Fireworks in the Rain

Can't sleep. So after several weeks of dreading staying up this late for many reasons, now I'm just sitting here. Doing pretty much nothing. I was going to do math, but after I opened the book, I didn't feel like doing it anymore.
It's not like I have any complaints though. I'm pretty much satisfied with my life right now, I'm sure you all know why. I feel so awkward when I was reading some of my old posts. I always knew what I wrote was depressing, but man was it so depressing! Yes, pointing out the obvious is fun. Anyhow, I feel sorry for the people who actually read my blog. I mean, who wants to read a blog where the person is always saying that life is meaningless and says something borderline suicidal? Yeah, I'm so excited to read more.
Moving onto the present, the bright side of all this darkness, I seem to have found the pep in my step again! I've always wanted to use that phrase. Anyhow, yeah, I'm pretty sure my insomnia is back. I feel like I'm more hyper and cheery at school despite the lack of sleep. And, of course, I have gone back to appreciating the little things in life.
So in honor of the rebirth and sparkle in my life, a poem! If you know what I'm talking about in my poem, I congratulate you. Because sometimes I felt like even I didn't even understand what I was writing.

Fireworks

Rain splattered on the ground,
And colors flooded the world.
I'm dripping the paint all around
The canvas where they exploded and swirled.

Vivid red made my heart beat faster.
Cheerful orange made me wonder.
Bright yellow made me smile.
Curious green made me confused.
Solemn blue made me feel awkward.
Royal purple made me feel on top of the world.

Gray clouds loomed everywhere.
The colors faded, wilted, and died.
I threw open the curtains,
And there was an explosion of fireworks.

Yet rain still splattered on the ground,
And colors flooded the world.
I'm dripping the paint all around
The canvas where they exploded and swirled.

Don't you think these fireworks
Are so pretty
Even if it's late?
Emotions so loud
I tried to keep them silent
But the booms of colors
Made me explode.

Colors alighted around.
Just what does this mean?
I don't expect an answer,
But, I still need to scream.
I need to get this thank you
Out so the heavens can hear.

Thank you
For the ability to see again,
I love the colors in the sky.
Thank you
For bring tears to my eyes,
The sight is just too beautiful.
Thank you
For this explosion of feelings,
That lighted the whole world.
Thank you
For never letting the fireworks fade away.

Best Day. Ever.

November 5, 2009. 11:37PM. Anticipating, expectant, slightly hopeful, nervous.
November 5, 2009. 11:39PM. Shocked, surprised, confused, denial, realization, happy, trembling, overjoyed, on-top-of-the-world, jumping off the walls, I-would-scream-in-happiness-if-my-dad-wasn't-sleeping mode, life-couldn't-get-any-better mood, this-is-the-best-day-of-my-life feeling.
Suffice to say. November 5. Of 2009. At 11:39PM. Despite the fact that it was 21 minutes away from midnight. November 5. Was indeed. The best day of my 15-year old life. Best. Day. No matter what cruddy things happened to me earlier on that day. It's been overruled. Even if my day started from awful. It's now awesome. I don't even remember what I did. But it was definitely an awesome day. A beautiful day. A wonderful day. A terrific day it was! What did I do? NO CLUE. But it doesn't matter. It was, to put it simply, an absolutely-positively-awesome-possum-blossom-tremendous-stupendous-supercalifragilisticexpialidocious day. November 5 is the best day ever. November is a wonderful month. 5 is a wonderful number. When you combine them, it's just the most incredible thing. Ever. Am I repeating myself too much? I'm repeating myself too much. Okay.

Halloween Cackle

So after reading my previous post, I feel kind of awkward since I went trick-or-treating with my friends as planned, and it was fun. Although I don't take back what I said . . . it was how I truly felt. Anyhow, so in the first time in forever, I'm blogging about something positive. Shocker, isn't it? I'm going to start out with my sucky morning though.
Well, I had to do this Chinese presentation on a capital or something, and mine was on Rabat, which I never even heard of before. Anyhow, so I mine was the worst one. It's not even a joke. Allow me to explain why. First of all, I pronounced the capital name wrong. That's just sad. Secondly, it was't creative, no pretty or fantastic pictures of people, places, or food, unlike everyone else's. Third, I was supposed to type "Hassan Tower" on the top of the slide, but since I didn't know how, I used Wikipedia (since there's sometimes an option to see stuff in Chinese). But apparently, instead of copying "Hassan Tower", I copied "Wikipedia". That's just so freakin' sad and embarassing. Did I mention my teacher recorded everything and is posting it on Youtube? So humilating. And last, but not least, I knew nothing. Everyone's presentation, they were looking around the room, talking more in depth about their slide, like they've been there before, or something. Me, I was staring at my powerpoint, I didn't even know how to say the words have the time, too. I just felt so retarded up there.
Basically, my hatred for Chinese school has shot up dramatically and I really wish I didn't have to go back there ever again. I came home, ate some leftover pizza (yesterday, my dad and I had Papa John's pizza, it was the first time we tried it, but it was pretty darn good). I watched some anime and took an unfurfilling thirty minute nap. After dragging me out of bed, my dad drove me to art class. I wasn't in a very artistic mood, so I painted really slowly, and the details were pretty messed up, I'll fix it next week or something. I came back and kinda just laid around in bed, I dosed off for a little while, rumaged through my room for a costume, dressed up as a wannabe pirate, then headed over to Revathi's house.
Hee Soo was already there, being a weirdo. Diana took a while to arrive, what a weirdo. Yasmin's aunt had a party or something, so she couldn't come to go trick or treat with us, she's a weirdo. Ahaha. I don't know why I'm saying that. Anyhow, we kind of hanged out there for a while before leaving to go trick or treating. It was pretty awkward to hold my bag out for candy, because I seriously felt like I was some kind of beggar. It was even more awkward after I got the candy. I'd say thank you, then bring forth the courage to say, "have a nice evening." I'm so awkward around strangers. Diana and Revathi were all walking really fast, probably so they can rake in more booty (attempting pirate talk), but Hee Soo and I were all walking slowly, just cause. So, what interesting happened? Hee Soo kept getting freaked out by stuff like wavy grass, thinking it looked like a graveyard or something. Hasn't she ever seen wavy grass before? What a deprived child. Just kidding. Hrm, so the highlight of my entire day was this next part. So there was this head decoration on the porch of a person's house. Hee Soo all said how creepy it was, so just to bug her, I wanted to pat it on the head. I did so, but then it's head started moving and groaned loudly. Diana jumped and yelled, Revathi was indifferent, Hee Soo screamed loudly and clinged onto my arm . . . with her nails. It was hilarous, I started laughing obnoxiously loud so that the person in the house came outside to look what happened (that or Diana and Revathi alread ringed the bell, I'm not too sure, since Hee Soo and I took our time to catch up). Yeah, that was fun. Oh, and I saw my old afterschool English teacher. I actually don't remember her name, and after looking at her for a while, I suddenly recognized who she was. Wow, it sure brought back memories. I still remember how she'd give out the beginning of a story and we'd have to come up with the rest. I loved to hear everyone's story and we'd all laugh at how weird they were. The teacher would give out saltwater taffy, buy McDonald cookies that were still warm, give us presents during Christmas, and the homework assignments were so much fun. Ah, good times. I really missed her. I wish I had said something, but I don't think she would have remembered me. I grew taller, changed my hairstyle (I used to always have my hair up in a ponytail and have straight Asian bangs), and I had this makeshift eyepatch thing on too, which made it hard to see a good deal of my face (including my other eye . . .). Well, it was nice to just see her, regardless. I hope she's doing well.
We went back to Revathi's house, but Yasmin all wanted us to go over to her aunt's house to go trick or treating, but we decided it was a bit late. We wanted to just go over there and gamble with our candy, but Hee Soo's mom said it was too late to go out, then Revathi decided to be a pal and stay behind. Diana and I, knowing Yasmin would probably give us the guilt trip if we excluded her on the Halloween fun, left to go to her aunt's house. Diana's mom was driving us, and we all got lost. We were all staring at the MapQuest directions in the light of my flashlight. I think I got us all confused, I have a bad sense of direction, they should have known better than to listen to me! Anyhow, we finally made it there after a bunch of pauses and staring into the night to see if we can make out the house numbers in the dark. We got there and we were all worried Yasmin left to go back home or something, so we were all hiding and stuff, but then we heard a bunch of clanking, like someone was messing with the locks or something. I figured it was Yasmin and she couldn't get the door to open, so I burst out in, once again, and obnoxiously loud laugh until Yasmin finally threw open the door and Diana yelled out, "Trick or treat!" We went inside and there was food left, so we were welcomed to steal their food. You know what was so cool? The punch bowl. Why? No, there wasn't stuff in it! But there were small glass cups where you could just dip it into the punch bowl. I've always wanted to do that! It was so awesome, I just stood there, scooping up punch and then pouring it back in, then scooping up some more. Yeah, I'm weird. Anyhow, it was past 10, and Diana got a call from Revathi, then Diana relayed the message to me that my dad has been calling me for the past hour (my dad drove to her house to see where I was, even though he knew I was at Yasmin's aunt's house, but didn't know where it was). I looked at my phone, which was on silent, and there was 47 missed calls from my dad. My bad . . . After calling him and calming his worried mind, the time left at Yasmin's aunt's house was limited. We spent most of the time, holding battery-powered candle flames up to our faces and telling humorous horror stories. Ask Diana about it, it was a well-thought out story. With a hilarous ending! Then we all passed the candle light (which later became a flashlight, I have no idea where Diana found it) telling a part of the story and then passing it onto the other person to continue it. Yeah, it was funny.
I finally came home around 11 and my father was obviously not pleased. He didn't seem as angry as I thought he would be, but I guess his anger subsided in the 20 minutes since I called him.
I showered, then just sat here doing stuff, going on Facebook, blogging. Yeah. Well, I'm going to bed soon, it's like 12:32 now (wasn't typing the entire time). Night.

