I may be a Buckeye

Last night, I had a dream that I had a magical silver pony named Nam, and it saved me from certain death at the hands of some creepy necromancer. I just thought I should share that with you; it was really quite a blissful experience. I think everyone should be able to ride a magical pony at some point in their lives.

Anyway! The real reason I came on here was to share my wonderful news. I got into Ohio State! I got the letter yesterday. It's the first response I've gotten from anywhere, and it's a positive one! Now, I don't have to face the possibility of not getting in anywhere and having to go to community college for the rest of my life. The linguistics program is as bomb as a nuclear warhead, and the guys are super hot. And if Allie goes to Michigan, like I'm sure she will, I'll still get to see her. How could this get any better? (well, it could be USC, but let us ignore that for the moment) I'm sure I must be the happiest person in the house right now (which is not saying much, as I am home alone). Nothing, and I mean, nothing, can bring my joy down. Not the fact that I mixed up Giotto and Duccio on an essay and thought that Inigo Jones designed Blenheim Palace, not the thought that Fish Face has taken up staring at me again, not my hideously unattractive and intractable bangs, and not even the fact that I have at least one test every blessed day this week can detract from the joy in my soul at this moment. Shiznit's serious, yo.

However, I do recognize that I have tests all this week, so I must stop writing now and get to work. I have inordinate amounts of homework to do as well as studying, and life is ridiculous in the extreme. Well then, goodbye for now!

Long Jasmine Silver

Get it cuz it's a long post hahaha lol lol lol

What am I even doing with my life.

Really, though. What am I doing? It's two in the morning, and I'm just sitting here masturbating. (No I'm not; that was an allusion to that one internet meme. It has quite a nice ring to it, though) I did do quite a lot of math today, though, so I haven't been entirely unproductive. I'm now caught up in my assignments, which is almost a miracle, seeing as I was almost a week behind before. (We don't turn in homework until the day of the test, so there is an almost irresistible temptation to put off doing it until the very last minute) I also started on my poetry assignment. We have to analyze a poem each week and hand it in. It's only the third week, and it's already so annoying. I like poetry, and, though it sounds silly, I like analyzing literature, but it's such a pain to have to do it for an assignment all the time. Plus, we can't just put in any old thing we feel like. Nope, we have to go off the SWIMTAG sheet (or S2W2IM2A2T4G, really), which sounds a lot more fun than it really is. Some of the things in there are really quite difficult. Let's see if I can remember them all... Story, Sounds, Word order, Word choice, Imagery, Meter, Mood, Theme, Tone, Title, Turn, Allusions, Anything unusual (this one is fun), Grammar or syntax. Whee! It gets even lovelier when you realize that some of these things are not actual devices and can't be used when writing essays. I discovered this to my detriment awhile ago when I got a six for talking about the story. Worst grade ever, ugh. I was so ashamed. Tee hee, look at all those "misspelled" words all up in there (the html for the underlined parts breaks the word up, you see). Is "magery" really not a word? It should be. Like, you know, wizardry, but for mages. This is symbolic of the unfairness in the world. But apparently, "heme" is a word. Hmm. I wonder what it means. Let us see. Ah. It is an iron-containing compound of the porphyrin class that forms the nonprotein part of hemoglobin and some other biological molecules. Well, I suppose that makes sense, the "hemo" part and all. I learn something new every day!

I've just finished a box of chocolate. What is wrong with me? Granted, there were only four pieces left, but a box is a box, and if we add those four pieces to the multitude of others I've eaten today, it probably makes up enough confection to feed a Swiss person for a week. Soon I will have to wear a size two for my waist and not just my boobs. Oh no, that sounded horribly pretentious and first-world problematic. But I mean no harm! I merely mean that I am not thin. Or, no, that's not what I mean. What is it that I'm saying? Maybe I should hire a speech writer. Anyway, I soon will have no candy left in the house, and will have to resort to looking at pictures of cakes on the internet. Wait, I already do that. This is why I'm a couch potato.

I was wasting time and just generally puttering around on the internet, and I remembered my other blog I had when I was young and innocent (it was under a different email, and I switched when I made this one. Parenthetically, I now have a new email that is more professional, and I wonder if it would be incumbent upon me to make a new blog still. But let me not interrupt myself overmuch). I read it all the way through (there weren't that many posts), and in the spirit of debutante-ism, I feel that I should share the first post so that it may be compared to the wiles of the pen I wield today. So, here tis. I don't really care to put in the html for all the paragraphs, so it will be in one heady block, but that is something I must face, for the future is now. Here we go:

