Lord of the Rings is a kickass movie. Just for the record. Also. Does ANYONE know what parts of Palmer we're supposed to read? I'm reading the chapter on the French Revolution, which is what I xeroxed because I left my Palmer at school, so I borrowed Alex's temporarily. I shall be immensely pissed if this is not the chapter.

I really hate the way Asian (meaning Chinese because God knows Indonesian or Thai culture can't be conveniently packaged and commercialized) culture is mass marketed. Somewhere along the way, stupid pricks have decided that the pinnacle of Asian culture is tiny bansai trees and zen gardens and ying yangs and misty mountains and mysterious dragons and rice paper screens and trendy characters that you print on shirts or tattoo on your arm without knowing what they mean. You know, PF Chang and Crouching Tiger stuff. (either that, or from the way movies put it, military secrets ) It's not necessarily bad, it's just false. The "Orient" is as about as mystical and exotic as my armpits. The essence of China is being loud and crowded and smelly, haggling for chicken in a bustling marketplace or fighting for the last piece of pork on a platter with four generations of extended family or little kids begging for gifts and attention on New Years from family friends. Chineseness is the most ghetto and commonplace thing in the world if you want to rely on the opinion of billions of people all around the world, not some $50 designer Soothing Fountain especially made for Americans with a lot of money.

If I see a certain someone with her fake Chinese satin jacket eating some fake Chinese eggrolls with some fake "Orange Sauce" talking about how the fake Chinese fighting on the fake Chinese sets in Crouching Tiger was SO COOOOOL...

I am going to toss my fake Chinese non-fortune cookies.

I am not *offended*. Just severely annoyed.

Last day of Kung fu. Woohoo! Good. Now I can actually do some fun excercise, like Dance Revolution.

Morpheus hates me. It won't let me get an account and it keeps cutting me off in the middle of downloads. And it's slow as @#$. Spacie made me download some weird R&B thing that's only 4 minutes long but took 40 minutes to download. Well, at least now I have some semi-hip music on my computer.

I thought the holidays would suck because my mom would be home from work and hence with me 24/7, but it hasn't. It's been nice. Most of all, it's been nice to feel like I totally don't have anything to do. Well, I do, but it doesn't matter right. Now. Ah, the luxury of time.

There, Alex. I blogged.

I must have the lowest proportion of comments per word per blog. I feel crummy. Willard e-mailed my mom saying I failed the physics test. #$%^

People ought to realize that if you don't DO any math, your math scores will suck. Your verbal is high because you read books and newspapers and magazines in your spare time, because you watch plays and perform in plays, and because you practice your English every time you blog or IM a friend. I doubt you do equations for fun or IM your friends with the latest algebraic puzzler, so until you do, don't gripe about how low your math skillz are. You reap what you sow. I suppose a more positive way to put it is that it's not that your math sucks, it's that your Verbal is exceptionally good. I have a very long rant about this. For later, because if I blog anymore tonight, you faithful readers will go blind.

I got a 1450. I got a 1570 on the test in 10th grade, so my mom's been expecting me to get one again. Bitchnagwhinemoangripeangst. Done. Thank you.

Newton kicked ass. Go David. I've been drawing RPG character portraits for people. They're so murderously annoying, I wonder why I do it. I just figured out that on the human face, I have a tendency to draw people's noses too close to their mouths. Damn. Everyone when they're drawing has a fluke of some sort. Some people can't draw hands, some people draw foreheads too small, eyes too wide apart, can't shade, can't draw in perspective, can't draw backgrounds, all their people look the same.. *coughFrankChocough*.. well, there's mine.

Ah, Unofficial Chinese Movie Weekend. If you believe everything in Chinese movies, Japanese people are incredible retards. "Let's shoot at this flaming plane about to crash-land on me with a MACHINE GUN!" Actually, if you believe everything in Chinese movies, Americans are also incredible retards. "LOOK! GUYS! I GOT A TRUCK!" (in the middle of a canyon to a bunch of rebels who're trying to HIDE)

Once Upon A Time in China 3 was good though. Pretty damn good dub. WOO! Wong fei hong! He was the little boy in Iron Monkey (who was actually played by a girl) but grown up. Mad kungfu action. And everybody was... kung fu fiiighting... The Forbidden City in Beijing looks real weird without that large tacky painting of Mao. There were some good movie quotes.

"This is a cultural association, not a kungfu school!" (Master of the Cantonese Cultural Association, about being challenged to a kungfu contest by a rival school of Lion Dancers. They then procede to have some mad kungfu action).

"That's the third time this month. We're used to it." -Random dude about how his town seems to be the center of a bunch of arbitrary kung fu fights, injury, and property destruction.

"What am I, a trained monkey?" -Wong Fei Hong about being filmed for a kung fu movie.

"In Russia, we don't kiss the man's hand." -Russian Villain dude (GOD he was long-winded, like me. "The camera was a gift from me. I reserve the right to take it back. History will give us perspective. I cannot escape my destiny, nor can you yours. For hundreds of years the Han people have resented the rule of the Manchurians, and yet, you accept them like your own today. It gives me cause to think that the Chinese will eventually accept foreign rule. I am sorry but I must kill you, blah blah blah.... steam engine blah blah blah... industrial revolution blah blah blah.." No wonder he never got around to actually killing anyone. He was good-looking though).

"It's unhygenic." -Wong Fei Hong about kissing ladies' hands.

Also. MAD RICKSHAW HIJACKING ACTION!

My Descartes roleplay was quite ghetto. Just the paper towel frill collar was ghetto. Alex and Lianna understood that it wasn't supposed to be a bib, but I don't think anyone else did. And no, I didn't kick Aristotle's ass. What a sucky-ass week. I did cruddy on my calculus test too, and I haven't fetched my PSATs. It isn't on the list of 'worst mornings of my life', but it was still pretty cruddy. I shouldn't really complain about ghetto costumes. *cough tychobrahe cough*.

But I'm happy now. Because I took a long walk around the block (rhyming!), and Christmas is prettiness. I think the pagans just invented a holiday so that they'd have a reason to be happy during the winter. I'm gonna do my shopping afterschool tomorrow. The world sort of looks all nasty and gray at first, which is why I didn't take a walk until I really needed one, but really, it's pretty in an austere Zen garden way, with bare rocks and bare trees rising straight, and the grass turning yellow but some still green and the pastel houses really cheerful with their Christmas lights and poinsettas and ribbons and tacky American flags. It's not as OBVIOUSLY pretty as the plant reproductive organ craziness of spring, or the fertility of summer, or the artistic death motif of fall, but it's pretty in a subtle way.