Continue Living

Eiichiro Oda is truly a magnificent genius. And for those of you who don't know, Eiichiro Oda is the writer/illustration of One Piece, my favorite anime series. Now, why is he a genius? Simply because of the world he built. One Piece is such a wonderful anime that depicts a world of evil and good from all sides. Dreams that are unimaginable that can only be achieved by, yes, helping each other. I remember a line the main character, Luffy, said in episode 42, after Arlong the merman said cockily that humans were useless beings. "Of course I don't know anything about swords! (Zoro*) I can't navigate either. (Nami*) I can't cook. (Sanji*) I can't even lie. (Usopp*) I know I need others to help me if I can keep on living!"
*Names of Luffy's current pirate crew, or his "nakama" which can be translated to family, friends, team, etc.
Anyhow, I just thought that was something significant amongst several things Luffy has said.
The One Piece world is also something I find absolutely amazing. The islands that Luffy visits are teeming with adventure and wonders. Places that are commonly overused by media and places that are so unique and original, they can put you into shock. And with each place, there's always unforgettable characters, a sad history, a unique way of life. There's so many things that makes me laugh and cry over. Too many things to mention. Just about a million things could be said about One Piece, the world Eiichiro Oda has created, but there's nothing that seems to fit how meaningful and enjoyable of a show it is to watch.
Somehow, with each episode, makes me feel like life's worth living for after all.

History of my Life

I'm almost done with homework. Shocker isn't it? I feel like I don't have as much homework especially after yesterday's little expedition. What the heck I'm talking about? So I don't even remember myself if I posted about this or not, but I got a schedule change. A bunch of people got papers saying they got a new schedule and they'll be going to those classes starting Monday. Yeah, I wasn't one of those people. Instead, Thursday afternoon, after the classes have switched around, a guy entered the room and gave my teacher a paper that claimed I haven't been in class for the last four days. You can probably figure out what happened after that. So when I entered the new class I got a worksheet reviewing Chapter 1 of the textbook, which had absolutely no relevance to what I was doing in my other class, but I decided to just deal with it. Friday and then the weekend passed by, but Sunday, I was staring at my agenda. I took note that earlier in the week, when I wasn't in the class yet, that everyone was assigned book reading, which would help prepare you for the test and the questions on the Chapter 1 worksheet asks about those chapters. It was around midnight when I thought to myself, I'll just read it tomorrow. As my bad luck likes to mock me, while suddenly remembering that my new history teacher is notorious for giving out lots of pop quizzes, we had a pop quiz based on the reading. In the end, I think I got one or two right out of ten questions. I was rather shocked that I knew the answers. Then Monday passed, and then Tuesday, yesterday, the fated day came where I had to finish the Chapter 1 worksheet, all (about) forty questions and all its glory. Not that bad, when you think about it, but there was a lot to say, and I didn't want my teacher to think of me as a lazy slob (which I am) especially after the quiz results. Thus, I resulted with six pages (only front side) of ink, sweat, blood, and history. It took me forever, but I felt impressed with myself afterwards. I'd feel even better if the skin on my ring finger wasn't peeling. Yes, that's how intense it was. Hah . . . Yeah, my point basically was to say that I had a huge amount of work yesterday, where I worked from 3PM to 2AM without even messing around. Even I'm learning to be responsible now.

Back From the Dead

Avoiding my homework as always.
I feel like I've become a real slob lately. I honestly just ignore my homework until maybe, now. Then I start homework, working until 2AM. Then at school, since I was dumb and procrastinated so much, I just sleep during lunch, since it's become a sort of routine that Victor wakes me up and then we go to Spanish (since our classes are right across from each other). Speaking of Victor, I've been talking to him more lately via instant messaging. Somehow I feel like he's the only one I talk to a lot now. Or rather, who I feel like talking to. Kevin ( if you guys don't know him, is a close friend of Victor's who is really into poetry) IMs me quite frequently, too, usually to ask me how I'm doing since I've been rather depressed lately, but somehow I don't feel like talking to him. I suppose it's because he just asks me the same questions like, "How are you doing today?" and such. Kyle will IM once in a while, too, usually to try out another psychology trick to reveal my inner personality or something. It's actually pretty interesting until he tries to pry answers from me about something that I'd rather not talk about at the moment. Normally Victor would comment on my status or something, which makes the conversation rather interesting, before we randomly turn to a different topic that ranges from homework questions to our interpretation on philosophical theories. Hrm, I wonder if my friend circle is closing down. I talk to Diana, Hee Soo, Revathi, and Yasmin on a regular basis. I haven't talked to Michelle for a while, minus the quick exchanges at our locker and 'hi's when we see each other around school. I don't speak to Pooja, Andrea, or Patricia as much anymore. I've gotten a chance to talk to Kora more now, since our street lockers are right next each other and our P.E. lockers are as well. Although I hang out with Emily and the others are lunch once in a while, I just don't seem to be very involved in their conversations. I'm actually doing my homework or sleeping there half the time. Except I have noticed that Sarah and Amanda seem to be depressed as well. I wonder what's wrong. Well, on the upside, my social circle, if not friend circle took a small step upwards since the people in journalism are friendly. Oh, since I haven't been blogging lately, I should probably say so now. Recently, people have been calling me by the wrong name. First of all, some of my friends call me Diana. It's really weird. Anyhow, by other people, my name has been altered to Jennifer and Jessica. Jennifer, I can understand. Jenny isn't a common name by itself, it's usually a short version of Jennifer. However, Jessica? A girl in my journalism class keeps calling me that, saying, "Hi Jessica," when she sees me. As an automatic response (since I saw her already) I waved. That was kind of like I acknowledged that my name was Jessica . . . I feel dumb correcting her now. Although, I attempted to once in class, but she didn't exactly hear me, which destoried the last bit of my courage. Well, all in all, my life seemed to have posted around "end" and "start" signs in my life.
Just to state randomly, I feel like my personality has greatly changed this year.

