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: 20 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 dvd-romlucifer vol 7 transmetropolitan vol 3-10 sandman vol 4 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) |
Saturday, April 23, 2005 [link] 11:18 p.m. listening to: "One Man Guy" - Rufus Wainwright I tried to hate the city, once. I tried really hard. The city is so loud and noisy and dirty and full of hateful, apathetic people. But in the end, I couldn't like the country. It's too quiet out there, even if you can see the stars. Everyone knows everyone else, and as a consequence everyone knows your business, whether you want them to or not, and they'll judge you for it. The city is alive. The city is like its own person, with its own personality and likes and dislikes. New York is different from Los Angeles is different from Dallas is different from Chicago. The city has ethnic food, public transit, and twenty-four hour convenience stores. The city is always suffering and loving and hating and fucking and telling stories. You can't see the stars, but if you get up high enough and look down, you can see the stars-below. See, this is what man made. Isn't it fucking wonderful? It's awful and blasphemous and amazing, that man can make so much light of his own that he blocks out the lights of the sky. Someday, maybe, we won't even be able to see the moon anymore. Recently, I discovered that I love leaving and entering cities by plane at night, or so early in the morning that the sun hasn't risen yet. I can look out the window down at the city, all black and orange and white and blue. And I think, my city. Which is not true in any sense of the word. The city does not belong to anyone, least of all me. The city does not care whether I live or die or move away or stay or disappear. But I think my city and I feel possessive and hungry, like I want to swallow the city and keep it inside me forever. Saturday, April 23, 2005 [link] 04:19 p.m. listening to: "Castles in the Sky " - DJ Ricey Every so often, in that childish "oh my God I'm almost all grown up" kind of way, I like to dream about my future apartment/house/condo/cave and how I'll decorate it. Don't we all? There are two wildly differing themes to this future apartment space of mine. The first is probably the most realistic and consists of a tiny sudio apartment with a futon for sleeping/couch purposes and a desk for my computer. Everything else is on the floor, from the television to the telephone. Maybe there will be a few beanbag chairs around for when I have guests. And maybe there'll be one barstool in the kitchen. My personal belongings will live in the closet, in stacks, or in scattered boxes. I'll save an incredible amount of money on furniture. But some interior design/decoration whore in me wants an amazing apartment with floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room that look out upon the city. All the furniture will be sleek and ultramodern, black leather couches and a glass and steel coffee table. The kitchen cabinets will be oak and the countertops will be granite and the entertainment center will have a 36" television and a 9.1 sound system. In the bedroom, it'll be 500-count Egyptian cotton in the summer and flannel in the winter, and there'll be both a bathtub and a shower in the bathroom. I realized the other day, though, that whether this imagined space is college-poor or contemporary decadence, I'm always alone. No roommate, no significant others, no pets. Well, in the latter story there's a snake in my bedroom, a Ball python living happily in a miniature tropical forest in a tank, but other than that, no one. I don't know if it's because I enjoy my privacy or because I never account for other people in my life. Saturday, April 23, 2005 [link] 03:59 p.m. listening to: nothing It's one of those "camp and do homework" days. Everybody is holed up in their rooms, reading and writing feverishly. I camped down in the laundry room for a few hours, waiting for an open washing machine. I staggered up after putting my sheets in a dryer and hanging my comforter on two of the laundry lines. My head feels like it's going to explode. But on the other hand, I think I know what I'm going to write in my research paper now. Friday, April 22, 2005 [link] 05:20 p.m. listening to: "Walnut Tree" - Keane What? It's Friday, and the last time I blogged was Tuesday? How can this be? I'm sure I must have blogged some time in between now and then! Or. . . at least. . . I thought about it. . . I thought. . . Whatever. I'm not being paid to entertain anyone! In fact, I'm not even sure if anyone's reading this. I might be talking into the void and looking like a total idiot-- Okay, this train of thought stops right here. I don't know what I thought I blogged here, since I apparently. . . didn't. I'm not sure what subjects I was planning on writing about, any links that I thought about posting. Right now, though, my life seems pretty boring, so I'm just going to say that I'm alive, pretty stressed, and. . . that's about it. Or hey, what about