I think the sun makes me happy- I haven't gotten a lot of sunshine this week. It must be my.. whatever was on the psych test. Circadian cycle. Because I always get happier after taking walks when I'm depressed. The sun was sort of silvery, not gold like I like, but whatever, I'll take what I can get. And sunset was splendoriffic too, because the sky gets less steel grey as the sun sets (around four, unfortunately), and turns into a deep blue, like the type you only see in the summer. And then the edges of the clouds turn pale gold, and part of the sky turns pink. A winter sunset. I'll have to see more of those, even though I like the bright pink/orange of summer or the deep purple sunsets more.

Mother Nature: Everyone's a critic.

Me: Shut your face. (Can you believe it? I'm fucking reviewing Mother Nature, just like a movie or something)

Maybe it's not the sun. Maybe I just like walking, and looking into the distance, and seeing a destination in front of me as I walk. I like.. motion parallax (*everyone in psych groans*). Seriously. I like seeing how the colors revolve around a single point in the distance and stuff. It has to be a place; I can't just walk on a treadmill. In any case, I'm glad to know that it's nearing the winter solstace. It's reassuring to know that the days get longer after that, and that I only have to bear with this darkening world of mine for a little while more.

I'm not putting up my "If I Were A Horrible Affliction" Test results. They're disgusting. I'm gonorrhea. Fucking A. BUT. I will put up this. Go there.

Strawberry: 30/100 Pear: 20/100 Banana: 80/100 Tomato: 10/100 Lemon: 5/100

Take the What Fruit Are You? test by webkin and aaronr!

Hell, the sun sets at 4 now anyways. Goddammit.

You know what, Palmer? You may not be as pretty as Enduring Vision or as softly-bound as Amsco, and you may be really boring and Francophilic and look god-awful in that speckled pink rebound cover of yours, but deep inside, you have a heart of gold. God knows that's why you're so heavy. You're the only book that doesn't insult my intelligence and is mildly interesting. I love you, man. Good night, Palmer.

Damn, it's only the middle of the afternoon.

Actually, if you consider the amount of time I spend involved with history, philosphy, and mathematics, I really spend more time with a bunch of dead people than I do with the living.

You know what I need to do? At the end of senior year, I am going to send a large, lacy thank you card to the guy who wrote Palmer. You know like, "Oh my god, I love you, I'm your greatest fan. You've given me so much quality education in European history, how can I possibly repay you???" The last being a rhetorical statement. I'll just send him crappy chocolates. "I have all your albums, and am ardently looking forward to your newest releases. PS: Can I have your autograph??? It would mean the Ptolemaic world to me. -Yours truly... Mr. Thomas" No. Haha, I'm kidding about the last part, but I'll send the rest of the card. I just hope this Mr. Palmer hasn't kicked the bucket already, or I'll be severely pissed. You know what's sad? I spend more collective time with Palmer than with my online semi-sortof-boyfriend. (Hi, Vass, I know you read this.)

ARISTOTLE, YOU ARE GOING DOOOWWWWNNN! DOOWWWWN, DO YOU HEAR ME??? Me and my friend Copernicus are going to bash in your pathetic little celestial balls and kick your inductive empiricist Greek ass until your prime mover REALLY hurts in the morning!

PS Dammit, I will feel really stupid if Aristotle isn't an empiricist.

I am an Alien Autopsy. My raging belligerant mustard synchronises with spherically verbose participles. I enlist lava by shrinking lenticular disturbances. Loose network steam requires my fortunate lips. What monkeys dispute rearranged plasma? The Utterly Surreal Test

Oh good lord. Translations From Ebonics

AGHHH!!!! richelieu.blogspot.com is still UP!!!! I THOUGHT I DELETED THAT ABOMINATION! In any case, I've lost the ability to edit it from my account. Save meeee...

I was randomly looking up ICQ people. Nick B's ICQ name is Ninja Spud, but his info still says he's 15. Nick S's ICQ name is Random, and it says he's 14. Maybe mentally, buttt....

Andrew P's, David B's, Alex R's, and Michael R's were too common to discern who was who. There were a bunch of Jennifer S's, one of whom possibly could be her, but I'm not sure. I found Bob G's ICQ... Boudicca.

I went to church *again*. For the violin recital rehearsal. I swear to god, one of the guys there was Christine's pastor from Agape. Yeah, Christine dragged me off to a Bible reading session on Thursday. Well not dragged, I sort of volunteered. Anyways, I swear it was him. He was 'speaking in tongues' and healing the sick or exorcising demons or whatever. It was disturbing.

Shpachee went back to UM so I went with her to drop her off. Then her parents drove around the campus so that I could look at it. It was real pretty at sunset, with the sky reflected in the puddles and everything and Christmas stuff up, and colonial buildings and crud. Except for the fact that a bunch of trees were snapped like toothpicks from the tornado, the one that touched down in UM a week after September 11. The wrecked cars are all cleaned up though. Shpachee showed me a section of the stairway in front of Easton Hall, one part of which was made from dark red brick, and the other light red. Apparently, the light red brick is the part of the stairs that collapsed in the tornado, and was rebuilt in light red brick. She and her dad were in the tornado. I was talking to her online like 15 minutes before it happened. Apparently, people started screaming in her dorm, and someone's window got busted, the electricity went out, and everyone started running like hell. They got evactuated to the basement, where there was... a gas leak. So they got evacuated outside.

I can't believe UM has 26,000 students. I mean, RM has 2000 students already, so I can concieve of a college having 26,000, but it's still mind-boggling. The town it's in is called University City for good reason, I guess. And I can't believe UM is so close to Blair and Eastern. Eastern is being renovated. I never want to see that shit school again anyways, nonetheless.

If I were a James Bond villain, I would be Max Zorin. I enjoy horse racing, pretending to be sane, and setting off cataclysmic earthquakes. I am played by Christopher Walken in A View to a Kill. Who would you be? James Bond Villain Personality Test

Yeah RIGHT. That's just crazy. Man. I'm not even hot!