Mere Fantasies

I think I've found the source of my recent depression. I think it's my parents. Not like they've done anything, but you know, they just can't as young as they were when I was in elementary school, you know? It's been pretty weird that my mom and dad's hair, for maybe the last two years, to be growing white. It's like a reminder how old my sister is, how old I am, and obviously, how old they're getting. And since my mom's in China, the house has been more quiet. No car chase scenes or Korean people shouting from the television screen. No random comments my parents make or laughing when the music is all sad. Just the humming of my motherboard and the tapping of my keyboard is accompanying me this night. Last night, the night before, it's so quiet. And so sad. I've been getting along with my father pretty well. We talk more than we would before. Maybe it's because my mom isn't around for him to talk to. The house has toned down a bit ever since my sister went to college, and I wonder if my parents will like their life with me out of their hair. Will they be happy with their freedom, or sad with the stilled air? Would they be thinking in depth about my departure? Or is their matured mind prepared and that my absence would not disturb them. But it's so creepy when they talk about retirement. They aren't that old. Then again, it's from 5-7 years difference, between my parents' ages and a majority of my friend's parents. The difference of a sixth grader and a first-year college student. Mere numbers seem too simple in my eyes, but in the eyes of my past, it seemed just way too distant. Heh, I just remembered an old fear of mine, from when I was maybe in the second grade. I used to be afraid that my parents would soon become elderly, their appearances similar to my grandparents, and that they would forget how to speak English. Somehow that became the reason why I studied Chinese. In eight years, I've grown enough to know that my silly fears won't just happen, but it's still haunting, the image of my parents old and fragile. It seems impossible for your strong parents to look like such a shadow of their past. Then there's those "Joint Juice" containers around the house that reminds you that they aren't strong and reminds you of their aches from age. If life was a neverland, we'd always be living the same roles. The rebellious child, the nagging parents, the bothersome siblings, and wouldn't it all be well? In a fantasy world.

Good Habits are Hard to Break

Why don't people ever say good habits are hard to break? Because it's not true, I wonder? Anyhow, I'm not really going to talk about that. It's more like a parry from the topic (Am I even using "parry" right? The word just came into mind so I wanted to put it into the sentence). The title should be "Why is Being Positive Harder than Being Negative?" than "Good Habits are Hard to Break". Do they even relate? My head hurts . . . Continuing with my blog post . . .
It's so exhausting trying to be positive. So in Spanish, I go through the class painfully, trying to figure out what in the world the teacher is saying. She speaks really fast, and the words seem to blur together, so I don't even know if I learned any of the words she's saying. On rare occasions, I figure out what she says after someone answers the question, and I'm like, "Oooh, I get it now." My sister is so bored all the time that she calls home every week or something. And so yesterday, she was talking to me on the phone (when she could have just talked to me on AIM, but whatever) about school and such. Since she's taken Spanish, too, and all, she was telling me how I'll eventually learn to listen and comprehend what the teacher's saying better as time goes on. I hope the time that I begin to get Spanish again comes soon. My current problem wasn't really about all that though, except I was tense, worried that the teacher would call on me as I slowly decipher her words. She made this presentation for us to review how to conjugate stem-changing verbs, and I'm like, cool, I remember this. Then she called on people randomly to answer a series of slides until she says another name. Unfortunately, she decided to pick me. I said I remembered how to stem-change, but that didn't mean I was able to respond faster than the wind. Half the time, I kind of just stared at the screen (pantalla? I'm attempting to randomly review my vocabulary) like a nitwit. Sometimes I mumbled out an answer, but the teacher's like, "Jenny, I can't hear you." I wonder if she knew I wasn't even saying anything half the time. After epically failing to properly think quickly, the teacher finally calls on someone else who answered with master skills, which, I realized, really made me look bad. The class was pretty much over and I spent the rest of my time basically trying to convince myself not to care that I couldn't say what the conjugated verb was. My train of thought was pretty much like this:
"Who cares if people think your dumb? It's not like you intend to make friends with anyone in the class. Even if you did, as friends, would understand that you can't process things quickly and overly all slow. Wait, how does that help the situation at all? Well, it's not like I want to have a profession in Spanish or anything. Agh, but I still hate looking dumb, even though I am. Wasn't I trying to be positive here? Well, everyone has their good and bad points, Spanish is obviously something I'm bad at. Maybe people will think that I sucked at Spanish, barely made it into honors (which is true), and slowly trying to improve, but I'm not dumb. That's still negative, isn't it? Er, maybe instead of worrying about what people might think, let's not be concerned about what they think about you. Okay. It's not like they're people I'll really ever get to know. Back to the friends thing again? But, really, I'll probably never see most of them after this year, and on the plus side, I'm a very unmemorable person, they'll forget who the heck I am in no time! So even if I do end up in the same class as any of them next year, it doesn't matter, because they just think of me as a complete stranger again! Ah, yes, the benefits of being unworthy to be remembered. Dang it, I'm trying to be positive here! Happy thoughts, happy thoughts . . . AGGGGGGGGGGH!!!!!!!"
This is what happened as I migrated from class to home. I was so sick of thinking about it and trying to be more "positive" about the situation, I just fell onto my bed and slept for the next two hours.
Oh, and it's currently 11:28PM, and I'm almost done with homework. Yes! Well, I have a bunch of Spanish homework still, but I don't have anything to do in journalism (I wrote my story and briefs, so now it's the page editors to do a bunch of work). Maybe it's because I never do Spanish until the day it's due that I never get better . . .

