I don't necessarily agree with everything I say.
-Marshall McLuhan

13 February 2013

Get a Life

OR: It's a miracle and no one gives a shit.

As you may have noticed, I've deleted all but about 90 of my blog posts. I guess someone, somewhere, may be upset, but a) I'm sorry and b) sorry, I'm not actually sorry. Those were terrible years for me (every year seems to be a terrible year) and I don't want to be able to relive them in any way, shape or form. So I deleted about 2/3 of them. Consider it a fresh start. There's now a little less of my shittiness available on the internet. (Like, really, what was wrong with me? I was such a frikking weeb, and people will say I can't be a weeb since I'm Asian but I'm not Japanese and you can't just lump all the Asian cultures like that and anyway it was awful and stupid and total weeb behavior. Be glad it's gone.)

In other news, my life has essentially become long stretches of discomfort and boredom punctuated by random, intense, short pangs of anger, hatred, frustration, anxiety and guilt. I'm thinking this is an improvement.


People like to complain about their lives a lot. I do, and my complaints probably aren't any more noble than the complaints of the next hormonal teenager, but I've been trying to complain about specific circumstances and not just... living. And I think I sort of mean it differently from other people. (ahaha I am a speshul snowflake obv.)

Freshman year, this sophomore girl sat across from me in IPC and she'd tell me every day, "I hate my life." I'd tell her she should be glad she has a life. She'd reply by saying I chose not to have "a life" so I couldn't possibly understand her feelings.

A few days ago, someone complains about how pursuing the IB Diploma requires someone to give up their "life," so I muttered "Who needs one?" and he replied that I chose not to have one, I wouldn't understand.

First off, bullshit. I didn't "choose not to have a life." I'm alive and breathing; I have a life. They, of course, mean a social life. I say, screw social lives and screw all of you I have two or three friends and they are the few people I've met that I don't hate, so I think I'm doin' pretty good.

When I said they should be grateful they have a life, I meant that they should be happy that they're alive and self aware. They are living, breathing organisms that are aware of their surroundings and themselves and they have the capacity to change themselves and change their surroundings and you know most of your environment isn' self aware? 

People are fucking miracles and no one cares. Do you know how much easier it'd be to be a ceiling tile? Your particles are shaped like a ceiling tile, and all you need to worry about is being a frikking ceiling tile. But you can't be anything except a ceiling tile. Don't like being tile, weirdly sentient ceiling tile? Too bad because you are a ceiling tile and that's all you got. 

But people, people can be fucking whatever (though that freedom seem to rapidly declining by the hour in this country) and it's fucking amazing. While it's on a much smaller scale, we're potentially, like, fucking stars breaking down matter and spitting it back out into the universe. We just make our own universes and no one cares. 

And I don't appreciate it enough, either. I'm probably a bit pile of wasted potential, but, hey, in choosing to do X, you're giving up the potential to do Y. But I think a lot of people appreciate it even less than I do, and that's actually pretty frikking scary. I mean, I know that when every fucking thing's a miracle, nothing seems very miraculous anymore, but you have to admit, just the concept's pretty amazing. 

Also, I think that secondary title came from Patton Oswalt when talking about ipods or something, idk. It's totally true, though, concerning almost anything.

(Also I decided to start tagging things. They're probably not gonna be too useful, but I like using tags on tumblr, so I'll use them here.) 

09 February 2013

Oh, Golly

It seems I've been neglecting my blog for several months now. I sort of... felt bad, so here I am once again. I don't really have an excuse, this blog just sort of slipped my mind or I didn't feel like writing or a million other dumb reasons. I can't even say tumblr is taking up all my time, because it wasn't. It was (is) occupying an unhealthy amount of my time, but an unhealthy amount of time is also spent lazing about and agonizing over what to do because I'm sooo booored. 

Tumblr's been pretty bad for me, though. Ignoring the negativity, obsession and idiot fangirls (shh), it's essentially become a place where I can reblog pretty pictures and where a simple "asdfghjkl"is enough to express the most complex of feels. So I don't put any effort into writing out my thoughts anymore. I mean, judging from the quality (or lack thereof) of this blog, I didn't but much effort into writing out my thoughts in the first place, but some places are lower than others and some of those places I just don't need to be. 