If I were a work of art, I would be Claude Monet's Waterlilies. I am soft and gentle, but very colourful. Although based in reality, I look at the world through a filter of impressions which shape how I see things. Splashes of light help to define my presence and bring an endearing quality. Which work of art would you be? The Art Test

Judging from this and Alex's Art Test, I think these things are only loosely accurate.

Wow. I really f----ed up my template. Joy.

More Musketeerisms.

Take a sip every time..

Milady de Winter looks real skanky. Actually, scratch that; she always looks skanky. Take a sip every time she has way too much eyeliner on.
The movie takes on Communist/AynRandWouldHateThis connotations. ("Let's redistribute this wealth!", "Please have mercy! I was only stealing to feed my starving children!")
Louis the XIII exudes Teenage Angst/ looks Moony-Eyed at Anne of Austria. Drink the cup if she looks Moony-Eyed back.
D'artagnan does/says something really really stupid. ("I wanna be a musketeer!")
A musketeer conveniently has some crazy weaponry on hand. (Swiss army knife, bola, crossbow, pistol, etc.)
Bad Guys get hurt when things fall on them. (Take two sips if that falling object is a musketeer and the victim is one of the Cardinal's guards on horseback. Down the whole cup if the falling object is a chandelier.)
The moviemakers bludgeon the Dante's Inferno Metaphor to death in Richelieu's Flaming Underground Dungeon (tm). (Why is there a flaming lake??? Why is there a black-robed ferryman in that flaming lake??? What possible practical use could that have?)
Richelieu wears armor.
Someone performs a move that would make a modern fencer explode. (Ie, circular motion of the wrist and enemy is disarmed, hacking indiscriminately at people tree cutting style, doing random somersaults, punching people in the middle of a sword fight etc.)
Someone reloads a pistol in 3 seconds flat.
Property damage ensues.
A Bad Guy is actually a Good Guy in disguise.
Someone sheathes his needle thin blade in a needle thin scabbard without even looking, and manages not to stab himself.
A Bad Guy tries to stab a Good Guy with a dagger, but the Good Guy catches the Bad Guy's wrist. They start what looks a lot like arm wrestling.
Bad Guys cannot swim. Which is historically accurate, but still amusing. Dammit. Richelieu doesn't even bubble!

Yet another unofficial movie weeked. I saw Shrek, which was good, and "Three Musketeers", which was bad. I usually like bad movies, but not this one. It was funny because it was so bad though. Here, for your entertainment, is the "Three Musketeers" drinking game!

One sip every time...

D'artagnan is pronounced with a bad American accent.
Cleavage is shown.
Someone is stabbed tastefully off camera.
Richelieu is obviously horny/ uses bad pickup lines on much younger women. ( in a creepy voice, "It's too bad that I am a man of God, but I am a man nonetheless"...). Yes. It really is as disturbing as it sounds.
Richelieu pauses in his sentences to use understatements. (ie, "The loss of your other eye could be... inconvenient", "I'm sure your birthday celebration will be... memorable")
Rochefort snarls gutterally.
These movie makers could be sued for animal cruelty (flogging the horses like crazy, shooting at them with cannon balls, etc)
Bad Guys who have guns (which appear arbitrarily when the plot calls for them) have hella bad aim. (ie, the musketeers are on horseback galloping through a field IN A STRAIGHT LINE, and the castle nearby with cannons can't even hit them! What the @#$)

I'll add more later when I can think of them.

For your entertainment! Crouching Tiger, Hidden Communist Pig-Dogs!!

It would be funny if, in the basement of our school, we had an Underground Cafeteria or something. That served real food in secret to the poor, and you needed a password and everything. And the cafeteria ladies would wear aviator goggles and trenchcoats and randomly yell, "VIVE LE RESISTANCE!"

I'm in school, blogging. I feel like such a rebel. Last night's two Atlas Shrugged blogs didn't come out on the blog page yet, but they're visible on my editting page. So I'll see if they show up later. The Phantom Menace Soundtrack is quite rocking. But now I'll forever affiliate the Star Wars theme song with Halley's Fifth Concerto.

Enlightenment RP's annoy me. Stress. It's funny that I play Role Playing Games all the time, but Role Playing, God forbid. I sort of like acting but I have chronic fears that I can't act. I had a dream that I was playing a part in Hamlet but I was really bad and Nick B was like, "You're the worst actress I've ever seen". And I was like.. noooo. And I forgot all my lines on the night of the performance so I had to use the script, only the script kept morphing in my hands, to Romeo and Juliet, and then to Macbeth if I flipped the book upside down.

HAHAHAHA!!! I FINISHED READING ATLAS SHRUGGED! I AM THE GREATEST! I AM THE GREATEST! WOOOOOO! ALL 1074 PAGES OF IT EXCEPT FOR THAT STUPID SPEECH!!!! WOOO! AND DESPITE THE FACT THAT THE BACK COVER IS HANGING ON TO THE REST OF THE BOOK BY A FEW DUCT TAPE FIBERS!!!

(poor Eddie Willers)

Alex's Party was cool. Puffy can dance. I'm not sure if he can dance *well*, but he can dance. I'm sorry, Malex, for making the windows in your basement fog up. And we'll replace your cushions. Eventually. The day the music died.

Unofficial Movie Weekend continues! Saw Knight's Tale. His Noble Lady was most irritating. It was funny though. Except it actually took some effort to understand the British-ish accents. And seeing Geoffrey Chaucer naked shall traumatize me forever. MORE JOUSTING ACTION! HAHA! Villains rock.

My parents can make such odd comments about the Phantom Menace. Here goes.

"If Queen Amidala is a queen, then where's her husband?"/ "This looks so much like New York. How do they land the ship with the buildings so close together?" (about Coruscant)/ "Why do they have to land at Tatooine?"/ "Why do people live on Tatooine anyways?"/ "What do you mean the Gungans are speaking English?"/ "Oh, so those are robots?" (about the droid army)/ "Why is Qui-Gon in two pieces?" (about Darth Maul)/ "Is he the king of this planet?" (about Jabba the Hutt)/ "You mean this galaxy has two governments?" (about why the Republican guard and the Naboo Royal Guard are different)/ "They sound Japanese." (On reports of accusations of racism because the Nimoidians have Asian accents)/ "This reminds me of 'Journey to the West.' Why does it take American filmmakers 20 years to do what Chinese filmmakers have been doing for a long time?" (about flying people)/ "Why is there a palace? That doesn't fit a high-tech film."/ "It's the Sea Dragon King and his Shrimp Troops" (about Boss Nass and his hanger-ons, a reference to the undersea kingdom in the Chinese epic, 'Journey to the West', but sounds odd in English)/ "Who's that burning?" (about Qui-Gon's funeral altar)/ "Why did the robots all stop moving?"

