Colored Ink
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miss something? check the archives about me name: n/aaliases: kit, kits, kit kat, the smart girl, foxay, an chin age: 19 location: oakland, ca hobbies: anime, manga, comic books, reading, writing, doodling, video games likes: all of the above, being lazy, mushrooms, animals, food, laughing loudly in public, SUSHI dislikes: nuts, stinging/biting insects, religious fanatics, violence, olives contact: coloredink(at)gmail.com wishlist playstation 2car a good night's sleep money stress-free life trigun long colt keychain ipod hardon-kardon speakers 19" flatscreen monitor world peace realistic wishlist dayworld by philip jos?farmerkabuki by david mack infernal affairs ii dvd-rom long-term obsessions anime/mangayaoi/shounenai/slash writing music animals life and living current obsession(s) smallvillecurrently reading the dark is rising by susan coopercurrently watching hana yori dango (20)utena (23) witch hunter robin (18) naruto (58) get backers (27) rose of versailles (19) matantei loki ragnarok (15) scrapped princess (14) peacemaker kurogane (15) fullmetal alchemist (28) sailormoon live action (25) smallville (2.19) |
Monday, February 7, 2005 [link] 09:14 p.m. listening to: "Blue Eyes" - Cary Brothers I met my Japanese conversation partners today! They're three Japanese girls, very sweet. Two of them, Satoko and Noko, like Johnny Depp, and the third is a Harry Potter fan (she wants me to call her Hari). Hari seems to have been elected unofficial "spokesperson" of the group; she seems to know more English than the other two and usually translates. While this is helpful in the beginning, I really need to do something to get the other two girls to talk more. I will prevail! Saturday, February 5, 2005 [link] 12:58 p.m. listening to: "Unstoppable" - The Calling My dad's back in the States right now. To do his taxes, he says. Something like that. He's staying with my cousin right now, in Los Angeles. I wonder what he does all day. He wants to know if I'll visit him. Book a plane that leaves on Saturday, returns on Sunday. What do you think I am, I tell him, made of money? He laughs. Well, it's my money, he says. He's always asking me to visit him. Come to me in China, he says. It's easier to move you than move me. You can get student fares. He doesn't know how difficult it is to get student fares. You have to book freakishly far in advance. Freakishly. But he wants me to visit him, and I guess that's his way of saying he misses me. My father's new assistant says he talks about me all the time. I don't know how to balance myself. I want to go to Europe. I do. But my father misses me, I guess, and maybe I miss him, too. I don't know. It's not like there's this hole in my life or anything. It's not like I think about him constantly, or even once a month. People look at me funny, when I say my parents are in China, and that my parents are divorced and I see my mother maybe once a year, when she finds time in her schedule to make a trip. Like I shouldn't be as well-adjusted as I am. Maybe I have abandonment issues. How can I tell? It's something I'm bitter and resentful about, when I'm drunk. Then I rant about how all the important people in my life have all just. . . left. My mother never really wanted kids. I get different stories: she felt obligated, my dad wanted kids, she agreed to have a kid as long as she wasn't responsible for it. Which makes a lot of sense, actually, that last one, because I was raised by one of my aunts, and my mom left for Hong Kong. And why did my aunt come to the States? There was nothing for her here. She doesn't speak the language, she can't drive--she was clearly out of place here the entire time. She was clearly here just to take care of me. And when I became old enough to take care of myself, around age thirteen, she left, too. And when I went off to college, well, my dad moved to China. But when I'm not drunk, you know, it's okay. It really is. Because I was raised to take care of myself, to be self-reliant and not ask other people for help. Friday, February 4, 2005 [link] 11:04 p.m. listening to: "Highway Kind" - Cowboy Junkies For lack of anything else better to do, I blog! . . . I'm waiting for my clothes to dry. Members of my family are brought up to be very self-reliant. Take, for example, the topic of religion. It wasn't really discussed in my family. I've since learned that I have at least one aunt who's a Deist; the rest of my relatives I presume to be either agnostic, or just don't care. That's their attitude, really. There are much more practical, day-to-day matters to worry about. My aunt, who raised me, always told me, "Pray all you like, but in the end what good has that done for anyone? You always have to help yourself." It's a good philosophy, I think. The gods help those who help themselves, after all. Then there's the time I realized that hey, I probably qualify for food stamps! I suggested it to my father, and he'd never even thought about it. It's not that we're too proud to accept help from others, it's that we never even consider asking for help. We take care of our own problems. That's just the way it is. I used to wake my father up in the mornings. By no means, however, am I an independent human being. I have difficulty balancing my checkbook or monitoring my spending. I cannot do math in my head. I put off household chores as long as possible. I cannot drive. I am not completely self-reliant. I like to think, however, that I am a great deal more independent than some of my peers, seeing as how I do, at least, pay my own bills (albeit not entirely with my own money). On time, even! Go me. At some later date I will probably have to talk about whatever latent abandonment issues I have concerning close family members of mine, but I am sleepy. Good night. Friday, February 