Colored Ink
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about me name: n/aaliases: kit, kits, kit kat, the smart girl, foxay, an chin age: 18 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 long-term obsessions anime/mangayaoi/shounenai clamp music animals life and living video games current obsession(s) schoolcollege currently reading nothing newcurrently playing dark cloud 2ffx currently watching hana yori dango (20)utena (23) gto tv (27) mirage of blaze (6) witch hunter robin (18) weiß kreuz gluhen (8) naruto (30) wolf's rain (12) i my me strawberry eggs (9) get backers (23) rose of versailles (16) |
Saturday, April 26, 2003 [link] 11:03 p.m. listening to: "Sadness and Sorrow" - Toshiro Masuda This song makes me want to cry, primarily because every time I listen to it I hear Iruka's little speech to Naruto in episode one. And see him crying. And auuuuugh must not be depressed. Some of you know that I went to a private school for two years, first and second grade. Sometimes I pretend this makes me an authority on the private vs. public argument, but I'm really just full of shit. Never listen to anything I say. As a matter of fact, I didn't really detect any difference between private/public at all, except that the kids at private school tend to be snobbier. Not always, but sometimes. But I was also seven years old at the time, so things like that are hard to tell from the perspective of a little kid. I do remember being horrible to an Indian kid (as in from India, not Native American) simply because everyone else was. If I had one desperate wish in the world, it would be to find Anand and apologize to him. So, anyway, I've been corresponding with my mother through email for a few weeks now, and she was saying how proud she was of my decision blah blah. She made a reference to Mills being a "prestigious" school which pissed me off, because goddammit, it doesn't matter whether or not the school's prestigious, it matters what you do with your degree afterwards. There are plenty of people with Master's degrees from UCLA who can't find a job while people who went JC for two years and then transferred to UCR are perfectly happy and relatively secure. I told her this--although not in so many words--and in the next email she assured me that she didn't care if the school was prestigious, she just wanted me to be confident in my decision. She also told me that my father had me pulled from private school because he thought it was too much pressure for me, that it was too competitive. My happiness mattered more to him than the prestige or "better education" of a private school. This surprised me, because I'd always thought I'd been pulled out for financial reasons. One part of me wants to say "awww" and the other part wants to say, "Dude, I was in second grade." Second graders don't understand competition yet. Not when it comes to things like grades, anyway. My dad's been remarkably accurate at reading me, though. How did he know that, when I was older, I would turn out to be high-strung and competitive? He apparently looked into sending me to a magnet school once and then decided that I wouldn't do well there. And he was right, once I thought it over. The prestige and whatnot of a magnet school is nice, but I would run myself into the ground. I can't take things easy. I always have to be better than everyone else, and it hurts when I'm not. It's true; I don't take failure well. I become stressed very easily. The moral of the story: my father really does know best. And it sucks when your parents are right, but sometimes it's better that way. (Yes, yes, I know I need to archive. I will.) (And by the way, if you read my blog for the geekery rather than boring babble about my life, check out my livejournal. The quizzes have been going up there, too.) Saturday, April 26, 2003 [link] 04:05 p.m. listening to: "Dona Dona" - Joan Baez Got back from visiting the Antelope Valley Golden Poppy Reserve a while ago. Very long drive to Lancaster, but it was worth it. Unfortunately, we were a little late to see the poppies. Two weeks ago apparently the place was swarming with them, but when the weather changed the poppies started to go away. Sigh. But we managed to see some before they all left. It's hard to believe something that beautiful could grow in a place like this. Saturday, April 26, 2003 [link] 12:36 a.m. listening to: big honkin' playlist Okay, I need to get some things in perspective here. My life does not suck. I am well aware of this. And I'm really sorry to anyone who thinks that I'm some sort of spoiled brat who makes herself miserable on purpose. Well, I am a spoiled brat, but I'm well aware of this and I'm also well aware that my life does not suck. Do you know how I can tell that my life doesn't suck? I have two loving parents, a roof over my head, three meals a day, enough money to support my anime addiction, and a free ride to college. In fact, not only does my life not suck, I'm as lucky as all hell. So it really, really pisses me off when I see people bitching about the stupidest little things. Like, say, not being able to find a date for Friday. Or not getting Easter candy. Or not having a girlfriend/boyfriend. It makes me want to go, oh, poor baby, have a fucking cookie. Are you dying of terminal illness? Are you the sole provider for a family of five? Do you not eat every day, not because you're trying to lose weight but because you don't have money for food? Are you naked? Are