Yeaaah. My parents are pretty clueless when it comes to sci-fi.

Hmm. Idle thoughts. I have her boss' e-mail.

My mom can be insufferably stupid. She doesn't believe me when I say that trains were invented before cars. This would be.. tolerable.. if she weren't a civil engineer.

My parents have been screwing around with our new DVD player. So it's been the unofficial movie weekend for us. Saw the Fandom Menace again and enjoyed it as much as I did the first time. I was awed and boggled like a liddle kiddy. I noticed/felt different things from when I saw it the first two times, which makes me think that movie reviews are totally arbitrary, depending on your mood when you see the movie. Critics and their pretentious crap piss me off. So it was pretty good for what it was worth, though I woulda changed some things. Like push Jake Lloyd and his stupid midochlorians off a cliff. Anyways. Here are some things you probably didn't notice/know..

The pattern on the ceiling of Anakin's room is the same pattern on Darth Maul's face-
One of the guys sitting in the crowd at the pod racing scene is Warwick Davis, who place Warwick the Ewok in Return of the Jedi.
The pod racing crowd scene was created by blowing multi-colored q-tips with a blow dryer.

And some other stuff you don't care about. Anyhoo.

How fucking bizarre. A 24 year old Russian chick just sent an e-mail saying she wants to date me because supposedly she saw my profile on an online dating service. What the hell? I think it's just bulk mail trying to get me to get a profile. You guys may appreciate her more though. She's hot.

Quoting Nick B out of context. "They must do it pretty often at female sleepovers." -Nick B on female masturbation.

Women suck. They're catty, backstabbing, gregarious sheep. I'm glad I'm straight so that I don't have to date them. Whores. See, I'm glad that there isn't like an island run by women or anything because they'd all kill each other within three weeks with their conniving. At least a Male Island would be doing something cinematic like dropping bowling balls on each other's heads with planes and doing like.. I dunno, manly things like cavalry charges. Guys are more direct and rational. I don't see how they deal with chicks. It must drive them up the wall.

Like most girls, I have hypocritical fashion nitpicks for other people, because I'm perfect. Okay.

I should.. um. I'm perfect. My hair needs more volume. Maybe highlights. I need like, real clothes. Except those would be expensive. GUCCI. (Alex says, "contacts". Shut your face)

Alex is not noticing any of this stuff. BOY. He DOES, say, though, that "Mr. Willard looked good today. Normally he looks insane. His haircut sucks with the whole bang thing. I don't know what was different today; but he did look not as insane. And when he talks he looks like a FREAK. Have you noticed that? He looks like he's enunciating a bunch." No.

Alex says he's a mad hacker and you might see a post by him soon. MWAHAHAHAHAHA! And a map of Hawaii. hE's disturbing me.

Slept. Feeling better. Unpanicked. But still cruddy.

Oh, I'm silly. I believe I'm being hysterical. Ignore me. Sleeep.

Ah. I know what I'll say when I don't have a Samizdat article tomorrow. "I was.. uh.. feeling uncomfortable with my subject area. ... heh.." Let's write about Kraft maceroni and cheese. I'll be fine tomorrow, I hope. I get random emotional spazzes sometimes, well, no, once before on the first and second day of school when I got hella depressed for no reason at all, so this must be one of those except with panic. PANIC! PANIC! PANIC! Okay, I'm not done i'm done done. Right. i'm imrpessed I cann still spell and capitalize. I think I'll sleep. Ay there's the rub. Watch me die in my sleep. That'd be funny.

Crud, I wish I weren't being haunted by demons from hell. Now I need a new Samizdat topic, because a visit to Satan's homeland may be a little much right now. Or a new passtime at least. I know. Writing trivial Blog entries. YES! HAHA! (Quiet you, it's keeping me sane. Alex. You feel sorry for me. Bring me some prozac and chocolate tomorrow... yesyesyesyesyes.. *giggle snort stomp randomsoundeffect*) What am I HIGH on?

Oh, goody.

*nervous laughter* Oh god. There's got to be something I can do besides gnawing on my knuckles. fuckkkk

It's been a normal day, but I've been feeling funny. Sort of like a violin string that's been wound too tightly. I don't know why. It's the day after Thanksgiving Break and everyone's all relaxed and in a good mood, except for me. I have this 'black rising wave of panic' feeling going on, which sounds like something off of Nick's Goth Quote Generator, except it's true. It comes and goes, and I don't know why, and it makes me nervous. It's creepy. I remember yesterday squelching some unpleasant memory. I was thinking, "I never want to remember this for the rest of my life, but it's not like I can consciously block out my memories, so the best thing to do is not think of it." So I didn't think of it. Except today, when I remembered that I was supposed to be Not Remembering and Not Thinking About something. I've been trying to remember it, and going through all the bad memories and deeds I've had that could possibly make me want to black it out, because in order to face this panic thing, I've got to cast some light on its source. But for the life of me I can't remember what It was. Maybe it's a blessing. Apparently I can have selective amnesia.

I don't want to write my Samizdat Satanism article. Because in order to do that I'll have to go back to the Church of Satan page, and it "fills me with fear and wonder". Because it makes Satanism look moral, and it's very rational, simple, intelligent and humorous. I'm not Christian, but I have this feeling of looking into this deep dark cold (dammit, maybe it's because my computer's in the basement) pool, before diving in and losing my soul. I'm nuts. I'm fucking nuts. But I don't want to do this.

Jesus, someone save me.

I didn't get a chance to blog yesterday. It was my second Thanksgiving dinner, on Saturday. Because my sister and my... brother-in-law (god that sounds weird) had dinner with his side of the family on actual Thanksgiving. Once again, I am the king of mashed potatoes. ROCK. And this year, my brother-in-law didn't get drunk as shit and throw up in our bathroom. It made up for me spending all day with my parents in Wal-mart. -_-. At least I got me some Zelda strategy guides. And a magazine with interviews with Lord of the Rings people. All the women in this magazine (the "Women of Science Fiction" posters ad) are half naked. What a time of empowerment.

