Colored Ink
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about me name: n/aaliases: kit, kits, kit kat, the smart girl, foxay, an chin age: 17 location: socal, usa 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 summer job a good night's sleep money stress-free life trigun dvd box set realistic wishlist dayworld by philip josé farmerkabuki by david mack moxy fruvous live noise hellsing dvd box set long-term obsessions anime/mangayaoi/shounenai clamp music animals life and living video games current obsession(s) schoolcollege currently reading nothing newcurrently playing ffxdevil may cry currently watching hana yori dango (20)utena (23) gto tv (27) mirage of blaze (6) witch hunter robin (18) weiß kreuz gluhen (6) naruto (21) wolf's rain (7) i my me strawberry eggs (9) get backers (12) rose of versailles (4) |
Wednesday, March 26, 2003 [link] 04:21 p.m. listening to: "Cathedral" - Jump Little Children Thank you for all the birthday wishes. If I seem unresponsive, it's just that as the years pass, my birthday seems less and less important. I sure don't feel eighteen. ^^;; I love this song. I can't stop listening to it. My dad's home! Our conversation: Me: **walks into the house. sees father on couch** Dad! You're home!!! Dad: Yes, I am. Me: Did you contract any mysterious illnesses? Dad: **amused** No, I did not contract atypical pneumonia. [snip for some of my deranged rantings on how I was really worried, he shouldn't fly, etc.] Dad: It's okay. Some people are destined to die. Me: But that's bad! Dad: For the people that die, yes. Me: What about the people they leave behind? Dad: They collect life insurance. Tuesday, March 25, 2003 [link] 11:47 p.m. listening to: "Noah's Dove" - 10,000 Maniacs Hey, Dag; I thought you might want to see this. . . . this is a really huge inside joke, guys. Don't worry if you don't understand. Tuesday, March 25, 2003 [link] 01:13 p.m. listening to: nothing My mother is arriving today. My father, as it turns out, is arriving tomorrow. I will try to keep from maiming my mother in the meantime. Mills has just informed me that they're giving me a free ride. I think I need to sit down. [Edit: My mother has been here for less than ten minutes and already I want to kill her. I don't think I'm going to survive this.] [Edit: My mom's giving me tons of clothes. I kind of like this, as I loathe clothes shopping and therefore appreciate it whenever people give me clothing. However, she is also giving me tons of heavy sweaters and things. "Mom," I say, "I live in Southern California." And then she says, "Well, if you go to college in Oregon it's going to be extremely cold!" The fuh?] Tuesday, March 25, 2003 [link] 01:00 a.m. listening to: big honkin' playlist I nearly forgot. For those of you who read this blog and not the other, I've got a poll going on at my LJ. Those of you who are even remotely familiar with my writing, please go and vote. Monday, March 24, 2003 [link] 10:05 p.m. listening to: big honkin' playlist I'm staying home tomorrow. For rather silly reasons, but. . . they feel important to me. I have to let the cleaning lady in, and my mom's supposed to be coming tomorrow, but I don't know what time, so I have to be home to let her in, too. My dad's also due back tomorrow, and. . . it's silly, I know, but I want to be here when he gets back. So instead of doing my homework like a good girl, I'm scouring ff.net for KakaIru fanfiction! . . . don't ever, ever do this. It is a foolish thing to do. It will bring you pain. I thought I found one decent one, but somewhere around the third part Iruka was crying like a little girl and then I just had to stop. [Edit: Dammit, Japanese cosplayers need to stop looking so hot when cosplaying Naruto characters. Particularly Kakashi. They also need to stop with the KakaIru cuteness. And Iruka, cleaning Kakashi's ear with a kunai is dangerous.] [Another edit: They also need to stop with the IruNaru, because that's just disturbing. Not cute, disturbing.] [I'm going to stop marking edits now: You know, photos where Kakashi has a bloody bandage drawn down over one eye make me think there's something I've missed somewhere.] If for some reason you're masochistic or have no life, I'll be posting the rest of my adventures looking at cosplay photos and whatnot online will be posted at my livejournal. Monday, March 24, 2003 [link] 06:00 p.m. listening to: big honkin' playlist My big honkin' playlist has finally hit 500 mp3s! Woooooww. **pauses for laughter to die away** Youth in Government is going to start eating my life soon. Meetings and rehearsals up the wazoo. Mr. Hammett totally chewed us out today because a bunch of us were suddenly saying, "Oh, we can't make this-and-this because we have Festival/SAT prep class/turtle-dancing." I felt kind of bad, because I'd told him last week that Festival was this Friday, but I'd known about the date way before. I just. . . hadn't told him. Before sixth period, I went to talk to him about something YIG-related. Generally, in YIG, you apply for an appointed position or run for an elected one. I applied for Civic Auditorium manager last year and shadowed him (he's a very nice fellow), and this year there wasn't anything in particular that interested