all right, everyone, this is my blog. this is me. I'm going to write about just what happens in my life so that I can make sense of it all, and relax a little about what happens. today, I get to (oh joy) go to a rehearsal of a new quartet a loose friend of mine made. They want m e to play viola, which most people do, never mind that I'm actually a violinist. Not a good one. My older brother and younger sister are much better. Zac and Kitty (two of my siblings) are really actually very good. Zac went to Aspen music festival for the summer, apparently feeling no remorse for the fact that after this rather titanic drain on our finances Kitty, Sungmin, and I will not be able to attend that prestigious place of many people's dreams-college. Prehaps I exaggerate. At the very least, I having the good fortune to be born second will at least be able to peek inside an esteemed college dorm room for a few scant minutes. Now I'll write about my family. I'm a hapa- half Korean, therefore many people look down on me for my so unfortunate heritage. My oldest brother is named Zac, and is somewhat perfect. His only imperfection is that he has no imperfections, and is too nice and humble to admit to being PG, or Profoundly Gifted (ugh). He wants to be a math major, then economics, thinking philosophy to be too "easy". I already told you! He is a genius (certified)! My younger sister, Kitty, is really good at art, and all of that topic. She does ballet, (and, from what I've heard, is at or near the top of the class), can make stuff, like jewlery, knitted stuff, embroidery, doll clothes, things like that. She's extremely good at music as well, being a good singer and violinist. She's very nice about her accomplishments too, and won't admit to being gifted. She's a little more introverted, but is still able to be fairly popular in orchestra and dance class. She's doing a summer ballet intensive for two months. Then comes the youngest, Sungmin. He's the only one with a Korean name, and the only one who looks Korean. He's very hyper, but lacks control over his emotions. He, being the youngest, is spoiled horrendously, and Kitty and I call him a brat, sometimes to his face which he does NOT enjoy. He appears to be a sports genius, being good at every physical activity that comes his way. He's great at baseball, great at soccor, good at running, good at football. In fact, he's so good at all of these that our mom and dad sign him up for sports things regularly, disregarding the cost. He, I think, may also be profoundly Gifted. (Actually, Kitty seems like she would be too.) He certaintly acts like it, yelling and throwing fits when things don't go his way. It's even scary sometimes, because he seems so unbalanced, except he's really small for his age. And then you have me, Jasmine, your typical teenager. Instead of asking for a calculus textbook for my birthday, I asked for an iPod. (i got it, too) The only e=mc2 i know about is in compact disc form and is sung by Mariah Carey. I'm interested in fashion, lip gloss, shoes, pop music, friendships, and technology. I develop a new crush every week or so (even though I'm homeschooled). Still, guys disgust me. It seems to me like they're all jerks I never want to get married. I don't read that much, and even when I do it's things like 17 and Fruits Basket; I haven't touched a fantasy novel in years. I might play violin, but I find classical music boring, preferring Mos Def to Mozart. I do like drawing, which might be a smart person activity, but I only draw manga style, and couldn't do a Rembrant portrait if my life depended on it. I'm not smart at all, I have no talents. I had a dream I had 165 friends on facebook, woke up elated, then almost started crying when I realized I was still lying in bed. I don't really cry, though, I'm not that sort of person. I'm very, very, happy and hyper, and I dance around the house all day singing. My voice isn't bad, just really high. I'm almost a soprano, and have you ever heard of a solo singer with a voice that high? My dream is to become a pop star, which, lable me crazy and stupid, but I write my own songs. I'm going to make a cd, and then burn it. I think I can, but I need to get the camera (the big on, not mine) back from Aspen first (yes, Zac, the perfect has the camera. Of course he's good at photography which is something else I'm interested in) which can do sound recordings. Oh, yes, he is a perfect one that boy! He just is a little perfectionistic, don't you know, Mrs. Smartpeopleannonymous. Ugh, why can't we be a nice normal family who sends their children to school, who have a TV, who give allowances, who encourage their daughter in her dreams. By the time (two years ago) I worked up the courage to tell my mom I might want to be a scientist, I had changed my mind and I wanted to be a doctor instead. If I even mentioned law school...! Actually, now I'm thinking genetics. That's a subject that I've been interested in all my life, since I was three years old and wondered why I had skinny eyebrows and everyone else in my family had big puffs of fur. Or else, I thought, psychology. But that''s a subject highly ridiculed in our family, and I don't even dare say the word without a large guffaw of laughter greeting the exiting phrase. So, you can see, I'm not ever going to tell anyone my dreams for the future, not even Kitty, whos' like my confidante, because she thinks everything I do sucks, or at least that's what she says. I couldn't even tell my best friend Jade, because she thinks I'm perfect even though I'm a couple of years younger than her. (she likes to ridicule things too). I can't cook good either. My mom is in Chicago currently, attending a scientific meeting. So I, the lucky princess, I get to take care of my entire remaining family until she gets back wenseday. So nice for me, do you not agrree? everyone likes to ridicule my cooking, but that's ok, cause it does suck. Anyway! Enough bitching! I got things to do, like hang up laundry, prank people's rooms (I got the whole house more or less to myself, finally) and sing my songs! So see you tomorrow! bye bye!

Isn't that charming now? I was so different as a child. Looking back, I think it might have been the selfsame malignant strand of anti-intellectualism that has blighted our country over the ages affecting me thus. I'm no fool, even though I do make myself out to be, and I don't care if the world hears me shout it from the very rooftops. But back then, I was more insecure about my intellect than I am now, and I thought I'd cover it up by adopting the most frivolous personality ever. I was an affected little twat, yes I was. Gotta face reality here. Hey, well, you know, it's middle school. That's what everyone and their uncle Ted was like. I wish I could meet the me back then and convince her (or me, I suppose) to own my me-ness and be the woman of the world that I could be. Actually, I wish I could meet me nowadays too. Wouldn't it be fun? I have the sneaking suspicion that I would hate myself, though. I would probably feel an immense sense of competition and try to outdo myself in everything. Maybe I would be envious of my boobs too. Hmm. Well, still, I think it would be extremely interesting and would afford me a fresh new perspective on life. I could probably get quite a decent scholarship essay out of it all too.

