew of photographs (like this post) afterwards, or if I wrote some dramatic essay. Here is my first testing of the "more after the jump!" option. Have fun :)

These are odd photos I took in 2008 during Yom Kippur with my friends in a white hallway. It was like a mini photoshoot, but we had so much fun. And the clothes, I think then, were still from HK, so they're probably cheap too cause Janice doesn't spend that much on clothes - I could be wrong now! But they are definitely not of the Free People, Banana Republic calibre. Maybe Forever 21 and street vendors.

Wow 2008 is just a long time ago. I think I looked better then. Thinner?

Okay, so the farmer's tan showed up better on my computer.

That floor was so disgusting. I can't believe I got on the floor like that.

I love ghost faces. Gosh, we were so bad at operating a camera.

So there are a lot more, but I don't want to post so many of my friends up without their knowledge, and these aren't professional or anything - just for fun. Thanks for Charis who was operating the camera back in October, 2008.

Doing stuff like this is always fun. I don't know why I feel shy and don't instigate such activities back at SU. Sure it's embarrassing to bring up, but when it comes around to doing it, I think the pictures are worth it. Actually, with my friends, it was a hella fun. We stayed up until three am just playing around and we had over 600 photographs for memories. I guess the idea is: If the only reason you won't do it is cause you're embarrassed, screw that and run with it.

the unfortunate truth

2010-05-24T07:39:00.001+01:00

There was a phase where I liked white boys, specifically Michael Cera, Anton Yelchin, Jesse Eisenberg type of white boys - meaning nerdy, socially awkward white boys. They had to be white and nerdy, not Asian and nerdy. The only boy I've known that portrays the definition of socially awkward, loveable white boy is Charlie McDonnell, and I've heard stories of Elizabeth's friend who seems quite the close call. Unfortunately the media lies to us - they create characters and novels about these characters that don't really exist or a rarity, some extinct breed.

Summer Finn doesn't really exist. Paulie Bleeker is just a dream. Yet there are stories, films, songs and unlimited exposure about these kinds of people. In anger - I repeat: Ever realize that these people don't exist! There's no girl like Juno or boy with rules like Columbus that is actually attractive, maybe it's all about knowing somebody on the inside - or the camera actually does make someone more appealing - or is it those wonderful one-liners?

I guess it's easier to sell and write a character that has no real basis, like the unfortunate reality of the Doctor, I guess I can only dream about flying away in a phone box that's BIGGER ON THE INSIDE! The day I can say those words, I have lived all I needed to live. I need a muse that will help me create someone absolutely socially-awkward, loveable and unrealistic in my novel or films.

#2 Nerds aside, I freaking LOVE Jake Gyllenhaal. I'd marry him.

oh hay, i didn't know you were there

2010-05-18T20:21:00.002+01:00

You know how everyone has quirks, lists or ideas of themselves that at some point in time, while they're alone, they realize but then forget? And then when you're with your friends, they ask a question where the answer is exactly what you've pinpointed before, but damn you just can't remember. It might be slip of the tongue... tip of the tongue or just something so naturally ingrained that you don't recall forcibly anymore, but I like the moments you rediscover something about yourself.

It could be something you've always loved that doesn't need reminding or constant visual. Something that isn't so obvious like a quirk that you remember every time you see it, but don't always think about. I think the term is "re-realization" - okay I made that up. But I love that feeling when you get crazy about something you've always been crazy about, only forgotten. That renewed burst of energy is... a lot of things. I'm gonna end each post with a # fact of something I don't say about myself. A quirk, a desire, a like - something that isn't too obvious / something I just don't ever have the chance to bring up / something I know about myself but forget when people ask.

#1 I gag every time I look at toothbrushes while brushing my teeth.

Did I write this post just to say that I discovered this anomaly about myself? ...WHILE I was brushing my teeth last night?

Yeah.

2046

2010-05-17T13:04:00.005+01:00

I hate it when you have the perfect words in your heart and you capture them for a second, then while you are mildly distracted, you lose them. This happens a lot. Then the moments that were perfect to say them pass, and I’m left with empty hands and a mind dwelling on the past and what could have beens.

What I’m trying to say here is that I want you to be happy. I’ve never seen someone so empty and searching even though they don’t say much at all. I want to help you without appearing as if I’m pitying you; I want to show you how beautiful and serene the world is even when you’re feeling alone.

