| Pointless Web Survey |
[Jul. 12th, 2006|11:18 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  exhausted | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | See-Saw (J-Pop) | ] |
(Click here to post your own answers for this meme.)
| ✓ I miss somebody right now. |
✓ I don't watch much TV these days. |
✓ I own lots of books. |
| ✓ I wear glasses or contact lenses. |
✓ I love to play video games. |
✓ I've tried marijuana. |
| ✓ I've watched porn movies. |
× I have been the psycho-ex in a past relationship. |
✓ I believe honesty is usually the best policy. |
| ✓ I curse sometimes. |
✓ I have changed a lot mentally over the last year. |
× I carry my knife/razor everywhere with me. |
( it goes on... ) |
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| In absentia... |
[Aug. 1st, 2005|04:12 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | bewildered | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Tatu (mm, angsty russian pop) | ] |
I have been missing for quite a while from this whole blog thing. Not having posted for months is no excuse to post now, but it's August 1st, this is the last week of work, and classes start back up a few days after. It seems as good a time as any to reconnect with all facets of being, duct tape the pieces together, and pull myself forward into the next phase of life (or at the very least, the next season).
I find myself seriously reconsidering the whole IP thing (what a pretentious name anyway!), but it's a little late now, and perhaps not worthwhile to wreak havoc on my schedule. Maybe I really would rather deal with criminals than the suits; there's something honest about drug abuse, at least. But who can say, honestly, until a comparison can be made with adequate knowledge of both environments? So let us wait.
Sometimes it's fun to put a song on repeat while I drive, and just let it drown me; it makes me feel passionate, as though I am the type of person that can live in the beat of the moment.
I have officially gone one entire year without doing anything artistic. Funny, I don't feel any different. Or is that what the man says as his soul is dying, when he no longer feels the loss for the numbness instilled by the lack of mental nourishment? Melodrama can be entertaining.
I think the next three weeks will be rather eventful (that is to say, I will be occupied at least), but maybe afterwards...
I can rediscover that missing facet, hidden beneath the duct tape. Again, let us wait.
Thus posted, in absentia, for my self I have yet to find... |
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| C O G |
[Jul. 9th, 2003|02:27 pm] |
It's really incredible, mostly because it does not use any camera tricks. Go check it out, and prepare to be amazed.
***COG***
It's a dance of simplicity and complexity that somehow speaks of the precarious balance of life. |
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| To Memories |
[Jun. 25th, 2003|11:12 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  groggy | ] |
The tiny straw offered nothing from the empty glass. Thus began the long trek to an oasis of upside down glasses and sparkly bottles. A light touch on my shoulder and a very tall gentleman looking down impeded my final approach.
"Do you have an ID?"
The wallet flipped open to reveal an unsmiling man peeking out through his plastic prison. The tall gentleman shook his head, giving birth to a metamorphosis of highlights dancing on his shaved scalp like will-o-wisps.
"Nevermind, I remember you."
"Wait, you already ID'd me when I came in!"
Laughter swirled through the smoke of old cigarettes. My hands in jacket pockets found protection from the open stance and left the wallet behind.
"That just goes to show you shouldn't drink on the job." The glass in his hand, previously unnoticed, made a clink-clink noise as ice cubes danced against the sides.
He wandered off in search of undercover minors, chuckles yet spilling forth. Diligence shined, only slightly tarnished by lack of restraint, but did I really look so young anymore?
A short hop onto an uncomfortably high stool later, I nodded to the bartender to get her attention. In my peripheral vision nestled an old black lady. She huddled next to me, cupping her empty glass and staring off into distant thoughts. Her eyes, whose every movement sent pinpoints of reflected bar lights dancing, whispered of longing. The scene reminded me of National Geographic.
While pulling out my wallet, clumsy hands inadvertently freed the Kodak envelope I had picked up earlier in the day. The unusual sound of its contents spilling onto the wooden floor was a sharp contrast to the murmur of indistinguishable conversations and managed to disturb the lady's reverie. Only a glance was offered at first, but the sight of photos caught her gaze. She slid off her stool and helped me with my retrieval, though her knees obviously pained her. The kindness tugged at my heart.
