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, 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(at)gmail.com wishlist playstation 2car a good night's sleep money stress-free life trigun long colt keychain cowboy bebop dvd box set ipod world peace realistic wishlist dayworld by philip jos?farmerkabuki by david mack lucifer by mike carey infernal affairs ii long-term obsessions anime/mangayaoi/shounenai writing music animals life and living current obsession(s) infernal affairsfullmetal alchemist currently reading rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead by tom stoppardcurrently watching hana yori dango (20)utena (23) gto tv (39) 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) |
Friday, December 10, 2004 [link] 10:39 p.m. listening to: Garden State soundtrack I'm not dead. I am, however, done with all my final papers. **thud** Friday, December 3, 2004 [link] 09:45 p.m. listening to: nothing Finals time, finals time. Well, I'm not really done with classes yet. I finished all my Mills classes yesterday, but I still have Chinese class at Cal until next Friday. But I'm done with all my homework, which means that basically I just roll around in my room doing absolutely nothing. Vegetating. I should start my papers tomorrow. I have one final, but you can drop your lowest test score in that class provided you a) go to all the tests and b) turn in something. So I'm not going to study. I'm going to go, write a nice little story, and turn that in. Sounds good to me. Sunday, November 28, 2004 [link] 03:03 p.m. listening to: "Still" - Alanis Morissette I'm not dead, although the campus network did spontaneously die at one point. Not much to say. I survived my mother's visit somehow. We even had a civil conversation on Monday. She wrote me a gigantic email that I'm going to have to find time to reply to, hopefully sometime today. I got some work done over Thanksgiving Break, although perhaps not as much as I'd like. But everything that needed to get done got done, and I managed to get some rest, and maybe those are the important bits. Finally, finally watched Dogma all the way through. What a great movie. Thursday, November 18, 2004 [link] 05:11 p.m. listening to: "Wild Horses" - Off the Beat My mother's plane lands in an hour. I want to curl up and die. Wednesday, November 17, 2004 [link] 07:29 p.m. listening to: nothing I become someone else when I'm stressed. Someone sharp and tense and cynical. Someone who wants to go clubbing or do drugs or climb things. It's funny, how identity's a really fluid thing. I know, as a child, I spent a lot of time being contrary. My mother wanted me to play the piano--so I fought. My parents wanted me to go to Chinese school--so I fought. My aunt, my mother, wanted me to wear dresses and be a lady. So of course as soon as I was old enough, I swore to never wear another dress, and now I'm hardly a soft-spoken, light-footed lady (do those even still exist?). My mother wanted to live vicariously through me, to make me into something she wanted to be but never was, so of course I became as different as I could, as much like my father as I could, because my father never asked anything of me. So how much of myself is what my mother didn't make me? How much of myself is rebellion? How much of myself is what I'm trying not to be? Tuesday, November 16, 2004 [link] 07:51 p.m. listening to: "Yearling" - Jump, Little Children I really should be reading Thoreau or something right now, but instead I'm going to write my con report! FRIDAY NIGHT/SATURDAY MORNING My plane departed SFO at 11:30 PM Friday night, so I took the 7:45 Mills Van to the Rockridge BART station and took the BART to SFO. V. long ride. I had comic books and printed Clex fic to keep me entertained. Was massively bored at airport. Departed on time. Slept the entire time. Was pretty comfortable, too, because the flight was quite empty, so I got three seats to myself and was able to lie down. But the flight was only 3 1/2 hours long, so that wasn't very much sleep. Staggered out of the airport at around 5:15 AM and decided to take a taxi, since I wasn't sure if public transit was running at such an early hour. The cab driver got lost. Finally got to the hostel at around 5:45 AM only to find that it did not, in fact, have 24 hour reception, despite what hostels.com said. Apparently, during the slow season, they cut down their office hours a bit. It wasn't snowing or anything, but it