The problem is that you’ve become my problem and I can’t show you when I’m not much better inside.

In the end, I realize that my blog personality isn't so schizophrenic. It's just the romantic inside of me compensating for what I don't have in reality. It's really hard admitting this but I guess in the end, I've been saying this all along: I do want a relationship, marriage, boyfriend, etc. (not in that particular order, of course) but I'm just too darn picky... that goes to saying, I'm not going to introduce myself as "Hi, I don't want to get married ever" anymore, because that's just me lying when I have a year's worth of interior thoughts telling me otherwise.

Darn this feels good. Admitting it out loud and seeing that nothing really changes.

pandora's fault

2010-05-08T06:51:00.003+01:00

Remember the story about Pandora's box? How it was a box full of evil that was unleashed - did anyone stop to think and wonder why something randomly good - hope - was left inside? If the box was filled with pain, diseases, disasters, death - sorrows and mischiefs that caused terror to men - then why in the world did Zeus put in something as good as hope? That means hope is actually an evil - hope is the most deceiving of virtues, fleshed underneath a mask of goodness.

The other belief is that the "box" or jar, as I have researched, contained blessings for mankind, but they were all released, allowing evil to enter our lives, and so Pandora trapped hope, allowing us to continue having hope in life. What's worse than allowing people to strive during torment?

Either way, Nietzsche says it perfectly: "To that end, he gives man hope. In truth, it is the most evil of evils because it prolongs man's torment." Isn't it a terrible thing to believe that something that allows people to strive for the best is just another form of distress?

It's almost 2AM, but I'm rethinking a lot about my relationship with God. I had a mental breakdown today (due to the lack of sleep for the past week and other things) and just bawled my eyes out for an hour. I started crying to God, asking him why things were the way they are - and now I released... Well, when it comes to Him I don't think Christians should rely on hope. I need to stop hoping God will work in miraculous ways. Stop waiting for God to act, and make decision in life pleasing to Him. I'm just going to believe and have faith that He's right beside me, no matter how empty I feel. I'm not going to wait out His actions in order to find my direction. That's hope and it's terrible. If I continue on the road, knowing that He'll guide me... That's faith.

where to draw the line?

2010-05-04T22:27:00.005+01:00

Right after I threw the coin in, I looked at my cousin and said,

"Was I supposed to make a wish?"

Sometimes I do stupid, obnoxious things, but the biggest part of me is more compassionate than I let on. I secretly hate seeing people I care about upset, and I hate being a nuisance, a complicated box that takes time for people to understand and get used to. Sometimes I push those who love me as I am away for people who don't take as much time to know me. I don't know why I feel the need to iterate that this blog doesn't describe or come close to who I am as a person - it's just a fraction of my personality and others can relate to - but as more of my friends discover this blog, I think I need to say that no, I do not sit in the dark - this is just an outlet to keep the light alive.

Anyway, here is a short, long overdue post on Disneyland. Why? Because summer is coming and I'm going to miss this place, but the reason I'm delaying my thoughts on going to LA is the same reason why I don't rush to Disneyland every time I go to California. Some things will always be there, and I have plenty of time to try a hand in the industry there. Sure, getting it through my school is going to be easier, but at some point in time, things need to stop being spoon fed. I might be interning at CW, and that's good enough for me.

I don't think missing out an entire semester of Wilson, Sarah Lee and potentially transferring freshmen are worth it. A friend of mine tried to reason with me about saying how, "If they're really your good friends, you'll see them after they graduate..." or "If you're really good friends, you'll make time for each other," and I felt slightly annoyed by her implications. Disneyland is always going to be there. LA will always be there. Moments with my friends aren't going to be retraceable, and things will be different once they get a job and mature. I have all my life to get somewhere in LA, but with my friends? I thought the experience would be worth it, but is the trade off of memories really worth that much?

Immaturity can only be lived through for so long before I have to grow up and wait to relive it through my kids. And goodness knows, I love Peter Pan enough to want to be childish as long as possible. Yes, I'm 20.

I don't know. I don't know much at all. I just want to be able to make choices and not regret on what I've missed out.