We both returned to our seats with stacks of images of my recent trip. The top one in her collection was of a group of people sitting around a table, raising a toast with moist glasses of amber liquid. Everyone looked happy.
"May I?"
I smiled my acquiescence. She thumbed through the photos slowly, spreading the ones she liked on the bar like tarot cards. She added my stack to hers and continued perusing. Then she reached the last one, a photo of a shirtless boy standing amidst corn stalks, taking a bite of a sugar cane. He looked to the left, seemingly unaware of the camera. His smile spoke of the joy of the innocent youth that can find pleasure in such simple things. She looked deeply, as though trying to discern the story behind the scene, or perhaps just to memorize every detail. He must have seemed exotic to her, like something out of National Geographic.
"That's my nephew." I said quietly, so as not to startle her. "He has a sweet tooth. He often cuts his hand on the cane's peelings. Once, it was so bad he had to see the village doctor. But it didn't stop him from eating it."
"The perseverance of children."
I nodded. She added the last photo to her display and looked at all her favorites sprawled before her. She asked questions about each, and I explained the scenes. Through our conversation and the photos, she came to know some members of my family, living thousands of miles away on the opposite face of the world. She shared in their lives, if only in the moments captured by the camera.
When she quenched her curiosity with her last question, I remembered my own thirst, and looked up to find the bartender standing before me, watching and listening.
"Here, let me buy you a drink. What'll you have?"
She glanced up from my nephew and his sugar cane.
"The usual."
"I'll have a screwdriver."
"We're out of orange juice. But there's this orange stuff that tastes pretty close to the real thing."
"No, just two of her usual then."
Taking out money to pay for the drinks reminded me of something. Groping fingers in my jacket pocket found what they were looking for, and I brought forth a few coins.
"Hey, do you want one of these?" A coin larger and thicker than a quarter shone in the bar light.
"Hey, a Chinese Yuan." The bartender, returning with two whiskeys on the rocks, surprised me with her recognition. "Those aren't worth much, are they? I hope you aren't paying with them." She laughed to show she was joking.
"No, not much. It's worth a little more than a dime, really. But she could look at it sometime, and maybe it'll remind her of people in faraway places and a little boy with a sweet tooth."
The old lady hoisted her whiskey.
"I'll drink to that."
"To memories."
We drained our glasses. She smiled, every movement of her eyes sending pinpoints of reflected bar lights dancing. |
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| sketch #1 |
[Apr. 26th, 2003|01:56 am] |
First of my ~1 hour sketches, although this one turned out to be more 1.5 hours.
I know I said I'd start a few days ago, but something came up. Better late than never?
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 21st, 2003|05:57 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  impressed | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Mono - life in mono | ] |
As inspired by ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) wikdotsys...
[addendum]
12 Spend ~1 hour on rough sketch daily. |
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| lament life fo' sho' |
[Apr. 20th, 2003|09:58 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | FakingNotBeingDisappointed | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | pumpkins - bullet | ] |
I woke up at 5 and couldn't go back to sleep. On a Sunday?
Anyway, so I tried to finish this:
But looks like that won't happen, so as I've done for every other picture I start, I will just crop the more finished looking part and pretend like that's what I wanted in the first place.
If I were feeling melancholic right now, I would draw some kind of conclusion about how that is the story of my life, hehe.
I think I'm happy, though, so we'll let it go this time.
but can you fake it
for just one more show |
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| The Way of the Sword |
[Apr. 13th, 2003|10:53 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  weird | ] |
To say that my mood is strange would be an understatement. I woke up feeling such discontentment, but luckily it seems to be fading. I wish I knew why...
Anyway.
I spent hours watching a kendo tourney in Cleveland yesterday. It was fun, overall, but the feelings it invoked were an odd mixture, but more good than bad.