From the Child

Some friends of my family are staying over at my house for the weekend (at least I think that's how long they're staying) from Phoenix. And today, my house is lively with a small child at the age of two, running around the house. Tong Wen AiYi (Aunt* Tong Wen) and Wang Jing ShuShu (Uncle* Wang Jing) brought their child, Kevin, who is going to turn three in March. He's so cute, just running about. Sadly for me, his Chinese is better than mine. Ouch. Well, whatever, my Chinese sucks compared to most Chinese-learning students. Usually because I don't study or anything except for cram sessions before mid and finals.
*In case you didn't know, the Chinese call adults that are close to your family, "aunt" or "uncle", even though they aren't related.
Unfortunately, this blog post isn't going to be cheery, as most of my posts aren't. I was distracted from my math homework and from the bathroom, I heard Tong Wen AiYi talking to little Kevin. She scolded him lightly because he was acting recklessly, and she wanted to make sure he wouldn't hurt himself. Kevin giggled and seemed to listen. Then his mother laughed, too, and I zoned out of their lives. I was listening to "Poker Face" by Lady Gaga, and thought about the lyrics briefly, knowing the vulgar meaning behind the catchy tune. Then I started to drift away into thought. When do parents go from the openly caring and tender people who raised us in their arms, to the parents who'd scold us and pressure us for our future? When do we go from the obeying child to developed a mind of a rebellious one? When did we start to challenge our parents or backtalk to them in our minds? When did we start to think that our parents didn't care for us? Of course, everyone's cases are different. Maybe some people's parents weren't as loving as other, or expressed it as clearly. Maybe some people's parents are still open with their feelings of love towards their child. Maybe. My history teacher, who also teaches psychology said that maybe people were born to have certain characteristics. That we don't become the people we are purely because of the people around us, but from when we start developing in our mother's womb. Some babies behave better than others, whereas some babies are fussy and hard to handle. Of course the people around us effect the person we'll grow to become, the things we see, we hear. It's a pity how the bad seeds ruin the whole batch somehow. I'll a little grateful that I cherish promises and that my sister made me promise her not to curse. Because maybe I wouldn't be the person I am today, just from a few words added to my vocabulary. It also makes me different. I'm not afriad anymore to believe in things that other people don't. My likes and dislikes, my morals, they're unique to my person. I wonder how much of who I am reflects back to before I was born. Was I meant to end up this way? At this point of life? Who will I come to be in the future? Will I continue believing the same things? Or will influences change who I am now? Who am I now?

It's Worse for Me

I just want to angrily rant about a friend of mine (I'll probably stay up all night doing homework now). So today he was being dumb and hurt his arm. Online, I sent an instant message asking how was his arm, because it was bleeding rather bad. He said it was okay, but it hurt when he moved his forearm. I said, "I see" and he asked, "Do you really now?" Then he had to go into the whole pessimist mode, saying how nobody understands the extent of his injuries. WHAT THE H--- IS THAT? He ranted a list of things that happened to him, "I've sprained my left knee twice, scraped both knees until they bled profusely, burned three fingers by touching an iron, had to use crutches for my knee, had my hand crushed in an elevator when I was three" then he challengingly said, "Need I continue?" That just ticked me off. Sure, it sounds painful, all of that, but to say nobody understands the extent of his pains? I don't know why but that just infuriates me. I think I have an issue with people thinking I don't understand how they feel. Anyhow, I just got freaking ticked at him and ranted, "So? What makes you think that no one else is in pain? Do you think everyone is living in this fantasy that you aren't living in? Let me tell you, yeah, you've been in some pretty bad incidents, and yeah, you're probably been in lots of pain, but don't assume that no one else can even imagine what you've gone through, because a lot of us has been in a bunch of s---, that you don't know anything about how we felt or what we experienced." As I wrote that, I thought about my injury history. I burned my little finger on accident when I was a child; wooden boards fell on my foot, crushing my toenails inwards and making it bleed; getting hit in the eye by the corner of the locker door, damaging it a little; scraped my leg on the escalate (One foot was on the moving floor, and the other wasn't, therefore the toothed edge of the escalated scrapped against my leg. Obviously, I wasn't a very bright child.); and other little insignificant things in my life where I have hurt myself. For the most part, I kept my hands to myself, tried to stay out of trouble, and followed my parents to wherever they took me.
I haven't many other significantly troubling events happen in my life. Yeah, my life IS good compared to most. My sister didn't do drugs, my ex didn't get shot, my friend didn't get in a car crash and is in the hospital getting surgery, none of my relatives or friends have died from an accident, my family isn't poor, I get an education, I get fed three meals a day, I have more clothes then I can remember to wear, and you know, all my problems are over dramatized because I hate to hear people tell me that my life is perfect. People tell me I'm pretty, skinny, smart, and just overly perfect. If I could tear off my face and give it to you, I would. If I could trade bodies with you, I would. If I could give you whatever intelligence you think I have, I'd give it to you. If you want my life, you can have it if you can take it. I don't care if I'm ugly, fat, dumb, or suffering (probably wouldn't say that when I'm in pain, but I say it now). Take everything I have, d--- it, because I hate living some stupid, "perfect" life I have. Besides trying to help others and trying to protect my beliefs, I don't have much I'm living for. It's so ridiculous how I wished I had a worse life so other people won't feel like their life sucks in comparison to me. It's so stupid how I wished I had a worse life because I want to experience to what extent of other people's pains are. It's so dumb of me to wish that I have a worse life so I . . .

Elderly Pains?

I've realized I seem to be on better terms with my parents lately. I don't know, I guess we talk more, mostly about school, but it's an improvement from not talking. Except I feel like I'm really cold towards some of my friends, depending a lot on my mood and what we're talking about I guess.
And geez, my hands, arms, and neck are killing me. So when I write or type, it's like the bones of my hand ache. I can't hold them straight either, like if I want to put my hand on the table, my palms hurt, and sometimes my wrist. When I rotate my arm sometimes, I swear, it's like a creaking door, as if the bones were rubbing against each other (my knee does that, too, but it doesn't hurt at least). Not to mention, when it's cold or something, my upper arm has some sort of stinging sensation, but it doesn't even seem to go away when I wear a jacket. My neck is probably the worst. It may be from bending over my desk all the time, but if I try to lean my head all the way back, the muscles on the back of my neck hurt, but if I try to bend my head too far to any direction, it hurts, and I'm usually too tired to keep my head up, which is a more comfortable position. Hopefully I won't get sick, because then my muscles will probably cramp, and depending on which one wants to spazz on me this year, it'll just make my aches worse. I really wish I knew what's the deal about my muscle cramps. I visited a bunch of doctors about it, but apparently none of them can find anything wrong with me besides that I have influenza. Of course, the cramps go away soon after my cold passes, but I'd like to know what's wrong with me, you know? Apparently, I used to cry all the time as a baby because of some muscle cramp, too, and my parents had to tie me up in my blanket. I'm not too sure if that's true, because they brushed it off by saying, "Nah, it's just probably because you liked crying." I don't even know.

Your Sterotypical Snail

When I entered my room today only a few minutes ago, coming back from the library, and the sunlight was slanting into my room through the shades. For some reason, I found deep comfort being there and there was a strange realization that, this was my room. It's not like I never knew my room was . . . well, my room. I guess I just never acknowledged it as my room and only my room? Since I've always used to share my room with my sister, who's moved many of her things with her upstate. That or I'm just really slow. Anyhow, I'd love to stay and chat longer, but I need to finish my homework. I'm a bit tired, so I'd prefer it if I didn't stay up until eleven doing homework.

Knock Knock On the Clock

Delusions, are they? Perhaps . . . insanity? Paranoia is an option. Maybe a really bad sight. Lately, when I look around, or glance off to the side, there's a flash of color. Sometimes the color, in that spilt-second, takes form as a bug, the design of my mom's shirt, or something else completely. And I turn to look back again and there's nothing there, leaving my heart beating fast. What is this? There's nothing to fear from these things, objects, or people, but somehow I feel scared.