Well, one reason I'm doing this is to prep this blog for London. I'm going to try and keep it all in one blog, cause while I was talking to Wilson today, I sounded like I had schizophrenia, maintaining all these blogs at the same time, plus this one was a little too emo with all these death references lying around.

I have one photo of this, exactly like this, of me when I was really young. Maybe five or younger, and I remember exactly how I felt when I crawled onto the table to grab some cookies only to find out they were fake. Going back this time around, I hated how they didn't look real enough for me to be duped again.

True Asian. I blinked..

My skin used to be so clear and admittedly, flawless, back in the winter. Then I came to Syracuse and it got so bad. Now I'm looking back at these photos and the question is now, fringe or no fringe?

elevator take me home

2010-05-02T15:03:00.002+01:00

I need to go home but there's a lot of packing and cleaning up to do. More than ever, I feel like I've disappointed some people I care about, and I can't imagine why I waited so long to be disappointed in myself. Most of all I probably betrayed myself in that relapse of judgment, which I'm not saying I regret, I just feel... a "that's it?" feeling. If the experience has done anything, it's made me even more adverse to the subject and possibilities that I don't think I feel inclined to experience again. People warned me, people have praised the topic, and people have exaggerated the idea. It's not all that great. Sometimes nothing ever is. Nothing except the ones who care about you and tell you. Even if my friends don't read this blog, I love you guys. I hate departure flights.

anonymousity

2010-04-30T15:47:00.005+01:00

I feel trapped but these bars might only be in my mind.

The more popular a blogging format gets, the more it forces me to open new blogs. Tumblr, blogspot, (never got the hang of wordpress) - I have about three of each, and that's not counting the occasional written diary that I have. Are people offended when I don't follow them back on tumblr - because I'm honestly not interested in the type of posts that people make, which are equivalent to their Facebook statuses. Repeated food, repeated friends, repeated conversations. For me, the purpose of a blog is to express yourself differently; not restate aspects already known - but that difference could scare people. Blogging is a form of making myself unique - so without my tumblr, how would you know exactly how macabre my interests are? Still, it's a part I rather you discover personally than go, "Oh shit, Christal likes weird stuff..." and look at me strangely from afar. As certain ways of communication get popular, privacy increasingly decreases, and I need to be more conscious about the things I write. They get more ambiguous as more people I know join.

My blogspot has always been personal, and I used to not be afraid of offending people, but I kept short spontaneous thoughts on my tumblr (why would you want me updating this every day with single paragraph thoughts?) because I wasn't ready for people to know. Now the opposite is occurring, where they read my thoughts before I can coherently place them out on my blogspot. Strange enough, I don't mind strangers reading my posts - but people I know? They have the power to judge harder than others ever can. I might joke about "Why you never read my blog?" but I won't link you to it unless you purposefully ask or stumble upon it.

Then there's formspring, which I opened up for my readers, but people I know are contacting me anonymously through it. I've made a promise not to censor myself on formspring, but can you blame me if I end up saying something offensive? I'm really surprised even now, I haven't gotten any haters or personal confessions - the harshest critic I have is Vania, but she's cranky because she never sleeps anyway. :)

I have 178 followers on tumblr, and I think 15 of them are people I know. Those fifteen people dynamically change my style for the others. I hate it and I want to continue my spontaneous shorts on that same tumblr without people wondering who or what I'm talking about. The thing with friends as followers is that friends will ask. The beautiful thing about strangers as followers is that strangers just relate. Honestly, if I wanted to tell you, I would've.

But I also play favourites, and so if you ask, I might tell.

backseat driving

2010-04-27T05:21:00.003+01:00

I have a lot of saved drafts so yes, I'm posting an insane amount ... frequently. This is coming out mainly cause of Elizabeth's post about Mr. Ape & Wonderful.

Say there are three guys in a car.

No this is not a bar joke.

There's the driver, the passenger and the back seat guy, who actually owns the car. Don't think about personalities, looks or anything else - just imagine three guys in a car. It's obvious the two guys in the front are more outgoing and closer friends than the one in the backseat, but the three guys are still friends.

Who are you mostly to be dating?

This is a personal made-up psychology test that I've never really bothered to test on my friends. It's heavily based on stereotypes (which I don't care what SOC230 says, they exist) and world perspectives. Ideally I would have people comment and respond, but nobody reads or bothers to comment on my blog, so I'll just move on to the answers.

