mayfly for september. about fucking time life started. summer is at an official end. the weather is turning cold, and so should i.

so school has started. i've been to four classes. only one of which i'm going to be allowed to take. as a concurrent student, i'm last in line. after the kids who are pre-registered. after the wait lists. after the people intending to major. after the people intending to minor. basically, i've sat in on four one and a half hour classes to be told that "sorry, we have no space" in three of them. i had the greatest schedule set up too. classes on tuesday and thursday. from twelve thirty to six twenty. imagine me, sitting in class for six hours straight. i figured if napoleon could conquer europe, the least i could do was sit still for six hours. all my classes were going to be in the same building too. actually, all my classes would switch me between only two rooms. it would of been interesting to see if i could of stuck with that kind of schedule.



now i'm faced with having odd class times spaced out monday through friday. that will just tempt me to skip class. luckily, the hassle of parking and shuttling to campus is a big deterrent to running away. that same hassle is a big deterrent to actually going to class in the first place, but i digress. the four classes i wanted to take was: short fiction, personal narrative, editing and poetry. right now i'm only in the poetry class. which seems like it might be fun but the class is conducted using a giant round table. where everyone can see each other. i don't like that. i prefer the traditional arrangement of rows and rows of desks, spaced evenly apart. i much prefer the back row. but in a circular educational arena, there is no back row. everyone is front row material. it'll be interesting. i'm hoping that maybe there won't be enough chairs so that i can huddle on the ground against a wall. out of sight and out of mind. i hate speaking in class. hate it.

the god of small things. my weekend started last wednesday. and the weekend before that ended on monday. so really, i had just tuesday as my "workday." but i don't work. so all my days are weekends. it's spiritually redeeming, this life. for the first time since new york, i haven't been to LA on a weekend. craziness. instead, this weekend was filled with little minute but happy things. snatches of good conversation--in cars, getting out of cars, at denny's, wherever. there was a bible study and a dope ass dance lounge on wednesday, a church on sunday, classes on thursday, football on sunday, warcraft on friday, chess on everyday. and the ultimate......a buffet on saturday (where i out ate james for the first and probably last time of my life). people who can't appreciate the little lovely things in life i don't want to associate with i've decided. the weirdo conversations about aquatic plants and fishes, learning what kind of oats are used to distill what beer, lots of guitar knowledge, staring at new paint jobs, clicking on every single little warcraft character to make them say funny things. aaaaahhhh. this is what life is all about. isn't it? and oh yes, chrissy was here. no small deal. but in a weekend of straight bumming, she fit in spendidly, even if she had to work every day.



is it only because we're getting older that all these tiny simple pleasures seem so exciting? or is it that all the big events no longer hold any thrill? i just like to lounge around and wait for that magic moment when everything seems content and perfect. and nobody is doing much of anything, but it's still entertainment.

i now view my long road as a search for truth--truth in my own heart, in the world around me, and in the larger questions of purpose and of existence. how does one define good and evil?



i carried an internal code of morals with me on my trek, though whether i was born with it or it was imparted to me by zaknafein--or whether it simply developed from my perceptions--i cannot ever know. this code forced me to leave menzoberranzan, for though i was not certain of what those truths might have been, i knew beyond doubt that they would not be found in the domain of lloth. after many years in the underdark outside of menzoberranzan and after my first awful experiences on the surface, i came to doubt the existence of any universal truth, came to wonder if there was, after all, any purpose to life. in the world of drow, ambition was the only purpose, the seeking of material gains that came with increased rank. even then, that seemed a little thing to me, hardly a reason to exist.



i thank you, montolio debrouchee, for confirming my suspicions. i have learned that the ambition of those who follow selfish precepts is no more than a chaotic waste, a finite gain that must be followed by infiinite loss. for there is indeed a harmony in the universe, a concordant singing of the common weal. to join that song, one must find inner harmony, must find the notes that ring true. there is one other point to be made about that truth: evil creatures cannot sing.

