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) |
Tuesday, February 22, 2005 [link] 02:10 p.m. listening to: big honkin' playlist Things that are stressing me out: - the FAFSA - financial aid So, two things I absolutely must do tomorrow! Sunday, February 20, 2005 [link] 10:42 p.m. listening to: "Bone in my Ear" - Bruce Cockburn I think I am going to become a journalist. My options are distressingly few. What does one do with a degree in English? It is, as I like to say, a degree in unemployment. I can teach, I can go into law, or I can become a journalist. Oh, or I can write. But writing often doesn't put food on the table, and it is important to me that I at least keep a roof over my head. When I suggested this to my father, his only piece was advice was, "Don't work for the American media. Work for BBC instead." I was amused. Today, when my father called, he asked if I'd changed my major to journalism yet. Mills doesn't have a journalism major, I explained. But I'm going to take on a journalism minor. "What was your minor before?" "East Asian Studies," I replied. "That was when I wanted to be a translator." He laughed, to which I responded, "I know, I know, I'm so full of conviction and drive." "Well," he said, "you could always just get your BA in English, then spend three more years in school and become a lawyer." Law was something my father suggested my senior year of high school. It came out of nowhere, but I considered it seriously for a few days, because my father's not the sort of person who suggests something like this idly. He said he thought I'd make a good lawyer. More than once, even, which really means he's serious. He's said a few times that I'm a shitty novelist, and he's right about that, too. But, well, writing's my passion and law isn't. "You can work for Hillary Clinton," he said. "What makes you think I'd want to work for Hillary Clinton?" I queried as I swooped about my room, picking up stray bits of trash and depositing them in the trash can. "What, you're not an admirer of Hillary Clinton?" "Well, I am, but I don't think I want to get into politics." "You'd just be working for her. As a lawyer. That doesn't mean you'd be into politics." I peered out the window into the courtyard. "Dad, I think if you work for Hillary Clinton, even as her janitor, you eventually wind up in politics." He laughed. "Hey, lawyers work for other lawyers, you know. And a lot of lawyers go into politics. That's all." "Don't lawyers work for the people anymore?" I asked, just to test him. I'm not really that hopelessly idealistic. Well, sometimes I am. "Well, you could always be a country lawyer. You know country doctors? Like that, only a lawyer." "So I'd live in boondocks of nowhere and help people with their petty trials?" "Yeah, their stolen bicycles. And then afterwards, you don't charge them anything, out of the kindness of your heart." "Like Atticus Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird?" I suggested. "Or they can pay me in eggs or something." "Yes, exactly! Or, hey, you know the mayor of Las Vegas? His name is Goodman, first name Cal or Cas or something." At this point my friend Lynne came down the hall and distracted me, but I gathered that my dad was basically saying that this Goodman fellow was involved with the mob or something. "So basically what you're saying is," I said, "that I should become a lawyer, and then become involved with the mob, and then become mayor of a wealthy city." "Yes." ". . . well," I admitted, "that does sound like a good way to become very wealthy very quickly." I love my father. But I think I'll give journalism a try. Friday, February 18, 2005 [link] 09:52 a.m. listening to: nothing I was woken up this morning by a call from a Macy's store representative informing me that I was two payments behind on my card. Bwah? Whu? I've never used my Macy's card! I cut it up when I received it in the mail! . . . oh, that was probably from when I first opened the account. Fuck. I thought that was charged to my credit card. Goddammit. I'll pay that today, and then can you close the account for me? Thanks. Why was I unable to last two months? Er, because I forgot the account existed? I never received a statement in the mail reminding me? Yeah, whatever, have a nice day. What a lovely way to wake up in the morning. Then, in order to soothe my jangled nerves, I checked on my real credit card account (it's a student card, 0 APR) and saw something funny-looking. I called my credit card company, was able to talk to a real live human being in approximately fifteen seconds and one button-push, and he was funny and witty and helped me with my questions. "There's something funny-looking on my account," I said. "It's not a picture of me, is it?" he replied. In conclusion, I love 1st Financial Bank. Thursday, February 17, 2005 [link] 10:10 p.m. listening to: "Highway Kind" - Cowboy Junkies Things I absolutely must do this weekend: - - - write American Lit paper - - - Things I don't necessarily have to do this weekend, but it would be nice: - - sleep - make jello shots Thank God for three-day weekends. Thursday, February 17, 2005 [link] 01:20 p.m. listening to: "Bone in my Ear" - Bruce Cockburn People from Cal can certainly be big-headed. When I tell people that I'm from Mills, I get responses from, "You mean that all-girls school?" to ". . . is that a four-year institution?" By which they mean, of course, "Is that a community college?" Not that there is anything wrong with community colleges, mind you--except that Mills is in no way shape or form a community college. I also hate it when Mills is referred to as an "all-girls school." It's not something I'll bother to overtly correct people about. Usually I respond, "Yes, it's a women's college" and move on with my life. There are different connotations, you know. Mills has a t-shirt in the store that says, "Mills: not a girls' school without men but a women's college without boys." When people ask me, "Why did you (want to) go to a women's college?" I usually don't know how to respond. It wasn't so much that I wanted to go to a women's college as that I didn't care if my school was co-ed or