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 7-8 transmetropolitan vol 3, 5-7, 9-10 sandman vol 4 long-term obsessions anime/mangayaoi/shounenai/slash writing music animals life and living current obsession(s) smallvillecurrently reading nothing newcurrently 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, August 27, 2005 [link] 04:46 p.m. listening to: "Dragostea Din Tei" - O-Zone I can feel myself getting excited about Journalism. The problem is, of course, the eternal deadline. I'm a perfectionist: I want to interview people, get quotes, go deep, and make the article as perfect as possible. Of course, this isn't possible when my first story is due on Wednesday. People I need to talk to for this story: - Admissions? - Dean of Students? - upperclassmen in OM - lowerclassmen in OM And somehow I still need to actually write the story. It's a rush. It's fun. Friday, August 26, 2005 [link] 10:14 a.m. listening to: nothing Some interesting maps. I don't talk much about the war on this blog. There's nothing for me to say, really. Better people are out there doing better commentary on it. I'm a pacifist, so of course I'm against the war. But that doesn't mean I don't "support our troops." I think the idea that being against the war somehow means hating our soldiers is ridiculous and fallacious. Sure, I support our troops. I want our troops to have decent armor, or really armor at all. I want our troops to stop dying. I want them to come home safely. I want them to not be over there at all. But since they are over there, then they should have the best equipment we can find or buy. Somehow, this isn't happening. Why? Where is our military spending going? But I don't want them out of there immediately. Well, part of me does, because so many of them are dying, and for what reason? Hell if anyone knows anymore. It makes me sad and angry that young men and women my age are dying for this. If you're going to fuck up, at least fuck up in style. Fuck up with some consistency. This--this is just ridiculous. But we got ourselves into this mess, and now it's up to us to fix it. We can't just leave it for someone else to clean up. Friday, August 26, 2005 [link] 09:50 a.m. listening to: nothing So I set my alarm clock for 7 AM in order to pick up my newspaper early lest my dormmates steal it. However, there was no newspaper in evidence. Wondering if it'd been misdelivered, I called the phone number on the website. After working my way through an electronic menu, I ascertained that whoever had told me my subscription would start today was lying and that it would probably start next week. Hooray. So I went back to sleep, because I went to bed at 2 AM and waking up at 7 AM when you went to bed at 2 is kind of trying. I set my alarm for 10 AM because I did not want to sleep until three in the afternoon. I got a call from financial aid ten minutes ago saying they received notice of my governor's scholarshare money and what did I want done with it? Argh. Thursday, August 25, 2005 [link] 06:36 p.m. listening to: nothing Ants, Brains, Cities, and Software looks like it will be an incredibly fun class. I get to dick around with simulations for class credit! The American Literature Realism blah blah class looks like fairly typical Strychacz. However, since it's upper division/graduate, I might actually have to work. Crap. I'm joining the school newspaper. And now, I am going to make a sandwich. Or maybe two, because I am very hungry. Wednesday, August 24, 2005 [link] 06:06 p.m. listening to: nothing I suspect something has been sapping my strength. First, it was a waterbottle I couldn't open. Then a jar I had to run under warm water and even then it took a towel. Just now, another waterbottle (and I nearly spilled water all over myself just now when I finally got it open). Clearly, there is some kind of diabolical strength-sapping force in my room. Wednesday, August 24, 2005 [link] 02:28 p.m. listening to: nothing Dear God, I just spent $55 on a subscription to the San Francisco Chronicle. I haven't even put in a subscription for the Sunday LA Times yet. Journalism's going to kill me, but I think I'm going to love every second of it. Sunday, August 21, 2005 [link] 10:10 p.m. listening to: "Battleflag" - Lo Fidelity All Stars I'm home. **thud** Sunday, August 21, 2005 [link] 01:34 a.m. listening to: nothing I can't sleep. My flight leaves at 8 AM. I'm leaving the house at 6 AM. Maybe that nap earlier was a bad idea. Saturday, August 20, 2005 [link] 11:35 p.m. listening to: "Holding Out for a Hero" - Frou Frou I'm going home. Somehow, it doesn't seem real yet. Saturday, August 20, 2005 [link] 06:12 p.m. listening to: nothing Welp, Kelvin's officially joined the heterosexual elite. Also, tomorrow I'm going home. Friday, August 19, 2005 [link] 05:05 p.m. listening to: "Battleflag" - Lo Fidelity Allstars And now, for the benefit of my readers, I present to you a list of relatives I sometimes talk about! . . .yes, I'm bored. To be fair, I also have quite a few cousins. Lee: Female cousin, recently divorced. She has a six-year old daughter named Rachel (not to be confused with my best friend Rachel) that I often refer to as my niece, despite the fact that she's technically my second cousin. I live in Lee's house during the summer. Wayne: Male cousin, and I think my eldest cousin in the United States. Drives me back and forth between Oakland and Los Angeles (but not this year). Nora: Female cousin from my mother's side and the closest to my age. She's two years older than me. I think. Drives and takes me places where I never hung out in high school when I should have had a social life. Aunt Janet: My fourth aunt (which is to say, fourth youngest of my five aunts). She takes me out to eat. Kelvin: Male cousin who's getting married this weekend. Siean: Male cousin who's a complete video games