-drizzt do'urden-

a coven of witches. last week, gaga talked about confidence in guys, and how that was attractive. is the same trait attractive in girls? of course, confidence in general is attractive, but i think we're talking about confidence bordering on cocky. are there girls that are cocky? and is that attractive? i've heard that maybe guys like girls who aren't super confident and cocky, because that makes them seem too "manly." i've also heard that some girls feel like they drive off guys because they come off as too strong and possibly, too confident. is that true? guys, do we shy away from confident girls? on the flip side, are girls ever trying to be fake confident? it's easy to smell fake confidence on a guy, but on a girl, maybe it's also an attractive quality--that lack of confidence. the quiet, demure, shy girl might, in our culture, be more accepted than the brash, confident one. is that a double standard or just how it goes? is a confident girl necessarily a bitch? are girls offended by the possibility that their confidence detracts? given a choice, do guys want less confident or over confident? personally, having a girl lacking in confidence is anathema.



additionally, is all confidence surrounded by hidden insecurities? is anyone confident all the time? in every situation? is that even desirable? can you give off that confident-cocky air even when you aren't really in your environment and not necessarily comfortable? i feel like it's possible to be confident all the time, even when placed in foreign environments. where that crosses into asshole cockiness is a fine line though.

hobbes: how are you doing on your new year's resolutions?

calvin: i didn't make any. see, in order to improve oneself, one must have some idea of what's "good." that implies certain values. but as we all know, values are relative. every system of belief is equally valid and we need to tolerate diversity. virtue isn't "better" than vice. it's just different.

hobbes: i don't know if i can tolerate that much tolerance.

calvin: i refuse to be victimized by notions of virtuous behavior.

what's clark kent without a telephone booth? what is a liquor if it ain't 80 proof? what is a party if it doesn't really rock? what is a poet? all balls, no cock. what is life if you don't have fun? what's martial arts without daniel-san? what is a relationship if all you do is run? what is a quest if the players ain't willing? what is a meal if it ain't filling? what's a child birth, without the umbilical? what's united parcel, without the deliverer? what is a pimp without that strut? what's duke ellington without that swing? what is true love if it ain't bout that thing? what's one nation, without one unity? what is a child who doesn't know puberty? what is my label when i exit boom status? what are laws if they ain't fair and equal? what's a hit movie without that sequel? what are the youth if they ain't rebellin? what is compromise without some yellin? what is a life if you're only working for rent? what is a compound without an element? what if jesus wasn't really heaven sent? what is a jam if you don't spike the punch? what is a breakfast if it ain't really lunch? what's a con artist if he doesn't have brains? what is a marriage without heavy chains? what's america without greed and glamour? what's an MC if he doesn't have stamina? what is a guy if he ain't a big baby? what is a woman if she didn't say maybe?

the supposed purpose of rolling up to LA this weekend was to go watch this show that ryan said would be dope. west hollywood. kind of shady. kinda crowded. very hot. very people smelly. the graphic and video stuff was kind of cool. it was a little different than what i expected but it was neat nonetheless. quickly got distracted from looking at the pieces by a girl who looked like a cross of someone and natalie portman. at least from the side. she had great lips. and an "aura." very clean. there really needs to be signs over people's heads if they're taken. there needs to be wedding rings for in-relationship people. like, wear a big fat something on your right ring finger to make it clear you're not to be bothered. not that i could of mustered the courage to say anything anyway. but yeah. sometimes the thought of seeing someone cute is better than actually staring at it. so that you can always say "remember that girl from the art thing that one night?" and on and on. and even if she wasn't that cute, in the imagination, she can stay cute forever. gorgeous isn't it?



handy dandy tip if you go to roscoe's chicken and waffles. if two people both want one quarter chicken, buy the half a chicken and split it. you'll save a good eight bucks. and nobody can eat two whole waffles anyway. bonus points if one person likes dark meat and one person likes white. now you know.

playin' mr big, i'm gonna get you sucka. more sex. more city. helen's apartment. round two. and here's what i've realized. i love mr big! he's hilarious! i found myself agreeing so many times with what he said and how he conducted things. here was this independent, slightly emotionally detached uber-man, knowing how to keep his space. knowing when to toss carrie's junk out of his apartment (life). he knew what he wanted, knew when his boundaries were crossed, and stuck to his guns. of course since we see all his actions from carrie's side, he seems like a big jerk but quite honestly, he's a funny ass jerk. and a funny ass jerk is hardly a jerk at all. some of his little comments to pre-empt or shoot down her tirades kill me. literally. oh, if only i could be mr big. rich, successful, able to separate what he needs from what he wants. we've found a new role model for the relationship millenium. there's so much of mr big that resonates true, at least from the way i look at things. all the drama carrie tries to put in their relationship, he sidesteps away from, like a professional bullfighter. and he does it again and again until the bull gets so tired of charging that they sit down and chew cud. okay, that's not the best analogy and i don't really want the bull to stop charging, but you get the point.....mr big is oh so right and oh so hilarious.