Logistically, if you choose, it should go as so:

1). You like assertiveness and tend to observe outer appearance first. The driver, who doesn't even own the car, is outgoing and commands the other two friends. He makes decisions and whether or not you are independent, he normally wins because you let him or he is just that good. If you're independent, you two will fight and probably have make-up sex or something colloquial like that. He's probably mildly messy, maybe a bit dirty, but showers when he needs to.

2). You like the listener. The one who takes what he can but doesn't push necessarily for the best. Sure outer appearances get to you, but this one has the smile. This one is rather complacent and nods his head along with everything, but you'll know if it bothers them because if they don't want it to happen, they'll react with stubbornness. Both of you will probably go along with the tide as long as you get something out of it. They're not a pushover; things just work out that way, and they're a stable balance between working out and solitary work. He cleans regularly but it's nothing you notice.

3). You like the backseat boy. You like the follower, the patient one. Outer appearances don't attract you as strongly as what's on the inside. A part of you is also a pitier, your relationships probably consists of a lot of settling. On the upside, you enjoy being able to take control and do as you wish. They might have a tendency to either seem clingy or not care at all, but there's a reason they get pushed into the backseat, especially when they own the car.

I think regardless of how you imagined the driver, the passenger and the backseat(er) to be, choosing one always reflects your personality, how you treat and observe others. So if you imagined the people with different personalities, and chose them accordingly - I wonder how you did it :)

edit. Yeah, I got lazy and didn't bother developing the personalities, but hey these things are always general or else it'd be just creepily accurate. I also had a better method of writing this, but I forgot it and came up with this mess instead.

safer on the jetway

2010-04-26T07:19:00.004+01:00

I am small and needy. Warm me up... and breathe me. (Sia, Breathe Me)

I think I'm safer on an airplane than on the ground. I find it safer to fly alone than be grounded with temporal relations. When I have that single moment that I let myself open up and attach, I get too attached - to anyone - to anything. I get too consumed by possibilities that drive me insane. It's 2:11AM right now, and I don't really know what I'm saying - I just know that a part of me never learns or gets it right.

I don't know what this choking feeling is. Have you ever felt that need to be alone - whenever you get up and walk, you just can't find the strength to bring yourself back home? Sometimes I feel safer alone. They say that hope was the last thing in Pandora's box, the one thing that saved us from the disasters that were let out, but what if hope was the worst thing that came from there? There is nothing worse apart from hope than failed hope - and in the generation, failed hope seems to be growing stronger and stronger when you rely on others.

And when people find you alone - what do you tell them?

Smile and say its fine when it's not? That is the polite thing to do, even if it's not the truth. Yet I wonder how much are people actually willing to hear the truth? People might ask to be polite, but do they really want to open a complicated box just to find a part that works unreliably? When are people ever ready to hear about the darkness - at the end, are they just waiting for a happy note of hope?

There are people yelling in my lounge. I'm going to go tell them to be quiet.

The stars need to shine on the first time, because I draw lines much too early on. I build fortresses in Helm's Deep and dig underground caves to hide away but there's no real way out other than digging deeper. If the stars don't shine and the fire doesn't burn, I don't see why I need to let you in.

Let me know if the lights are on... maybe I'm just blind.

Maybe the world is my shelter. Other people living in it feel the same way, but we're all just walking with our eyes closed.

g.d. independent

2010-04-23T21:40:00.004+01:00

We all belong somewhere - right?

Apparently it's very obvious what sororities girls are in. So I asked my friend, "If you looked at me, what sorority would I be in? Hypothetically?" I thought she would name one, but instead she said that I had "GDI" written all over me. I don't understand American slang - or pointless abbreviation - but it means "God-Damn Independent." I'm rather pleased that I can't be labelled by a category, but I wonder what it means to be (a) GDI.

If I were to think of several GDI-ers in Syracuse, I'd say...
Elizabeth, Wilson, Joann - that's all I can think of right now.

I never understood Greek life. The idea of paying for a family outside of your own, the idea of needing to please and just force friendships because of several letters. I don't understand how serious some people take it - and while I see how important it is to them, I don't get how this importance came about. Such an elitist method of forming cliques - a tradition that has become American, and yet is ironically draws from roots of others.

