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: 18 location: oakland, ca hobbies: anime, manga, reading, writing, doodling, video games, french horn likes: all of the above, being lazy, mushrooms, cheese, animals, laughing loudly in public dislikes: nuts, stinging/biting insects, religious fanatics, violence, olives contact: coloredink@mailcity add .com wishlist playstation 2car a good night's sleep money stress-free life trigun long colt keychain cowboy bebop dvd box set ipod realistic wishlist dayworld by philip jos?farmerkabuki by david mack lucifer by mike carey lion king platinum edition any indigo girls album long-term obsessions anime/mangayaoi/shounenai writing music animals life and living current obsession(s) triguncurrently reading to kill a mockingbird by harper leecurrently watching hana yori dango (20)utena (23) gto tv (39) witch hunter robin (18) naruto (49) get backers (27) rose of versailles (19) matantei loki ragnarok (15) scrapped princess (14) peacemaker kurogane (13) shingetsutan tsukihime (3) fullmetal alchemist (15) |
Friday, February 13, 2004 [link] 01:32 a.m. listening to: big honkin' playlist I should really be asleep right now. Instead, I am blogging. We spent a day in Traditional China talking about the Chinese worldview. The interesting thing about the Chinese worldview is that the Chinese are the only major culture--if not the only culture--who do not have a creation myth. The universe is simply there, it is creation itself, it is self-perpetuating, and everything is connected and interwoven. There is no beginning, and by implication, there is no end. There is no evil or sin, because everything is simply there, there is nothing that does not belong there, and bad things happen because the true nature of things gets distorted and/or obscured. Some people believe that morality is defined by the Creator, or the Bible, or what have you--well then, what if there is no Creator? What if there is no God? How, then, are right and wrong defined? And yet the ancient Chinese didn't go around murdering left and right. Somehow, they still came up with sets of morals and ethics that are pretty similar to those of the God-fearing West. It wasn't until we started talking about this that I realized how much my own worldview had been shaped by that of my lack of belief in a creation myth. As I've said, my family was pretty pragmatic; they didn't concern themselves with things like religion and the fate of their eternal souls, or even where their souls came from. We were very much focused on the Here and Now. Sure, I knew about Genesis. I went to a Christian school for two years. But it didn't really stick, you know; it was basically a nice story. I didn't believe it. As far as I was concerned, the universe was just there, and I didn't mind myself with how it got there or why. It wasn't until high school that outside pressure forced me to examine my beliefs, which, up until then, had pretty much consisted of: the universe is there, why not enjoy it instead of mulling about it? Goodness, go climb a tree instead of brooding all day. I remember, a long, long time ago, when I used to debate Amea about life, the universe, and everything. I seem to remember saying that I didn't really question the nature of the universe or anything like that, and she didn't really seem to understand; for her, to live is to question. How can you be a rational human being and not question the nature of things? She also believed that morality was defined by God (although I'm not sure if I remember that correctly), whereas I thought that people had their own innate Moral-o-meter, if you will; you know that murder is wrong because it is, not necessarily because there is some Higher Power that says murder is wrong. I dunno. That's how I always worked, up until recently when I started to think a lot more or something. Damn education. Tuesday, February 10, 2004 [link] 02:33 a.m. listening to: "When I Fall" - Barenaked Ladies I think I need to blog more. About myself, that is. My feelings. I used to do that, and I think my life was better then. But now I hardly talk about myself on my blog anymore. Is that strange? And I think I need to let go of the past, a little bit. I didn't realize I was hanging on, but I have been, maybe, just a little. But it's all right, some parts of the past are worth hanging on to. Like friends. And some parts. . . are better left behind. Because you can't go back to those days, you know? And it's not worth it, to keep looking back over and over again. It's not good for me. I need to learn how to burn my bridges. I need a mental health day soon, I think. Until then, counseling! Monday, February 9, 2004 [link] 02:15 a.m. listening to: LOOK FMA COLLAGE. Series: Full Metal Alchemist Character(s): Roy Mustang Song/Title: "Firestarter" by Prodigy Commentary: I made this wallpaper mainly because the song call begged for it. It's very badly done, mainly because I was in a hurry (bed bed bed) and PSP8 ate my text THREE TIMES, so each successive time got pretty sloppy. Still, it's not a complete eyesore, and besides, it's ROY MUSTANG. I will redo this sometime when I don't have to be up for