he tells her that the earth is flat --

he knows the facts, and that is that

in altercations fierce and long

she tries her best to prove him wrong.

but he has learned to argue well.

he calls her arguments unsound

and often asks her not to yell.

she cannot win. he stands his ground.

the planet goes on being round.

-wendy cope, he tells her-

are all males jerks? just by nature? can even the nicest, most well intentioned guy be a jerk sometimes? or alot? it's practically unavoidable. it's really only a matter of time before the jerk comes out. even the word "jerk" connotates "male." there are very few female jerks. those are just biotches. but yes, all guys, are built from birth to be jerks. the most sensitive effeminate guy will still show his true colors and do things that are ridiculously insensitive and unneccessary. and when they do this, they will be rewarded with a giant mug of frosty beer and loud belches from the cheap seats.



here's the thing though: guys are supposed to be jerks! real men don't have feelings! they don't understand the full consequences of their every action! if they did, we would of died out long ago, maimed by some traveling sabre toothed lion or something. it's evolution! it's survival instinct! there is action first. and then that is sometimes followed by thought. i stress the sometimes.



if a guy is too sensitive he isn't really part of the male species anymore. booted from mars, ostracized from organized misogyny, it's a sad sad fate for the non-jerky boy. how to curb this jerk instinct in an age when women want a strong yet sensitive male? is it impossible? is it akin to searching for the holy grail? is it like looking for a rational and independent woman? are males who care and males who hurt really just the same thing? should guys be held accountable for falling prey to their biological programming? answers must be found.......

poetry is the language of imagination

poetry is a form of positive creation

difficult isn't it

the point

you're missing it

rocking's kind of new to me cuz

my true love is poetry



i don't know what you thought hops

but chief i've got tall props

see, this, be, thee, rebuttal version to mister

academical does not believe that my poems

would, could, should have muscles and bodies like

this one



i want my poem to be brazen and long legged

and squashed muttered hard under a hard yellow heel's

wicked gravity

i wish to leave this lab of brains swishing in jars and

write poems that shatter glass with undeniable bodies

i want to be a word that wants to be a sweating brick

so drink that through your pointed teeth and

critique it

i want to be the strophy that strokes the ear in salty heaves

a spine that bends and works

like the dance you shut the door to be

listen to me with your

hips



[continue]

-dennis kim (typical cats), what you thought hops-

smarts and intelligence and wisdom oh my! as defined by the good book, "wisdom describes a character's willpower, common sense, perception, and intuition, whereas intelligence represents the ability to analyze information." in addition, intelligence also determines how well your character learns and reasons. and then there's smarts. where does that fit in? for me, i always thought that someone smart was someone intelligent. but a new definition of smart that i like was put forth by victor: smart people get what they want. but more on smart people later.



intelligence is pretty easy to identify and measure. school is all about intelligence. you get tested on how well you can cram things into your brain in an orderly fashion. but where does wisdom come from? experience? good genes? innate maturity? funny how wisdom equates to maturity, which is pretty right i suppose. i guess you can acquire wisdom, in the same way that you can become street smart. but at a deeper level, i feel like you either have wisdom or you don't. and so, it seems like intelligence and wisdom are both really god-given talents. you can improve on them and refine them, but some people just have more to start out with. i think someone smart has to have both intelligence and wisdom. some very intelligent people are just plain dumb. and some very wise people are straight stupid. so to be smart, you have to be able to combine those two things in a way to achieve what you want. be it happiness, a new toy, whatever.