junkie. He appears to have no life other than work and video games, which distresses the rest of my family. Gugu: I talk about her on this blog very infrequently, but this is the aunt who raised me until I was thirteen. Gugu is actually a misnomer, as she's my eldest aunt on my father's side and thus technically my guma. But I called her gugu when I was little and it stuck, so now she's Gugu (even my other relatives call her that). When my real gugu showed up in the United States she got called xiaogu, "little aunt," which isn't an actual word and confuses non-relatives. That's a very incomplete list of my relatives--I didn't include Uncle Jimmy, Uncle Thomas, or the rest of the relatives from my mother's side, or my cousin's spouses--but those are the ones I interact with the most. Wednesday, August 17, 2005 [link] 02:50 p.m. listening to: nothing Well, the computer's going into a box now. I'll still have Internet access, but I won't have my own computer back until the 21st at the earliest when I'm back in my dorm room. Hopefully all goes well. Seeya topside! Wednesday, August 17, 2005 [link] 02:39 a.m. listening to: "Iowa" - Dar Williams I went through a sleeping pill phase once, during high school. I have no idea why. I wasn't sleeping well at night, I guess, or maybe had trouble falling asleep. Tylenol PM worked like a charm, but contained acetaminophen, and I didn't want to abuse a painkiller that has known bad effects on the liver for the sake of a good night's sleep. So I began the hunt for another sleep aid that would make me fall asleep and keep me asleep without leaving me groggy the next morning. I tried Unisom and Simply Sleep, but they didn't seem to work as well, and eventually the phase passed. "Did you know your daughter has been taking sleeping pills?" my fourth aunt (not the one who raised me; that was my eldest aunt) asked my father, after discovering the half-empty box of Unisom in the bathroom. "No," my father said. "Why is she taking sleeping pills?" my aunt demanded. "Is she having trouble sleeping? Isn't she a little young for this?" "I don't know," my father replied helplessly. "How am I supposed to know what's going on in my daughter's life?" This conversation was related to me later, by my father. He didn't ask me if I was still having trouble sleeping. Some of my friends complain about their parents. They complain that they're stifling, that they're old-fashioned, that they can't or won't let their children do the things they want or make their own decisions. They're angry at their parents, or disappointed, and a lot of the times I don't blame them. After all, I was first raised by an older woman with extremely old-fashioned values and then, later, by a man who clothed and fed me and drove me to and from school and extracurricular activities but did little else. Somehow I turned out extraordinarily well, while my fourteen-year old peers chafed underneath their 8 PM curfews. Being a parent is tough. There are spectacular number of ways to fail, and when you fail you've ruined a human life that you helped bring into this world, or at least agreed to raise. That's enough to scare any rational person, and a lot of times parents choose to err on the side of caution. My father didn't, and I'm grateful for that, but sometimes I'm bitter and resentful enough to wish that he'd erred on the side of paranoia instead. Of course, if it'd been that way, I might be writing instead about how my overprotective worrywart of a father timed my every breath and watched my every move. Children are fickle creatures and never satisfied. Tuesday, August 16, 2005 [link] 11:45 p.m. listening to: nothing Normally I make my music recs over at Blue Tumbleweeds, but I'm kinda reluctant to break the flow over there, so now I'm gonna make one over here! superman never made any money saving the world from solomon grundy and sometimes i despair the world will never see another man like him -- Crash Test Dummies, "Superman's Song" [genre: adult alternative] well a process man am i and i'm tellin' ye no lie i work and breathe among the fumes that trail across the sky there's thunder all around me and there's poison in the air there's a lousy smell that smacks of hell and dust all in me hair and it's go boys go they'll time your every breath and every day you're in this place you're two days nearer death -- Great Big Sea, "The Chemical Worker's Song" [genre: vaguely celtic] what you've got isn't all that you've been given changing your body like you change your jeans nothing is ever as it seems something tells me it's a marriage made in heaven stealing your look from a magazine playing the part from a movie scene six foot leaning on a lizard chest two red dragons ironed on his vest all that money you deserve the best i'm impressed -- Natalie Imbruglia, "Impressed" [genre: pop] (yes, I know this song is very 1997) Tuesday, August 16, 2005 [link] 10:02 p.m. listening to: nothing Packing is one of those things that I probably could get done in the space of an afternoon if I really, really applied myself--especially considering how little stuff I have--except that I just loathe packing and therefore won't apply myself. And there were really too many italics in that last statement. I should come up with some kind of reward system for packing. Like, finish packing my clothes, get to. . . uh. . . something. Tuesday, August 16, 2005 [link] 01:45 p.m. listening to: "Toccata and Fugue in D Minor" - Vanessa Mae Minuets are for garden parties. Symphonies are for relaxing in the living room with a glass of wine after a long day's work, head back and eyes closed. Concertos are for killing time. Requiems are for the living, mourning the dead. Fugues are for plotting and masterminding. The Toccata and Fugue in D Minor? Is music to take over the world by. Tuesday, August 16, 2005 [link] 03:46 