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.