Went to church today. For a violin recital rehearsal. It's been forever since I've been to church. No love lost. It amuses me to no end that in Lufia, the RPG I got for my friend, to save the game, you have to go inside a church. Basically.. you must go to church to be Saved! It's pretty funny that there are so many church-like buildings in RPG's, but no one's actually Christian.

I bought me some new shoes. They're beautiful. Worship them, mortals. I am easily made happy by material goods. Ahhhh. Luxury.

Today has been the day of belated revelations. Apparently, Chinese and Japanese are really close. 'Cute' in Mandarin is 'ke ai'. In Japanese, it's 'kawaii'. The sad thing is that I've known these two seperate pieces of knowledge for a long time, I just never bothered connecting them until now. Translating from Chinese is a bitch. Here's a poem translated literally by me, for your viewing pleasure.

Grape fine wine night light cup
Before drink piypa horse up blow
Drunk (something) sand field please refrain laugh
Ancient come war how many return?

Now. What the hell is that? Please?? GothJesus, I hope Chinese to English translators get paid more than I do. I'm proud of my translating work on this poem, actually. I can make it rhyme. Here goes. Meter is too much to be hoped for.

Fine grape wine, night's glow in a glass.
Before I drink the sound of a lute on horseback wafts.
Drunk on the sandy battlefield, please don't laugh
Of the ancient pitched battles, how many men come back?

Better, I should hope. Blegh. Cantonese pisses me off. I'm like the only one at school who speaks that dialect and isn't an immigrant from Singapore, except for Chris Lee. I need to change my blog template- it makes my posts look way too long. I'd do it, if I knew how to move my comments too.

Second revelation of the day. Nick S is a Discordian. Hence, Discordo.blogspot.com. And multiple references to Eris. god, I'm so stupid.

I AM THE KING OF MASHED POTATOES.
On another note.
People somehow universally think I'm referring to Nick S in my 11/20 blog. I wasn't. He seems to be quite happily depraved. Anyone with Hawaiian shirts and a seven inch shlong can't be too depressed. I was referring to some sad depressed people I met on The MoFo. I love the place; it's been my home away from home since 6th grade. I love the people. Even if they're crazy. Like Frederik, who got manically depressed about a bus driver telling him not to drink juice on the bus. And got locked inside a museum in Sweden after closing time. And Rich, who insists that Sonic the Hedgehog is real, and heard voices from cartoon characters in his head. There are other depressed people, but they're not as mentally ill, as far as I know. I have enough Angsty friends who're depressed for a variety of reasons, and for the most part the last thing they need is some shit telling how they should be happy and stop whining. I'm thankful for their existance. Even if they aren't thankful for their own.

There's a funny headline on the AIM news ticker. "Girl Crushed By Cross At Brother's Grave." It's a riot! The article itself is quite tragic, which is why I'm not bothering to link to it, but the headline is hilarious. WOOHA! It's too late at night.

Came back from my friend's birthday party. She's addicted to the RPG I gave her. We tried to three-way call Alex, but it was his answering machine, which, due to some technological explanation that I fail to understand, created some endless loop on our phone lines. So we hung up. Lots of Karaoke in Chinese. I am somehow associated with trance music, and "Chicago House". Sounds like the name of a salad dressing. I don't like Thanksgiving. It's BORING.

I'm happy, actually. Without a crack-encrusted trenchcoat. HAHA, I love that term! See, see, little things make me happy, like it being Thanksgiving and me sleeping straight for four days. Woo! Four! Big things never happen to me. I feel I ought to experience things in life to make me elated, like ... I dunno. Snowboarding in the first snow of winter or rock climbing demented sandstone formations or other Mountain Dew/Viagra commercial stuff. I'll take what I've got though. Which is why I'm not depressed.

Good, my blog thing works. I swear I had linked to my Flaming Fork ASCI last time.

Oh, by the way. Go here. It's funny.

I'm being linkariffic, but my life is rather boring, so I'm entertaining you with other people's life happenings instead. I don't know what I'd prefer- feeling profoundly depressed and angsty, or just numb to the world. Not feeling pain may be a curse in itself. The Univalves, or whatever we call ourselves tend to belittle teenage angst as the ranting of the self-important. If you curse, if you go to school dressed in black, if you're horrendously left-wing, we like to brand you as immature attention-getters, and to a certain extent it's true, in that if you truly don't five a fuck about The Man's opinion, why go out of your way to displease him? But just because you aren't starving or you aren't abused doesn't mean that you must be happy. Lack of suffering does not chain you to an obligation to be happy. Well, it's one reason to be happy, but happiness is more than just not suffering. Any animal can Not Suffer. Then it dies, and worms eat it. That's the fundamental principle of teenage angst. You've achieved survival. And then? And then? What do you do with your life? What do you want to do? I suppose you could shake EvilGothBrooders by the collective collars of their crack encrusted trenchcoats and go, "Shut up and LIVE, you motherfucking bastards!" but that's their own battle to fight, and one hell of a battle. Not yours. If that makes any sense at all.

Thespark.com's test says I'm 35% slut. Go me.

Leonids rocked. ROCKED!!!! Motherfuckers. Woooooo!

I had a dream that I blew up a balloon inside a giant atrium, and if I held onto the neck of the balloon, I could fly. I could go lower too, by letting some of the air out. It was fun.

Eh. According to this web survey, I have a seven inch long mental penis. >_< They should have a boob survey for girls. BOOOBBBIESS! Ahem. Sorry. A second time, I filled in what I thought would be the right answers, just for the halibut, and it said I had a three inch penis.

Apparently, I'm going to watch the Leonids in my backyard. Couldn't find a better place for it. I had a week to arrange; you'd think I could have come up with something by now. Nobody's interested anyways. I hope they turn out good; I don't know why I'm so obsessed- maybe it's just that I'm taking a risk going, "Everybody, wake at four in the morning in the dead of pre-winter and come to my place and watch the Leonids" so if they don't show well it'd suck.