Would it be offensive if you weren't labelled as a GDI? I'm sure it doesn't mark you as a conformist. I think GDIs are harder to approach and potentially harder to keep in touch with. I wonder what makes me appear so independent - perhaps it's an honest pursuit of what I like?

What is independence anyway? I would like to be influenced by people because there's always something you can learn from people, whether or not you like them. To me, I don't think I'm as independent as I appear to be - for me, a certain point of independence is when I am able to go to the movie theaters alone and watch a movie with popcorn and a soda without feeling the need to have a companion.

Do I have to not make sense in order to be independent? Do I need to make sense to be a conformist?

from day one.

2010-04-22T04:11:00.001+01:00

Reading Elizabeth's blogpost, which had a link to Josh's tumblr, which admittedly gets lost in my dashboard feed, that had a post about blogging. Yes a trend and spark has now gone around in the KCS blog community, which consists of Elizabeth and I... in a quick day. Just going over the posts made me think about why I blog and what I'm trying to get at.

A). There's that desire for subscribers

B). There's the desire for expression

I know I'm introverted and I don't need a blog or a personality test to tell me that. The way I see it there are two ways to format a blog. One is to have a theme (for the subscribers) and two is a diary format (for the expression). It's hard to get a good mix of both. Maybe your life is interesting or maybe you have good taste - I'm still trying to figure out what category my blog fits in because I'm not writing to split my heart open and show you what's inside.

How much of me do you really see through this blog? I'm not sure. I think a part of me is just trying to write and figure out, slowly, how I see the world. It's a personal blog, most definitely, but how personal on a discovery level is it? A lot of it is a commentary on society around me, how I see parts the world - usually it's an application from my own life to make a judgment on society - but I don't think that reflects half of what makes me -

After all, after chasingfivetwo, I have dearskye, cuttheswan, skins and my written diaries. In my case, I highly doubt bloggers intentionally spill their soul out, unless it's censored and promisingly hidden. Some parts of people are ugly enough to upset your stomach. Every word that is said has been/will be censored as more and more familiar people read it.

twenty candles

2010-04-19T03:56:00.004+01:00

The best part about birthdays is seeing people you truly care about and the people care about you, especially those you never thought would.

It was Thursday when I got scolded by a friend for hiding my birthday from everyone - especially when a girl was basically my birthday twin - and... having someone's birthday on the exact date changes things a bit when you're close to them. In a way, it was really "jacked/messed" up as people have placed it for me to attend her birthday party and ignoring mine. At the same time, if it wasn't her birthday I would have never spoke up about it.

A part of me doesn't understand the concept of parading my birthday around, which Facebook now does for you, and another part of me doesn't understand why others make such a big deal out of a date people were born --- I think a lot of it traces back to when I was younger...

Presents were a big deal. When I was younger there were things I wanted and thought I had to have, and then the only day I could get them was on my birthday. I think it was up until I was seventeen that I stopped caring about my birthday. That April 17, I went through the day acting as if it wasn't special. The day was like any other - and then I got yelled at by my friends for "acting too casual" and not reminding them. While they made a big deal out of my silence, I realized that at seventeen... well, seventeen is the age I became content with everything I had. I've never wanted anything and didn't see why there should be a reason for me to wait to buy something (I had a job). I think it was from then on I had a hard time telling people what I wanted.

Most of all, I didn't like the idea of the need to appreciate or make someone feel special just because of one day. If the day passes, do the affections stop? So when did reality or fantasy begin? I'm not altogether sure - but I remember one day, my birthday was the loneliest day of my existence because it was all hype. So from then on, I felt safer away from all these expectations and disappointments. Maybe I started to focus too much on the downside and forgot what it's like to be hopeful. Birds get shot down too many times to count (hope is a thing with feathers).