work in six hours. link: http://coloredink.shike.org/images/firestarter.jpg Saturday, February 7, 2004 [link] 10:29 p.m. listening to: misc music I return home from San Francisco with sore feet, fatigue, hunger/nausea, and a friend in the hospital. And the very funny thing is, myself and my peers at this college have all expressed that we don't want to go to the emergency room simply because it costs too much money. God bless America's health care. Amusing quote for today: "So. . . I'm not very good at reading people's emotions over the phone, and I'm not quite sure if this has been a traumatic experience for you or not." And no, really, it hasn't been. Yet, anyway. I'm most just very tired, cold, and hungry; I didn't get a chance to eat dinner, and I've been standing in the cold a lot trying to get my dying cellphone to call people. I'm never going out without a fully charged cellphone ever again. Friday, February 6, 2004 [link] 04:59 p.m. listening to: listening to: nothing Yet more proof that the universe hates me! So, for the past week or so, Lynne has been promising to make linguini. Yay, linguini! She bought some nice garlic & basil linguini from Trader Joe's, and also some pesto and sun-dried tomatoes. Yay, linguini! Today, Lynne finally found the time to make linguini. We took down my pasta pot, started boiling water, and she mixed the pesto into a bowl. I love pesto! I taste the pesto. Mmmm, pesto. My throat starts swelling up. The pesto has cashews in it. So I've been throwing up for the past twenty minutes or so. And since it's close to dinner time, my body has somehow managed to feel nauseous and hungry at the same time! I hate you, universe. Thursday, February 5, 2004 [link] 06:47 p.m. listening to: "Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight" - Jackson Browne/Jennifer Warnes I fear I may be coming down with something. This sucks. My health has been poor ever since I got sick in China. Highlight the rest of the entry if you want to read ridiculous amounts of TMI. I mean it, now. Serious amounts of TMI, here. Disgusting TMI, too, about how I was sick in China and how I was sick when I got back. So! Four days into my trip, I got sick. I thought at first that I had a cold or something from the plane ride, sniffling and whatnot. And then, two days after the flu-like symptoms, acute diarrhea. Whee! Had to go every half hour, incontinence, the whole hog. After two days, I inspected my stool, did some thinking, and concluded that I probably had a parasite. I made my dad take me to the doctor. The doctor (and by the way, I do not trust Chinese doctors) gave me diarrhea medicine and something to kill the parasite that nobody believed I had, and I cancelled all my plans to visit other cities in China. Mom came to visit. I didn't really get better. The medicine the doctor gave me to kill the parasite (something something hydrochloride tablets) made me nauseous. My dad went out and brought back more medicine, which I was hesitant to take because I was afraid of making myself worse. However, two days before my scheduled flight to Malaysia, I gave in and took some Japanese medicine my dad used to take at home. The diarrhea cleared up and I went on my way to Malaysia. Maybe a day or so after I got into Malaysia, I fell ill again. I watched ROTK in a fever-haze and pretty much slept through New Year's, although I got up at one point to watch a little bit of FOTR on HBO. The diarrhea came back briefly, and then I had my period, along with some incredibly painful cramping. I don't usually cramp, but at this point I think the universe had decided to hate me. But after that, I was mostly fine. When I got back to the US, though, I was still a bit leery. And sure enough, maybe a week after I got back to the States, I found blood in my stool. Or rather, blood on the toilet paper after wiping. Slightly alarmed, I consulted WebMD, which had become a close friend of mine in China. I concluded that it was not an immediate emergency and called the Advice Nurse the next day. She said that it ordinarily wasn't anything to worry about, but since I had a weird history of illness in China, I'd better schedule an appointment. The next week, the doctor said that it might be an anal fissure or a hemmorhoid, told me not to worry about it too much because it'd clear up on its own, and sent me home. Yay. Then my period came two weeks early, because the universe hates me. Either that, or my body hates me for going to China. My period just ended, but now I'm coming down with a fever or something. I didn't feel so fantastic about lunchtime, and after a while I decided to skip my 4:00 PM class because I ache and my legs were shaking. GODDAMN IT WHY CAN'T I JUST BE WELL AGAIN. In other news, I finished reading Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones, and it's a fantastic book. I can't wait to see the movie when it's finished. Monday, February 2, 2004 [link] 11:35 p.m. listening to: listening to: big honkin' playlist At last, pitas is back! . . . I have nothing else to say. Other than that I'm alive, of course. And that people need to stop talking about Janet Jackson's boob already. Seriously, it