Now it's almost three. Why does it take me so long to write these things? I could be doing so much more. Like, I don't know, working on my scholarships. Or something. I'm sure I could come up with something productive to do. Drat, speaking of productivity (or the lack thereof), I have to go to Lisa's senior recital tomorrow. I really don't want to. I bet I'll see a bunch of choir people there, and they'll all be sitting together, and I'll awkwardly sort of fade into the background, in between Mom and Kitty (who are both coming because Lisa knows us all), and curse the day that I ever auditioned for the group. Maybe someone will say hi to me and I will have to wave and politely ask how they're doing and then they will all chuckle because they think that I am a pariah and a veritable Alfonso Durpenhogen, and I will have to go all day wishing that I had been born into the aristocracy of Middle Earth so that I wouldn't face these problems (though I do rather wish I lived there, even without the threat of an overdeveloped social conscience). Damn. See, this is why I hate doing things. You know? I sometimes think that if it were physically possible to download food from the internet, I would be quite happy to sit in my house all the livelong day and never venture outside at all. But, such is my life, and I must live it, for I have no other. (I really have to do something about these pseudo-pithy statements; they're even starting to annoy me)

Oh, tis exactly 3:00. I suppose this is a sign that I should go to bed. Well, then. Goodnight, and goodbye. I shall be back someday. (Naturally, this should be said on the edge of a dock, or a road that stretches into eternity, or something of the sort, with my hair and long billowing cloak flying in the breeze and dramatic music playing in the background. It's all very intense, as I have just saved the city, or something, and now I have to disappear into the shadows so that I can continue to save cities throughout the mists of time. Kind of like a badass version of Cable the X-Man, except not like him at all because he's really annoying.) Oh, well, yes. Having set up a thoroughly beautiful ambience, I really will go to bed. Goodnight now!

I shouldn't be on here, no I shouldn't

I have no rehearsal tonight, and this fact makes me as happy as a clam in jam. Oh, brb, the rap part in this song came on, and I have to rap it. Ok, there we go. Anyway, as I was saying, usually I have to go to choir rehearsal on Tuesday evenings so that we can learn our music (since in class, we mostly seem to have parties). But tonight, there is a sectional for some people, and the rest of us don't need to go. Little things like this are the things that make life great.

I've just come home ("just" being a relative term here) from studying at Starbucks with Allie for our Art History test on Friday. Doesn't that sound classy? Like, oh, nbd, just reviewing Palladian influences on French classical architecture, you know, that sort of thing. Incidentally, French classical architecture is almost entirely Palladian. Just thought you should know. Speaking of architecture, there is this one Renaissance man (Baroque, really) named Borromini, and every blessed time I hear his name, I think of Boromir. What if I put that on an FRQ or something? That would be terrible! I would get a one for sure. Because, you know, one does not simply allude to the wrong things on an AP exam. Zing! I bet we're going to get more of these confusingly named people too; maybe we'll have some modern artist named Gollum-o, and a Romanticist named Sam McFrodo, and so on. Eventually, it will get so that I can't get two feet without seeing one of them. This is the future, and we must accept it. Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes. So, this unit is on the Italian Renaissance, with Mannerism, Baroque, and Rococo tied in. It's a huge amount of stuff, and I don't see how I'm going to differentiate between Mantegna and Parmiagianino (hideously misspelled, I think), let alone describe the focal points of each of their pieces and the symbolism that lies within without resorting to some kind of Faustian pact with the magical fairies of knowledge. I mean, I had trouble with Romanesque vs early Christian cathedrals, for crying out loud. Maybe I should drop out and become a stripper. Ooh, but you know what, I can't. I was actually pondering this today, as I climbed the steps to the English building (because my thoughts are always elevated and edifying), and I realized that due to the extensive background checks enacted by Congress, as a future Supreme Court justice, I must comport myself with the blamelessness of Sonia Marmeladov's heart and soul (though not her actual behavior). I must always be aboveboard and have nothing even resembling a scandal, or the Senate Judiciary Committee will have my head on a platter. Oh, eff! And stripping is such a lucrative business too! What am I to do? Now I have to get an actual job to put myself through law school. Maybe I can become a garbage collector or something. Or maybe I can be like Quentin Daniels and find a rich industrialist to work for. Unfortunately, I have no technical skill or know-how, so I couldn't reconstruct a miracle-working motor, but maybe I could translate some documents for him or something. Or I could be his non-corrupt Washington man. They all need them, right? And if he had a good one, who would stick up for his principles, then I think that would be something he would appreciate. The only problem is that I would probably get shot, and then where would I be? In the grave, that's where I'd be, and ain't no good anyone can do a body from there! So sadly, I think I must strive to find myself some honest labor. Ah, well. There is nothing bad or good but thinking makes it so.

