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[13 Oct 2004|11:45pm] |
Blessed sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the garden,
Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
And even among these rocks
Sister, mother
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
Suffer me not to be separated
And let my cry come unto Thee
--TS Eliot "Ash-Wednesday"
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| Heh. |
[18 Jan 2003|12:26pm] |
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Contrary to popular belief, I'm alive. I've just been too busy/too uninspired to write. Writing just doesn't mean much to me anymore. I'll keep this journal up, but don't expect many entries for a while. Tis all. Blessed be.
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| Warm ^_^ |
[23 Dec 2002|08:19pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 calm |
] |
| [ |
music |
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John Mayer - Love Song For No One |
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I hear more than you may think I do. I know more than you give me credit for. I know what you think of me.
And guess what?
I don't care. It has occured to me that, come September 2004, I will be able to block anyone out of my life that I want to. That's less than two years. That makes me happy.
Bet you never thought you'd see me happy, hmm? But no, life is good right now. I have my friends, I have my people to talk to, my people who care. And I have the satisfaction of knowing I'm winning, for once. That's kinda cool.
I like big warm comfy sweatshirts.
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| Caffeine only does so much. |
[07 Oct 2002|02:46am] |
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There is a point very early in the morning the day that a paper is due that one's brain breaks down, and all we want is enough words to be placed onto the paper for the paper to count as complete. All that goes through the mind at that point is "I don't care! I don't care! I don't care I don't careIdon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcare...."
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| My feet are always hurting. |
[05 Oct 2002|09:26pm] |
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mood |
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 annoyed |
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music |
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Matchbox 20 - 3AM |
] |
The edge of a cabinet, when placed on a toe with much of the cabinet's weight on it, hurts terribly. God, the stupid things that happen.
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| Because you're too much of a spineless bastard to face me. |
[28 Sep 2002|12:48pm] |
I'm sick of being the fucking villain. It wasn't all my fault, yet you pretend it was. It wasn't. I don't complain about this often, because yes, a good deal of it was my fault. But that doesn't leave the others blameless. I didn't leave this unscathed, do you think that I wasn't hurt by everything, too? Do you think that it's up to you, to hurt me, because they didn't hurt me enough? You have a fucking UNCONFIRMED feeling that I don't like you? I'm sorry, did I not make it clear enough before, or are you too stupid to see who I write to unless I address it directly to you, like you do to me? I don't hate you because of just one thing you've said. Trust me. I hate you for not leaving things alone. It wasn't your problem, it was not yours to deal with. You made it a great deal worse all around, and I hope you suffered for it. I tried to keep good relations with you. I hope you know that. I never went after you, for anything. I was frustrated, often infuriated, but I never directly attacked you. Now, you act as though it's not your fault that I hate you. You try to be the saint-- I, the evil one, attacked first. I didn't.
I hate you and your self-righteousness. Take some of the blame, so at least you won't be half the cowardly scum you are. I can't believe that I once thought of you as a friend, and I can't believe that I tried to be your friend for so much longer afterwards. I forgave some of the things you said, some of the things you did. But I will not stand by silently as you openly degrade me. I hope for your own good that you step down from this pedestal you place yourself on, and look at the damage you've done, and how things have changed. You are not above the rabble of the world, though you pretend to be. You, too, have your duty to see things rationally, to step back and see the big picture and stop being so fucking biased. What did you expect me to do, after all? Did you expect me to leave, to say to him that "I'm sorry, but you really should go out with her, since you'd hurt her, otherwise." Did you expect that out of me? Did you expect me to set aside my desires to save someone who's never, in her life, done anything remotely similar for me?
Let's leave it, shall we? It's over, it's done, and it does not need to be brought up again.
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| "Wait, so you don't sleep? |
[25 Sep 2002|10:53pm] |
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mood |
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 sleepy |
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music |
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Vanessa Carlton - Wanted |
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So I figure I might as well write something. There isn't much to write about, to be honest, but I feel compelled to update at least twice a month. It's kinda... sad, otherwise.
It's not so much that I've been overwhelmed with work as much as the fact that I can't bring myself to care. Like I've given up already. *shrug* So it goes. September is nearing its end. Thank god for the little things.
There's this new kid, that people are afraid of and avoid, because he apparently has a "to do" list that, if he followed through with it, would get him the death penalty multiple times over. I've talked to some people who are really worried and scared. I could only laugh. Not at him, really, but over the commotion. People who didn't know me before wouldn't believe me when I mentioned that I used to be like that. It seems inconcievable, doesn't it? *laughs* Three years of insanity. If you didn't know them, you'd never think they existed. I'm not going to worry about him. I haven't talked to him much, but he seems nice. He doesn't strike me as one who'll follow through, but I'm known to be wrong. We'll see.
One is often amazed at the changes that can occur within a year.
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| "You know, you kinda remind me of a raspberry" |
[13 Sep 2002|08:11pm] |
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mood |
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 apathetic |
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music |
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my own crazed ravings |
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Drupelet is a cool word.