wasn't really anything new. The silver thing was kinda pretty, I guess. Thursday, January 29, 2004 [link] 10:27 a.m. listening to: "Best Imitation of Myself" - Ben Folds Five I had a strange dream where I was having tea/brunch/light snack with a few of my relatives, and for some reason I kept taking off my clothes. I mean, as soon as we sat down at the table, I for some reason decided it was "okay" to take all my clothes off. But then we were surprised by something--maybe the fire alarm or whatever--and had to evacuate, and I didn't have time to dress. Fortunately, it seemed to be an "Emperor's New Clothes" thing; as long as I acted like I wasn't naked, nobody noticed that I was. So I went on out with an ice cream cone in my hand and continued eating, and nobody took notice. Amber: You have no idea how many faces I made at the screen when you said that people would flip out if you dyed your hair or showed tummy flesh. I've obviously been spoiled by living in California (and then attending a liberal arts school in the Bay Area, la). Wednesday, January 28, 2004 [link] 02:15 a.m. listening to: big honkin' playlist Because it's late and I'm tired but I can't sleep because I had a really strong cup of tea before bed, I'm going to talk about my classes. Yay! Class: History of Women in America Days: MWF 1:00 - 1:50 PM Blurb: I think this is going to be my hardest class. Tons of reading, tons of expensive textbooks (I think this class cost me more than all my other classes COMBINED), but the professor is clearly incredibly intelligent and is an excellent lecturer. Score. But ARGH, SO MUCH WORK. Plus: I don't think there's a midterm or a final. Papers, yes, but I can write papers better than I can sweat through tests. Class: Massage Days: MW 2:00 - 2:50 PM Blurb: I hardly count this as a "class," since it's P.E. But hey, it's massage! And it's taught by my tai chi instructor from last semester! Rock on! The only problem is that I get out of class ten minutes before Massage begins. The campus is small, but there's still a reasonable distance between this class and my last one. I haven't been late so far, but if History of Women in American continues to go over, I will be. Three minutes makes a heckuva lot of difference. Class: Beginning Poetry Workshop Days: TTh 11:00 AM - 12:15 PM Blurb: Aaarrrgh why am I taking this class. Oh, wait, I know why: because it's a prerequisite for Advanced Fiction Workshop and I couldn't get into the Beginning Fiction Workshop because it was full. Do not ask me why a poetry workshop is a prereq for writing fiction. The professor is knowledgeable, but dry as all hell, and I'm going to be writing a poem a week. Poetry is hard. Class: East Asia since 1700 Days: TTh 2:30 - 3:45 PM Blurb: Wah Cheng, the professor, is hilarious. Very informal and chatty. English is his second language and he's forever tripping up, which is very cute. Clearly has extensive knowledge on Chinese history, but not Japanese history, but that's all right because there's three Japanese students in the class and they can tell us whatever Wah doesn't know. And I can embarrass myself with my fangirly knowledge of the Bakumatsu no Doran. Harr. Class: Traditional China Days: TTh 4:00 - 5:15 PM Blurb: Why yes, I have two classes with Wah in a row. This class is even more informal than the last because it's tiny; one of my hallmates just added the class, bringing the total up to five. It's cool, though. We get to sit in a circle and discuss stuff. So, yeah. MWF are extremely easy days because I'm in class for only two hours (well, one hour on Fridays), but since TTh days are so crowded, I pretty much have to get all my work done on MWF and weekends. So it all evens out, really. But since MWF are also the days I cook dinner for myself (since on TTh I get out of class too late), that cuts down on my homework time quite a bit. There's time to get everything done, I'm sure, I just need to quit procrastinating. ^^ Thursday, January 22, 2004 [link] 01:13 p.m. listening to: "Fall On Me" - R.E.M. In his brief introduction to the English Language Project, Max shudders to define its intent because he knows he's going to offend someone no matter what he does. He likens it to protestors throwing flowers at Marines; they know it's not going to accomplish anything, but it still feels good. Well, good for you, Max. I do not support this English Language Project. I don't condemn it either, but I do, maybe, shake my head. This is partly because, well, I myself use things such as "LOL" and "WTF?" and I've even taken to saying "WTF" out loud, mainly because it sounds amusing and everyone knows what I'm saying. And also, while I don't particularly like saying "fuck" very often, WTF gets across the meaning without being as vulgar. At least, that's the way I see it. ^^ I don't think that txt (or Netspeak, or chat shorthand, or whatever you call it--I believe that txt or TXT is what the media likes to use) signals some sort of downfall of the English language. I think the English language is just changing again. Look at how much English has changed in the last hundred years, or even the last fifty, or the last twenty. And I bet that