You know, if anyone actually read this blog, I think they would be as confused as an Australian polar bear because of all the random allusions I put in here. In fact, pretty much the only person who could grasp everything I'm saying is me. Which is, you know, acceptable, seeing as I'm the only one on here and all. But this all goes to show that I should never be a writer of any kind. Ah well, someone has to put the "ass" in "aspirations." (That made no sense whatsoever)

Now, though abruptness is one virtue I don't recognize as so, Dad is home, and I must go. (That was a beautiful poem) So, goodbye, love, and remember that some divinity shapes our ends. (Ugh, more Hamlet, I am so ashamed of myself)

Me, myself, and Durko

You know, now that I am 18 and am a real adult, I feel that I should reintroduce myself to the world. Kind of like a debutante, you know. Fortunately, I have the perfect template for doing so, since I have re-read my very first entry on here, and it is just the thing. As an added bonus, I can compare my ancient ideals to the womanhood I own today and see how I have changed over the years. Here is the entire first entry...

Hey! My name is Jasmine, and I'm almost fourteen years old! This is going to be my secert blog, where I can write everything as it really happens, and where I can whine in private without the whole world knowing. I can't wait to get started! Ok, so some about me. I'm in eighth grade, but I'm homeschooled, which sucks dirty ass like you will not believe. It's so frickin lonely I always feel like I don't belong anywhere...dang annoying! I play violin, which I don't mind, except I hate practicing and taking lessons. I don't like classical music that much, as there is something supremely uninteresting about sitting in a concert hall with a whole bunch of quiet, well behaved fans, all waiting for the next pristine note. Oh, speaking of that, Kiis FM Jingle Ball was today. I was so frickin disappointed that I couldn't go, I almost started crying! Instead, what did I get to do? Go volunteer at a community service outreach my mom started. At least there were some hot guys there. Anyways, what was I saying? You don't really need to know all my musical history, but just so you don't get confused (like my dad), I play violin, viola, cello, piano, and guitar and I love singing. And, if I do say so myself, my voice isn't half bad! It's probably what I'm most talented at, as I kinda suck at classical, and teaching yourself is hard. I'm not saying I'm good at voice either-the parents won't let me take lessons. Actually, I've never asked, but I have asked for electric guitar and drum lessons and they wouldn't go for it. I want to be a pop star, if you hadn't noticed. For my favorites... Hmm, let's see.

Season: summer (but I like all of them)

Singer: Avril Lavigne, Katy Perry, Chris Brown, Super Junior, etc. (everyone)

Song: Pocketful of sunshine

Color: pink

Cosmetic: lip gloss (It's poppin!)

Animal: all of them (except the scary ones!)

Food: anything sweet, or else roasted chestnuts or sushi

Outfit: uh, I kinda have a lot, but maybe a short skirt, boots and a cute top, or else jeans and my pink Papaya or Miss Me shirt, chains in the pocko, purse, gloss, the works.

Perfume: anything fruity or floral (mostly). I love Mariah Carey's new one!

Drink: boba milk tea, duh!

Possession: mostly all of them.

Car: Lexus, Ferrarri, BMW, or Porsche, but it had better be pink!

Subject: Ohhhhhh, please don't ask me this one. I'd have to say Computer...

Book: any manga (mostly)

Type of person: A boy, naturally! Kidding! Ok, just a person, who's not creepy and who's nice.

Type of boy: Cute, sweet, funny, Asian (although my other crush is white as a sheet...) smooth, fairly popular, encouraging, and loves me a lot!

Game: Hearts, or maybe Poker.

Song on the top ten: Live Your Life (or Hot N Cold if its still on there)

Now my least favorites!

Season: don't have one

Singer: Lil Wayne

Song: Let It Rock by Kevin Rudolph feat. Lil Wayne

Color: navy blue/black

Car: Ford Prius/PT Loser (cruiser)/3-by-4

Animal: Dunno. Something icky and scary.

Food: Fish/oatmeal/cheese/eggs/oily beef tamales straight from the can

Cosmetic: Blush (I don't need it, as I blush enough for five of me)

Outfit: frumpy

Possession: dunno

Perfume: This sickly sweet, ickly, stickly perfume my mom has. EW!

Drink: Beer

Book: fantasy

Subject: Most of em, but mostly math.

Tyoe of person: mean, awkward, smelly, evil, dominating, thinks they're graet, crude, boorish, and ONE THAT CHEWS GROSSLY!!!!

Type of boy: See above. Or, for other example, check out Heartless by Kanye West. Ol' Kanye feelin a bit jerky...

Game: Thrift Shop, a game my brother Zac invented. (It sucks)

Song on the top ten: Heartless (although I do like it a bit)

Ohhh, g2g! We're going shopping! Later! xoxoxo~♥~

...And here is my adaptation (I shall nobly adapt it all).