I don't actually have anything to say. This is my third time trying to write some sort of blog post. I didn't post anywhere near regularly before, but I think I've fallen out of the habit. I just don't know how to write a blog post anymore. Not that I did in the first place, but I was able to pretend I knew how, and now I'm not able to even pretend. Gaah. 

I think this is the point where I usually do a page break and change topics completely. I don't think I'm actually supposed to do that. I think I'm supposed to stick to one topic and keep writing about it til I have nothing, and then I stop and I go to another topic in the next post. So I guess for today I'll just keep talking about how blogging is hard.

And it really shouldn't be. I write, I think (sometimes). So it should be pretty simple to think, and then write about it, but no. Writing's hard. Thinking's hard. And everything's just hard and it makes you wanna give up. God now I'm supposed to say something encouraging. Uh... even if it makes you want to give up... don't? I mean, I was never one for motivational speaking. For one thing, it pisses me off. For another, I, personally, don't find it necessary. Which is why it pisses me off. But a lot of things piss me off, so maybe that doesn't mean anything. 

Anyway, I constantly say I'm a cynic (and I'm often told I am), but I'm not a pessimist. I sincerely believe that. Most people don't, but I don't care about them. I think that not giving up is obvious. There's no point to anything, but if you just take it and give up, then you're, I dunno, validating the pointlessness of everything, and then what point is there to you? And don't bother other people about it. You shut up and take your shit and let other people shut up and take their shit. 

God, that sounded bad, but uh, anyway. Yeah, I guess that's my message for today. Shut up and take your shit. Meanwhile, I'll be in the corner trying to do the same.


A bit of shameless self-promotion before I go. 

I have an art blog and a writing blog now. Both are pretty empty because I created them fairly recently and because I suck and creating is hard. But I created this blog post! 

Also, I really hate exclamation points. Apparently, I loved them in 09. Oh, how people change. 

Seriously, though, what was up with freshman me? 

21 August 2012

Less Than a Week to Go

Wow, I haven't done this in a while. Hi, readers. If you're still out there. If you were every out there in the first place. I have less than a week til school starts, and I woke up 20 minutes ago, at 4:05 pm. Usually, the last week of the summer is spent waking up at 8 am, finishing up summer homework, and being astounded by the concept of breakfast, which is apparently food that people eat in the mornings, because apparently people wake up in the mornings. But the past two weeks have been spent watching Supernatural, waking up anywhere between 6 am and 3 pm and just generally being miserable. 

I am almost done with my summer homework, though, which was reading and annotating a short novel. Which is pathetic, actually, cuz it's 209 pages of very readable prose, and I have three frickin months to do it, and I could have just finished annotating it in three days, but I just felt lazy. 

Anyway, yesterday I went to pick up my textbooks, and I hate them. And I'm going to keep hating them until I go to return them. 

My school's being renovated over the summer, and from the looks of it, it probably won't be done by the time school starts. I mean, they never fix anything quickly in my city, but they were able to paint the window frames. My school is a very ugly school, as a lot of high schools are, but in an attempt to alleviate some of the ugliness, it has splashes of teal on pillars, railings, just little random places. And it's ugly. Cuz the rest of the building is a sandy brown/gray. And they made it uglier by putting the teal in more places. Like the window frames. So now it's everywhere, and it's an assault on the eyes. 

The inside better be f*cking beautiful. 

I think I had more stuff to write about, but it just kinda flew out of my head. 
Oh, the only reason I'm excited for summer to be over is because once it is, little kids will stop running around the pool outside my window, so I won't have to be assaulted by their shrill screams every day from midday to evening. 

29 June 2012

Ain't it cute; also: driving is still scary

Before I start, an open letter to the idiot teenagers/college students making a ruckus at the pool: 

Dear idiot teenagers/college students making a ruckus at the pool:

After a few months of living in this apartment that overlooks the pool, I've more or less gotten used to idiot seven-year-olds (and their self-entitled asshole parents) running around  and screaming as if they're being murdered. Some people may call it cute.

You know what's not cute? You. 

You are not being cute or funny or young or free or wonderful or youthful as your blast your shitty pop music as your scream bad jokes and thinly-veiled insults at each other. Let me tell it to you straight: Your music sucks. If you're the type to blast your sucky music at a deafening level so the entire neighborhood can hear it, your music sucks. It sucks even more because you're the inconsiderate assholes who listen to it. Stop it. I don't care if it's Friday night and you don't have a test on Monday and you haven't seen your friends in a whole week. Be civil. 