the dictionary says that smart and intelligent are synonyms and that's very true. we tend to use them interchangeably. we know lots of intelligent people obviously. you can look around and loads and loads of people are extraordinarily intelligent. how many of them are wise though? is that something we can't achieve yet because we're all so young? the dictionary defines wisdom as, "the ability to discern or judge what is true, right, or lasting; insight. common sense. good judgement." people can do that at any age though. what is interesting to me is how some people seem to never gain wisdom at all. they don't make flash cards for common sense. although that seems like it would be a valuable product. common sense crash courses with practice tests on saturdays.



do you think it's conceited to believe that nobody is smarter than you? more intelligent for sure. wise, probably. but overall smarter. is that just wrong? to assume that you are as smart as everyone you know? not smart-er. as smart. then again, taking the definition set forth before--where smart equates to getting what you want--it suddenly alters who is smart and who is not. one common sense thing that i realize but try not to think about too much: regardless of how smart, intelligent or wise you are, you get nowhere without hard work. this point seems obvious. except to the twenty four year old undergrad. there will always be people smarter than you. there will always be people more intelligent than you. there is always some common sense sneaking in the back door. the only way to truly differentiate yourself and become a "success" is through hard work. one example of a dumb person is one who tries to find ways around this hard work rule. they occupy themselves by using all their mental might to go around the mountain. only realizing later that climbing it would have been much faster.



nobody wins without hard work. well, except maybe anna nicole smith. but she has giant breasts. i don't. i've decided that while smart is nice, it's vastly overrated. it'll get you some round about respect, but in the end, it's like a big diamond that just sits there, gleaming away, totally useless except for aesthetic purposes. i'd rather be "healthy, wealthy and wise." like b franklin said. so all you people who are more intelligent than me, doing your intelligent thingies.....spread the wealth man.

the door slams with a metallic thud. much louder than i can remember. the keyboard clickity clacks at a tremendous pace. i actually have to turn the volume on the car radio down. i suddenly hear my pants making lots of whisking noises. and my buddha bead bracelet is almost unbearably annoying. it clinks against everything. my stomach growls much louder and much more insistently. i hear my cell phone ring and it shocks me out of my nap. the whole world is full of audio rainbows again. yes. my ears have been cleaned. flushed out with hydrogen peroxide and water. the lovely lady at the doctor's did it for me and now i hear everything. it's kind of scary. is this the world you guys have all been experiencing and i've just never noticed? maybe getting water stuck in my ears for a week is the greatest thing to have happened to me because now my ears have been professionally cleaned. the lady said that everyone should get their ears cleaned once in awhile. and i agree. i'm hearing reds and blues and deep yellows everywhere. it's pretty crazy. my mouse, is suddenly a mighty clicking machine. my voice, sounds stronger. more resonant. more manly. all that junk in-between my ears has been removed. well no, they left the brain. but you can't remove everything at once. i recommend that everyone go to their local doctor for an ear cleaning. it's delicious.

are relationships the designer drug of the nineties? watched alot of sex and the city this weekend (thanks helen!). and when i say alot, i mean....ALOT. as in the entire first season, and just about half of the second season. that's a good seventeen hours of fictional relationship drama. but gee, it's all fictional isn't it? anyhow, watching all these episodes, i took some notes and made some observations. mainly, what we see on screen mirrors nothing of what i know life to be really like. i've lived in new york, i never saw gads of beautiful people everywhere. except at our apartment of course. then again, i don't have sarah jessica parker's legs so her social reality is probably a little removed from mine.



there's one episode where miranda goes (paraphrasing here) "why do we always talk about them them them! what about us? i'm sick of talking about relationships all the time!" i'm feeling that. most of the time, 80% of life and what's going on is about girls, or boys, or both. and it often feels like the never ending drama it is. there are really only three stages to life after fifteen: the hunt for a relationship, the being in a relationship, and the aftermath of a relationship. even when you're out, you're in. it's unavoidable. no one can escape the vicious cycle. except for maybe monks, nuns and priests i suppose. sometimes, when talking to someone in a relationship, all i can ask about is the relationship. not because i don't care about the other things, but because it seems like the biggest thing in a person's life, and if a relationship is going good, then the person is probably going good. nobody really ever says, "yeah, life is great, but my relationship sucks." if the relationship is rocky, life is rocky. shouldn't a relationship just be a part of life? it could make up, say, 33% of our happiness? but i guess that would defeat the purpose of a relationship.