not. If I had simply wanted to go to a women's college, I probably would have gone to Wellesley, which is prestigious enough for anyone's taste. But I thought I wouldn't fit in there. I don't know if I was right, but I was right when I thought I would fit in at Mills, and here I am. Sometimes I'm bitter about being rejected from UC Berkeley. But after taking a few classes there, I find that I love Mills more and more, where my classes are relatively small and my classmates are intelligent and unobnoxious. Today, while ruminating with Eleanor about the egoism of Cal students, I was struck by the thought: if I had gone to Cal, would I be like that? Thursday, February 17, 2005 [link] 11:56 a.m. listening to: "Bone in my Ear" - Bruce Cockburn The wind started howling late last night, tossing the trees and whispering through my drafty window. There's something wrong about being able to feel the breeze in your room when all your windows are closed, I remarked to my friends over AIM. There's something about the wind that inspires poetry in me. I've always wanted to write a poem about autumn and winter in California, the colorless sky, the wind and what it brings, what it means. I've never been able to find the right words, but so far I have not stopped trying. Wednesday, February 16, 2005 [link] 05:42 p.m. listening to: "Rebirth of Slick (Cool Like That)" - Digable Planets Once upon a time, I hated hip hop. And dance/house/electronica. Then, I got a subwoofer. I have wasabi up my nose right now. Waugh. Non sequiturs aside, tonight was the first night of my Plan to Improve My Memory. You may not know this about me, but once upon a time I had a photographic memory. Some of it is still there, but it's been slowly wearing away over time (no thanks to the amount of drinking I did last semester, probably). Still, it was this trusty memory that got me through years of Honors/AP classes, and it seems a shame to let it go to waste. I decided to play Concentration every night. You know the game. Entire deck of cards face down, your job is to try and find matching pairs? Yeah. I used to rock at that game so hard as a kid. Then the other day I played with my Japanese conversation partners and discovered that, ten years or so later, I suck. So, tonight I broke out a deck of cards (yeah, I have two random decks lying around in my room) and played Concentration twice before dinner. Both times I finished in about five minutes, which is a pretty crappy time. More importantly, however, I discovered that I am much better at Concentration when I play by myself. Why? Because I am the person picking up and revealing all the cards. Body memory as much as anything else. Looks like I'll have to think of something new. Tuesday, February 15, 2005 [link] 12:13 a.m. listening to: "Bone In My Ear" - Bruce Cockburn This song has so totally earwormed me. I can't really say why. Something about the guitar, the rhythm, the cadence, the desperate yearning sound-- in my heart there's an image like looking through glass could be looking at me could be looking right past i don't like it when i can't tell which is true but i wouldn't trade the world for that picture of you It describes so perfectly, I think, how it feels when you can't get someone/something/a memory out of your head. wailing on the mountain smoke on the wind can't drown out the whisper or the scent of your skin don't know where it came from but i know where it came there's a bone in my ear keeps singing your name Monday, February 14, 2005 [link] 03:18 p.m. listening to: "Numai Tu" - O-Zone I made the mistake of going to the florist today. Needless to say, it was a madhouse. An expensive madhouse. But I'd somehow gotten into my head that I wanted to buy flowers for my friends. Actually, I had a grand idea of buying a dozen roses and leaving them in the front hall for people to take, but then I saw that a dozen roses started at $25 and just bought three flowers (for my three single friends) instead. People buy/create the biggest, tackiest bouquets on Valentine's Day. Monstrous, gaudy things that will probably last a few days. I think the best thing I saw was a man I passed on his way out from the florist: he had a dozen yellow tulips and one red rose. Very cute. I bought three white roses. Picked them out myself; they've hardly opened, so they'll be good for a few days. I'm aware of the symbolic significance of white roses, but really I was just attracted to their simpleness. When you see people holding purplish-blue roses covered with violet glitter, you begin to see the attraction of daisies. Sunday, February 13, 2005 [link] 01:10 p.m. listening to: lay down in the cottonwood hollow though i left a trail no man could follow is it safe to rest my head again 'til morning? cracked throat and the canteen's dry and rain won't fall from an empty sky so i'll whisper hail marys 'til the sun comes up Things I must get done today: - - - Aaargh I slacked for like the past week and now I'm paying for it. I'm turning off my cell, unplugging the land line, and disconnecting myself from the Internet until I get all this crap done. Maybe I'll skip anime club meeting today. But--Tokyo Godfathers! Saturday, February 12, 2005 [link] 07:37 p.m. listening to: Things I must accomplish today before bed: - - - Friday, February 11, 2005 [link] 10:05 p.m. listening to: Faithless Reverence This CD's kind of mediocre. I kind of regret buying it. Eh, impulse buys happen. I saw Hide and Seek with my Japanese students today. It was an okay movie. I didn't think it was all that scary. My group thought it was pretty scary. I guess scary is different to Japanese than Americans. Which makes sense, since the Japanese genre of horror is way, way different from the American genre. Hide and Seek has one decent twist to it. I'm not gonna say, since that pretty much ruins the whole movie. Thursday, February 10, 2005 [link] 09:10 p.m. listening to: "Numai Tu" - O-Zone Eleanor and I made Rice Krispies treats with my Japanese students today. They were very amazed by how easy it was. No oven involved! Also, this is the most awesome song ever. |
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