at every major shift, people complained about "the downfall of the English language," from "groovy" to "da bomb." And yeah, some of it's stupid. I think "da bomb" is stupid. I think downgrading "oh, I see" to oic is stupid and incredibly lazy. But who am I to speak, since I shorten "laughs out loud" to LOL and "in my humble opinion" to IMHO? Yeah, we all like to take shortcuts, especially universally-recognized ones. What does SOS really stand for? But everyone recognizes it as a distress signal, and it's easier than screaming, "SAVE OUR SHIP!" or "SAVE OUR SOULS!" or whatever it stands for. Maybe it's just the linguistics geek in me, but I'm much more interested in how these things became so universally recognized in the first place. Of course the Internet makes spreading things much easier and quicker, but I think it's fascinating nonetheless. I remember reading a semi-recent Foxtrot comic in which Paige receives a signed photo from the Backsync Boys, or whatever Bill Amend chose to call the pop boy band she likes. She stands there squealing "OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG!" over and over again. Of course, we know that she's not really shrieking, "oh em gee!" She's squealing, "ohmigod!" We know this; we automatically translate it in our heads when we see those three letters together. Well, not all of us. I imagine there's still plenty of people who are behind on the times. But most of us--those of us who spend any decent amount of time online chatting with other people--know what it means. So it's not the end of the English language. English is just changing, as everything changes. Some of us don't like the change--I don't particularly like the idea of everyone tlaking lik dis all da tim--but that's the way it goes. Does that mean we should lie down and let it happen? No, probably not. But these things go in cycles; TXT will either die out, or it'll be integrated somehow, and a hundred years from now people will visit cybermuseums and see emails and chat transcripts peppered with "OMG" and "IIRC." It might make you cringe to think of it, but at that point it'll be in dictionaries and thesauruses and your children and grandchildren will be so familiar with it that it won't seem strange at all. And some new slang or shortcut will have come up, and they'll complain that it's the downfall of the English language, and it'll happen all over again. Tuesday, January 20, 2004 [link] 01:59 p.m. listening to: big honkin' playlist First day of class today. Tired. My books didn't sell for nearly as much as they needed to, but that was expected. I watched ROTK in Malaysia, as some of you may remember. I'm not really going to write up any sort of review of it because I was very sick and feverish at the time and spent the entire movie in pain. ^^ It was very beautiful, and the ending was about four times longer than I expected it to be. That is to say, the movie felt like it was about to end four times--and then went on for another ten minutes. The interesting thing about watching ROTK in Kuala Lumpur was that it had subtitles in Chinese and Malay. Years of watching anime have trained me to pay attention to subtitles, so I'd find myself reading the Malay subtitles without understanding a single word. Of course, there were many words that weren't translated; they left alone words like "Hobbit" and "Elf" and "Isengard" and what have you. However, there was one word that they translated, and it was the word for "Shire." They used the Malaysian word "kampung," which roughly translates to "village." This is, I think, worth noting. For many people, I think, kampung not only means one's village, but it also has strong connotations of home. The kampung is the place you grew up. You and your friends learned to swim in the river nearby. You climbed trees and knocked down mangos and coconuts and durians. You rode your brother's bicycle to the basa nearby and bought ice kacang. At least, that's how I feel about the word kampung, and I didn't even grow up in Malaysia. But I remember very clearly, the last page of one of Lat's collected books--Kampung Boy, I think. There's some writing talking about nostalgia and how you can never go back to the past, and how his work or his fate or whatever has brought him to live in (I think) Kuala Lumpur, the capitol of Malaysia. And the art shows him out on his lawn, pulling his small daughter around on a broad palm frond, the way he used to do for his siblings, and the way his siblings used to do for him. His neighbors look on in surprise. I believe that Lat's moved back to his hometown since then, and good for him, although his hometown is probably no longer the same. Malaysia's leaders have lofty goals of being a developed country by 2020 (which is not going to happen, if you ask me, because you can give the people the most high-tech computers possible, but if they don't know how to use them it's pointless). But I remember the kampung. I remember going to the basa early in the morning and buying roti canai, and I remember durians high in the tree, and I remember swimming in the river. I remember home. |
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