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| I'm on a high, on a high, there's nothing else to it... |
[09 Sep 2002|10:37pm] |
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mood |
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 busy |
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music |
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Seal - This Could Be Heaven |
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My coffeemaker is having issues. My coffee today is weaker than usual, and the coffeemaker itself seems to be having problems... plus, it's only a 4-cup capacity, which is only a little over a cup for me. I need a real coffeemaker. See, we had this full-size one, but it broke, so now we're using the mini one which was fine until just recently, when I realized that I NEED CAFFEINE TO SURVIVE HIGH SCHOOL. So, yeah. On the list of things to buy: Good, full-size coffeemaker.
Back to AP US, now...
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| "That makes *sense*!" "...It should... or else it wouldn't be in the book" |
[07 Sep 2002|08:27pm] |
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mood |
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lazy |
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music |
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Seal - Crazy |
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No one's DJed in a while. So I figured I might as well toss in something to freshen up the pot. *laughs* Though there isn't much to write. School is hell. I screwed over a Latin test by not studying, I faked my way through AP US and... well... I'm basically getting into my habits for the year. Except for math. I'm actually doing work in math, still. This will eventually change, I'm sure.
For everyone who doesn't know, 6/10 does not simplify to 4/5. This would be why Dr. Shaikh gets after me to show all of my work, and not skip multiple steps at once. Ah, well. Now I can actually solve the problem and get (*gasp*} the RIGHT ANSWER! I caught the mistake today, when looking over what I did. I must have been tired yesterday. Either that, or I'm a complete and utter idiot. I fear the latter.
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| So it goes. |
[24 Aug 2002|02:11pm] |
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Blessed are they who can laugh at themselves for they shall never cease to be amused.
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| Yes, I love you too, KaZaA |
[13 Aug 2002|12:46am] |
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My current download will take approximately 1059:16:18 hours to finish. My download rate is a blistering 0.01 kbps. And yes, this is a fucking huge file I'm trying to download. Oh yes.
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| I know what I need but you won't give it to me. |
[08 Aug 2002|10:48pm] |
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mood |
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cranky |
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music |
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Hybrid Theory - Step Up |
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I went to a dermatologist today, waited for 1.5 hours, and got something like a 5 minute exam upon which he looked at my neck and arms and said "Oh, that's eczema." But I know that already. I even wrote on my form, under "skin diseases" that I have eczema. So, he wrote me a perscription for tetracycline (for body acne, which overlaps with the eczema and makes topical treatment impossible) and another for something very similar to what I was already using. He asked if I was using anything for my eczema. I said I was on perscription cortizone. So he writes me a perscription for (essentially) the same thing? Um.... okay. I figure I'll use what he gave me for the next two months (until my next appointment) and then accept that I'm basically screwed and just have to wait to outgrow it. *sigh* Stupidstupidstupid...
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| If I ate a dozen Krispy Kremes, would I explode? |
[08 Aug 2002|06:39pm] |
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mood |
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 quixotic |
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music |
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Matchbox Twenty - Bed of Lies |
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Why didn't anyone tell me about Fresca before? A good grapefruit-flavor soda that's diet! This... this is a miracle! And nummy, too. The Coca-Cola company rocks my world.
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| And the sun comes out and we want to play. |
[05 Aug 2002|12:18am] |
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mood |
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 crappy |
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music |
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Fuel - Innocent |
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Part of me wants to see Battle Royale. The other part tells me that if I do, I won't be able to sleep again. Ever. I mean, I downloaded a couple clips of them and... *shudder* But it looks like such a damned cool movie! I want to see it, even through the revulsion. Yes, seeing a guy hold his classmate's megaphone up to her mouth as he shoots her in the stomach with an Uzi is really disturbing. Seeing a gal slit another girl's throat with a sickle is disturbing. But I still want to see the movie. It's... enticing, I guess. Yes, now that we've finally confirmed that I am completly and utterly psycho, let's move on.
I can't breathe.
I have yet to figure out why. Like, I'm breathing (cos I'm still alive...) but I'm not breathing enough. I can't breathe enough. And the problem is, this isn't a new thing. I used to have this issue, and I thought it went away for good but it didn't and now I can't breathe and I'm afraid that I won't ever be able to breathe and it sucks, damnit! Bah. I hate being crazy. I don't like being crazy. I want to be normal.
Actually, scratch that. I don't want to be normal, I just want to breathe.
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| Add a little pain, and stir well. |
[29 Jul 2002|06:03pm] |
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mood |
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blah |
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music |
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Matchbox Twenty - If you're gone |
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No, the subject has nothing to do with this. I just thought it was kinda funny. My brain works in odd ways when I'm tired. Like, the other day, I noticed that Marinna and I have a similar writing style. Not so much that our diction is similar, but our style. We both do the paragraph*x + one line at the end thing. We have similar ideas, we write similar things. Funny, though, how we never really met. Thanks to outside causes, we will probably never really know eachother. That's sad, when you get down to it. It really is.