you being physically, mentally, or sexually abused? Are you constantly in danger of being shot every day of your life? If not, your life is probably not as bad as you think it is. There are plenty of things I haven't listed here that most people would think of as being part of a Really, Really Sucky Life, but chances are, whoever's reading this does not fall into any of those categories. Count your blessings, children. Be thankful for the little things. Even stupid things, like having a refrigerator or a microwave. Be thankful that you're alive. Be grateful for your parents, even if you think they ignore you or nag you too much. Count your fingers every night and every morning. Blink your eyes and be glad you can see. Listen to music and be glad you can hear. Sing a few notes and be glad you can speak. Take a deep breath and be glad you're healthy. Do at least three of these things every day and I think you'll be happier for it. I know the whole thing about the girl's loss of her favorite doll being just as important as the king's loss of his kingdom, but that's something else entirely. Let's get some perspective here. Friday, April 25, 2003 [link] 05:57 p.m. listening to: "Happier" - Guster I have never been so happy that it's Friday. AP tests in less than two weeks. People are starting to freak out all over the place. I believe that, one day in class, I am going to spontaneously break into tears. Oh my God. SO STRESSED. AP Government: I got a 3 on the practice test. Not too worried. I believe I will pass, I'm just not sure if I'll pass with a high score. And, uh, I want a high score. Will take the day off before the test to cram, and I'll probably do okay. AP Literature: What the hell can I do? We've done nothing in the class the entire year (like, seriously nothing; we did all the work the regular class does, and that was it), and I don't know how you can study for this kind of thing. I figure all I can do is make the Luminarium my friend. And memorize my literary terms. Cathrine suggested reading cliffnotes and stuff like crazy to prepare for the essays, which isn't such a bad idea. AP Biology: OH MY GOD AUUUGH. **sobs** I am so stressed about this class it's not even funny. Dr. Jang's noticed that my test grades have been slipping. I can't help it, because I got so fucking behind during Spring Break due to my little college trip that. . . that. . . argh words cannot describe how much this class makes me want to cry. If there's any class I'm going to spontaneously burst into tears in the middle of, it's this one. I got a 36% on the latest diagnostic. 36%. This late in the year. I am so fucked. Thursday, April 24, 2003 [link] 09:34 p.m. listening to: "Zoot Suit Riot" - Cherry Poppin' Daddies Those of you who are observant may have noticed that I updated my comic links in the right sidebar. Unicorn Jelly has been removed, as it's finished and will probably see no significant updates in the future. It's been replaced by Clipped Wings, Directions of Destiny, and Fallen. The last is something I haven't plugged before, though I should have, as the story and art are both fantastic. Everything in my comics list is worth checking out, by the way, although you should be warned that Sexy Losers is a dirty, dirty comic and is not for the faint of mind or pure of heart. <[Edit: Have I mentioned that Grayling breaks my heart? Because it does. It so does.] Wednesday, April 23, 2003 [link] 08:46 p.m. listening to: big honkin' playlist I have that dull headache that comes from sleep deprivation and extreme weariness. Augh. I wouldn't be so tempted to get a xanga if they had an "anonymous comment" feature like livejournal does. Argh. I don't want to sign up for another weblog-type thing! [Edit: After taking a quick peek at the xanga website, it seems to me that their service is so similar to LJ's it's downright scary. Hey, look, they even experienced a DOS attack!] Wednesday, April 23, 2003 [link] 06:42 p.m. listening to: big honkin' playlist Occasionally my father goes out to do goodness-knows-what, and so I have to fend for myself for dinner. Contrary to popular belief, I can actually cook fairly well, I'm just lazy and dislike cleaning up afterwards. But there was a sea bass steak thawed and ready in the refrigerator, so I decided to go ahead and cook that instead. I'm a bit inventive when it comes to concocting fish sauces. Today, it was hoisin sauce, steak sauce, a dash of salsa, a dash of ketchup, and packet of taco sauce from Taco Bell. The sea bass actually turned out okay (I suppose it's difficult to completely ruin sea bass), and I went ahead and diced up a bell pepper and sauteed it in the left over sauce. The bell peppers turned out better than the fish. Go figure. I should let my dad know about this. Wednesday, April 23, 2003 [link] 04:54 p.m. listening to: "Yearling" - Jump Little Children It's nice to know that, as you're growing up, you're surrounded by people with the same fears. What if I don't make any friends? What if something happens to my parents while I'm away? What if I'm homesick? What if I make the wrong choices? What if I've already made the wrong choice? How will I know it was wrong? How will I fix my mistakes? What if I run out of money/time/energy/alternatives? What if what if what if? That said, certain posts have gotten me thinking about, yes, familial obligation and personal responsibilty and maturity. Which means, of course, that I'm actually going to talk about