GAWD. My parents just gave me a lecture on not having good manners or whatever. I would take it like a man... woman... thing... if it were justified, but I don't take well to lectures out of the blue, supposedly provoked my me not introducing Alex to my dad. Um. A boy drops by for 15 seconds to pick up a book and I ought to introduce him to my parents?? There's like a paragraph of dialogue necessary for that exchange; "Hi, Alex. Here's Richelieu. Cool, see you tomorrow. Have a nice day." Somehow, I don't see where I can work in, "this is my dad" into that little shpiel. MY BAD. Is it not having manners to not do something completely uncalled for? Like, my mom always makes me bring presents to Alex's parties. Which mostly consist of generic crap she bought for male friends should I need to give presents to them. That's ruder than not bringing anything at all; it makes me seem gratuitous, makes everyone else feel awkward, and makes Alex feel awkward because he has to thank me and crap and act all nice when he wasn't expecting anything other than a casual session where everyone gets together at his place.

They claim rather sarcastically in America that I don't need manners in the first place, which I suppose is supposed to shame me into having manners, but if that's how they define manners, I'm glad I don't have them. Manners genuine displays of affection and refinement, not the mechanical motions of trying to be affectionate and refined. Manners are a temporary restraint from spite towards someone else in respect to his humanity. You'd think I could trust my own judgment on what actions are appropriate when and where, but I guess I have to endure my parents beating the opposite actions into my head whenever I act on my own judgment, while claiming to promote teaching me how to use my own judgment in the first place.

You'd think that if they decided to propose something totally repulsive to me that they'd at least do it consistently. "You should be more cheerful and charming to others", "You should stop being so frivolous and take your responsibilities more seriously".

To thine own self be true.

BTW, my mother thinks Nick B is a "well-mannered young man of good breeding." Stand proud. ^__^

Yay, my Blogback engine works now! BTW, go here. It's a picture of Cardinal Richelieu. Miss Wedgwood, he's not that hot. I'm linking to the site, because I feel guilty for just linking to the pictures of Mariemaia Khushrenada earlier, and not giving the sites credit. I'm such a looter. And I just remembered how to link to sites today, instead of leaving you Philistines to cut and paste.

I don't think CV Wedgwood is a necro. Being a necro requires humping, or a desire to hump, dead bodies. Which she doesn't. I don't think anyone with a name like CV Wedgwood has humped anything in years. Besides Richelieu is positively tame. You should see Mary Renault's descriptions of Alexander the Great. I thought it would be funny if CV Wedgwood were one of those hot secretary types in porn films. But she's not. This is a site for Dame Cicely Veronica Wedgwood. Now I feel bad about making fun of her. And now Alex has called me. He lost his Richelieu. Which means I must finish mine in the next like hour so that I can lend it to him so that he can finish it. Madness. I had better start.

The Bivalve's name is Darien. I think. At his insistance, from now on, I shall call him Dob.

Why am I up so late? It's because I'm out to prove a point. Go here and here. And here. Remind you of a certain bivalve guy on Halloween we know? I'm asking this not to be "I Told You So", (well, I am), but because I don't know the Bivalve Guy's name. It's pretty sad. But this was why I was laughing at him so hard on Halloween, when you guys were all staring at me funny for laughing at him so hard. Because he looks like this seven year old anime girl.

She has a very profound quote which I stumbled upon again when I was looking for her picture to "I Told You So" you guys. Here it is:

"History is an endless waltz, so to speak. The triple measure of war, peace, and revolution goes on and on."

Pretty good for a seven year old galactic dictator. This summer, when I had read the quote for the first time, I had thought it profound, but I didn't think much of it. Now it means a lot more to me. It's a bit sad how I get all my quotes from anime or RPGs. Like.
"Justice is not the only right in this world."

Ayn Rand would disagree. But anyhow. I feel I ought to be quoting some eminent ancient philosopher on my spare time, instead of spouting Final Fantasy quotes, but I relate to these more. Well, whatever floats the boat for my generation.

I have discovered a new type of nerd. Male or female, I suppose. Down With The Man Cynical Angst Nerd. It's pretty self explanatory. ALEX. Balsa wood. On a totally unrelated note, I will be upset if I don't see the Leonids on Sunday and have to wait another 33 years for a decent meteor shower just because my parents are like, "It's too cold! It's too early!" If it's too cold and too early, don't go with me. Yes, Alex, I write long blogs. Blogback is not working for me either, Jen, despite me inserting the code in. I'm drawing a "Persistance of Memory" (The melting clock painting by Dali) parody of the Flaming Fork motif. Nick S makes me sad. Something about circumstances. I'm reading his blog, and he's talking about a totally different clique of people. Blogs tend to draw people together, so it's odd that when you read someone's blog it's like you know them so well, but then in real life it's like, "Hi. Bye. Have a nice life." With blogs, I think sometime's it's people's misfortune to be born in the wrong family or on the wrong side of the world. I don't know if humans are inherently good or evil (good, IMHO), but I know that they're inherently capable of being friends, if only we'd let them.

My "Real Medici" rap is not going well. I can't think of anything that rhymes with Medici, or most words in 15th century Italian anyways. It's so unhelpful to find out today that it's pronounce MEDici. It complicates things further. I think I'm appreciating "free style rhyme" a lot more. I don't think this rap will ever see the light of day. It's not a bad rap. Well, it *is* a bad rap. The worst thing is though, it's just not funny.

Ms Martin is being contradictory. Again. She wants us to be more enthusiastic in class. But when we are, she's like, You're offensive and distracting. Jeebus. NOTE: IF YOU HAVE NO PEOPLE SKILLS, DON'T BECOME A TEACHER!! I think we're as good enough to her as can be expected. It's not like we throw spitballs in the room or insult her. We're just dispassionately academic. Which must drive her nuts. Sort of like how Andrew drives me nuts. She tells us to do things; we do it. We don't do it joyfully. Whoop de DOO. I don't know what she wants. If she wants us to be enthusiastic, which, IMHO, is not one of the rights demanded by her position of authority (as opposed to basic respect and courtsey) she ought to make it feel like we can say what we'd like without arbitrarily yelling at us. If she wants us to talk, she shouldn't expect everything we say to be Head Up My Ass Profound.

