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.