myself. Those of you who know me should know that I [HEART] my father. He basically lets me do whatever I want and goes out of his way to help me. I'm immensely grateful to my father for everything he's done for me, and I plan on trying to make it up to him as soon as I've landed some sort of half-way decent job. He's taught me to be a relatively responsible, independent person, to think for myself, and to make rational decisions. He lets me figure things out for myself and he's doing the best thing he possibly could for me by encouraging--nay, nearly forcing--me to move out of the house instead of clinging to him forever. It's been tough for my father. I don't know half the things he's been through or goes through; he doesn't talk much about himself, and what I know I've gleaned through the occasional reference or the nostalgic reminscings of my other relatives. He was two years old when the Japanese invaded Malaysia; from what my aunt says, the family scraped by by eating snakes, dogs, cats, monkeys, anything they could get their hands on. I don't know what he worked at in Malaysia (I know that at least one of my aunts worked in a shipyard), but here he's done everything from work in a tomato cannery to a bag recycling company. He finally started his own business and he's worked at it for about thirty years, but now the economy's going down the tubes and his business is, too. He's making less than twenty thousand dollars a year, and I honestly don't know how we're scraping by. My mother hasn't been any help; she moved to Hong Kong when I was around five or six and only made things worse for my father, first by harrassing him for money to fund more business ventures and then by randomly wanting a divorce (it turns out she met some other man in China). All her business ventures have fallen through, and if she still dares to call my father and ask for his money I swear I'm going to punch her. She's never given us a single cent that I know of, although she spoils me rotten. So. . . yeah, what right to have to rely on my father any more? I've had everything handed to me on a silver platter, from gummi candies when I was little to game systems when I was older to a free college education now that I'm finishing high school. I want him to rely on me now. I want to give him money to spend. I want to drive him places. I want to take care of him in his old age. I want to do for him everything he's ever done for me and more because I owe it to him, and I'm most afraid of not being able to. Just wait a little longer, Dad. There are a lot of things I should have done that I didn't, and a lot of things that I've been meaning to do that didn't get done, but this is one thing I plan on seeing through. For you. Tuesday, April 22, 2003 [link] 02:24 p.m. listening to: "Total Eclipse of the Heart" - USC VoCaLs ARRRRRGH CRAMPING BADLY MAKE THE PAIN GO AWAY. [Edit: Oh yes, I wanted to mention that I somehow passed the latest Bio test despite having read all of four pages of the chapter. There's something seriously wrong with this. Either that, or I'm just incredibly lucky. Oh, and this is hilarious. Children these days.] Monday, April 21, 2003 [link] 06:43 p.m. listening to: "Letting the Cables Sleep" - Bush I think I had several deep thoughts about college and life and stuff. But I was lying in bed at the time and I fell asleep, so now I've completely forgotten them. Damn. Monday, April 21, 2003 [link] 01:32 p.m. listening to: "Wild Horses" - Off the Beat Soooooo tired. But I just ate lunch, so I need to let the food settle a bit before launching myself into bed. Today was one of those days where school hasn't even started and you already know it's going to be a bad day. I've been working like crazy the past couple of days trying to get caught up on everything I missed while I was away visiting colleges and. . . failed miserably. Due to a little procrastination on my part, unfortunately, but senioritis seems to be hitting like a ton of bricks. >_< At any rate, I'm now four or five tests behind in AP Bio and I didn't even read the chapter the test was on today. And I only got five hours of sleep. Argh. So, nap for me soon. Something you all should know about me, by the way, is that I have a habit of beating dead horses. Things will come back to bother me for days, sometimes weeks, and occasionally I will bring it up again. I have a hard time letting go of the past. See this Penny Arcade strip? That's me, right there. What this means is that, uh, I have a short memory, and as long as you don't remind me of events/things/happenings, I don't bring them up. Or seethe. Or hold strange and unfathomable grudges. Just so you know. I go to take my nap now. Sunday, April 20, 2003 [link] 11:03 a.m. listening to: "Painless" - David Mead Augh. Too. . . much. . . seriousness. . . must. . . say something. . . humorous. . . Pet peeves of mine include cold sheets. I really hate crawling under cold covers. Every cold night I end up wishing I had some kind of bedwarmer as I lie curled up underneath freezing blankets. I also have this habit of kicking the covers off in the middle of the night. I used to kick a lot when I was little, then I stopped, and then recently I started again. I sleep under, say, three blankets when it gets really cold (shut up you Midwestern/East Coast types, I know you're sniggering), and I'll end up kicking off the top two. Then I wake myself up because I'm shivering. Argh. Body, why do you kick off the