Kendo (kenjutsu), "the way of the sword," being one of the older forms of martial arts originally practiced by Japanese bushi/samurai, is filled with dying traditions. The matches are very formal. At the end of the 3-minute duel (house rules), the opponents meet at the starting point and perform the sheathing ritual, which involves squating, "sheathing" the shinai (the bamboo sword), retreating three to five steps and bowing (rei) before exiting the fighting area.
The true goal of Kendo is to teach people confidence, courtesy and respect for others. A lot of the traditions come from that philosophy, which is why it is a shame that it is a dying one.
Although there are categories in the tournament for children, women, and the various rankings, during team matches, everything goes. Because everyone in the team must fight, and teams are made up of members of any rankings, beginner can sometimes be paired up to fight a master. It was during one of these unbalanced matches that I felt a peculiar... pang (how else to call it?) for humanity in general.
Although the white team's last member was a woman with a fair amount of skill (she won the women's category, an exciting final match, by the way), her opponent on the red team was a fourth degree master. The difference in both fighting style and skill was obvious.
There is something to be said about the spirit of the youth in this. Newer (younger) kendo fighters tend to be more erratic, swinging a lot and hitting each other often, but scoring points (which requires a clean, uncountered shot) less frequently. The more experienced (older) fighters hold their strength in reserve, gauging their opponents with a steadiness and patience that the youthful tend to lack. When they strike, it is usually in a flurry of attacks that is nothing short of amazing. When two masters meet, the fight takes a long time, and frequently one wins more due to luck than any difference in skill.
When the girl came to realize whom she was fighting, she pointed at him and laughed to her teammates a bit helplessly, and they answered her laugh. It seemed that hopeless.
Only a few seconds into their match, after each fighter felt out the other with the shinai, the master struck and gained a point. It was a masterful stroke against her do (body armor), and one of the most difficult to pull off, because it requires a clean slice from the target's right side to left side of the abdomen (house rule dictates which side is point-worthy), the easiest area to guard, executed while stepping into the target's reach, finished before she can respond with a counter attack. He was that fast.
Because a match is fought to two points, they squared off once again, and this time, she was visibly much more cautious in approaching him. They stared off for almost two minutes just circling around and watching each other with palpable intensity, and then both attacked at the same time. Strike-counter-strike-counter. No points. But just as time was about to run out, she struck again, and somehow managed to hit his kote (wrist guard) cleanly. More amazingly, his counter to her throat missed (strikes must hit a very small target area with a specific part of the shinai to count). The match ended in a draw, though red team advanced because of total points. Some of the people there were certain that he had missed that stroke on purpose, but I'd like to think otherwise. To miss on purpose would have belittled both opponents. And with samurai, that seems as bad as murder.
After the match, when the teams were lining up to exchange bows, the old master took off his kote and knelt to her, bare hands on the ground. She tried to stop him, but there was nothing she could do. So she ripped off her kote and knelt back. They exchanged the traditional bows that old masters give one another after a duel.
It was really touching. My friend (who had invited me) and I looked at each other and just smiled. (He lost his match, by the way. Heehee.)
On the other hand, I felt saddened that this kind of courtesy seems to be a rarity in the modern world. It's just another small irony of life that people who train to fight should be the kindest to one another.
Now I want to do kendo. There are logistics issues. The closest team is in Cleveland, and I think they only meet on Mondays. Driving back to Portsmouth every Friday seems a bit much. But I will work it out somehow.
If I try hard enough, I will be in the tourney in Cleveland next year getting my ass whooped by Koreans (the korean team won). Hahahahaha.
[list]
11. Learn the way of the sword. |
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| Lists |
[Apr. 9th, 2003|12:59 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  predatory | ] |
I'm making a list. It is my first one ever. I've always wanted more willpower, but much like any sort of strength, if not exercised, it wastes away. And for some reason I feel like I've been too lax in... everything. Somehow, writing it down makes it feel more binding, so here is my List:
1 No more pizza (eat healthier foods).
2 Finish my projects.
3 Be more accepting of people.
4 Participate in physical activity.
5 Limit myself to hourly gaming sessions.
6 Find new hobbies, or revisit old ones (ref #5).
7 Stop mistaking beauty and brains for common interest.
8 Go to bed at a decent hour.
9 Decide by the end of this semester.
(10) Obey the List, for the List is Sacred.