a to-do list? - research/write archaeology paper - sign up for an appt. at the Writing Center - bug Hugo for my money - go to Black & White Ball - don't spill anything on my tux - attend IRChurch - get cleared for study abroad - call Aunt Janet about $$$ - email Kelvin about job this summer - email Dad about $$$ (if necessary) - sleep . . . man, I shouldn't have made that list. AUUUUUGH. I think if I live through the next two weeks I'll reward myself with a comic book. Tuesday, April 19, 2005 [link] 11:04 p.m. listening to: "The Ballad of Barry Allen" - Jim's Big Ego I have boots! They are black and stompy and waterproof. They were in the free pile. I saw them and thought, "Well, those are nice boots, but I bet they don't fit me." But I tried them on anyway, and they fit. So I took them. And now I have boots. My life is so exciting. Tuesday, April 19, 2005 [link] 09:22 p.m. listening to: nothing I think the Catholic church is scared shitless. Things are changing, and they don't want to change yet. But they will. They have in the past. Just give it time. That said, apparently you can subscribe to this blog through bloglines.com. Interesting. I had no idea such things existed. Monday, April 18, 2005 [link] 12:05 p.m. listening to: "Either Way" - Guster I do not drive. I do not have a driver's license, nor do I have a car, nor do I have an especial desire for either of these things. Right now I can't really afford it. Sure, I plan on getting a license in a few years just for the sake of having one, and also insurance will be really cheap once I've had a license for a few years (because I won't have been driving!). But right now it's really not affordable or practical. My primary modes of transportation are a) walking, b) public transit, c) hitching rides with other people. Once upon a time there was d) cycling, but unfortunately I don't have my bike. However, I still identify and sympathize with cyclists, because I know how difficult it is for them, whether they're cycling because of economic need, environmental consciousness, or fun. That said, I also really hate some cyclists. I can really see how/why drivers hate them. Some cyclists are simply morons who ruin it for the other, very conscientious cyclists out there. So, if you are a cyclist, please observe these very simple, easy-to-follow rules/suggestions: Be aware of state laws regarding cycling in your area. In California, for instance, a bicycle--as well as a scooter or a skateboard--is regarded as a vehicle. This means that you must ride in the street with the flow of traffic. That also means that you must observe all rules and regulations of the street, from signalling turns to stopping at stop signs and traffic lights. If you wish to cross at a crosswalk, you must first dismount from the bike. It'd be nice if drivers were aware of these things, too. So next time you see a cyclist in the street, guys, think: maybe they're just obeying the law. Wear a helmet. You'd think this is common sense. Make yourself as visible as possible. Wear bright colors, have all the required reflectors on your bike--heck, add more if you want. I've seen some cyclists wear those neon orange reflective vests like crosswalk guards. This is great. Does it make the person look like a moron? I don't think so. I think it makes them visible to drivers. You know, those people drive two-ton vehicles that can easily kill you? Accessorize. I don't know about other states, but in California you are required to have a headlight and taillight if you ride after dark. I recommend the battery-powered kind, because they'll work even if you're stopped (unlike the kind that generate power off your pedaling). If you're allowed to ride on the sidewalk in your area, a bell might be a nice addition so you can let sidewalk pedestrians know you're there. If you cycle in the street, a mirror might be a good idea so you can see cars coming behind you if you need to make a turn. Stay safe, and have fun! But be mindful of cars. I know they're noisy, polluting maniacs, but they own the road. And let's face it, if it's your 15-speed versus a Toyota, who's going to win? Sunday, April 17, 2005 [link] 11:14 p.m. listening to: nothing I hate bugs. And by "bugs" I mean things like spiders, insects, centipedes, ticks. Not all bugs, though, hypocritically enough. I love pill bugs and I think millipedes are rather cool. Naturally, who's scared of butterflies or ants? And I know intellectually, that many bugs are good from the environment, such as spiders and dragonflies. I have, however, a lingering fear of stinging insects such as bees, wasps, and yellowjackets, left over from one summer in which I spent a week trapped in a house infested with nests. Also, I have never been stung by a bee and do not know if I am allergic. Biting insects such as mosquitos are an irritation. Trips to Malaysia inevitably end with me covered with a score of bites or more, while my relatives look on, unscathed and mystified. Supposedly it is a myth that mosquitos can tell blood. I beg to differ. Bugs are mostly just creepy-looking. I