another great thing about the show is how much carrie and mr big's relationships makes sense. they fight, she goes insane and psycho, they make up. that's how relationships go. little fireworks that go bursting off totally unexpectedly. and sometimes when you think the biggest bomb is gonna drop, everything melts away the moment you see each other. now i need to watch the next few seasons to see what happens to carrie and co. crapola.

you can't be as dumb as you pretend

or do you really only like me as a friend

do you wish for me to give a smile

or are you just going through me like the turning of a stile

-patti rothberg, looking for a girl-

thug life. on this, the anniversary of tupac's death. or perhaps, non-death (as james insists), let's talk about thugs and how they live. actually, i really shouldn't because i don't know any thugs. i don't know how they live. all i know about the proverbial "thug life" is what i get on tv. and that includes guns, swearing, tattoos, lots of yelling, and once in awhile, some fighting. my stereotyped image of thugs is all messed up by the media. in my sheltered suburban middle class upbringing, the closest i've ever come to real life thugs are those really mean people sitting in the corner. you know, the ones wearing the fifty dollar socks, the hundred dollar sunglasses (this is at night mind you), sipping on that ten dollar drink, after they've paid twenty dollars to get in to glower subversively.



apparently being a thug means you have money because otherwise, how could you go out much to cause trouble if you have no dough? note to self: go out more, try to start shit, get paid. *bada bing* anyway. the deal with little boys who want to be hard. i'm not really understanding it. sure, if you're insecure and sensitive and little trivial things tend to bother you alot, i understand. the world is out to get you and a conspiracy is afoot. but for the other ninety three percent of you with less than real life gripes, cheer up man. live a little. eat gummy bears. write poetry. dress in all white, it's liberating. i feel like the emasculated asian male population often suffers from this problem. not enough gummy bears. too much drama. it probably doesn't help much that we're only portrayed as little kung-fu kids by the mass media. "hey! we can't only do kung-fu! we can push each other around too! see! see!" thugs are always so rude too. no manners. impolite. i suppose a polite thug would be ousted from the lollipop guild. and then his self esteem and rep would suffer. well whatever. i ain't mad atcha.

the new moon rode high in the crown of the metropolis. i don't feel anything. at all. i don't feel when i'm supposed to. i don't cry when i should. i don't care when it's necessary. but i flinch when poked. there's nothing there. just thoughts. about this world trade thing. about this nine-eleven thing. about lots of things. i was there but i feel so removed from it. i feel removed from all the mourning, all the nice things being said, all the memorials, the moments of silence, the pre-contrived and re-contrived thoughts and emotions. i don't really want any part of it. i'm trying to listen to my sports radio and people are talking about getting angry again, hoping that this day--one year later-- would "renew our vigor" for retaliation.



they didn't know who they messed with (as we also didn't know who we messed with). the slumbering dragon awoke and now she's spitting fire. i remember being pretty damn convinced that something was going to happen on the twelfth. but nothing did. and everything just faded into the background. events like this are too clean. what's the difference between christmas and nine-eleven? less presents? more silence? there's a difference, i know, there's a lot of differences. but sometimes, it feels like it'll just come and go as a yearly ritual, for the rest of the national lifetime. and we will talk about the three thousand deaths forever and ever. like japanese internment camps. and he-man. "jfk blown away, what more do you have to say?" perhaps it would be different if i knew somebody who died during the attacks. isn't that horrid? that being actually one mile away from the WTC wasn't enough? that it wasn't quite disaster because everyone i know was okay?



but it's been a big year for deaths. and for tragedy. and yet my sense of mortality remains the same. isn't that slightly wrong? and it's not really about "dealing with it in your own way." it's about straight feeling it. and not dealing. people die. planes fly. *clippity clop clippity clop* well, the one thing i know is that "to protect and to serve" is awe-inspiring and i could never put myself out like that. for any reason. or maybe, perhaps, i'll be heroic when needed. who knows. adrenaline can do weird things.

tomorrow night, i'm going to bible study with victor. it's been awhile since i've actually been to bible study. sophmore year maybe? i'm not going out of any newfound interest in christianity but rather just to expand some more. many of my thoughts about christianity, and organized religion in general, have been based on the experiences from the past few years and i feel like it's about time to re-enter, re-examine, and re-visit that world again.