I'm reading Abbie's blog. I'm thinking, that it's good to have faith in something. It doesn't matter what it is, just have faith in something. For me, it's the belief in the inherent goodness in humanity and the perserverence of the human spirit. It's been my life raft among other things, because I think I've systematically dismantled every belief system thrown at me except for that one. I'm reading her blog, and I'm thinking that once upon a time I felt the same overwhelming exhaustion and the same cry for redemption of some sort. It wasn't any sort of rebellious martyrdom, just a feeling of being incredibly tired of the world, and seeking the clarity of escapist fantasy, like actually having things like true love, pure evil, true friends, true freedom, true loyalty, and real purpose, instead of so many sickening shades of gray. I don't think I've really stopped- I just found more of those things in the world I live in, so I find I'm not half as tired anymore as I would make myself to think.

I try not to be irrational in my ranting. I find that it does me no good, no matter where I am, people will judge me, not based on the intensity of my emotions but the quality of my reason. I get the rep online of being "heartless girl" or whatever, which I find to be amusing. The reason I, and people in general, blog, I think, is to seek some sort of approval, admiration or pity from other people which I might not elict otherwise. Will it work? Probably not. I don't care, I'm blogging anyways. But I do care. So. Cry, people. Wallow in my angst. I will be satisfied.


.

Have you ever seen anything catch on fire? Well, I don't mean, like, anything. I mean, like, a building catch on fire. When I was going to see Fools, on the way, Party Land was on fire. Like, literally a wall of fire, the back side wall of Party Land. And a van parked next to it. I don't know, I've never seen anything on fire, besides a van by the side of a road once. I mean, really on fire. Destructive fire. Not fireplace, chemistry or movie fire. It was on fucking fire. I'm fairly sheltered; I've only seen a handful of violent things firsthand in my lifetime, so I guess I'm lucky. My friend's dad was driving along Rockville Pike, and we saw a whole bunch of red and blue lights from police cars and fire trucks flashing in the middle of the night, and plumes of smoke and water being illuminated by.. I don't know. Something. I expected to cause to be some stupid trash can blaze,or the fire to be out and smoldering. Well, we pass this curve in the road, and the fucking building is on fire. My friend told me there probably wasn't anyone in it. I was pretty sure there wasn't anyone in it. I don't know why I was so sure at the time.. now I think that I'm sure that there was no one in it, because it's a small, one storey store. There wouldn't have been old, handicapped, sleeping or feebly sick people in there. Employees and customers can just run 30 feet or so the front or back door. But I think the reason why I was so sure at the time is that I don't think I could have on a good conscience gone on and enjoyed a play after watching people in a building burn. I never thought that things could.. actually catch on fire. Only on the news or in movies. You'd think that after 9/11 I would start thinking of everything as possible, but I guess some people never learn.

The Bivalves piss me off. They're stealing all my friends.

I WAS going to blog yesterday, but the blogger site was down. Sucky. I should learn a few things about humility. PuffyAndrew&Rob wiped me and Alex's collective asses with their project. SUCK!

Alex, you owe me balsa wood. I'm going to see Fools. Tonight. Fear me.

I'm blogging today. Three days later. I'm beginning to think it's impossible to blog everyday.

I hate my body. It's too high maintenance. I wish I could be a perfect Asimovian robot or something. Dentists are evil. I happen to not enjoy swallowing my own blood. It's a bodily fluid that doesn't belong there. I don't mind temporary pain, like taking a shot, but dentist appointments are an hour of evil. Brush. Teeth. Better. If I remember after this week.

http://www.songbirdcry.com/Lighthouse.htm Songs don't usually make me want to cry, but this one's very sad.

Calculus is actually becoming useful. Last year David said it would, but I didn't believe him. Speaking of Puffy, Seth cut his hair. I'm traumatized.

I'm rather enjoying math now. Because I'm a freak. And physics.

Willard's Halloween bash was a lot better than one most ravers could throw. BLUE RING OF FIRE!! FOOOOOSH! HOO-AH! I think I'll do that trick with AILD.

I finally found out why I consider Andrew P to be oddly fascinating. It's this. I can't stick him into a category. You'd think I'd know a whole bunch of types of guy dorks by now. Like there's the Political Guy Nerd, and the Dramatic Shakespearean With Literary Ambitions Guy Nerd, and the WarWarWAR!! Guy Nerd, and the Gaming & Card Games & Hobby Shop Guy Nerd and the OTAKU OTAKU anime Guy Nerd and the HistoryFreak Guy Nerd and the ILoveMathDuuuuhh Guy Nerd, the Computer Programming Guy Nerd and the Creepy Stalker Guy Nerd and the JustPlainUgly Guy Nerd. Andrew P (I should just call him Andrew, since there's only one) is... I have no idea. He's like... Foolish Mortal I Will Damn Your Soul Guy Nerd.

I promised that I would blog today. Actually, I promised that I would blog every day, so I'm like two days late. Things have just been coming up so that I can't get online and blog. I'm sort of addicted. I feel closer connected to you people because talking in writing is so much different from talking talking. Sound and crap. I dunno. I like this better. Maybe I'm just antisocial. I also promised I'd go on Two Towers more often. Sooorrry, Azzie. :( Sorry, sorry. I have to go eat dinner and then do kung fu. So this is my filler blog.

I just found Jen's journal. I just linked to it. I feel guilty, because she's been linked to me for a long time now. My fairy name is stupid. But. Andrew P is "Gossamer Pepperweb". BTW, whenever I comment, I have this urge to type in my internet handle, not my real name. I must spend too much time online.

I'm reading my blogs again. Apparently, I do all of my blogging at 4 in the afternoon.

I added a comment engine, like Alex said. I'm his smiling cupid slave. Without the fans, and wearing clothes. I wish html were easier. I mean, it's already obscenely easy, but since I'm the consumer, I demand the universe revolve around me, and make everything easy. I just figured out why I wasn't getting any comments. Yes. I am slow.