Hello darling! My name is Jasmine (that hasn't changed) and I'm just turned eighteen years old. This is, as we know, my blog, which is not much else but a glorified problem dump, but dear me, if all men were perfect, then anarchy would be possible (that made absolutely no sense). So, I am a senior in high school, and I'm in four AP classes. I should really be in five, but I had to make a choice between AP Physics and AP Calculus, and I sadly chose the latter. I play violin, and fortuitously enough, viola, both of which I emphasized to the max on the common app. Quaintly enough, I am quite fond of classical music, though Romantic music is really more my cup of tea, and though I would never admit it to a living soul, my iTunes is filled with opera. I also sing, which sounds exquisitely ridiculous, but I don't know how else to express the thought. I'm a first soprano, but I can sing second alto if need be, and I'm in the top audition group of my school. Music may be my way of life, but in no way will it be my sole future. I want to be a lawyer, and eventually, a Supreme Court justice. So now, my favorite things.

Season: All of them, really, but for different reasons.

Singer: Natalie Dessay ♥ but then again, none can compare to my dear suitor Francisco, whose song about me is unparalleled in its beauty.

Song: The Man Who Sold the World by Nirvana. It reminds me of that wonderful novel Atlas Shrugged.

Color: Though it is quite embarrassing and difficult, I have none.

Cosmetic: I wear none.

Animal: Penguins forever!

Food: I could eat the moon.

Outfit: I have many. But one beautiful specimen is my gray sweater, peach circle skirt, gray flats, and hair ribbon (with my signature gold ring, hair ties, and necklace, naturally) (by the way, I always have to wear a necklace or my outfit feels incomplete. Weird, no?)

Perfume: I never think to put it on.

Drink: Black coffee, most likely. But I'm not sure. As with food, I could imbibe entire ecosystems.

Possession: My money. (Really, though, I'm the most materialistic of Americans, and I have a huge long list of things I couldn't do without)

Car: I suppose I must say Roxie, my dad's new red BMW that I named, but if it were a car I was going to buy, I would say the cheapest, most ratchet one possible.

Subject: Oh my. I don't even know where to start.

Book: Atlas Shrugged. (And you'll never know if I'm serious or not)

Type of person: I forgot about this question. Maybe I should write N/A...

Type of boy: I once wrote a big long list about this, but digging it up again would be far too troublesome. Let us just say Sydney Carton and have done with it.

Game: Life.

Song on the top ten: Gangnam Style (obvi.)

Now for my least favorites! This should be interesting.

Season: Seasons of loooooove... Wait, what?

Singer: Well, everyone in choir.

Song: There's this one song I hate so much I can't even remember its title. But I hate it. A lot.

Color: Orange, I think.

Car: Oddly enough, I can also put Roxie for this one, thanks to her ability to gobble money.

Animal: A man. Zing.

Food: I don't really like fish.

Cosmetic: I don't really know, for although I don't wear makeup, I love it dearly.

Outfit: Once I wore this fugly outfit to my interview at Pomona. It was a really long floral blue dress, a black shrug (that didn't fit), and non-matching flats. It was quite humiliating.

Possession: I don't really value the enormous collection of trash in my purse.

Perfume: Sweat (although I don't sweat myself, I can easily be suffocated by other people).

Drink: Well. I suppose I should say 4loko or something.

Book: I absolutely hate romance. And Huckleberry Finn. And, ok, Shakespeare makes me pretty angry too.

Subject: Well... I hated my English class when I was a freshman, but that was only because I hated the people. As we all know, I prize each gem of education I can mine.

Type of person: A Republican. Wheee!

Type of boy: I don't think I would like to date Raskolnikov much.

Game: The "game" alluded to in Portrait by Judith Whatshername. That is to say, vacuous domesticity.

Song on the top ten: Lights by Ellie Golding, because it's impossible to sing.

There we have it! My personality, as expressed in this meager way! It should really be enlightening, but I sadly feel that it is not. Still, it was quite fun to do. Being the egoist that I am, I enjoy doing these things. Now, I have one more facet to add to my characterization: I am very much akin to Durko Doombooty. You see, I'm off to look at cats, and so I must bid you an abrupt farewell. Farewell!

A three day weekend tis

I dislike the world. Yes, precious, I dislikes it. Or should that be "we hates it"? I suppose that would be more accurate, both in syntax and in content. After all, Gollum was never a very happy camper (except for about five seconds when he had the ring and hadn't yet fallen into the Crack of Doom). Dislike wouldn't be a strong enough sentiment for him; he would need a bit more potent of an emotion there. Goes with his inner turmoil and all that. Now, where was I? Oh, quite. I dislike the world as much as Ayn Rand dislikes paragraph indentations. Everything, and I do mean everything, makes me feel wrathful and filled with rage and fury. Maybe I am actually the Hulk. Wouldn't that be embarrassing? All this time I thought I was a Dagny- and it turns out I'm a Bruce Banner instead! That's even worse than being Durko. I mean, at least Durko has manly sensitivity and is able to talk (although he mostly doesn't, being as stoic as a Russian peasant), and though you might not expect it from his muscular mien, he is quite well versed in Romantic music and poetry. I wouldn't be too surprised if he knew his way around an art gallery as well. Hulk, on the other hand, loses all of his scientific knowledge as soon as he transforms, and is permanently clothed in ripped purple panties. Not that I don't like purple panties, mind you, in fact I may or not be wearing some right now (I can't really remember; I put them on this morning, and that was a long time ago), but the fact stands that his wardrobe is sadly lacking in the haute couture necessary to the health and well-being of any sensible soul. But hopefully, I am not a Hulk and am just a very grouchy misanthrope. That's at least socially acceptable (unless you are Raskolnikov, but I feel that particular identity crisis is not mine to bear), and can be useful for when I go to law school and have to deal with a thousand S-hole duplicates every day. Really, though, I think I've become more and more choleric as the days go by. Everything annoys me now, even things that really shouldn't, and as time passes on, I feel more and more inclined to give up on the world and move to Siberia or something. I have become the worst kind of crank, and I don't see how I'm going to fix it. Should I even fix it? Maybe it will give me an edge up on all the Pollyannas in the world. Seeing the world through rose-colored glasses tends to stunt your perception, you know. But then again, it's not really pleasant to be annoyed all the time. I mean, I don't like it much to not like anything. So perhaps I should do something about my attitude. But that would take effort... Oh dear me, what a quandary I have put myself in!