it's different this time, because i feel less open and more opinionated. before, i was learning and soaking in. now, i have some thoughts and those thoughts have been refuted and challenged by more thoughts. i hope that doesn't carry through in my actions because if i decide to make bible study a weekly thing, i want to be there as a positive influence, and not as some fish swimming backward, inhibiting everyone else's growth process. i have, and never really had, any intention of seeking god, and part of me always wondered if that lack of intention made things for the group more difficult. i'm interested and curious, but not really in god. just in the questions that thinking about god brings up.



i'm not quite entirely sure how to approach christianity again. i'm hoping to learn from it and at the same time, integrate it's topics into my own mind, without having to fight the actual institution or the (perceived) hypocriticalness of it all. i'm not really interested in asking the "why's" anymore....but i'm interested in the mental stimulation of thinking about life, from any perspective. i need to grow man. in every which direction and this may be as good a place to start as any. anyhow, i'm kind of excited to see how it goes.

cake

i wanted one life

you wanted another

we couldn't have our cake

so we ate each other

-roger mcgough-

bare necessities. i've found a new love. well, maybe not a love. but a new interest. horse racing! it's great! i don't know why i've never been. i like horses. i like being outside. i like betting. i have a short attention span. it all ends up to.......laziness. and horse racing. dropped by del mar racetrack for an hour or so (with victor, ana, susan) and walked away with a few bucks in my pocket. i knew nothing about horse racing walking in but after a few handy dandy informational fliers were digested, i was ready to start my betting career. i decided the key to winning is to bet "shows." which means that the horse you pick must place among the top three finishers. typically, a race has nine horses, so if god made all equines equal, you would have at least a thirty-three percent chance of winning. but here's the catch.....god did not make horses, or men for that matter, equal. horses have varying degrees of athletic ability! some are better than others! so if you pick the odds-on favorite horse, it's more than likely that they will finish in the top three, no matter how bad they suck. this strategy is as good as gold in your pocket. better actually, it's much lighter and more portable than gold.



at first, standing by the track, i couldn't tell what the hell was going on. i was impressed by the enormity of the racetrack (one mile equals one lap) but that also made it confusing because i couldn't see where the horses were coming from. luckily, you could see the horses on the conveniently placed big screen tv. there's nothing like trying to pick out your jockey's "silks" from a crowd of brown flesh. greatness. the very first race, we put $10 on our horse--bare necessities--to show. and since he came in a thrilling third, we got $36. thirty six dollars!!!! on an investment of ten! can it get any better? i felt like warren buffet. of course we lost with our next round of bets, but that was because we tried to pick the winner. and as we all know, horses aren't that bright, they never finish exactly as they should. but if one of our horses from that second race had won, we woulda pulled in a cool $100-200 on our five dollar bet. requesto--our horse--almost won, but he/she/it couldn't do better than a close second. next time, i'm just betting show. every time. the season's over now but next year, weekends, i'm recreationing and making dough at the racetrack. i'm gonna make enough to get some box seats and i'll just kick back, sip on my non-alchoholic drink, and watch my money come pounding down the homestretch.

a bouncer named beef and tiny the semi-pro strip dancer. drunkenness on birthdays is expected. mandated even. however, i let my other half enjoy drunken privileges this year. i get to drink lots on the odd birthdays and she gets to kiss the liquor on evens. well no. usually she takes the odds too. i think she's usually drunk on our even AND odd birthdays. and i'm never drunk. something's not right here. just like when she got barbie and i somehow ended up with gay ken. who wants gay ken when you can have accessorizable barbie? *ahem* moving right along.



anyway, i'm a giving big brother, george can take all our allotted "drunk birthday" days. i'll just hold off and be the "responsible" one. this is all bs of course. i don't drink anymore because by now, i don't think i can drink. alchohol isn't much fun anymore. back in the day, walking around on campus, drinking alot was fine and dandy. you could walk around wherever you wanted and just have fun and not worry about anything. but in new york, you had to take the subway home and that was a buzzkill. and in LA, somebody has to drive home. drunkenness is no fun when you have to worry about getting to a safe place. i'm also worried that i'm so heavy that when i pass out, nobody will be able to lift me. i'm very considerate like that. so, i've never passed out.