I'm sorry! So sorry! For not updating enough. I'm incredibly outblogged, now that I have to keep up with everyone else's blog. It's worse than keeping track of one message board all the time. I'll have to wear a hair shirt to convey my penance. And lend this passage a quality of ominous power. No. Haha, Alex, you suck. I did my "original narrative' during physics, AND I got to go to the art gallery. You suck, you shoulda been there. No, I wasn't the girly who poked Raphael's "Madonna and Child." I wish. It was hella fun. Some of the pictures seemed to be glowing and crap. Like, there was this picture of two teenage girls in a window waving, so it was like me and Janis looking at them waving at us looking at them waving at us. That was great. And this one of a random canal in Venice. Kick... ass... art... *drool*. I want to be a homeless bum in the National Gallery. So that when I ask people for a dime or something, I can be like, "Hey, this is my house!" and show them the fountain with the bronze Hermes on it and my little tropical flower garden and my splendid "living room" with the oak writing desk and comfy chairs and various pompous portraits and an electric chandelier on a chain, and my kickass "private gallery" with the only Da Vinci in the western hemisphere. And I could subsist on cafeteria food and t-shirts with Monet and Whistler on them. I could be the world's most educated bum ever. Ayn Rand would hate me. I have no ambition whatsoever. Except to learn as much about world cultures as I possibly can. You know, like National Geographic stuff. I, unlike you ignorant heathens, actually read the articles. Joy. Plus, I got a nice 'peanut butter ghost' from some guy outside the art gallery for taking a survey. Rock on.

Atlas Shrugged is too damn long. I'm like 300 pages into it and dying already. I need a good, banal 'intermission novelet'. I could watch 'The Black Knight' when it comes out. It's about some guy from the Hood who gets sent to England in the 14th century. Mr. Thomas would DIE if he saw the trailer. It looks totally retarded. So I have to see it. "WHO BE YE???" "Who be I??? You be DEAD if you touch me again!" It's really banal. I don't feel like being philosophical. I argue too damn much as it is.

PS: Is it just me or does Mr. Gaffney look REALLY retarded with a mustache?
PPS: Nick, you must be in a better mood tomorrow. Or I shall be forced to backfist you again. Repeatedly. Guacup!!! Chingpao!!! I'm too lazy to slap you.

I'm reading Alex's blog. He's thinkariffic. Weird, I'm usually of the opinion that everyone is happier than I am (*insert egotistical teenage angst here*) but I guess not. Well, I know that everyone else angsts but just don't hang their dirty laundry up to dry, so most of the time I forget. It's a general rule that other people look so happy until you live with them.

I was also thinking that if I ever got a tatoo, it'd be a calligraphy Pi symbol on my hipbone. Doesn't matter which one. I dunno, it seems like a meaningful symbol of human intelligence, but not just that... but um... human integrity? People look at me funny when I tell them I want pi on my pelvis, but I really do believe that. I'm a humanist. I warned you. No one would ever be able to see it though, unless I one day chose to wear low-riding jeans and a tank top. Woo. YES that's so me. Rhinestone studded jeans and a torn spaghetti strap camo tank top. Maybe I'll get Hermes' wings tatooed on my ankles. That might be overdoing it. T wants angel wings tatooed on her back. Like Rinoa.

I wonder what Nick and Alex would get for tatoos. Andrew wouldn't get a tatoo. If I looked at him, or showed him my blog, he'd wonder a) why I'm consistantly spelling "tattoo" wrong, and b) he'd look at me over his glasses and blink, and then incredulously enunciate, "Why?" And I'd answer something really stupid like, "Um, I was just wondering" or "You'd look cool with a tatoo." And Nick... I dunno, he's flamboyant but not extroverted though he might get one just for the halibut. I don't know what of. Maybe something in Latin. Something like, "Veni, Vedi, Vici" or ...uh. I dunno. Lorenzo D' Medici's balls. Or something totally retarded like "Please mind the gap." Alex would get.. um... something symbolic and thinkariffic whose significance I'd miss. Something real manly like the logo of "Dragon Warrior." No. But I can see him doing that.

The Catapult Museum Online is down. It makes me sad. :( I was gonna design my own trabuchet.

I'm in an insufferably good mood. HA.

I like scootering. Because my bike is flat. Alex's bike isn't flat. Homaster. Rock Creek park is really nice this time of year, BTW, because the leaves are all golden and crap. I went under a bridge where cars were going over, and I climbed up the scree under the rafter/support/pylon thingies. It's kinda weird having like a ton of steel and combusting engine oil going at 50 miles an hour 3 feet above your head. It sorta sounds like you're on a beach and the surf is coming in, except it never goes out. I need to go check out
that Lunar Bridge website thing. Alex. remind me. Plus, I got water all over my feet by turning on the wrong part of the water fountain. Maybe it's for washing off dog crap or something.

My October 22 post scares me. I'm editting it. It cuss too much, and it's not very nice. Now I really wanna peanut butter sandwich.

I've been in a bad mood today. People seem to be universally pissed off at me and misconstruing things I say so that it seems like my life is a perpetual argument. I mean, even the things I do for fun are a perpetual argument. Like playing Zelda and tearing my hair out over them puzzles or reading "Atlas Shrugged", which is basically an attack on my belief system even if it's a good book and Ayn Rand's been dead for.... ?

But it's all right. Never underestimate the value of a good friend. I love you, Azzie. In a platonic way,of course. :)

http://www.sciam.com/news/062101/1.html
Dry water!

Whenever I log onto anything I always have trouble coming up with names. Sometime it's easy, if what I'm logging into has a definite audience- if it's people I know, it's usually my realname because it'd be pretty stupid to log in using a handle like MegaBabe5341 or something. I use different names to roleplay, and that isn't a problem because the people I'm roleplaying aren't supposed to be me anyways. God this is inane but I'm glad I'm typing it because 15 minutes ago when I was talking to Alex I felt that I didn't have anything to talk about, and how that always happens to me. Sometimes I just really want to write down everything I think, but I don't have a pen with me, and when I do have a pen or a keyboard with me, I don't have a thing to write. But most of that time that's when it's like the middle of the night, and the Midnight Muse has come to pay me a visit and GOD she pisses me off, because I just want to sleep and not think about jack like the meaning of life, because it isn't going to help me any. But when I'm actually writing a lot of the times I don't have naything to say. It's why I don't keep diaries. They piss me off. I piss me off. I don't like reading what I wrote.

ANYWAYS. Names. I was talking about names. I can't find the one word that defines me, and I feel there ought to be one, even if I can adequately find a word that defines that facet of my personality that I'm typing under. I should have used 'amorphous' as my name, but whatever. What the hell was I talking about? Every name I've used has its own personality like its own face, and everyone I talk to with that face see me like that.

I dunno, maybe it's not so much as me changing as people's perceptions of me, or people making me feel different in comparison to them. Hell. I want to get me a peanut butter sandwich.