The List has gone into effect.
Some of these will be difficult. But we can do it; We have the technology. |
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| Another one... |
[Apr. 7th, 2003|09:49 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | chipper | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Anastasia Soundtrack (mp3 format) | ] |
<--Strange Dream-->
I was in love. But that wasn't the strange part (or maybe it was).
There was a best friend. It reminds me of the situation in The Count of Monte Cristo. But that gives away a lot of the plot, doesn't it?
So we were walking down a forested path, and I was feeling innocently satisfied with my life, much like Little Red Riding Hood must have felt on her walk. Suddenly, I found myself dying. No, it wasn't clear in the dream, either, exactly what was happening, but the situation isn't important anyway. The point is that somehow I knew my imminent death was caused by my so-called friend, who was after my girl. She looked on rather horrified, but helpless to the circumstances. The friend (otherwise known as The Villain henceforth) convinced her there was nothing to be done. Believing me dead, they left me in the forest. (Bear with me; it's a dream.)
So there I lay, dead, but not. I felt some surge of energy, and I knew then that all my virtues were stripped from me (in dreams, I have virtues). Strength, courage, honesty, loyalty, morality, et al. were all taken away and incarnated, given man-shape. He was rather tall and hulking, as virtues incarnate tend to be. He looked down at my broken body and felt sorrow for my pain, having great empathy for all beings, but he left me as well, turning down the path to follow my beloved in order to watch over her and protect her from what I now knew was The Villain. Though I did not desire to be alone in my death-like state, I silently bade him to hurry, because the one goodness left in me was love for her.
I had lain there for years, but finally recovered from the mysterious affliction. By then, all memories were lost, except a vague sense of love lost. I made my way out into the world, and found myself in the midst of World War II. Somehow, I got a job as a propagandist for Hitler's regime, and went around countries passing out fliers. There was no sense of right or wrong, because my virtues were no longer a part of me. For some months I made my treks across the lands, warping the thoughts of the populace to support the atrocities of the war.
One day, while journeying through a forest not unlike the one in which I nearly died (what is it with forests?), a fairy suddenly appeared. I think it was supposed to be like a fairy godmother/father, except that it was actually six winged serpents twined together. I watched its tails writhe, completely fascinated by the dance of its many tongues, and completely missed the first part of the conversation. It was very polite, though, and repeated a warning about the corruption of my soul doing the work of Hitler. I shrugged, still having no sense of morality. That must have taken it aback, because it hissed. Having little patience, as I expect my fairygodanything would not, it decided on the spot to remove all my vices. Thus, once again I felt that surge of energy, and my vices were pulled from my being. I felt cleansed. Or rather, I felt empty, much like how a newborn must feel, if it were aware of such things.
I thanked the serpent-fairy and continued on my way, discarding the propagandist job in favor of searching for my beloved, whom I had never truly forgotten.
After another indeterminable amount of time, I find her in a garden. There were dogwoods in bloom everywhere. It was a very nice place, very peaceful.
Then I saw her. She was looking at something on the ground. It was my face.
I looked down at my reflection in a small puddle of water, and it was blank, with only holes where the eyes, nostrils and mouth should have been. Somehow I had lost it, and there it was, on the ground in front of her. She touched my cheek, and I thought I saw myself smiling. The way it flowed like some loosely bound jelly made me look a little like an anime character, yet it was obviously my face. She was happy. And I, in turn, was also happy. She picked up the face, and I thought she was just about to put it on her own, when all hell broke loose.