i also don't get drunk because.....i dunno. i just don't get drunk. rip roaring crazy drunk is not me. it would be interesting but the immediate after-effects of rip roaring crazy drunk is abject miserable puking drunkard. and i hate throwing up. i'm still adverse to soju after i christened kyle's civic. and that was a good year and a half ago. my delicate soul doesn't allow me to get crazy, drunk and pukey. i wonder if drunk people, when they are drunk and get all emotional and lovey-dovey or really really angry, if that's more them. does alchohol temporarily bring down the walls or is it just a socially accepted way to have real conversations? is the mind really free from inhibition when you get alchohol? i feel like it must be, because many people do "crazy" things they would never normally do, when they're rip roaring drunk. but then again, maybe they only do things because they know they can just brush it all off later with a "i was drunk." (on another note, can you hold someone accountable for their drunk actions? not like murder or anything, but if they're drunk and act like an ass, are they simply an ass and it only showed up now? or are they semi-exonerated because they were drunk? justice and morality are at stake here.)



being buzzed is fun though. if there's music. and people around. lots of people that you know and like. or it's fun maybe, when there's just that one special person you would like to know better. but are too shy to actually do anything about without the stench of alchohol fortifying you. i've only been "drunk" twice. and once was terrible, once was fun, but both times, i still felt very much me. well, no. that's not quite correct. that one fun time, me and karina ended up dancing to "oops i did it again" on endless repeat. that's not very me. but hey, close enough.



happy birthday world. let's make twenty four a growing, responsible, productive year. before twenty five hits and we really panic. let's make plans to reconvene in exactly one year and share our exagerrated, imaginary wealth. thanks for the birthday wishes all. danke much.

fine young cannibals. how do people make it in the jungle? there's money to be made but i can't seem to find it. not that i'm looking all that hard. actually, i'm hardly looking at all. there used to be this future reality i saw, in which i emerged from college unscathed and got a nice cushy job. one that paid something in the neighborhood of 35-40K (that's just to start mind you). aaaaahhh. those were the days. two years and twenty credits short later, i'm looking for a job that will pay 10-15. dollars. an hour. how far the mighty have fallen. how far is the fall for the lazy? longer than the mighty, i assure you.



i suppose everyone has a motivation right now, to urge them to wake up in the morning, grumble to their nine-to-five and work work work. i'm lacking that motivation. for some reason, financial security isn't moving to the top of my list in motivations. maybe it's because i get to live free, still on a collegiate parental paycheck (although that is ending, as it well should). my life is way too cushy. i'm *ahem* twenty four. that's a theme this year. twenty four. actually, i'm only twenty three but in a few, i'll be twenty four. foreshadowing is neat isn't it?



this motivation to go out and make money....what is it for other people? growing up? maturity? family? wife? kids? dogs? fish tanks? freedom? i can't really pinpoint why i would want to make money aside from the fact that i have to. and so i drag my feet, walk backwards, and try to find something to do. i've held out for so long for something i like to do. but the fact of the matter is, what i like to do is absolutely nothing. and that doesn't pay so well. not many people get a chance to have a surefire career dropped in their laps. i did. and i'm squirming and worming away from it. for good reasons of course. but still. if you had a career that you could launch into right now, that would probably provide you security for the rest of your life, wouldn't that seem like a dream? a godsend? people fight and die and create progeny for a chance such as mine. and i'm here wondering how much jamba juice pays. in defense of jamba, there is nothing like a smoothie to flush away life-toxins.

bang to the jiggy jiggy. it lives. funktion united dot com is alive! and they say we just slack off and do no work. the only difference between us and respectable working people is the amount and type of pay we get. other people get cash. we get......nada. but hey, we're philanthropists. or you know, just really really bored. for the record, hongshin pan is a stud. don't knock the hustle. funktion is going worldwide....tomorrow. my ass is beat and i have a paper and a final due within twelve hours. go funktion. go festifall. go the forlorn days of my youth.



someone wanna show me how to center tabled jpgs along with layers of text? i'd appreciate it.