was still pretty fucking cold, and the office wouldn't be open for another two hours (8 AM). I rang the doorbell, tried the door, and found that in fact I would not die of exposure. There was a little foyer inside, with mailboxes and an umbrella stand and a random sculpture, and another door. This interior door was locked. But at least I was out of the cold, so I curled up in a corner, read comic books, and then tried to get some sleep. Around 6:30 AM I heard movement from inside. I was almost too exhausted to get up, but I banged on the door. A very nice man named Robert let me in, showed me the couch, and got me a blanket. I zonked out until around 8:30, when the office was open and I could get myself checked in. SATURDAY My bed still wasn't ready, so I just checked myself in, chucked my backpack in a security locker, and went to the convention. I decided to walk and got rather spectacularly lost, as my only means of direction was a set of badly-printed Mapquest driving directions and the fact that I could see downtown. So I headed towards the tall, pointy buildings. I actually managed to pass the hotel somehow, and had to ask for directions. But I found it eventually. Attended panels. Got things signed. Neil is a fabulously charming person and I get squishy just thinking about talking to him. It turned out they had a two-item maximum, although you were welcome to get back into line if you had more, though there was no guarantee you wouldn't get cut off. Two wonderful people behind me in line had only one item each, so they took two of the books I'd brought to be signed (for other people; I went to the convention with a total of six books, two of which were actually mine). "This is going to sound really weird," I said, after getting my things signed. "Shoot," said Neil. "Um. Can I ruffle your hair? You look so fluffy." "Go for it!" he said enthusastically. So I ruffled his hair, and everyone behind me in line hated me. Attended more panels. Watched Neil, Kaitlin, and another person whose name I unfortunately don't remember plot and script a two-page Sandman comic for Jill Thompson and Charles Vess to draw and Todd Klein to letter. Bought things in the dealer's room (one of Neil's spoken word CDs, a book to get signed for a friend). I didn't go to the Masquerade, unfortunately, because I thought I should get back to the hostel, get dinner, and try to get some homework done. It's rather too bad, because I heard the dance was fantastic and there were lots of people in costume. I bought myself some potatoes and onions on the way home and made a lot of very filling soup for dinner, and then attempted to write an essay and a thesis. Had moderate success. Got more things signed at the second Neil autograph session. I had five other girls in my room, and I swear everyone's cellphone went off in the night at least once, my own included. SUNDAY Checked out. Had a heart attack when I almost left my signed copy of The Wake in my room. Fortunately, got it back. Attended the last day of the con. Bought more crap in the dealer's room (a t-shirt, a magnet). Attended more panels. Went to the last signing session. "Two burning questions," I said. "First, what's your favorite kind of sushi?" "Yellowtail that's so good that it melts in your mouth and has a sort of rich, buttery flavour," he replied. "Oddly enough, the best sushi I ever had was this little hole-in-the-wall place in San Francisco." "!!! Where?!" "Oh, I don't remember--" "It was a hole in the wall!" someone else in line interjected. "Exactly!" "All right then, second burning question," I said, laughing. "Can I have a hug, for the road?" "Of course. Come over here." I squealed, went around the table, and got a hug. "I hope you had a good weekend," he said. "Oh, it was positively euphoric," I assured him. Then I took the shuttle to the airport and went home. And that was Fiddler's Green. Friday, November 12, 2004 [link] 12:11 a.m. listening to: "Stories I Tell" - Toad the Wet Sprocket Saw the ENT earlier this week. Basically learned that I am one of the lucky few who experience residual effects from acute labyrinthitis. There is basically nothing we can do about this. The aftereffects should go away in three to six months. I can do habituation exercises (basically, do things that make me dizzy on purpose) to try and make it go away faster. I leave for Minneapolis tomorrow. I'm nervous. It feels very surreal. Is this really happening to me? Am I