don't know what it is. Is it the segmented bodies, the multiple legs? But I don't feel any sort of revulsion towards their distant cousins, the crustaceans: the lobster, the crab, the shrimp. But spiders, flies, cockroaches--ugh. I can't stand to kill them, they're so creepy, the way their bodies squish under the napkin, shoe, or magazine. A lot of the time I dislike even going near a dead wasp. The most I can manage to do, generally, is coax a bug onto a magazine or sheet of paper and then escort it out a window. But as long as the bug doesn't bother me, I try not to bother it. Let's all try to get along, shall we? Unless said bug is in the shower, bathtub, or sink. Then I'm sorry buster, but you're going down. The power of water makes me fearless. But I think the thing I hate the most--and perhaps this is what bothers others, too--is how bugs don't respect personal space. Why do bugs insist on flying around me, crawling on me, or otherwise invading my personal space? I wouldn't dislike them so much if they'd just stay far, far away. Saturday, April 16, 2005 [link] 04:32 p.m. listening to: "I Want More Part 2" - Faithless The morning after Fetish Ball is always a little surreal. Everyone wakes up hungover, whether from alcohol or plain old dehydration/exhaustion, and then at breakfast you see familiar faces and think, "Boy, she had a great set of tits." Dancing topless when you have large breasts is totally not a great idea. Thursday, April 14, 2005 [link] 04:48 p.m. listening to: "Free to Change Your Mind" - Regency Buck I apparently have: many black sharpies one blue sharpie one red sharpie one plum sharpie one lilac sharpie . . . I have colors! Thursday, April 14, 2005 [link] 01:42 p.m. listening to: "Lodestar" - Sarah Harmer Therapy has started getting intense. The first few sessions, it felt like, didn't really talk about anything I didn't already know on some level. Now, though, we're starting to approach subjects that I'm not comfortable talking about, holding them up to the light and examining them. Maybe, my therapist said, you're not ready to think about these things yet. But if not now, then when? I'm not fragile (I think). I don't break that easily. Pain is the weakness leaving your body. Today, I lay in bed and thought, very deliberately, that there are people who care about me. The idea is still very new. I think it might take some getting used to. Wednesday, April 13, 2005 [link] 11:03 p.m. listening to: "One Headlight" - the Wallflowers Last night I took my pitcher into the bathroom to fill it in the bathtub, as I normally do. I also needed to use the toilet, so I set the pitcher on the counter and used the toilet. Afterwards, I went back to my room and went to bed, completely forgetting the pitcher, like the dumbass I usually am. This morning, when I went to brush my teeth, I discovered the pitcher still sitting on the counter. "Gosh," I thought. "I'm amazed that nobody stole it." I took it back into my room and set it on the dresser in its usual place and went about my business. About an hour ago, I decided that I wanted a nice hot cup of cocoa to go with my homework. I peeked into my hotpot and discovered that there was very little water left. I poured the accumulated water in my Brita into the hotpot and went to the bathroom to fill it up in the bathtub as I normally do. And discovered that someone had stolen the filter out of the Brita. Tuesday, April 12, 2005 [link] 10:53 a.m. listening to: nothing I had a dream last night that my father committed suicide. Sunday, April 10, 2005 [link] 08:01 p.m. listening to: "Opportunities" - Petshop Boys I'm not the marrying type. I mean, if I love someone, I don't really see what a piece of paper and a wedding has anything to do with it. However, there are certain circumstances under which I'd get married: 1. Health insurance reasons 2. Emancipation 3. I stand to come into a lot of money (aka green card marriage or something similar) And now you know something new about me. Sunday, April 10, 2005 [link] 03:15 p.m. listening to: "First of May" - Jonathan Coulton We spent a few hours outside on some towels/blankets today, sunning and pretending to work. Well, I got a little bit of reading done, and then I stared into space with my notebook open in front of me. Either my muse has abandoned me or my brain has been baked by the sun. Maybe I need to be in class in order to write. How sad is that? it's the first of May, first of May outdoor fucking starts today bring your favorite lady or at least your favorite lay water's not cold, baby dip in your big toe maybe i'll see you in flagrante delicto grass below you and sky above celebrate spring with a crazy little thing called fucking outside Saturday, April 9, 2005 [link] 08:00 p.m. listening to: "Float" - Bush I just finished watching the first episode of Firefly. That was pretty damn good. I'm beginning to see what everyone's talking about. I should really stop procrastinating. It would help if I'd stop being in pain. . . . oh God, I'm not sick, am I? |
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