4, 2005 [link] 12:33 p.m. listening to: nothing Socks are one of those things that are so important and vital, and yet you don't want to spend money on them. In my case, anyway. I wear socks daily. I change my socks daily. I can't abide the thought of wearing sneakers without socks on. I am rather particular about the socks I wear (I favour quarter socks, the athletic kind, which are thicker and cover just over the ankle). I admire other people's socks. And yet, I loathe spending money on socks. Socks are so expensive! But now, I desperately need socks. Due to my habit of a) not trimming my toenails (I just wait for them to break off) and b) walking around without shoes on, but with socks on, my socks wear out with alarming regularity. I have thrown out the socks with gaping holes in the heel and toe, and I find that I have no so many pairs of socks as I first believed. In short, I will need to buy socks soon. Thursday, February 3, 2005 [link] 09:44 p.m. listening to: "Highway Kind" - Cowboy Junkies I don't consider myself a feminist. Some people who actually, like, know me kinda-sorta (IRL or OL), might be kind of blown away by that statement. After all, how can I not be a feminist? I attend a women's college, fer Chrissakes! A women's college in the San Francisco Bay Area, even! I wear pants/shorts exclusively, I shop in the men's section, I don't wear makeup--how can I not be a feminist?! Well, I'm not a feminist mainly because the word feminist means a lot of different things to a lot of different people. I hesitate to use that word because it labels me differently depending on your perspective. Some women who are feminists believe that women should have equal rights as men, that they should be able to choose whether or not they can have an abortion, and that women have basically the same skills and abilities as men. Some women who are feminists believe that women should embrace their bodies and their roles as mothers and caretakers. Some women who are feminists believe there should be a matriarchy and that men are scum. Do I believe in equal rights for men and women? Yes. I think women who have jobs comparable to men should get paid the same amount. I think the glass ceiling needs to be destroyed. I think a woman's opinion should have the same weight as a man's--presuming, of course, that she also knows what she's talking about. This means that I also believe that in the case of a draft, women should be drafted. You can't pick and choose what rights you want; you take the bad with the good. And by all means, let women into combat, if they want to go. Do I believe in a woman's choice when it comes to abortion? Yes. That is not to say that I agree with abortion entirely, or its methods. I am aware that abortion has its consequences, physical and psychological. However, a man does not have quite the same--shall we say--ties to the baby as the woman does (seeing as how she's the one who has the carry the thing, and squirt it out, and presumably care for it afterwards), so I don't think it's a man's place to make that decision for a woman. By all means, let them make the decision together. It takes two, after all. Do I believe that a woman's place is in the home or in the office? I believe that's entirely up to the woman. Some women want to stay at home and have ten children. Some women think children are the most awful things on earth and would rather have a career. Some women want to do both, and it's up to them how they want to balance it. I personally don't want children, although that may change. After all, I'm only nineteen. I'm also quite aware of the physical differences between men and women. There's no getting around that; men and women are simply built different. Men are always going to have more muscle, and they're always going to be stronger. The center of gravity is in a completely different place on men and women. This means men can do some things that women can't. This means women can do some things that men can't. That doesn't mean a woman, with the right amount of training and spirit, can't be as strong or stronger than a man. But in general, men are going to be stronger, physically. But women are also better at multitasking and mathematics, while men are better at things requiring spatial thinking and orientation. And hey, I think men are held to unfair standards when it comes to some things, too. Men have to be macho. Men are supposed to protect women. Men are expected to support their wives and children. Men are expected to be in charge and make all the decisions. If a woman gives up her career to take care of her children, well, it's a shame, but she's the mother and that's her duty, right? Oh, but if a man does the same thing, well, that's just insane. That's lunacy. Which is unfair, I think; why can't a man stay in the kitchen while his wife brings home the bacon? Why can a woman wear a man's clothes without stigma, but not the other way around? Thursday, February 3, 2005 [link] 04:19 p.m. listening to: nothing I have speed! So, beginning Spring semester of my freshman year, my Internet became really, really slow. My inquiries to the tech department at the school were met with nothing. At the beginning of my sophomore year, I had two glorious days of three-digit speed before I once again crashed to under 20kbps transfer speeds. An email I read led me to believe that it was because I was abusing my power with p2p sharing and BitTorrent and decided to suck it up. It hasn't stopped me, merely made me slower. Well, this morning I received an automated email saying that my wireless access had been "severely restricted" because I was showing signs of infection. I was confused. First of all, I noticed no difference in my wireless access. Secondly, I have no idea how I could possibly be infected without my knowledge. I no longer participate in dangerous