The laughter of children is (to many) wonderful and the epitome of youth. Your drunken, shrill screams are that of a banshee and I don't want to spend *my* Friday night glaring daggers at you idiots while you have your wild, idiotic fun while disturbing the public. So stop it. No one wants to see your scantily-clad, orange bodies, no one wants to hear your hilarious "inside jokes" and no one cares if you only live once. Your stupid choices won't kill you fast enough. 

Why not go to one of your idiot rich friend's houses where they have their own pool and you won't bother the dozens of innocent apartment dwellers who were so unfortunate to be occupying the apartments surrounding the pool while you asholes party? If you have to, do it during the day time when all the grown-ups are working. Did you think no one would be bothered? Did you think people magically get rested on their commute back home? Stop it.  No one cares why you're there or what you're trying to do. We care that you're being noisy in a blatant, inconsiderate act of complete and utter selfishness and declaring your dumb notion of some inherently deserved freedom. You can go celebrate your drunken, misinformed idea of freedom somewhere else. 

Again, your music sucks. Stop it. I don't want to hear "Somebody I Used to Know" or any of the other shitty pop radio hits you tasteless idiots adore. I don't even know you people, and your dumb behavior is making me hate you. I honestly hate you, idiot teenagers/college students making a ruckus at the pool. 

You guys can go fuck yourselves. 

A concerned citizen who would like some QUIET after a stressful day


God, young people suck (said the teenager).


So, I operated a car for the first time in my life. 

It was only for a couple hours, and half of it was spent circling a parking lot and the other half was spent circling a residential area, but I drove a car and that's all that matters. 

I was really nervous for it, because I've been in 4 car accidents and cars scare me to death, but it wasn't as bad as I expected. Once I started to get the hang of it, I probably had a really dumb, half-scared, half-excited expression. Oh, face, why can't you just stay normal? 

27 June 2012

The Summer of Indigestion and Exams (also: Cars are f*cking terrifying)

I tried to write this post a few days ago at about 2 in the morning when I was insomniatic(not sure if that's a real word) and slightly delirious (fairly sure that's  a word). After a few minutes I realized that would've been stupid and I stopped. 

Anyway, I'm about a month into my summer, and most of it was spent either in or in preparations for exams. A lot of the month was also spent having indigestion. It's probably because I've been staying up late and then sleeping in late and then stuffing my face the entire time I'm awake, but I don't have any plans to stop that any time soon.

At least, I wouldn't if I didn't start driving school a few days ago. 
For the past few days I've been sitting in a room that starts off swelteringly hot and gradually turns ball-freezing-ly cold staring at a lady explaining traffic laws, trying not to fall asleep as I stare at the drivers' handbook in front of me. 

I'm not the type to label all my days so I can remember them later (which, if Sex and the City can be believed, is what 35-year-old single women do) but this summer is rapidly turning into the Summer of Exams and Indigestion. What with the SAT Subject Tests (done) , ACT (done), the various tests I'll have to get to get my license (not done), and the near-constant indigestion, which has actually become more manageable, but only because I've had to wake up at a reasonable time because of driving school. 

Speaking of which, I got my instructional license today, meaning I am now allowed to operate a wheeled vehicle as long as there's an adult with a driver's license and a year's driving experience conscious and in the passenger's seat. My mother tried to convince me that the test for it was going to be insanely difficult, but it wasn't. What was insanely difficult, though, was not going crazy during the 3-hour wait at the DPS office in order to get my instructional license. I swear, Hell consists of one of those offices, and they always close just before they can get to you. We left with about 45 minutes til closing, and there were still dozens of people waiting. 

I'm not actually terribly excited to learn how to drive. I don't actually want all the independence and freedom or whatever a license is supposed to give me.  Cars are frikking scary, man. 

While we were going to the DPS office, only vaguely aware of the hellish wait that awaited us, two cars in front of us nearly hit each other. One swerved slightly but was able to keep going without a problem but the other one, holy shit, the driver lost control and his car swerved and spun around and there was screeching and tire marks and smoke from the friction between the wheels and the road--

It was really scary.

I don't want to drive.