Yet the even better part about believing in something so strongly is being rightfully wrong. I might feel safer on my own, in the sky or constantly moving or leaving, but once in a while it's good to come down and see reality. I'm really thankful for those that tried so hard to make this day special for me. It's really amazing to see how excited people can get for a single person. I guess it's not really about celebrating a person's birthday, it's celebrating the long term realization that someone good has come along the way; birthdays are just a good excuse to throw together something nice to express that. Cause you know, society has it strange if you decide to do so on a random day -

So what I guess I'm against is the arbitrary "Happy Birthday" comments you get from Facebook notifications. If anything, a birthday for someone that means something to you shouldn't be something electronic. Don't be dumb and send an e-card; that's just cheap. Even if it's late, send a card, give a phone call - even a text message is on a higher level right now... speaking of which, my parents didn't call me. I'm pretty sad. I'm glad to have such obstinate and great friends though.

And I'll admit, a big part of me wouldn't tell my birthday because it was a bitch that didn't trust anyone to remember and rather just pass the day with no expectations at all then hear whimpers of "Happy Birthday."

keep that chin up

2010-04-15T10:17:00.001+01:00

So I've been recently experiencing much stress in my life. Often stress breaks people down, but I'm here to tell you that you should take that stress (well, if it's people related stress) to build yourself up. A lot of hard times will come no matter where you are but the greatest thing is that they pass and make happiness so much more potent.

Recently I've been breaking down because of my group project. Gladly, I haven't met my archenemies yet but I've met the most frustrating creative block in the form of a person. Perhaps he is some form of my nemesis that I will meet in later levels of my battles but as of now, I'm not exactly sure what he is. However, I've never felt so infuriated in my life - I've never met someone so self absorbed to believe that his attraction to an idea gauges how great the idea is to the public sphere. A person who believes that his taste is superior, an elitist that puts down others as if there was a hierarchy for enjoyment. A person who "desires" for the olden days when he's only in his twenties; someone who claims to be jaded when they haven't tasted the world yet.

When I first met him, I agreed with what his commentary but as I got to know him, I realized how flawed his words were. They were vague, built upon ideas and maybe some experience but very biased and limited experience, as if his view on the world was the only correct one - but this world is more than four dimensional. It's filled with six billion dimensions, all which we can never experience but try to and then understand that we won't even know all. That's one point of living - knowing that you can't have all, but striving to get to know all even if you won't ever get there. What you know and what you learn isn't the end, there's always more.

So of course I learned from this infuriating character. I've learned that I need to trust my instincts, to speak up with a stronger and bolder approach, to put my foot down and learn to step away when my heart is no longer in it. Sure, now I am in full panic mode, but in this distress, I'm coming out as a stronger and more confident person. I realize that my strengths are stronger than I thought they were, that my weaknesses are weaker than I believed, and overall - I discovered that what I know about myself is exactly what I need.

Someone said, "Life is like photography, you use the negative to develop." When something bad comes along the way, I need to remember that my foundation is riddled with pain. Pain is where my words evolve from, where I get my inspiration, and so stress is not always a bad thing. I'm going to learn something from it, and I'm going to figure out slowly exactly who I am. In dreams you learn who you want to be, but with reality you learn who you already are. Personally, I rather develop who I am than spend time creating someone I wish to be.

That being said, pray that my impromptu project goes well, and that my professor approves. What I'm doing is really fucked up, but I'm going to admit myself in a psych ward if I continue on like this. And if he approves, you're going to see a permanent marker of hope on me.

currently playing: parachute

2010-04-09T07:32:00.002+01:00

I don't think I've found a more annoying band to Google since Blue; Parachute (VA) is absolutely difficult to discover via Youtube, which accounts for why I didn't listen to their songs beforehand. I've found covers of their songs much easier than their original music videos, but that's fine - I went to their concert on Wednesday, and I adore them. They may not be my favourite band, but I'll give props to Will Anderson for knowing how to pump up a crowd. Another round of applause to Johnny Stubblefield for being cute and excited during the whole show.

A lot can change after having a personal experience with a band. I've heard of stories from fan accounts of people loving a band's music after meeting them, which I never really understood because if you like the music, then you like it - or if you don't, then there's not much you can do. After meeting Will (woot, first name basis), I can say that I finally understand how that phenomenon works. It's almost like "friends," where you can excuse them for just sucking, and you'll like them anyway. That's not to say Parachute sucks, no - they're very good live. Will has a good voice. Kit is good on the sax. Nate has a lovely voice, good harmony. Alex makes the indie look more complete, and Johnny, Johnny is just surprisingly cute in a 'freshman' way (good drummer of course, but I think you get the point that they're musically talented, so let's move on to things that make them exponentially better). He's 24, so not exactly a freshmen.