a.m. listening to: "Toccata and Fugue in D Minor" - J.S. Bach I have eczema. It's limited to my hands. What this means is that I spend an inordinate amount of time moisturizing my hands, use a majority of all-natural, hypoallergenic products, and often have irritated-looking hands. It's nothing new: it seems to run in the family and I've had it all my life, I just wasn't diagnosed until recently. And it's not even as bad as it was back before I took off to Hong Kong for some kind of bizarre treatment that made it vanish entirely for two years until it returned on my hands. That said, people who know me IRL have developed a very strange fixation on my hands. It is very peculiar when my hands are picked up and examined without warning. It's not as bad as it looks, I promise. And there's nothing you can do about it anyway, so stop exhibiting concern. It makes me uncomfortable. Monday, August 15, 2005 [link] 04:18 p.m. listening to: "Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)" - Nancy Sinatra Also, I can kill you with my brain. Sunday, August 14, 2005 [link] 02:19 a.m. listening to: "Shimmer" - Shawn Mullins I went to the mall today, and lo, all celebrated my full reintegration into SoCal society. Actually, we needed to buy nice clothes for my cousin's wedding, because I was retarded and stored all my formal clothing. As a concession, I decided to buy formal clothing was Different from my normal formal clothing, which is pretty much all black and white. So I bought a lavendar shirt and, unfortunately, black pants, because let's face it, black pants go with everything. Also, the only other color I really liked was gray, and it only came in one cut (wide leg, flared bottom) and one length (too long for me). Then I ate sushi at O-Nami until I exploded. Saturday, August 13, 2005 [link] 10:33 a.m. listening to: nothing A fire truck came by, sirens wailing, as I waited on the sidewalk outside the chiropractor's office for my ride. I watched as all the other cars on the road pulled over except for one lone BMW, which maintained speed and position. It's called yielding to emergency vehicles, asshole, I thought. But then again, you're probably from China and don't know how to fucking drive. Then I realized how terribly easy it is to make judgments based on preconceived notions of race, or something like that, and decided that I am, in fact, a very hateful racist bigot. Even if I am Asian and think that a lot of the immigrants here give the entire race a bad name. Still, though. It's called yielding to emergency vehicles, bitch. I don't care if you own a fucking BMW. Saturday, August 13, 2005 [link] 01:48 a.m. listening to: "Last Beautiful Girl" - Matchbox 20 I punched the wall today, while standing in the shower. I often think while I'm in the shower; I used to think of story ideas or go over old ones, but nowadays I mull over life, the universe, and everything. And I ended up punching the wall. Not very hard, just hard enough to let some of my feelings out. I'm frustrated with a lot of things. I'm frustrated with myself, above all, and my inability to control my emotions. I'm frustrated with my apparent dependency on therapy. I'm frustrated with how lonely I feel, and how I don't seem to be able to do anything except feel sorry for myself these days. Christ. Next thing you know I'll be listening to sad emo music and posting song lyrics to my blog in lieu of actually talking about how I feel. And then I'll start writing bad poetry. I'm irritated at my father. Part of my Life Plan was to move off-campus my senior year. He's very against it, citing reasons such as "You might not be able to find a job in the Bay Area, so you don't want to tie yourself to a location" (which I find unlikely; I'll find a job, it just might not be a job in journalism) and "You won't concentrate on your schoolwork if you're off-campus." What the fuck. It's not like I can't distract myself equally well in the dorms. But I hate not having a place to go back to. I hate sleeping in my niece's bedroom. The thought of living out of suitcases and boxes for the next two years makes me want to curl up into a ball and cry. Shut the hell up, father. You don't have the right to make my decisions anymore. Friday, August 12, 2005 [link] 09:07 p.m. listening to: "Selig" - Helium Vola My cousin buys frozen chicken thigh filets by the metric fuckton from CostCo, so yesterday and today I just cooked those. They're easy to prepare; they've been enhanced with chicken stock, so you can just cook them straight out of the bag and eat them as-is. But I like to be more creative. Yesterday it was simple; chuck some chicken in a skillet, cook, and add lemon-pepper seasoning salt that McCormick puts out. I called it "that cheating lemon-pepper stuff" because it's totally cheating to just sprinkle some stuff from a bottle and call it lemon-pepper. But it works. Today, I really wanted to make honey-ginger chicken. Unfortunately, there was no fresh ginger or pure honey. What my cousin had was a bear of something called honey syrup, which is basically honey that's been diluted with water, sugar, and corn syrup. I have no idea what is up with that. And she did have ginger powder. So using those two ingredients, I made honey-ginger chicken. It turned out pretty good. Next time I want to try using pure honey and fresh ginger. Friday, August 12, 2005 [link] 06:41 p.m. listening to: "Gamen" - Garmarna Oh fuck, Neil's signing at Cody's and the Serenity premiere are on the same day, aren't they? They are. DAMN YOU FATES WHY MUST YOU MAKE ME CHOOSE (For the record, Neil totally wins. I mean, Serenity will still be playing in the theatres on days other than September 30. But Neil will be in Cody's only one day and I'll probably have to stand in line for thirty hours or something.) |
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