very thing that keeps you warm?! Sunday, April 20, 2003 [link] 12:56 a.m. listening to: "Elm" - Yoko Kanno Now that it's technically Easter, I suppose I should talk about religion. I try to avoid controversial topics because they tend to spark debate/conflict, and while I enjoy a good debate, I lose interest easily, especially when nothing's being resolved. And usually in these kinds of debates, well, nothing gets resolved. Besides, I suck at debate. I have a good number of religious people on my friends list, and this being Holy Week and all, I've read some religious or semi-religious entries lately. Which, of course, always gets me thinking. I do not consider myself a particularly religious person. This has been a source of shock/pity/worry for some people, to which I can only shrug and say I'm sorry, and thank you for praying for me, I'm sure your prayers aren't wasted. Really Devoutly Religious people make me a little nervous, but in the same way that a really big dog that's supposedly "friendly" makes me nervous; I can never really be sure that this dog's not going to jump me. I've had a good deal of really shitty religious propaganda rubbed in my face and it's really soured me on the whole organized religion thing. I know there are a great deal of Really Nice People who're devoutly religious, and I love them and wish that more Christians/Catholics/Jews/what have you were more like them, because it'd save us all a great deal of stress. But I think I'll stay over here. Where was I? Oh, right, I'm not a particularly religious person. I can't really say why this is. It might be because of the aforementioned shitty religious propaganda and religious assholes. It might be because I prefer to keep my options open. It might be because I don't feel any sort of great spiritual hole in myself that needs to be filled. It might be because none of my family members aren't religious and I was, in fact, raised in a mostly atheistic fashion. I went to a private Christian school for a few years, but it wasn't because my family wanted me to be raised Christian; it was more like they thought a private school could offer me a better education. My aunt, who raised me until my teens, always told me not to place my trust in any god, because in the end the only person I can trust is myself. "You can't trust God to make everything okay," she told me, "because how do you know He's really there?" Or something to that effect, anyway. I don't think she was denouncing the existence of a God so much as telling me that I need to rely on myself, which is good advice. The gods help those who help themselves and all that. You might have noticed that this entry's dealing mostly with Christianity and related sects. Trust me, I'm not ignoring Buddhism or Hinduism or anything, it's just that this is Holy Week and that, uh, deals with the Jesus-related religions. I comprehend really religious people in an intellectual way, but not really in an emotional way. Well, of course I don't comprehend them in an emotional way because I don't share their faith. But in a way, I admire them, because I don't understand what it's like to have that kind of faith. I haven't had that kind of faith since I was a little kid and I thought that adults--my father and aunt, particularly--knew everything in the world and that they could make everything okay. I can't or don't understand believing so strongly in a higher being that no matter what happened to me, I could chalk it up to "His plan" and smile and believe that everything is really, truly going to be all right in the end, that all this happened for a reason. I think it's a beautiful thing and I really admire the spiritual fortitude, but it makes me blink and step back a little. Part of my lack of faith might be due to the fact that I'm a control freak. We're talking serious Alpha Female Complex, here. I must be in control at all times, and the idea of being part of a master plan of some sort scares the bejeesus out of me. What am I doing this for, if not for myself? What am I doing this for, if there's some mysterious giant hand in the sky that's guiding me? What am I doing this for, if it's part of some gigantic ineffable plan? But on the other hand, if everything is fundamentally abstract, that's terrible, too, because that means everything that's good and bad and wonderful in this world is actually. . . nothing. I don't really think about this that often. Some people, I think, spend a lot of their lives pondering the order of things and the way the world works and do a lot of deep philosophical thinking. I used to fancy myself somewhat philosophical, but now I know I'm not. I live my life day-to-day, week-to-week, without really thinking about the force behind it all or what have you. When I was younger and more hot-blooded I used to argue about the nature of good and evil and rage against God and organized religion, but nowadays I let everyone go their own way. I don't want to get worked up about abortion and politics and religion anymore. I just do my thing and try to be the best person that I can and make other people happy, and I've made that a little mission for myself. Maybe it's kind of a shallow way to live, but I seem to be happier for it. That said, I do believe in God. I'm not so sure about the whole Jesus-dying-for-our-sins-and-coming-back-to-life business, but I'm quite sure there's a Creator. Whether that Creator's still hanging around and actively checking up on us is