Do You Mind?

I just realized that I never updated about how school was for me. So the first two days have been great. I like my teachers, the classes are very interesting. The one I probably dislike the most so far is P.E. Since all we do is sit on very uncomfortable benches and talk. It's not like I don't like talking with people, but it's P.E., we should be out there running or something! Anyhow, it'll get better after the teachers do their thing, give us our lockers, and finally let us move onto the great outdoors. When that happens, my most unfavorable class would probably be Pre-Calculus. It's just not exciting, not to mention, I've never liked math. Zero period Chemistry is okay, the teacher seems pretty cool and Yasmin's in my class. First period P.E., I already talked about. Second period English is great. My teacher seems really cool. We haven't really done much yet, but I just get a vibe that it's going to be a great year. Third period journalism. Oh my gosh, it's like heaven, but I'm alive somehow.
--journalism rant--
The journalism adviser (I don't really like calling her the journalism teacher, because it just feels weird that way), Mrs. Beach, is cool. She's been teaching English for 30 years, worked with a bunch of editors in the past, and has taught journalism for, was it over 25 years? I don't remember. Anyhow, she's really cool and fun. The whole team is just as great. Although I've yet to talk to them or get to know any of them up close, they all just seem so enthusiastic about being there. When Mrs. Beach asks who wants to run an errand for her, this one guy--I forgot his name already--literally jumps up as he says, "I'll do it!" It's so cute. Currently, I really don't have much of a position in journalism. I'm currently fighting for the columnist position. It's just where you can write anything you want, but it has to be creative, funny, and connects with the readers. It's kind of like an editorial. Anyhow, I think it's a nice position, and I thought it was interesting, except there's a bunch of other people who want to spot just as much as I do. I'm a bit intimidated. Guys, you can shower me with as many compliments as you want, but in my head, it will always be, in 18 point font, Arial, bold, "Don't stand a chance." We have to write a sample column and you know, my grammar, vocabulary, and spelling sucks, don't ask why I want to be an author. I actually don't have a good sense of humor. I laugh at really weird things and the jokes I make are really lame puns that make some of my friends depressed because it was really just that lame. Creative, I guess I'm okay with, but I've thought of several ideas and I realize that my topic is just weird and stupid or I have nothing to say about it. Yeah, I went from very optimistic to very pessimistic. I depress myself. You know, I have to sell ads (as in going to businesses or academies to see if they'll pay so their ad shows up in our newspaper) and sell up to $50 or I don't get an 'A'. My parents said something about it sounding like bribery for a grade. I know we need money, the school doesn't fund us, and all the schools have their own money issue. And for people's information, our school ads are so not cheap. When people get their free newspaper, most of the time, the random pieces of paper stuffed in there are not random, they're ads we call "inserts". So while the inserts fall out of people's newspapers and flutter around school like tumbleweed, people paid $45 each for that. As a person who's money is actually just a collection of pocket change my sister gave me (the rest of my dollar bills were spent to pay my dues, meaning to pay back friends money I borrowed), that is a freaking lot of money. To print all 10 issues of the newspaper spends us up over $4,000, since we do have to supply 8 pages of a newspaper to over 2,200 students plus facility. You'd think people would respect the newspaper, you'd think. On the bright side, since lots of businesses buy ads (they're practically donating us the money) we usually have money leftover, which we spend to buy new computers for journalism/yearbook staff.
--end of journalism rant--
Fourth period is math, and you heard my opinion of it. Fifth period history is pretty interesting. The teacher is nice, she makes history much more interesting, granted she told us the history of how sticking up your middle finger came to be, how sayings like "raining cats and dog" came about, and did you know "saved by the bell" was actually people buried alive ringing that bell? Anyhow, that was the first day, and the second day we went to get our textbooks, so I'll see how much I enjoy history later on. I don't really like the people in there, it's full of people who'd always cause trouble and mess around. I'll live, though, hopefully. And finally, sixth period is Spanish. The actually teacher isn't around, so we have a substitute named Mrs. Smart. She lives up to her name rather well, and I think she's a rather interesting teacher. I remember her from substituting my Spanish teacher last year. She's a nice person with many years of experience, though the class gets pretty tough with her manning the station.
I won't lie in saying that I get pretty worn out after class. Perhaps taking a zero period was a mistake? Who knows? Maybe the future.

It's School

School. It's right there. Tomorrow. I'm getting all pumped up for it. Although I'll miss lazing around the house, staying up until unspeakably late (early, depends on how you look at it), and waking up at noon, I want to go back to school. I've discussed my issues with my schedule and how I want to go into Journalism, yes? Well, I have zero period and all the classes are packaged in. I know I'll be busy and I'm probably going to be really tired throughout the year, but I'm still looking forward to the school year. I'm ecstatic about my classes, especially journalism and English class, obviously. I'm not as enthusiastic about chemistry and pre-calculus, though, since they aren't really my best subjects, nor are they my preferred subjects. Except I am hoping to see some improvements with my grades, so you can say I'm still looking forward to the classes. History, I really wish I didn't have to go through it, but it'll be okay, I guess. And then there's P.E., but I like P.E. I have it first period, though, so that's not great, but I'll deal with it.
For some reason, I feel really depressed, too. Except I feel happy. It's a feeling I don't really know how to explain. Maybe it's because I've been listening to Dark Woods Circus a lot lately. I even changed my GaiaOnline profile to something more . . . distant. [x] (if you aren't one of my four close friends who I know reads my blog, and I know they have a Gaia, add me) I was looking for something more depressing, but I couldn't really find one that really suited my mood. And so I chose that one. I editted my "about me--which is under my avatar (and video of Dark Woods Circus, if you didn't know)--to something less happy. Before, there was a picture I bought on the forums (for Gaia gold, of course) with a teddy bear holding a heart and a piece of paper saying "I love my life". Well, replaced that with "You think you're living the life until it bites you dead." Then I added a bunch of more happish-sad sayings I made up. Yeah. I don't know what's with me. I feel happy but I'm also a bit sad off to the side. Weird. Maybe it's school.

I'm Running Out of Ideas For Titles

Huh, I've been blogging a lot lately. It's not just a lot post-wise, but I've been ranting for a long time. I wonder if I'm back to my old self now. Ah, yes, the me that just squirts out angry things at things that make me angry. Well, I prefer being angry than sad, I guess . . .