A fierce, shadowy, beastly thing (how else to describe it?) reared up behind her and grabbed her arm. It hungered to touch her, but its touch burned. She screamed. I panicked. Luckily, a great roar of outrage heralded the arrival of my virtues. It took a hold of the monster with its huge hands, and with a great squeeze, destroyed it. In tendrils of shadowy mists, the remnants of the beast disappeared. My beloved sank to the ground, but as she regained her composure, she looked up at her savior and screamed with renewed panic. Until then, I had not realized that the being that was my naked virtues could seem monstrous to someone, but I suppose it was very unsettling.
Hurt by the reaction, it crept back and left this place, left my beloved. My heart broke, because in a way she had rejected me, even if only in part. I knew then that something was very wrong.
The six-twined-serpent fairy appeared behind me then, and whispered, "Behold, your virtues have destroyed your vices. You are forever incomplete, and she will never recognize you now. That is the folly of not recognizing all aspects of yourself." It was true. Until that moment, I had not realized that the removal of my vices must have created a similar being, forced it into a man-shaped creature that hid from me, because I could be sly. I was an empty shell now, devoid of both virtues and vices, unrecognizable. The only thing that seemed me was my face, which she yet held in her trembling hands. Only that and faded memories of me were left to her.
I stole another look at her radiance. She was crying, clutching my face to her like she was protecting a precious thing, or maybe a child. Right then it felt somehow cruel to me.
I turned around and closed my eyeholes to the world. Only the scent of the dogwood blossoms and the sound of her weeping pervaded my senses. Inside was an empty shell, slowly being filled with drowning sorrow.
<--End Strange Dream-->
I wonder what happened to The Villain? Hm. |
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| Financial Engineering -- Back to the drawing board... |
[Mar. 31st, 2003|11:56 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  dorky | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Inner Voices' Chorus of Laughter | ] |
At the lovely college of business, the newly instituted Financial Engineering program recently came into huge amounts of grant and donation money (I hate the word "moneys"). With it, they've been working incessantly to create a Financial Engineering lab, in which there are two huge plasma screen TV's (each unit costing about $15000), 30 dual-proc $6000 xeon machines with dual flat panel displays ($800 each) with dual 68 Gig SCSI HDD flying at an amazing 15000 rpm (your disk drive probably does 7200 rpm, more or less the standard for most IDE drives), an overhead state-of-the-art projection system (about $50000), ticker-display around the room (no idea the cost, but I'm sure it's a running tab for the live updates), god knows how much for room construction/renovation and all the support/maintenance shit, and a security system that rivals fort knox, minus the heavily armed marines, all surrounded by fortified glass walls fixed with live streaming digital cameras because golly, what's the point of having a super-duper room if people can't SEE it? But the most incredible thing of all (besides the idiots they have working on installation) is that they spent $1800 on chairs. EACH chair. One-thousand-eight-hundred-dollar chairs. You might think "Gee, they must be nice chairs, for that kind of money." Well, yeah, they are "nice." They'd probably survive a nuclear blast, and are made with an indestructible mesh that was probably hand woven by little kids in Indonesia (or China more likely) but they aren't that COMFORTABLE. It's so... ridiculous. When they told me how much they cost, I couldn't believe it. -These- chairs are $1800? I felt them again, and as if by magic, they almost seemed more comfortable. I played with the 4 little dials/knobs/doohickeys that changed the various levers and whatnot on this thing, but really, no kidding, $1800 each, you say? And there are 40 of these? Neat, I thought, these are the finance people making the decisions... the same ones that will be teaching future finance whores who will supposedly be paid big bucks to make bigger bucks for big-ass companies. And oh lord, I'm in the finance program. Hm. The prof in charge of the setup was so PROUD of his $1800 chairs. "The University's president's chair doesn't come close." Somehow my opinion of the university president went up a little bit upon hearing that. I am also sure that her chair is more comfortable, if not quite as indestructible.
At least when the bio/nuclear weapons finally hit us here in the States, my university will have chairs in perfect condition, occupied by corpses and ashes. But what the hell? That's what's really important.