not, I think, something we're meant to know for sure. I'm not so sure about the whole Heaven and Hell business, either, although I do believe--or want to believe--that, in the end, He makes it okay somehow. I think I can relinquish enough control to put my faith in that, at least. After all the fears and joys and pain and glory of living, He'll make it okay. That's all I really ask for. Saturday, April 19, 2003 [link] 07:04 p.m. listening to: "ELM" - Yoko Kanno/"End of the Summer" - Dar Williams I guess it's time for the College Blog Entry, then. I've pretty much made my decision. It seems a little faulty, to me, to base a decision on one visit, but I guess I don't really have much else to base my decision on. And one visit makes quite a big impression. My impression of Willamette University was that it was Really Fucking Boring. I can talk all I like about how much I love the country and hate the city and blah blah blah, but the fact remains that I was born in a city (well, a suburb near the city) and raised in a city and I'm not going to be comfortable moving out to the middle of nowhere and living there for four years. I need my 7-11s and movie theaters and shopping malls. Yes, Salem is the capitol of Oregon, but it's also got a population of 100,000 people. The Oregonian concept of a city is very different from the Californian concept of a city. Los Angeles alone has a population almost ten times more than the entire population of Oregon. Oregon, I think, would be a nice place to move if I were a really reclusive person. It might be a nice place to move if I ever become an actual full-time author, when I need peace and quiet to write my books, where I can take walks under the trees in the autumn and talk to myself. And I am a recluse, to a certain point, and I do love nature, but I also love convenience. Salem is not also a place of great diversity. Yes, it's close to Portland, which from what I hear is something more like a city I'm used to, but it's an hour away and I probably won't have a car. Salem itself is full of mostly white people, and I'm deadly afraid of not being able to, say, find Pocky. Or good Chinese food. Or good Indian food. Or boba. I feel like I'm being something of a coward for not braving the strange, new world of living in a semi-rural area. After all, I didn't get to see very much of Salem itself; I just got to see how boring and slow it was on campus during a weekday. I don't know what these people do for fun. They said it was much more lively on weekends. I imagine people pile into cars and drive to Portland or Eugene. But I didn't really click with the people there. They were nice, but not the outgoing kind of people I'm used to. Not even the prospectives talked much. Everyone sat around and stared at everyone else. When I got to Mills, it was like a godsend. I was mortally afraid that I would hate Mills and that I would be trapped in a decision involving two colleges I hated. But Mills was different. The people were outgoing and talkative and crazy. They were open and friendly and frank. They weren't afraid to tell me all the bad points of the college, and of course they weren't afraid to tell me all the good points, either. The prospectives were chattery. Everyone crackled with energy; this was not a place of reserved or reticent people. The dorms were luxurious and the food was crazy good. And best of all, it was in the Bay Area, a place I've loved ever since I first laid eyes on it three years ago at a speech tournament in Berkeley. So, yes, I'm going to Mills College. Yes, it's a women's college. I can deal with that, I think. I'm more apprehensive about whether or not there's high-speed Internet connections in the dorm rooms. There should be--I'm assuming there is--but the Princeton Review seems to give me a negative on that. I'm also apprehensive about the curriculum; the Mills curriculum is very limited compared to the Willamette curriculum. Their course catalog is only half the size of the gigantic booklet Willamette mailed me. Am I afraid? Hell yes, I'm afraid. I'm afraid that when I actually get there, I'll hate it and spend the next two to four years wishing I'd gone to Willamette University instead. I'm afraid that I'm stupid for basing my decision on the area and the atmosphere rather than the type of education. But it seems important to me that I attend an institution where I can connect with the people there. A girl at my school pointed out that when choosing a college, you should choose one in a place that you can imagine yourself living for the rest of your life. "Because," she said, "think about it: nobody ever goes back home." I didn't even have to think about it. She was right. Very few people, after attending college away from home, end up going back home afterwards. Their opportunities, their lives, are all in that area. When Kelvin went to Stanford, he never came back. He's living in Palo Alto now. The ones who go back home are either that attached to their families or--more likely--never went to college very far away in the first place, such as my cousins, most of whom are CalState LA alumni. Could I see myself living in Salem for the rest of my life? . . . not really. Could I see myself living in Oakland for the rest of my life? . . . yeah, probably. I still won't be able to see the stars, but I guess I'll just have to be content. . . . and plus, I'll be able to attend Yaoicon. |
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