We went to a singing today. It was very folksy. There were several people wandering around in dresses from about 1870, and one lady had a cup and a plate tied to a string around her neck. I'm not sure if she thought it was a fashion statement or if she merely wanted to be prepared anytime some victuals presented themselves, but it certainly did a good job of spicing up her outfit. There was exactly one Asian guy there (aside from us of course), and everyone else was white. I suppose that's the demographic that likes to do shape-note singing, but one would think that the institution would have become more nationalized by now. Still, I suppose it was all right, since I care only for the music in their hearts and not the color of their skin. (Was that a folksy enough statement there? Maybe I should lead a nouveau-hippie revolution) It really was fun to sing, though. Everything was very relaxed, and no one really went by any predetermined rules (which was evident not only in the burly man happily singing soprano next to me but also in the blatant refusal of the populace to follow the key signature), and everyone was so cheerful and friendly that it was really quite alarming. Apparently, there is quite a social network that goes on at these things. People have their special singing circle, and I guess they meet up at different singings throughout the country. There were people there from Oregon and New Mexico, and the like, and one exuberant woman even came here from London. I don't know what it is these people do, but they seem to have an awful lot of time on their hands. Maybe they make a profession of doing this. Anyway, we got to sing, and we got to eat a whole effton of food at the potluck. So that was all well and good (even though from what I can tell, no one deigned to touch the humble offering of leftover lentils we brought and we had to eat it for dinner tonight for the third time in a row). Overall, it was quite lovely, and I feel like the most down-home, countrified, Southern belle of them all.

Ugh. College students are so immature. Here is an accurate transcript of a conversation Zac and I had not two minutes ago.

Zac: What do you think S-hole is doing right now?

Me: Most likely he is sleeping like the good little nerd he is.

Zac: Are you sure he's not doing something else?

Me: I suppose he could be studying.

Zac: No, something eeeeeeeelse!

Me: I'm sure I don't know what it is to which you are referring. (Parenthetically, is that ungrammatical?)

Zac: You know what I mean. I bet he's having "fun" right now.

Me: Ew...

Zac: Oh yeah! All guys have needs you know! At about 7:00, the internet in the dorms gets really slow, and if you try to take a shower, everything will be full and all the drains will be plugged up. It's sooooooo gross! (spoken with evident glee)

Me: I don't really need to know about this...

Zac: I bet S-hole has to leave class sometimes to "go to the bathroom" and-

Me: EWWW. GO PRACTICE ZAC.

And there you have it. Perhaps 85% of Zac's conversations, when they are not about himself, run on the same theme. Ugh. S-hole indeed. I feel unclean and impure now. Maybe I should go dunk my head in a bucket of ice water so I can chill the image from my brain (though I don't think that will be at all effective). I hope I don't become like this when I go to college, but sadly, I feel that I might. It will be a great disappointment, and I shall lose any vestiges of sophistication I might have, but maybe the transformation will have its good points. After all, at least I won't be nattering on about the economy anymore. Hopefully, the puerile aspects of my personality will fade after awhile and I will again be the pure Puritan we all know and love so well. I can be Hank as well as Dagny, you see, and none can tell me otherwise.

Now, this is going to be quite abrupt, and will have no preface or preamble, but I am going to go to bed now. It is, you see, two in the morning. We may have a three day weekend here, but that is nothing in the grand scheme of things, and I must get my rest so that I don't grow into a troll. Goodnight now!

Postings of a placid plebeian

Now that I'm back in school, I'm pretty sure I've contracted the worst case of senioritis there ever was. I don't want to do anything at all. It's a veritable battle to make myself finish my homework in a timely manner without drifting off and eating chocolate like the lazy pig that I am. Waking up in the morning is the worst thing ever, and I walk around all day feeling that everything is beneath my contempt. I think it's quite a problem. Have I become Raskolnikov? I don't want to be him! I mean, he's very good looking and smart and all, but he also kills someone. And he is wracked with guilt for the rest of his life. So... I don't know, I just feel like he might not be the best role model for me. I have to keep pushing along though! I can't become the Dagny Taggart of my day and age if I don't. And I'm determined to become the Dagny Taggart of my day and age. I finished Atlas Shrugged, by the way. It was very inspirational. It made me want to do something with my life. It was so effing good! (I really need to change up my syntax here; this entry is so far about as interesting as a college football game) Anyway, I feel no shame in declaiming to the multitudes that I am an ardent capitalist and will remain so until the day when I leave off being one. This is my life now. Someday, when I am rich and famous and a Supreme Court justice and all that, I will look back and think fondly of my ideals and bless the day I dreamed a dream.