By the way, the grand opening of this room is slated for April 3rd, if anyone would like to come down and touch the chairs. |
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| Wakeful Wonderings |
[Mar. 29th, 2003|08:30 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  thirsty | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | John Lennon - Imagine | ] |
(To sleep, perchance to dream...)
She came by innocently enough, to offer her assistance on my project. She was brilliant when it came to this stuff, I had heard. But as our eyes met, it was as if I had in all that time been a forlorn wanderer finally coming home. There was a palpable heat in that gaze, and under any other circumstance I would have looked away out of embarrassment, if not simple courtesy. But this time, I could not. I would not.
My heart writhed like a firestorm. It pounded like thunder, and every other irrelevant analogy seemed apt then.
Her eyes were all that mattered. Everything else faded away. When she smiled, it was not that her lips were perfect--they were--but that her eyes seemed to dance, and I smiled with her, helplessly caught up in that dance.
"She has a nice rack, huh bro," a co-worker said. It jarred the moment. I looked at him, and he must have understood. He seemed to shrink then, to be in truth as small as his statement. It was just a ritual, and I forgave him. Like dogs baying at distant dreams and sniffing each other's asses, it was a ritual for lesser beasts that knew nothing else. I turned back to her, and there was nothing but her eyes. I breathed, not realizing I had held my breath until I could see her again.
She must have heard my heart beating so wildly, because she reached out and touched me there, laying her hand on my chest. An ache of some unknown weight in my heart eased, and a strong, deep beat took up the chant of her name. I had not felt that pain until the very moment her touch banished it. Words were exchanged between us, but they were just distant echoes of all that was said in that unwavering eye contact. The world seemed all right, then. Everything had its place. A sadness for every unlucky being that had yet to find this truth touched me, but it could not last in that torrent of pure emotion.
Some slight noise pulled me from that moment. Everything faded, and I came to realize that my eyes were closed. It was just a vision. Just a dream. I saw her, but it was all fading, even her eyes.
I knew she loved me, and I her. But can a figment of imagination know love?
I awoke wondering if people experienced this in reality. Only a dream. And it's already fading. The unfelt heaviness is back in my heart, waiting for her touch.
I knew I shouldn't have eaten so late. |
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| Sweet, sweet satisfaction. |
[Mar. 28th, 2003|09:47 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | satisfied | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Nina Gordon - Tonight and the Rest of My Life | ] |
What a spring break. I almost went to Florida to scuba, but the thought of being in a car for 12 hours drove me to decline the trip. I like the group that went, but fatigue made it difficult to cope with a road-trip.
So instead, I watched old movies, ate mom's cooking, read FUN books, ignored all the work I was supposed to be doing, slept a LOT, spent time with the family, saw a play, visited friends, fixed my parents' garage doors, fixed my air conditioner in my car (for $26!), and changed oil in 3 cars. I feel guilty for trashing used motor oil. Images of oil-soaked ducks keep invading my head. WTF.
Just got back to the apartment today. Planning to spend the next two days catching up on school work.
I just had the most satisfying meal EVER... as far as I recall (which isn't that far). I bought about $100 worth of groceries for $50 (everything I wanted was on sale) and when I got home, I felt a strange need to try everything.
I bought $0.99 waffles, turkey, pickles, pb&j (technically preserves), orange juice ($1.88 for Tropicana 64 oz. not-from-concentrate! Ok most people don't care, but I drink orange juice like some people drink wine--by the bottle and in large gulps), Breyer's ice cream (buy-one-get-one-free, yay), among other things.
I had to try out the waffles. Yet I had a strange desire to eat a pickle. So I made a sandwich and added a generous helping of mustard. For some reason I can't quite discern, the conglomeration of mustard-turkey-pickle-waffle-and-syrup-with-orange-juice really hit the spot. I don't think I've ever felt quite this satisfied from a meal before, especially not one so haphazard.