Sometimes the way a band interacts with you changes a lot of things. If Miike Snow stayed to chat, maybe I would've liked them a lot better, but now they're just songs on my playlist and a rather 'elite' music genre. On the other hand, Parachute leaves me with good memories and complete adoration. I could go on forever about how Will got excited for my polaroid camera that failed, and then how he asked me to send this picture to him - to which I creepily found a social network of his and sent the flickr link to that.

I don't really go click friendly and fan things/people/groups. And while I'm being long winded, I searched Johnny Stubblefield and something, so maybe he wants to double check on that to avoid stalkers. But short story made way too long, that's how I found Will's FB.

It's funny how easily concert experiences can be related to companionship. The way you interact with a band can reflect your enjoyment of certain friends' companionship. Maybe sometimes you're excited to be with people, no matter how much worldsuck they have; other times getting to know someone better can make you like them so much more; sometimes you realize that there will always be a barrier and it's impossible to get personally close to them. If Parachute were readily accessible, I would like to be their friends.

I know I didn't say much about their music, but I think their music speaks for itself. She is Love is definitely not the best track on the album. It's simply the catchiest, but I think people should listen to other songs as well. My personal favourite is Blame it On Me. Either way, as a college student, take advantage of as many concerts as you can, even if you are not an avid fan and only know one song, because you never know what you'll get out of it. For example, I got a picture with the cute drummer. :)

Oh, but the sound blew my ears. However, I understood the words/singing. You know a band is professional when they turn down their instruments to let the vocals shine. There is power in gentle sounds - as I have learned from tech arts. Unfortunately my ears are dead for now. Need to get those ear plugs asap, well not really because I don't know what other concerts are gonna be here. I regret not going to Jason Reeves my freshmen year.

rain hell

2010-04-07T07:31:00.003+01:00

I tend to live for the moments. The up and downs of such a lifestyle? I stress out and phase through emotions rather quickly. Like the other day, I thought my university was trying to screw me over by telling me that I had to take a different set of credits, meaning that I wasted two semesters fulfilling credits that didn't translate to my new school. I literally looked terrible yesterday, so much that even Kildong said, "Wow, you look tired and stressed," to which I looked in the mirror and saw the horror lining my eyes. I started panicking and just frowning all night because I didn't want to waste my time, drop my major or flip a shit on the Arts & Science school. All I knew was that if they were going to force me to waste my time fulfilling their requirements, I was going to rain hell on them.

That being said, I didn't have to. I went to my school and they told me that I'm following their core and not to worry. While I'm perfectly calm and stressed about other school related work, I realized that I haven't gotten so appropriately angry in a while. I've been blessed these past two years with something or someone that comes to fix my problems before they get uncontrollable. I have an angel watching over me. But when I get angry, waters gonna blow out of the ocean and I make it my mission to bring hail down on my victims. I haven't gotten angry in so long - it's been at least two years since I've genuinely wished harm or thought hurtful things about people.

Can't remember the last thing I did, but I remember thinking and wishing very excruciating experiences upon people. Something along the lines of "crucio" but in reality. I guess my college friends are pretty lucky I dropped that habit when I found them - and I'm lucky my high school friends just take me for what I am, and are probably just happier when I drop the vengeful macabre thoughts.

I used to be such a violent girl. Now I just like the beauty that violence has. I don't initiate it anymore.

I thank music, God and distance from home for pacifying me. Right, speaking of music: Check out this band, Quick Quick Danger - I love the song "Still Not Over You" and basically almost everything else they have up. They remind me of my middle school days, but somehow they are really catchy without that immature lyricism. The instrumentals arrangement and production quality is simply ear-gasmic. Not gonna lie, I like the lead singer's style, looks and whiny voice. :) That and I have good taste in music, so just listen to it.

the black sky

2010-04-04T06:01:00.003+01:00

"You find fresh pain every time you discover pretty much what you already know. " Diary, Chuck Palahnuik.