watched the WB show, off centre today. one of the four main cast members is an asian-american male, actor john cho who plays "chau," a quirky "off centre" guy who works at the nearby vietnamese restaurant. in the first episode, i watched him strut around topless (he isn't the most well built of humans) and try to get more airtime on the psuedo MTV by getting with a girl from the real world. that first episode kind of mocked the real world in general but it also made chau the butt of all the jokes. in the second episode, chau gets drinks thrown on him at bars when he tries to pick up girls. his two friends bet bills on whether or not he gets drinks tossed in his face, or just gets straight up slapped. when one girl actually likes him, the two friends bet on whether or not the girl has a penis. *haha* as it turns out, this girl, dawn, only likes him because she gets to put him in situations where he gets beat up a lot. moral of the story? asian guys can't get none unless they get beat up. emasculation people. e-mas-cu-la-ti-on. oh, and they make him love richard grieco and val kilmer. you can't get gayer than that.



they couldn't even make chau a martial artist. he has to get his ass beat up every five minutes. at least he speaks proper english most of the time. furthermore, chau is the "silly weird one" of the group. sort of like a male "phoebe." his character pretty much perpetuates the myth that asian-americans are merely a joke. and that asian-american males are weak and unsightly. oh if only i could scream.



actually. the show's pretty funny. and it's semi-neat when any asian male representative gets on tv. to the show's credit, asian guys probably do get rejected a lot at bars so that part is kind of true isn't it? and plus, all the message boards say that chau "rocks" and he's the "only reason that show is still on the air." whether or not that's a good or bad thing, i dunno. whatever, asian males on tv can't be a bad thing.

there's just a sliver of a moon

in the sky- the sign of night

blinks a watery eye



horizon turning red

in your mind- it's a sign

of yet another goodbye

-patti rothberg, remembering tonight-



there are moments, and people, that you forget. but then suddenly remember when they are thrust in front of you. people you haven't seen in weeks, months, years, are suddenly placed erect and at attention. and for the life of you, you can't figure out why you haven't seen them in so long. and you scroll through the mental rolodex of memories and feelings associated with that person, and are surprised to emerge with fistfuls of both. and despite the world of instant communication which we live in today, you can't fathom why for any reason, you haven't made a better effort to keep in touch. and then you marvel at how easily things come together. how smoothly the interactions go. how comfortable everything feels. and it's a feeling borne out of history and togetherness, which too often, drifts when the physical prescence drifts. i'll have to try to remember people and moments better. instead of only re-appreciating them when presented to me.



there was some swinging this weekend. on swings. and some climbing and sitting on top of monkey bars. plus, we saw smoking pipes, upside down umbrellas and mustachio-ed rabbits in the clouds. it's been awhile since i've been to the playground. lots of good things happen(ed) at playgrounds. everyone really needs to get a good swing in now and then. even if it does make your hips and buttocks hurt.

i dream of katie. i had the most vivid dream yesterday. about katie abbott. this red headed girl i liked in eighth grade. in typical juvenile fashion, my "like" for her culminated in my friend steve asking if she would talk to me by putting a note in her locker. her response at the time, "if jon wants to talk to me, tell him to do it himself." quite mature at the time i thought. she ended up going out with some vegetarian guy who ran cross country with me. he could do twenty eight pull-ups. i could do two. no wonder i lost. she did wear my jacket once, at some dance or other. and i kept that jacket around forever. the residual smell of her was intoxicating. or maybe it was just my residual smell that was intoxicating. no, it was most assuredly her perfume.



anyhow. i dreamt about her. and in my dream, she transferred to michigan. and i saw her over someone's shoulder, sitting at the computer lab, at a desk surrounded by big blow up pictures of herself. at first i couldn't figure out who she was. but then the pictures tipped me off. i'm bright like that. i went over to talk to her and said, "katie?" and then we ended up walking around and talking. and we got along famously. and even though she had a boyfriend (even in my dream) she said that she could like me. and i told her "hey! i liked you in eighth grade!" and then there were some other details and such (involving other boys and goats). nothing super significant. but the point is, i woke up really happy. and thinking of flame haired, green eyed, katie abbott. it's rare for me to remember my dreams, much less with such clarity. kind of fun. i'll have to dream more.