I read random lj entries while eating. A lot of them were about sex in some way/shape/form. There was one about domination/s&m, roleplaying, art, new/old relationships, cuddling, strip clubs, war, et al. I must be in a really good mood, because I laughed at (with?) most of them. They were really inspirational, even the teenie-angsty and/or completely narcissistic entries. Ah, so much fun. Almost puts the fact that the library is charging me $325 for late fees out of my mind. |
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| What are you thinking? |
[Mar. 15th, 2003|06:07 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  numb | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | The hum of old CPU cooling fan. | ] |
It's past 6 a.m. I just finished playing about 12 hours worth of aoe2, soldier of fortune 2, starcraft and warcraft 3 with various insane people. My head hurts. I have 3 exams next week. There are group projects due very soon. Spring break starts in one week. I didn't eat anything since Thursday evening. But Lasagna is cooking in the oven even as I type. I have 6 messages on my answering machine, 3 of them junk. I'm supposed to help someone with HR in the morning. And all I can hear is the sound of camels dying in my head.
Through the haze of pain/confusion/dizziness, I am thinking I would really like to draw something right about now.
Don't build skirmishers! |
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| The Moon's Ever Changing Face |
[Mar. 9th, 2003|02:53 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | disappointed | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Meng Ting Wei - Ni Kan Ni Kan YueLiangDe Lian | ] |
Time is a poison killing me slowly.
My sister is having problems... again. Or maybe she didn't stop. She's teaching an art class at the university, after almost a year of desperately (but not too diligently) searching for a job. It's just one of those times when I think things are peachy-keen and next thing I know, she wants to move out. Right now I'm glad I live 4.5 hours away. Sad. I feel like bitching on here, because I don't bitch anywhere else. But what's the point? Moving on...
I watched about 9 hours worth of anime last night. Scryed and Guu (I don't remember the lengthy name... Jungle Wm Itsumo Hale Nochi Guu or something). Good stuff. Doing finance and watching anime is an unusual combination, and my left brain was struggling with my right brain for domination (I couldn't understand a word, therefore for the most part watching the anime was purely visual, although I do realize that reading is opposite brain function). Surprisingly, although I didn't go to bed until 6 am, I woke up at noon feeling quite refreshed.
People wanted to do stuff this weekend, but I felt antisocial. And somewhat troubled. But time is also a drug that heals all wounds (one way or another). Oh well. |
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| Echoes in the Darkness 2: The Revenge |
[Mar. 1st, 2003|12:52 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| |  pensive | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Chris Isaak - Wicked Games | ] |
There is nothing quite so pointless as bitter laughter. Or maybe it's just such a shame. Even evil laughter has a tinge of hysterical joy in it; It invokes a sense of mirth, however twisted. Laughter conjured up from bitterness is so dry, so empty. It appeals to no one. It is desperate, giving off a sense that nothing else is left. Laughter seems to be like alcohol in that it emphasizes the current mood. It just echoes in the emptiness now, amplifying the magnitude of the void, giving a face to the faceless like some perverse sixth sense. I hate it.
So why do I keep laughing?
Stop laughing.
*snicker*
I'm ok now.
One of the labrats is this undergrad who reminds me of myself Back In The Day. He's so introverted. He spends all his time downloading anime and playing video games. Except he's bad at math. I don't really get that. I'm trying to break him out of his shell, a little. In a way, it's a big-brother kind of thing to do, but in reality I'm just trying to fix something in him that I wish someone had helped me with when I was his age. Life isn't just a box of chocolates, there's vanilla and strawberry and board games and relationships and yeah, a lot of other flavors too. I'm dragging him along to our dinner-and-bowling thing tonight. There will be about 12 people, but he knows most of them in some context, so it shouldn't be too bad. Poor kid. I guess it doesn't help that I play games with him 'til 2 a.m. (no wonder I'm so bleary eyed in the morning classes).
Joe and Jay both got jobs last week. They'll also be there tonight, so the mood should be even more festive than usual. And I won't lose to them this time. I blame it all on the smelly bowling shoes last time, of course. It's gotta be the shoes.
Stop... laughing. |
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[Jan. 17th, 2003|04:26 pm] |
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Joined LiveJournal. Oh but I guess that's kinda obvious. |
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