In (somewhat) the same vein, I really love money. The study of it, I mean. Not that I don't love the actual acquisition and possession of currency, because dear me, I'm as filled with capricious cupidity as the next capitalist, but economics overall is like the Dohvakiin of academia. In spite of the fact that I hate almost everyone in my class, and my teacher seems to have a personal vendetta against me (for no reason that I can see) and I have to sit next to a smelly otaku who is fond of telling me about the novel he is writing, I legitimately enjoy going to Econ each day. When I'm just hanging around, in choir, or trying to get to sleep at night, or whatever, I ponder the economy and debate with myself over various issues. I still haven't worked out the problem of tariffs yet, but bless my soul, I will get it someday or die trying! And even though our teacher told us that we don't have to so much as go near it, I read the textbook whenever I get the chance. Yesterday, I was reading it just before I went to sleep, and that night I had the most wonderful dream that I was the chief economist in Washington and I ameliorated the national debt. I don't really know if my policies were viable or not (one particularly successful strategy involved handing fluffy purple towels out to the populace so that they could use them as blankets), but I woke up with a feeling of great leadership and accomplishment. So, you see, economics is wonderful.

Oh dear. I sound like the most plebeian of all mundane pedestrians right now. Lyk omg i kno about $$$ nd stuff! haha lol taht's so cool cuz im cool. #swag#yolo#foshobro. But I try not to be! I mean, I think the first step to getting over plebeian-ship is to admit that you are a plebeian. It's like the rules of Fight Club. Or do I mean the 12 steps of alcoholism? Well, whatever I mean, it is in my heart, and I have done it. Someday, even though it may be far off in the future, I will renounce my plebeian status and become a truly great man. Then I can talk about whatever I want without shame and I can study political science if I want to, because no one will judge me for it, and I can ponder deep mysteries of economics until the cows come home because I will not be living on the ranch of plebeian-ship and I will not have to deal with them. I can drink wine and smoke cigars and have a solid gold cane and wear a bowler hat everywhere I go. And no one will think me a plebeian, because I will not be one! Life will be beautiful. Sadly, I have quite a long way to go. Oh dear, oh dear. Life may be a journey, but I rather wish I could find a way to travel first-class. Still, the experience of finding my inner pedant may be good for me. It will give me perspective and whatnot. Someday, I will look back on all this and laugh (because I will probably be quite the asshole at that point), but we'll never get to heaven til we reach that day! (That was an allusion. From Ragtime. See, I'm getting better, I am.)

You know, I really like having my hair wavy. It's cuter that way. I wish I could do it more often, but I don't like repeating myself too much, so I only do it on Fridays about once a month. Oh, that makes it sound like a ritual or something. Oh my. It's not though! I like to dress up a little more on Friday, because it's the end of the week, and I get to go home and have some sleep and a little free time to look at pictures of cats on the internet have deep, edifying, and meaningful discussions with the world at large. It's just my way of standing up to the man (or, you know, something). I like to dress up in general, though. I mean, like, if I'm having a math test or something, I have to channel a mathematical spirit and dress accordingly. I'm not really sure what a mathematical spirit would look like, mind you, but I think my approximations are quite close enough. They approach the limit of fabulousness as I approach C(lassiness). I also like to celebrate occasions for myself, just to spice up the day. Like, if it's April 20th (which, as we all know, is pot day), I'll wear green, and on Memorial Day, I'll wear lingerie, because I will be in bed asleep. So, you see? Dress is my strongest suite!

I wonder if I'm going to end every paragraph from here on out with an allusion to a musical. Maybe I should. Wouldn't it make everything more lighthearted? I wouldn't want to be too serious, after all...

...Not for the life of me. Zing!

Lol. Zac is practicing in the library (very loudly too, might I add), and every couple of minutes, he stops playing and bursts into song. It's very funny. He may be the musical genius of the century and have a genetic predisposition to any instrument he cares to take up, but he sure can't sing. If I weren't convinced that it was in fact Zac in there, I might be persuaded to believe that an operatic cat with laryngitis had somehow got into our house to die. Oh no, now he's made a mistake. A despairing grunt just came issuing from the room. Maybe he should sing the passage again; it would give him some amusement in the doldrums of his disappointment. I used to think that everyone could sing if they were given the chance, but he has amply proved me wrong. I have never heard such melodies as he has warbled (though the vocal music concert this quarter put me remarkably close), and I hope I never do again. If vocal music be the food of love, he's starving.

Oh my, it's almost three in the morning. Time for me to get to bed! Maybe I will dream about the economy again. I quite hope so. It would be infinitely preferable to the time I dreamed that I had to take the Ring into Mordor. That wasn't so lovely. I woke up feeling like the most manly of awkward men, sort of like Aragorn times one hundred. I feel like him quite often, actually, it's becoming quite a problem for me. Maybe I should just become king and have done with it. At least then I would get to make foreign policy and regulate trade and all, even if I did have to fight the occasional orc. Anyway, I must get my beauty rest so that even if I feel like a rugged Ranger, I won't look like one. Goodnight ladies!