Fear of My Life

Well, what do you know, here again around the same time. I think. Anyhow, I may seem like in a humorous mood, but I've just been scarred for life. Why, you might ask? Besides the fact that I just had the most terrifying moment in perhaps my entire life so far, my respect for my parents took a major step down. Okay, so to be blunt, I saw a cockroach. If you guys haven't realized, I have a huge fear of bugs. Even if they are ladybugs or butterflies, insects in general scare the life out of me. Ants are the only ones that can be near me without me totally freaking me out, because I passed that phase years ago after I realized that it's impossible to escape them. But a cockroach. THE VERY NAME COULD SEND ME TO H---. I was watching an anime I recently discovered. It's called Lovely Complex, it's cutely romantic and it's really funny, I totally recommend it. But enough of that. So there was a really loud fluttering sound and before I know it, that huge, disgusting, vulgar, vile, and down-right creepy monster of a thing appeared in my doorway and you know what I do? I just let out a big, fat scream. My parents' reaction? Zip. I had to scream "COCKROACH!" a million times. There was this one time, when my sister and I both screamed at the same time when a cricket suddenly appeared out of nowhere. My parents just continued watching their shows and my sister said to me, "It's sad how they're so used to us screaming out that they don't even bother asking what's wrong." Yeah, the sad truth. But you know, I was scared out of my mind. It was big man, big. I screamed and screamed and jumped onto my bed, held my blanket up to my head and screamed like a madwomen (I bet my neighbors were debating on whether to call the police to report a murder). My dad enters the room calmly and catches a glimpse of the cockroach midflight to my sister's bed which was right above me. My dad grumbled to himself while tossing the cover sheet around half-heartedly around and said that it vanished. Then he left to report to my mom that I wasn't crazy and that there really was a cockroach. My mom's response, "Really? Ah, this is going to be troublesome." Then they go back to watching their stupid drama. THEY GO BACK TO WATCHING THEIR STUPID DRAMA. Dad, I understand that you work hard everyday trying to support a family and that you're older than most of my friend's parents (if my friend is their parent's first child), but I'm sitting their sobbing uncontrollably, and you act like you don't care at all. Mom, I know I'm always making a fuss, and have to deal with me a lot when you probably just want to relax sometimes, but you are just as indifferent as my father. Tell me, is that not cold at all? Am I overreacting? About either of the two things that happened to me at that moment? Am I? Of course, by then my paranoia has gone over my head and I can't help but to feel that the cockroach could even be behind me at that very moment, so I run out of there. When I was in my parent's room, I felt safe, but the thought of the cockroach made me go mad, and I started crying again. This isn't a joke when I say, I've never cried so hard before in my life. Granted, I'm a fifteen year old girl, that amount of living is insignificant to even my 22 year old sister. But I was just in there crying, and I was sure that my parents could hear me (it's starting to sound like I planned this all out . . .) and they don't even comment about it. They talk very loud, I know, I evesdrop on them all the time except when they're talking about me. Anyhow, so I crying thinking that one, my life is slowly going to be ruined by a cockroach and it's stupid spawns, but two, that my parents don't care if I'm miserable or terrified at all. You know, as a child, whenever my parents scolded me and I started crying, they'd yell at me more to go cry out of their sight. I always figured that they didn't want to see their child making such a miserable face in front of them--that or they got sick of me crying from when I was a baby and didn't know better than to cry when I was supposed to sleep)--but I'm starting to have second thoughts, except for that last part. And so I regain composure and poke my head out and ask my mom what I should do. "Do whatever," was pretty much the gist of what she said to me. Then my dad said, "I can't do anything about it if I don't know where it is." Since I decided that either I run away from home (which is pretty dumb for obvious reasons and the fact that there are even more bugs out there) or the cockroach goes. So I stood at the doorway of my room, staring and staring. I gathered the couraged to step into my room and quickly tidy my things up, just so that if the cockroach appears, it couldn't crawl into a huge mess (luckily, earlier I had the sudden urge to clean up my room a little, so it wasn't that bad). Finally it showed up, fluttered viciously and landing on an old binder I was thinking about throwing out, though I knew my answer after that thing touched it. Of course, none of those thoughts occured when I saw it. My big mouth opened again for another furious scream, and my dad came to me angrily. He looked into my room and apparently saw nothing, so he yelled at me to stop screaming, but rather to tell him where it is because he can't do anything if he doesn't know where the blasted thing is. I had a huge debate speech in my head that had to do with, I can't help but to scream because I'm just that scared and that the cockroach moves. If he doesn't run to me, it'd probably scuttle out of sight by the time he gets there, I can't even point the direction where it went, because I ran back into my parent's room again to take shelter. So after calming down when my dad left, I tried to hunt down the cockroach while tightly holding onto this belt-like-thing for stress reasons. I finally saw it, on my blue bag, by the way (I really want to throw it away now), and I managed to keep my cool and I called out to my dad where it was. I kept an eye on it except it was crawling right at me! I was backing away when my dad came to my rescue and so I ran away. My dad said something about the cockroach going into the bathroom so I should just go away for the moment, so I went into my parent's bathroom instead. I sat in the clean shower and cried with my hands covering my ears (I don't know what I was trying to not hear). After a long time and I heard the mumbled voice of my father through my hands, I knew it was over. Up to this moment, I don't know what he did with that thing, and I'm glad I don't. I just hope he didn't catch it and let it go, which I'm pretty sure he did. Just the thought of it being in his hands makes me shiver. I do give my parents credit for not being a spineless whimp like me, who still screams (though not as loudly, nor as furiously) at the sight of a cricket sometimes. I still feel like they don't care about me, though. My dad called the cockroach an "insignifcant cockroach" and I'm just like, yeah, that scared the living day out of me, if you haven't noticed. Although my parents are over a million times smarter and wiser than I am, I think I'm more sympathetic than they are.
I'll say one more thing, it's a good thing my sister wasn't around, here to witness a cockroach fly onto her bed and stay there for who knows how long. Except she did tell me that there was a cockroach in her room at Caltech (happened twice really). I laughed at her situation on AIM, but after seeing one, I think I should be b---- slapped and hanged. Though she seemed composed when she talked to me, but what the heck does that say, it was through an IM box where you can hardly communicate feelings other than "-cries-" or something like that. It's also a good thing that she's up North helping her boyfriend who's helping her move into their apartment (since they're going to live together when she goes there for gradschool) because that means she won't be sleeping in her bed for a long, long, long time. The next time she visits is probably winter vacation, since Thanksgiving is too short to come all the way down here for. It's much farther away than her other college, that's for sure. Anyhow, before she left to go help the moving in, she slept in the guest room (the room I'm in right now, actually) because it's cooler in here than our room, since there's only one wall to the outside world for the guest room, and two for my bedroom, which means that the heat transfer is less. Moving on, it was a smart move of my sister. Hopefully the cockroach didn't touch any of her stuffed animals (or any of mine, for a matter of fact!) although she'd probably keel over and worry about it when she comes home anyways. Bugs. Insects. I curse you to the ends of the world. The one thing I detest the most. It's worse than annoying people, which I won't even go on right now, and almost as bad substance abusers, normal abusers, killers, and rapers. They are just about the worst. I swear, if there was a God, he likes to send a cricket ever time I'm happy. This time, since I was slacking off from math homework again, and enjoying my show too much, He decided to send in the big guns. If I could list how many times my good days were ruined by a mere bug, this blog could not be bloated enough, and this blog has . . . an infinite amount for you to write? Point is, there's a lot, and I honestly think that the world is out to get everyone, especially on their good days.