me. So I gave up the chance to apply for a position, but realized that I still wanted to do a speech. I asked Mr. Hammett if I could do a speech without having an appointed position; he seemed perplexed, but agreed that it was something we could work out. So now I'm doing a speech on youth centers and--of all things--shopping carts on sidewalks. The problem is, could I--and should I--go on Youth in Government day with the rest of the participants? This was the question I posed to Mr. Hammett, and to my surprise, he told me, "I'd actually prefer that you go, as you've been so faithful and dutiful." He went on to say that they'd probably be bumping off something like five kids, since apparently they hadn't made this a committment, so there would be extra room. In fact, he said, "I'd be honored if you came with us." Uh. Well then. How can I say no to that? It's a measure of how much I respect and adore Mr. Hammett that I was giddy and lightheaded from his compliment afterwards. Sunday, March 23, 2003 [link] 07:06 p.m. listening to: various classical music pieces Got back a little while ago from a PYMA/PYMO concert. I will now proceed to ramble at length. The concert started off with PYMO playing a few pieces. The first one was, appropriately enough, The Star Spangled Banner. The entire audience stood, which I thought was the best thing on Earth, and afterwards the director explained how they thought it would be appropriate, etc., and added that her own son is right now overseas. Then the concert proceeded as normal. The first piece was nice, not terribly remarkable. The second piece was GAAAHH, but I will talk about that later. I want to save my nonsensical rambling about a violin solo for last. ^^;; After PYMO's songs, PYMA went up. Now, I get nervous in really peculiar ways. I'm usually really, really, incredibly nervous before a performance, and then as soon as the performance actually starts I'm on auto-pilot and coast the entire way through. But in this case, I was perfectly calm until we actually started playing. This was worse, because, um, it's really hard to play when you're so nervous it feels like your guts are tying themselves into complicated sailor's knots. It doesn't help that I'm pretty much playing by myself the entire time; yes, there's a second horn, but she doesn't play as often as I do (because she's, uh, the second horn) and her parts are usually different from mine. I was fine until the eighth movement of Eight Russian Folk Songs, where I suddenly choked on a relatively easy solo. **smacks herself** Ye gods; it's four notes repeated over and over again, but the fingerings are kind of tricky and then I was so nervous and I just freaked--arrrrgh, I wanted to shoot myself. Ahem. Okay, I'm done bashing myself. Now I will talk about the second piece, which was Violin Concerto, opus 14 by Samuel Barber, featuring violin soloist Matt Peebles. There was a rather long, embarrassing gap of time after the first piece and the second, probably because they couldn't find the soloist. ^^;; At first the orchestra sat there rather nervously, and then the oboeist had the bright idea to, er, tune the orchestra again. So they spent a few minutes tuning, and then it went all silent and anxious again, until finally Matt strode onto stage, followed by Mr. Fulbright, who was directing the piece. The first thing I noticed about Matt Peebles was that he had rather fluffy hair. In fact, much like this fellow here. And a tallish, lanky figure as well. I remarked upon this to the girl next to me, who's also an anime fan, and she laughed and whispered, "Yes, but he's a really good violin player." Really, I thought, and wondered how it would feel to have Spike Spiegel playing the violin on stage in front of me. Then it didn't matter, because as soon as he set bow to string I was lost. He had no music with him; he played it all from memory, on his feet. He must have been watching the conductor; later Angela told me that they cued each other quite a bit. But I never noticed, because I was too focused on the sway and rock of his body, the way he hunched and bent over his violin as if he was tearing the music from his own body, the way he bent back as if in supplication. I was wholly absorbed. I barely noticed a thing the rest of the orchestra played, I was only waiting until the next time he played again. Maybe halfway through the piece I realized that, dimly, I would follow him across the continents as long as he kept playing. The notes spiraled up continually and then broke, cascading down, and broke my heart as well until I felt strung out and tense, wrung out on vicarious emotion. Then it ended and the audience applauded, and I applauded, too. I didn't pay attention through most of the next song (the Andalucia Suite by Ernest Lecuona). My heart still hurt where his violin had been before. Saturday, March 22, 2003 [link] 01:13 p.m. listening to: big honkin' playlist In case anyone particularly cares, I've been accepted to Scripps College. For my own peace of mind, I'm going to put up a list here. Willamette: accepted (planning to attend; waiting for financial aid decision) Scripps: accepted (not planning to attend) Mills: accepted (not planning to attend) UCLA: rejected (eh, whatever) UCSD: waiting UCB: waiting Columbia: waiting (GODDAMMIT I WANT TO GO) Pitzer: waiting (not planning to attend) Wellesley: waiting (not planning to attend) Humboldt: accepted (not planning to attend) North Michigan University: accepted (not planning to attend) . . . well then. [Edit: I just received Willamette's financial aid decision. They're giving me a free ride. I weep in joy now.] Thursday, March 20, 2003 [link] 04:39 p.m. listening to: "Driver's High" - L'arc en Ciel Occasionally, my faith in humanity is somewhat restored. I stayed late after school today for a spelling bee competition. We started out on words from the regular Biology book, and after a few rounds it was obvious that it would take forever to eliminate AP Bio kids on the regular vocab words, so Dr. Jang dug out the AP Biology book. The first word his assistant hit was "human immunodeficiency virus" and eliminated three kids. ^^;; It's not that they couldn't spell it, I'm sure, it's just that on such a long word you lose track of where you are and make mistakes. Raymond, the boy before me, spelled it correctly, and thus Raymond and I were deemed the "champions" who would do the spell-off in front of an audience at the Science Fair. I did not particularly want to compete in the Science Fair. I don't place a lot of value on something like a spelling bee, and I knew that if I won--which I had a good chance of doing--it wouldn't be something I felt like I earned. And besides, I wanted to go home and cook dinner. ^^;; Connie, on the other hand, really wanted to do the spelling bee; she'd studied and everything, and told me that it was some sort of dream from her childhood. So yeah, I gave my spot to Connie. I left as quickly as I could afterwords, attempted to solicit a ride, and failed. I started walking home. I stopped by Gary's Corner Bookstore--which was open for once--and bought book three of Musashi by Eiji Yoshikawa for sixty-five cents. I started reading it on the way home, and just as I was standing on a corner waiting for the light to change and making my way through the Foreword, I heard someone yell my name. I looked up and it was Ann, asking if I wanted a ride. I didn't want to impose but well, if I got a ride I'd be home to cook dinner that much faster, and accepted the offer. First we had to find a place to hook up, which happened to be a block over. The driver was Jerome, who is probably one of the nicest guys I'll ever hope to meet. "Need a ride?" he asked. "Yeah thanks," I replied, and Ann put herself in the back seat so I could ride up front. Jerome and Anne talked about things I had no clue about the whole time, until we reached my house. "You'd have had to walk all the way here?" Jerome asked. I shrugged it off and said that it wasn't that far; it would have taken about forty-five minutes. Anne said it was kind of far, and I thanked them and got out of the car. Siean and Kelly were home, which surprised me just slightly. ^^;; Kelly was dropping off some mail she'd picked up from my dad's P.O. box, and Siean was here. . . just to be here, I don't know. He doesn't usually show up on a Thursday (Fridays and Sundays are his days off). So yeah. Considering that fifth period I was ready to have a panic attack and break into tears just out of sheer helplessness and worry, my afternoon has suddenly turned out pretty good. [Edit: And randomly, the latest page of Grayling breaks my heart and makes me writhe in impatience waiting for the next page.] Thursday, March 20, 2003 [link] 02:10 a.m. listening to: the news I am sick of everything. I am sick of the war. I am sick of the protestors, the oil conspiracists, the warhawks, and the peaceniks. I am sick of people counting the dead and the wounded, I am sick of the news, and I am sick of political commentary. I am sick of fighter planes flying over my house at 7:30 AM. I am sick of school. I am sick of reading about Biology, I am sick of reading about Economics, and I am sick of reading about Hamlet. I am sick of fights in the hallways. I am sick of the inanity of my peers as well as the political conversations. I am sick of waking up early and eating a cold breakfast. I am sick of TVs turned on in all the classrooms and the news playing on every screen. I am sick of trying to forget. I am sick of worrying. I am sick of jumping up every time the phone rings. I am sick of phone calls from credit card companies wanting their money and threatening legal action. I am sick of wondering. I am sick of lying sleepless in bed and staring at the ceiling. I am sick of never really being able to distract myself. I am sick of wanting to cry. I am sick of life. I am sick of death. I am sick of thinking of brothers and cousins and uncles overseas. I am sick of incurable diseases. I am sick of missing children. I am sick of the homeless, the starving, the dying, and I am sick of problems not being fixed. I am sick of people asking "why" and people who try to give an answer. I am sick of bad things happening to good people. I am sick of optimists, I am sick of pessimists, and I am sick of cynics. I am sick of realists and I am sick of idealists. I am sick of being sick of everything. |
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