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| Hahahahaha.... |
[23 Jul 2002|10:15pm] |
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You know, it's funny, because sometimes what you want to do more than anything is cry, and instead, you laugh. You laugh until your stomach hurts, until your body wants you to stop laughing but you keep on laughing anyways, even though it's not funny. Because somehow, by laughing until you hurt, the real hurt will go away. But it never does, does it? We try and try to make it go away, but it never does. It just gets hidden, locked away somewhere. And then it comes back, and we hide it again, over and over and over until we grow so sick of it that we succumb.
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| My Deadjournal client SUX0R5 |
[18 Jul 2002|12:26pm] |
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mood |
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bored |
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music |
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Double Dragon - Tin Drum |
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It does, though! I can't post through my client I miss my old DJ client... ;_; I have to post through the site now, and that's boring. That's more time than I really want to spend. Ah, well, so it goes. (CAUTION: SOME SPOILERS) Minority Report is an odd, though very very very good movie. I love all the symbolism. I thought it was extremely well done, but that's me. Like...the whole thing with vision, and eyes. The whole society revolves around eye-scanning, precrime doesn't work without the visions of the precogs. The balls used for the name of the victim and whatnot are somewhat reminiscient of lottery balls-- the whole system pretends to be perfect but in fact, we see that it is subtly fallible. There's also, of course, the themes of relationships of power, deception, and choice vs destiny. I like how they carried out the destiny theme, personally-- making the precogs into openly worshipped deities, like an all-powerful god that decides your fate. Criminals are redeemed by the mysterious halo. Through the halo, they are purged of their sins, and placed in pillars, surrounded by organ music. Baroque music. "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring", as I recall. Odd, don't you think? The room with the precogs is referred to as "the temple"...that makes the cops like clergy, and yet the system turns against one of them....
I also loved the use of color, or lack thereof. Almost every scene in the movie was dominated by bleak colors-- black, white, grey, tan. Yet, John's memory of the pool is full of color and light. John's getaway car (that's he gets built into...) is a bright red, the only red car we see in the film. Sean, when he's taken, wears red. The balls for passion-crimes are red. Besides those few instances, there is very little red, as if the society's passion is so drained that they are almost dead.
Okay, I'll stop rambling now...
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| ....idiots. |
[04 Jul 2002|08:29pm] |
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mood |
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annoyed |
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music |
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Five for Fighting - Michael Jordan |
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People were shocked and sometimes even outraged when an Israeli and a Palestinian joined to play as a tennis doubles team in the Wimbledon. I'm Japanese, and I have an American boyfriend. 60 years ago, we would have been looked down upon, and perhaps even punished. It's stupid, how we let religion and race stand between us. All beliefs should be respected. Everyone has a right to their own opinion, why not their own religion? And hell, as far as race goes-- I didn't choose to be what I am. I love someone who doesn't look like me. I still love him. Luckily, both the US and Japan are open-minded enough about such matters. It took them a while, but now, interracial couples aren't unusual. So why, of all the godforsaken things to bitch about, are they getting after two guys who thought that their tennis skills would combine to make a good team?
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| Don't think you can completely clean out a fountain pen. The ink manages to get everywhere and it doesn't wash off. |
[03 Jul 2002|08:19pm] |
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mood |
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crazy |
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music |
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Five for Fighting - Easy Tonight |
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So. So. Here I am again, writing something that I'll look back on and try to delete. My brain is near to bursting with ideas, with words, with things that must be recorded, must be written down. I bought a journal today. Plain, grey. Not black, strangely enough. Wanted black, but they only had grey. I figured that either way was good enough. I'm losing thoughts already-- they trickle from my brain like blood from a wound, and once they are gone I have only memories of them, a strange bitter aftertaste in my mouth but no ideas. Nothing to write. Damnably empty. Again.
I had an idea. I had a part of a story, part of my life. It was beautiful. I was able to craft the words, for once, into beauty. Never mind the subject matter. It was beauty. But I've forgotten it. Something about worship, about control, about satisfaction and contentment and desire. All spun into a matter of lines. One tiny fragment of a story, but it too is gone like the blood clots of humanity. Curse my memory. I once could remember so much-- little details that helped me to see and write and create. Now, those details are gone and I'm afraid that my mind is already growing old though my body has yet to mature. As though I'm growing unevenly-- the mind of a middle-aged adult trapped in the body of a child.
I'm going fucking insane.
I'm not sure what it is that's driving me mad. Not being able to think. Not being able to understand. Not knowing. Right now, I want to throw out everything I've ever started, ever done, and just sleep my life away. Hide. Never talk to them, never see them, somehow satisfy myself with myself. Nothing else. But I know that I can't. So I don't. Instead, I bleed away my memories, my thoughts, my being.
Who the hell am I? I wonder, sometimes. Sometimes, I'm not sure if I'm even awake. Pain isn't proof. I don't know what is. Sometimes, I feel like if I jump off a cliff and fall to the rocks below then I will fly or die or wake. All of those choices sound appealing. I want to. That's why I'm afraid of heights, really. It's not the fear of falling, it's the fear of losing control and hurling myself over the edge to find that I really didn't want to die right then. I must be insane.
Is it possible to cut through the electrified wires that top fences, if one wears rubber gloves?
You know, it's a surprise that they haven't locked me up yet.
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