I Always Seem to Type to Blog Title Last

Here I am as always, up during unsightly hours of the morning that could also be referred to as night. I've been thinking a lot, as always, and you know, I feel very insecure. I'm not going to go on a rampage again about feeling "uneasy" and all, this is a different type of insecurity. I think. Ages and ages before on this blog, I told a tale from years before, my childhood. If I think about what I say to people, I feel like I make it overly dramatic about having no "real" friends back then. I blamed a great deal of my old friends for using me and wanting to do nothing with me when I was long overdue. But I kind of wonder if it's really just all my fault. I was happy. I really did enjoy hanging out with them, Meghan, Erin, Mary Anne, Stephanie, Tiffany, Kayla, Caroline, Jennifer, Catherine, and of course, Michelle. During the different years, I've moved on from friend to friend, and in most cases, I never really talked to my old friends from the previous grade. She'd be busy with her new friends, and I'll be busy with mine, but it never really bothered me until the fourth grade. The story is long and has been told too many times, but it's a real-life story that I felt like changed my entire view of my friends. Betrayal and blurred memories are cruel things. All I know is that, after that day, I've accused my friend at the time for using me and backstabbing me. But is what I thought happened really occur? Is everything I told myself a lie, and all the hatred built up from falsehood? Was one of the few grudges I could never let go never existent between the two of us? Then it wasn't just her, that one girl, it was all of them. I thought ill of my old friends, but wasn't it the both of us who moved on? Wrath is a sin I am guilty of. Michelle was the only one who was spared from my criticism and judgment. After all, she was the only one who'd talk to me once in a while even after kindergarten has passed. Year after another, we'd hang out once in a while. That's how she became to be my best friend, and somehow my "only real friend". This old tale gets longer when I've learned to regret what I've thought about my friends, though the story never seems to change (As I've said in a previous post, I tend to want pity. Hey, this entire post could be filled with my pity-yearning words. I can't even understand myself anymore . . .). In the sixth grade, when my sister went off to college, it got lonesome at home, and I felt bad about never making an effort to stay friends with people for over a year. And so I ventured to enforce my friendship with Michelle. Before I entered middle school, I was torn when I learned Michelle wasn't attending the same school as me. I wanted to hold onto her, the one person who never seemed to get sick of my company and the person I worked with so much so that our bond was strong. I found that our friendship wasn't so flimsy and I would go and contact Michelle occasionally over the two years. When I moved onto high school, the first thought that entered my mind was, "I can see Michelle almost everyday again." And when the school year began, I wondered. Indeed, I got to see her, talk to her, but then she'd hang out with her friends. Of course she'd make new friends. Michelle isn't a person who'd go past the years without making an effort to be around people she likes. I made friends, people who I really enjoy being around, too. But you know, they always hang out. They go to the beach, they go to movies, they have picnics and potlucks. Some days, I would just I stand behind Michelle and listen to her talk to her friends. She'd sound so happy, and the rest of them were too, laughing until their guts hurt. And sometimes I wondered if she liked being around them more than me. I'm not that cheery of a person (go figure). I try to look on the bright side, but when it comes to the "bright side" for me, it's more like the loony side. If you hang out with me a lot (I don't know who would be reading this if they didn't), don't even pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. Laughing insanely for no reason, talking nonsense and babbling weird, happy things. I know I can be happy without being a nut, but I feel like I'm just a nut anyways all the time. By the way, I'm very self-conscious about being "weird" around people I don't really know which is usually why in class, I'm as stiff as a stick--which are actually pretty bendy, depending on it's thickness. Anyhow, I'd worry if I bring Michelle down sometimes. "Live, laugh, and laugh some more." is her motto, she told me once. Every now and then, I have an insecure moment for myself to worry about my friendship with her. One of the days happened to be yesterday, by the way. Program verification day is coming up for school, which means we need to find locker buddies and such. Last year, I was Michelle's partner, and this year, I forgot about the whole thing for so long, I was worried that someone else teamed up with Michelle (Last year, I asked her several months in advance because I didn't want her middle school friends taking the opportunity. Not like I didn't/don't love you guys, Pie.). I worried all day yesterday and I finally gathered up the courage to call (Since in truth, I get nervous about phone calls.). The line was busy and I threw my phone down dramatically then proceeded by shaking my fists at the heavens. But then I had to check if my phone was still alive. Yes, I was trying to be funny when I was typing that (Although it did happen, strangely enough.). Was anyone amused? Then, today, when my dad handed the phone over to me and I was pretty surprised when I heard Michelle's voice on the other end. I was absolutely blissed that she called me to ask if I wanted to be locker buddies with her, absolutely blissed. Right now at um, 3:30AM, I'm still very happy that she wanted to be paired up with me again. She even said sorry for not really staying touch with me, which was so nice of her, especially since I basically did nothing either . . . Guilt trip. Then we had a nice little talk about what we were going to do about our locker, and yeah. After I hanged up, I was still high on relief. Then I went back to my guilt trip. I doubt Michelle at times, about if she really wants to hang out with me or not, but then she does something for me that just makes me want to slap myself for being a bad friend and doubting her. You know, after typing for so long, and now I'm really really really tired, I went from a serious typing blog person to a person who wants to put in a random comedy video that I haven't even seen. Basically, I have no idea why I'm talking about this anymore. I had to scroll up to reread what I said earlier. Insecure. Yeah, I felt insecure about my friendship with Michelle, but now it's all better. Yay! Okay, I'm going to bed, night.

Sliced Bread and Slices of Life

Strange. A moment ago, as the laptop screen light flickered (It's my sister's old laptop, and it isn't a joke when I say "old". Even the wires of the charger is loose, so sometimes power doesn't even get through to the laptop, which is bad because this laptop's life-span lasts to about 5 minutes now without it being plugged in. Besides a little battery light on the laptop, the other way of me knowing if the laptop is charging or not is if the computer screen is bright or not, which is what I was referring to a moment ago.) I felt like it understood how I felt. Unstable, wavering, jumping back and forth from light and dark. Jeez, I feel like I'm trying to host my own drama series. What's my deal anyhow? I act like nothing good in my life is happening. Why are those simple happy moments in my life not worth of me recording? A good laugh with my parents, eating dinner together, waiting for the night breeze to finally come and cool down the house. Why do I feel like recording ever single enjoyable moment isn't worth it, that it's a waste of time and foolish, but I want to elongate on my "so-called-pains-of-life"? Crazy. Sometimes I feel like I do things just for pity.
Huh, my life. Well I've been waking up around noon pretty much everyday. I've decided to stop going to cross country early this year for personal reasons, I don't feel like talking about it at the moment. Oh, and my family hanged up my larger paintings on the wall. I can't help but to feel like they are just the slightest bit proud of how my paintings are progressing, of course they won't admit it though, but hanging up my paintings was a nice gesture. What else has been happening? Oh, I've decided to rewrite my main project, Daemon's Children. Why? It's sad, really, but after reading my own story several times while trying to edit made me feel bored. [As I wrote that, the sarcastic sentence, "The future readers of the world with be thrilled." scrolled through my mind.] Which is exactly why I don't like reading the same thing over and over again. I know what's going to happen next and I'm just like, "Yeah, what else is new?" If you're like, wait a minute, you're writing this thing, so shouldn't you know what's coming next? Well when I'm writing, I have a plan for what's going to happen, but it always changes, so it's an adventure for me, too, as the writer. And so, after reading my story over and over again, I've decided that it's a big dull dud and if I'm going to have to read Daemon's Children another million times, I'm going to do some dramatic changing. Then I thought, it's such a huge pain to massively change what you've already written because you don't really know if you want to change a certain part or if you want to interject an event here and there because it's already this one solid thing already. So instead of ripping pages out of the book and adding new ones, I'm making a whole brand new one.
Yeah, so I suppose that last part was pretty much the biggest change in my life since the last time I've posted about my daily life (excluding my depressed talk, of course).