Too bad this man is gay. I am in love with every philosophical banter he has written in his novels, even if they contradict one another. I think he's developed that style to become as so, that even in his contradictions there is truth.

somehow I feel as if I've never been in so much pain. it's not even my heart that is hurting but my mind that is going wild like a frenzied safari, where the wild grass grows uncontrollably, no solitary single direction, but a free growing range that has never stopped growing. it is not a single pattern but a twisted thorn field that cannot bring itself to grow straight. i want to find my mind clear, to breathe true, but i cannot find myself anywhere but in a blackened sky.

i think that in pain, it isn't even my heart that feels, but my mind that recreates the sense of how i should feel. i can't describe it any better than how i've written it in my story, to love death,

"I want to know why you treat me so well, when I don’t deserve a thing at all. An apple that falls is an apple fallen. Don’t pluck something that has been damned. I don’t know why you think you’re having something that’s not broken. Even if I’m not broken, I’m still incomplete. There’s still a million more stars still shining and each one of them has more life than me.
My heart is a black hole. A deceased star.
Maybe if you venture deep enough, you’ll find my missing heart."

More than ever, I think this story has been my favourite that I've ever written because it helped me get over my uncle's death, and more than ever I am the character Song Sungmi. This girl who is so broken that when something good comes her way, she pushes it out of her life, and just when she seems to be the most broken person you've ever met, you realize that in her selfishness she's just hurting others.

animalism & concert ethics

2010-03-31T06:15:00.006+01:00

Tonight I went to the Miike Snow concert with Elizabeth, Jen Pio and my roommate Joann (hah - all the bloggers went). I have to admit Miike Snow isn't the most ideal band to go chill to, although they were amazing live. And Aj Rafael was definitely more exciting and easier to deal with (in terms of the people who went), which comes to my point about concert ethics.

I guess I'm not exactly the same kind of person as the type who showed up and screamed at Miike Snow saying, "You are a god among men!" You'll probably see this boy's face when you look at Elizabeth's blog: it's the guy in the green shirt. He grabbed my hands mid-way and made me jump up and down excited. Admittedly, I didn't mind but he did call us "high strung" because we weren't going psycho. I'm sorry, if you're dancing with a girl that's on something - drugs or alcohol - I rather be seen as high strung than seen grinding to Miike Snow, especially if he's singing "I'm still, I'm still an animal."

Depending on the kind of concert you go to, there should be different ways of respecting the band. I.E. Not crawling all over the sound equipment and touching their instruments or getting in their face, even if you are praising them. I guess it's because Miike Snow is an older aged band and European, that maybe they weren't expecting a crazy crowd. On the other hand, the opening act wanted a crazy crowd but didn't get one. He danced like I would in my own shower - some actions shouldn't have been seen. But by all means, if you're going to Linkin' Park: Jump, mosh, scream and pump your fist (I was slightly averse to that idea because I thought of guidos immediately). Miike Snow's style did call for some jumping, beat moving and arm waving times, but there were also times rocking out wasn't in the moment.

I wonder how I should act when I go see Parachute. I only know one song, but I already know I want to buy some ear plugs so that my ear drums don't blow out. Sigh, what would the concert ethics of Parachute be?

Also, I took a polaroid picture of Christian Karlsson of Miike Snow. He was the main band member that moved as if he was our age, and moved accordingly to the music. You can tell how you should act in a concert by how the musicians act. They set the bar - don't cross it because really, they should be the craziest ones on stage. Sometimes you can cross the line, but you'll know when the time comes. It's when you start going crazy and the band encourages you. Then by all means, go wild, and it'll be cute. I rather be cute (ugh, I can't find a better word) than obnoxious, like a groupie wanting to sleep or full-on have a communion with the band. I think the grinding girls in front of me tried to give their number to Christian Karlsson. Concert ethics guys, don't ruin the experience for everyone else, but if you're going to go insane, at least make a spectacle of yourself without intruding in on a stranger's space. I would say the guy in green made the concert enjoyable by trying to get everyone else to interact, but the girl whipping her hair just destroyed the atmosphere irritably. I want to come out of the concert praising a band's ability to pump up the atmosphere, not come out complaining about certain attendees. Concert ethics 101.

Anyway, I wrote a short story after this concert. Semi-Miike Snow inspired. This is the 365 short version.

P.S. If you click the titles of my blog post, it will most likely redirect you to another page that's related, cause I normally talk about the same/similar things, so if you want to comment, click on comments. I'm not sure how you used to do it before, but yeah.