online activities (downloading warez, for example), and I follow all suitable precautions, such as keeping Windows reasonably updated, running virus protection, a firewall, a mini-firewall, two spyware-killers, etc. I emailed tech support back letting them know this, and after obligingly scanning my computer with McAfee Stinger and my own AVG AntiVirus, I received an email back saying that my wireless connection had been "restored to full speed." And now things are loading very fast. Well, not very fast. Not instantaneously. But certainly much faster than I've seen it go in the past year. I don't want to get my hopes up, but maybe. . . Wednesday, February 2, 2005 [link] 12:17 p.m. listening to: "Our Deliverance" - Indigo Girls I woke up today to the sound of the wind howling outside of my window. Reset the alarm clock for another fifteen minutes and went back to sleep. Alas, it was futile, for the wind continued to moan and thrash about in the trees. Eventually I staggered out of bed, brushed my teeth, ate a cup of soygurt for breakfast, and then went to class, where I continued to feel like crap. My cough is mostly gone, replaced by a sort of continual congestion. It might be allergies, or it might be an actual cold. I hope it's not a cold, because I never get sick twice in one season. Still, as they say, there's a first time for everything. The wind had mostly died down by the time I got back to campus. Girls are lying sprawled in the grass, books and backpacks and pencils scattered around them, taking advantage of the unseasonably fine weather. I took out twenty dollars from the bank today, waiting for the sarong guy to show up. I need to replace the sarong I lost last summer. Tuesday, February 1, 2005 [link] 05:05 p.m. listening to: Garden State soundtrack The weather changed yesterday. It's unseasonably warm. We're now in that sudden, frenzied fit of spring that often comes in the middle of winter: a sunny, green, blue-skied calm that takes over for a few days, sometimes a week, before the rain returns. I got my watch adjusted the other day. It now fits perfectly, albeit perhaps a little tighter than I'm used to. My old watch, which was the type with the adjustable faux leather strap, could never fit my wrist quite properly. I opted to leave it loose instead of tight, three holes in instead of four. Underloading while unemployed gives me too much time to myself. I look forward to starting my conversation partner duties. It'll give me something to do, and a paycheck besides. I have a few other opportunities for money-making, but I haven't seized any of them yet. I should. Sunday, January 30, 2005 [link] 07:54 p.m. listening to: Garden State soundtrack You know, I remember when I was completely healthy. Well, maybe not completely; I'm overweight, I won't deny you that. And I wasn't exactly in great shape, what with the lack of exercise and the being overweight and all. But I got sick maybe once a year if that, had a digestive system comparable to a goat, and couldn't even complain about cramps with my period. I've never broken a bone. I've never even had chicken pox (which is bad, I know, and I should be vaccinated against it, otherwise I'll get chicken pox at the age of 35 and die). Now, though, it seems like I'm constantly unwell. Inner ear infection last summer, lingering vertigo until a bad cold during winter break, and now a mysterious cough that could be something as innocuous as post-nasal drip or as serious as tuberculosis (and could lead to pneumonia if it's not controlled). My cough is starting to get better, thanks to a mixture of different medicines, which leads me to think that it's just post-nasal drip after all. But I'm really, really sick of being unwell. I want to be able to lie down without coughing. I want to be able to sit through a class without coughing! I just want to be stable again. In that light, I've decided to give up smoking and drinking until I'm in a state reasonably close to well again. I figure abusing various bits of my body probably isn't helping the whole immune system thing. Saturday, January 29, 2005 [link] 12:55 p.m. listening to: Cake [this entry has been pre-recorded] Incredibly, incredibly unproductive Public Safety meeting today. By "meeting" I mean that really it just degenerated into a half-hour shouting match between Dan Brown, the Public Safety Director (who evades questions with about as much skill and cunning as any member of the Bush Administration) and a well-intentioned student who alternated between making good points and yelling profanity a lot. It was not only unproductive, it was counterproductive. I spent much of the time wishing said student would shut up and that the student next to me would talk more, since everything she said was really reasonable and made sense. And she didn't use profanity. It made me a little ashamed to be part of the group, honestly, with a spokesperson like that; it's not that I don't believe in the cause (although I had other issues I wanted to address that I didn't get a chance to), it's that I think there are better ways to get your point across than just being stubbornly defensive and loud. There are politics at hand, here. Then Teresa and I went to Bay Fair Mall, where I looked for birthday presents, bought necessities from Target, and also bought a new watch. This is my new watch. I'm quite enamoured with it. It has a comforting weight, and I think it's quite snazzy-looking. The strap is, of course, much too long for me, since it's a men's watch and I have little girly wrists. It's in no danger of slipping off my wrist, but it's really annoying. None of my tools are small enough to adjust the watch (and we bent one of Lynne's pocketknives in the attempt; a testimony to my watch's sturdiness), so I have to take it to a jeweller. |
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