Home Sweet Home

August 17, 2009
So, without really telling anyone (it slipped my mind, really), I headed off to San Diego yesterday afternoon with my family. I was kind of queasy during the ride, but I survived. I took a bunch of naps, so I wasn't all that miserable during the drive. Anyhow, we then finally made it to the hotel, Sheraton. Our room's baloney had a nice view of the nearby cay and faraway city of tall buildings. Yesterday, my sister and I just vegetated around the hotel room. My dad had a meeting--since, after all, the reason why we're here is because he has a business trip and it's not like he needs two large beds--and my mom was snoozing. On my sister's laptop we played The Game of Life (it's like the gameboard). Then night fell and my sister was dragged off by my dad to go to this dinner party. My mom and I had pizza that was being served in a restaurant downstairs. It was a pretty interesting pizza, it had some herbs in the cheese that made it taste really unique. We also had some instant noodles that my mom brought along for the trip. They were good, almost better than the pizza, if I do say so myself (I'm a noodle when it comes to noodles!).
Today my mom, sister, and I went to the San Diego Zoo. Unfortunately a business trip is a business trip up to the very end and my dad was off at meetings almost the entire day. Besides facing some occasional nausea, it was pretty fun. I saw flamingos, pandas, orangutans, lions, elephants, giraffes, koalas, polar bears, and loads of other animals. During our little adventure, we got lost. You'd think with three heads (two that are more intelligent than my own) and a map, we'd do better. But instead, we looped around the same place three times. However, if you've ever been to the San Diego Zoo you have to admit that the place is huge! Do we turn here or do we turn there? It's a maze there. Granted, I suck at reading maps and have a poor sense of direction, but really, it's not a small world after all.
August 18, 2009
show. It was entertaining, even though the sun was crisping the back of my neck. You know, I never did figure out which one of the whales were We went off to the World of the Sea today. Yes, I mean Sea World. And by "we", I meant my sister and I. According to my family, we've been to Sea World several times before, but being the nutcase I am, I have absolutely no recollection of being there. Generally, if I see a place I've been to before, even if it's been a long time since I've been there, a lightbulb shines over my head and I'm like, "Hey, this place looks familiar!" Not with Sea World, though. It was like it was my first time there. Anyhow, so on impulse, I made my sister to buy us churros and we ate our cinnamon-y treat while watching the dolphin show. Since we got there around 10-11AM, my sister decided that we'd have lunch after the show. I ended up dragging us to this Italian place. I had some tomato sauce over penne pasta with chicken and sausages flanked with a breadstick. It was pretty good, ignoring that fact that it was overpriced and the meal overall was small. Well, it was simple pasta (no spices and herbs that some restaurants like to go crazy with), the kind I like best, so it's not like I have any big complaints. Then we went to go watch the ShamuShamu. Is Shamu one of the current whales there? What if Shamu died? I mean, will the show still be called Shamu? Yeah, I had no clue what the deal was with that. Anyhow, after the show, since that one rapids ride was right there (the one just like the Bigfoot Rapids ride at Knott's Berry Farm), my sister and I went for a spin. Since I was feeling adventurous, I wanted to go ride of the Travel to Atlantis ride. Of course, my sister who has a fear of heights and rollercoasters waved me goodbye as I went in line by myself. The ride was fun. What I like about rollercoasters is that they scare the heck out of me. I mean, what's the fun of rollercoasters if there's no thrill in it? It's like watching a horror movie (which is ironic because I just can not watch horror movies, because I'll probably kneel over and die). Some people prefer to cower away and not face the fear. Whereas others go on and be a masochist so they can pee in their pants during the ride and come off saying it was the funniest thing ever. Except there are those people who just aren't afraid of the speed or drop, and they just go crazy during the ride just because. And before I continue on, did I mention there were a lot of Caucasians around? Yeah, well there were. Since I live in a place where there are a bunch of Asians haunting almost every single corner, I thought it was really strange that there were so many of them. Since I was just one person riding and I obviously can't have the entire "boat" to myself, I sat in the back of a group of Caucasian buddies. If you ask me, it was pretty awkward. Not only it was really obvious to outsiders that I was not part of their group, but they kept turning around to look at me. Was it because they splashed water on me on accident while they were messing around amongst themselves (even though it's unsafe to put your hands outside the boat!) or was it because they suddenly realized that a stranger was hitching a ride with them? Regardless of the reason, I felt very self-conscious the rest of the day. My sister met me at the end of the ride and we continued walking around, looking at the animals and such. My sister wanted us to go feed the dolphins or at least the mantarays, but being the bum I am, I complained about being tired and that I have a low endurance for walking (although I suck at running, my legs and muscles are more adjusted to running more than walking). We browsed through some gift shops while waiting for our mom to drive by and pick us up, then we left. My dad's company once again, had some kind of dinner party, but this time, my mom was picked and dragged away to the social gathering. My sister and I had some American-Japanese food. My sister had some caterpillar sushi and I had udon (ah, yes, maybe one of the best noodles of the world). After eating, my sister was gracious enough to let me steal her laptop to play Plants vs. Zombies. Yes, it is a stupid sounding game, and depending on who you are, you'll take one look at the game before saying, "It looks like a stupid game". You have to plant these plants in order to protect your house from the brain-eating zombies and stuff. Personally, I think it's a very amusing game with cute graphics when you ignore the zombies, whose limbs fall off after attacking them a lot.
So that's pretty much all the excitement that has been going on with me. Besides the ride home, but that wasn't all that fun. We drove and drove, I napped, my sister read. My sister just had to order a smoothie from Starbucks before we left the hotel so we had to stop at Jack-in-the-Box to use the bathroom because she didn't pipe up about needing to go to the toliet until after we passed two reststops. Well, since it was near lunchtime, we just ordered food there and then we ate on the rest of the way home. Back to our sweet little home.
Did I mention that I disliked staying at Sheraton? Okay, so here's the deal. It's 4AM, and the fire alarm goes off. To my family, we just heard a really annoying siren and we didn't know it was the fire alarm until my sister went out into the hall to check what was going on. We all rolled out of bed to evacuate the building when the announcer came alive and said it was a false alarm. Earlier that day there was an unpleasant small of cigarette smoke that rolled into our room through the vents. And after the announcement, the disgusting smell visited us once again. I think that our room neighbor was a crazy smoker and his thing set off the alarm or something. It wasn't just that. The next morning I had to get up to buy a stamp for a postcard and send it off on it's merry way when the alarm sounds again. My mom asked the lady at the front desk about what the heck was going on, and according to the lady, their alarms are very sensitive. Burning or small smoke could set the place into chaos. I guess it's better than the alarms not being sensitive at all until the third alarm came. There's only so many "false alarms" a person can handle. I swear that it's our neighbor because my family's always smelling cigarette smoke and I just roll out onto the cold balconey. I have enough trouble breathing without secondhand smoke! I hate smokers, they ruin everyone's life and they are ruining mine. I'm glad that my dad aren't like most smokers. Yeah, he smoked, he smokes. But he only smokes once or twice in China with his old Chinese buddies (peer pressure is bad!). Except what makes him so different is that he doesn't get hooked on it. He could smoke one cigarette and push the rest of the box away. There won't be any mood swings, no need for nicotine, nothing. Even though I really wish my dad wouldn't smoke at all (but in China, almost everyone smokes. I really hate it there, sometimes.) but I can't have the whole package, now can I?