really leaving for an unfamiliar city tomorrow? To meet Neil Gaiman? Things I need to do: - attempt to finish World Religions reading - attempt to do whatever I need to do for Intro to Lit - finish Survey of American Lit paper - do Chinese homework - - - - do dishes Auuugh. Sunday, November 7, 2004 [link] 09:48 a.m. listening to: nothing Awesome dream last night. Should have blogged about it before I showered, because now I can't remember a lot of it. It was a sci-fi/fantasy sort of thing. I wasn't really myself; I was a young boy, maybe ten or eleven. Maybe younger than that. I think there might have been a war going on. Anyway, my father and I had gone to this. . . place. I guess you could say it was similar to Professor X's School for Mutants. We'd been informed that I had special powers. The way they determined whether or not you had special powers--and what they were and how you used them--was by having you play a game of chess. Dr. whatshisname wasn't actually the one in charge, I think, but he was the only figure of authority I ever encountered in the dream, so he seemed kind of like it. The first game against him, I failed miserably. This wasn't a huge surprise or anything, since I was convinced I had no special powers and this was all a mistake. Dr. so-and-so told me, "Don't think, just play. We'll try again tomorrow." I had a conversation with some of the other "gifted" kids in my dorm room (we slept in very nice, posh rooms, almost like hotel rooms, and there were six kids to a room), but I don't remember that part. The next day, I tried another game with whatshisname. This time, I won. I was shocked and amazed. The doctor was pleased. He wanted to know what I did to win. "I don't know," I stammered. "I just--didn't think." "But how did you know where to put the pieces?" "I just touched them, and I knew." I think there was something after that, but alarm clock went off and I woke up. Friday, November 5, 2004 [link] 07:10 p.m. listening to: "Penny Lane" - The Beatles Eleanor: So David was sick yesterday and couldn't go buy alcohol for us. Me: . . . wait, does this mean I have to watch Smallville sober? Eleanor: No! No! David's coming over to watch Smallville with us later and he'll bring stuff! Me: Oh, thank God. Eleanor: I'm not cruel or anything. Jesus. So, uh you know what I'm doing tonight. Same thing I do every night, it seems. Wednesday, November 3, 2004 [link] 03:41 p.m. listening to: nothing Quiet as a tomb around here. I don't know if my dorm's in mourning or if they're just all elsewhere. Maybe protesting. It's raining out now, thundering a little. I don't know whether or not to hope that it's an omen. Was unexpectedly called into work for a few hours today. My boss said, wryly, "Well, at least the ratio of male to female bachelors will tip in favor of the guys once a bunch of them are called in for a draft." I have nothing more to say that hasn't already been said. I direct you to this post and this post. Here's to another four years, America. I hope you're worth it. Tuesday, November 2, 2004 [link] 04:30 p.m. listening to: "Save Me" - Remy Zero So last night I got really drunk with some friends and watched Smallville. Two episodes of the first season, anyway ("Cool" and "Hourglass," in case anyone cares). My friends were mostly sober, but I'd been pulling seven-hour shifts since Friday and really, really wanted to be drunk. Is this one of those shows that improves with alcohol, or is the first season just genuinely better written? Not that it's good, by any means, but it's significantly less retarded than whatever they're playing on TV right now. Sunday, October 31, 2004 [link] 10:59 p.m. listening to: nothing I DON'T WANT TO WORK TOMORROW. I'm going to go cry myself to sleep now. Thursday, October 28, 2004 [link] 10:23 p.m. listening to: Eminem's Mosh So for God knows what reason, I'm working a lot this weekend. A lot. Six hours tomorrow, seven hours on Saturday, God knows how many hours on Sunday, and another six hours on Monday. I kind of want to cry and drink myself into oblivion. But I have too much to do, so instead: Friday: - finish World Religions reading if it kills me Saturday: - do Intro to Lit reading. No response necessary (thank God). - if possible, do some American Lit. reading Sunday: - do not count on getting anything done. Monday: - finish American Lit reading I have suddenly lost all will to live. |
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