Tis 2013!

I am having a dilemma (or am I impaled upon the horns of one?). I don't know if I should apply for the honors program at University of Kentucky or not! If I do, naturally, the benefit would be that I would be in the honors program and would be able to live the life I know, but you see, applying entails writing two completely ridiculous essays and submitting my PSAT scores. Da eff, man! Ain't nobody can remember what they got on the PSAT! All I remember is that I was in the 96th percentile, and I can't very well just put that. So I emailed the college board to see if they would send me my scores, and after dithering around for a week, they finally told me that they would send me my reports in a minimum of five days. I guess that does give me more time to work on those pernicious essays, but it's also completely irritating, because at this point, I just want to get all these applications done. Kentucky is my last one (unless I apply to some more religious schools), and if I get it done, then I can sit around and read books about hobbits and capitalists and all those sorts of people and eat chocolate and grow fat and happy and not have to do a blessed thing. I could even finish those two chapter outlines from gov that I keep wanting to do but never have the time for! It would be a pleasure. I quite like gov. What if I majored in political science? No, I can't. That's an even lamer major than Romanesque European Literature (of which there wasn't much). People would judge me and all. At least linguistics sounds a little but pedantic.

You know, I feel that my entire family is transfixed by the computer. They treat it as some sort of sacred object that they need to be in contact with at least once a day or disaster will reign over all the world. I don't even know. It's impossibly hard for me to get on here, except for very late at night, unless I'm doing something productive. And even then, it ain't too easy. The tantrums Sungmin throws when he is wrenched away from his latest battle-shooter MPG are really quite alarming. Now, I don't mean to tout myself as a defender of all virtue and honor and luddite-try, but I really am not as obsessed by the machine as everyone else. I mean, I can find other things to do. They can't. This is why it took Zac six months to finish Atlas Shrugged- he was on the computer most of the time. By the way, I'm almost done. I have about 100 pages left. I love it so! Anyway, my point stands! We're all entering an age of technology-induced vapidity and there is naught we can do about it! Except get off the computer that is. And then maybe give it to me. I'm nothing but a capitalist here, just trying to make my living. Don't be hating. Anyway, where was I going with all of this? Ah, right. So, every time I'm on the computer, my direct vicinity automatically becomes the most populated region of the house. Sungmin is currently sitting on the floor beside me looking at a domino, when before (when I wasn't on here) he was reading a book (or doing something equally edifying). Mom and Dad like to come over here and stand right over me, either trying to se what it is I'm doing, or just chilling like Junius Bassus on a good day. Sometimes Mom will come over, stand beside me, and read an entire novel there. It's extremely annoying. Do I not have a right to privacy, like other men? Does the incorporation doctrine, as evidenced in the decisions of Roe v. Wade and Mapp v. Ohio and other such cases not apply to me? No, sir! I think they do! I am as worthy a citizen as anyone else, and I demand the same rights as they! I will lead a revolution if I have to. Live free or die! (Sadly, "Live free or die" is the catchphrase of one Dr. Katherine Albrecht, a "revolutionary" of whom Dad is inordinately fond, so I can't actually use it with any degree of impunity. I shall have to think of something equally inspirational.)

At this moment, there are random people in the house. They are buying violins. I feel like we could run a very lucrative business here, if we actually took the trouble to advertise. People are always coming by to buy violins, or to size them, or to have them tuned, and those aren't even our students. We run a veritable luthier shop here, and no one's even taking advantage of it, cuz we do it all for free. It's not like we know our "customers" either! They're random people who hear about us from their friends and come prancing in every hour of the day or night, tracking dirt all over our floor (because they are white and don't take off their shoes) and acting like they are entitled to every aspect of our house. So in my humble opinion (which is really not that humble, being quite self-serving), we should charge by the minute and grow wealthy. We could be captains of industry without half trying.

We went to Little Tokyo for New Years. It was truly lovely, even though Francisco didn't end up going with me (lol I just realized he shares a name with Francisco D'Anconia, how truly hilarious). I put on makeup for nothing. Grumble. I guess it wasn't for nothing, though, because I got hit on a lot, and that's always nice. Sets a precedent for the new year, you know. I bought a huge number of pens and pencils there, as well as quite much food. I am a thriftless glutton, and there is no doubt about it. I must reform my ways and become as ascetic as the philosopher who lived in a barrel for forty years. I think that's a pretty ascetic thing to do, no? I mean, it couldn't have been very commodious in there. I think, in the spirit of new years (should that be capitalized? And does it have an apostrophe? UGH WHY AM I A LINGUISTICS MAJOR), I should make some resolutions. So, here we go. I resolve to 1) Be the Dagny Taggart of my generation 2) Do the best I can at everything I do 3) Get into a good college and 4) Be as hot as the booty of a fine-ass man. So there we have it. I am so noble it brings tears to my noble eyes. Noble tears that is to say. Cuz I be livin dat thug lyfe doe. Maybe I can finally become the Durko Manlyman the world has never known.