Oh, jiminy crickets. It's as hot as my booty in here. I think I'm like to die. We can't turn on the air conditioner, though, because I've strictly forbidden it, and to turn it on now would make me a hypocrite of the highest order, do you see? And you know, it seems like it would be good that I don't sweat, I mean, it's so ladylike and all, but it means there's no way for me to cool down, so my situation is as dire as a fire. I think I'm melting into a puddle of vanity and chapstick, in a suitably Wicked Witch of the West sort of way, and it's not a pleasant experience. I mean, really. I wish I were able to control the weather. Wouldn't that be something, now? I could make it snow on Ethan when he was least expecting it. Maybe I will google pictures of cold things and see if I can cool myself vicariously in that way.
Ooh! So, did you know the grouper fish can carry a potent dose of ciguatoxin, which makes cold things feel hot and hot things feel cold? That's a pretty cool ability, not gonna lie. Icy so many possibilities for it. It's almost enough to chill the blood in my veins, I mean snow big deal for the grouper if someone gets in its way. It freeze itself from all danger in a (cold) snap! It's such an unassuming-looking little thing, too. How poetic!
Oh dear, oh dear. Dad is having a hissy fit again. Why must he do these things? It makes everything so dratted problematic. Wellp, better accede to his wishes, or he'll be on us all night. He probably will be anyway, but at least now I can have the satisfaction of feeling like a martyr. Maybe some kind neo-Romanesque architect will build a lovely neo-Galla Placidia for me.
Ok bye now qurl lol
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Oh dear.
Oh phooey on the world. I'm so sick of everything. I don't know what I'm going to do about it either. Everything makes me mad, and then I get mad because I'm mad, and then it all goes downhill from there. I might have to go to a community college (CSULB, really, but it's as good as a community college to me), and that erases all chance I have of a future. My summer job is killing my soul, and there's nothing I can do about it, Dad is so obsessed with Bill Deagol that he can barely hold a normal conversation anymore, and he can't stop spending money on random products "Doctor" Bill endorses, Mom is so stressed that I hardly dare talk to her anymore, and I can't get Sungmin to wear deodorant. And I sound like such a whiny first worlder that I'm ashamed of myself for being mad. What is the matter with me? Right now, Mom and Dad are finishing up their dinner, and they're masticating like horses, groaning as if the world is ending between sloppy bites, and I know it shouldn't bother me, but it's my pet peeve, and I'm trying not to tear out my hair. What in the world, oh merciful goodness, I am quite literally a terrible human being. I shouldn't spend so much time reading indignant blogs, but I do, and now I'm almost ashamed to be alive. I mean, check your privilege, bi-atch! I don't think this is the point of equality. OR IS IT? Maybe it's good that I feel that my life is a blot of shame on the face of the earth! Oh bummer, I don't know anymore.
No but like I think I've gotten increasingly paranoid as the years have gone by. I'm eighteen years old and a graduate of high school, shouldn't I not be worried about divine retribution for heretical thoughts anymore? It seems so childish. Yet on the other hand, there could be something in it! It used to be that I would only be petrified at night, when everyone else was asleep, and I was half afraid a serial killer might come in through the window and off me. But now I'm scared at random intervals of the day too! What if I unknowingly commit the unpardonable sin? What if I commit it knowingly? What if I've already committed it? And if I'm struck dead, will I go to hell? SDA folk don't believe in hell, per se though, so at least I don't have to worry about a Dante-style inferno. Man, this seems silly when I write it all out. That won't stop me from lying awake in terror for an hour later tonight though.
While we're on the tack of things that bother me incessantly, what the hell am I going to do about college? I've committed to OSU and CSULB, which is fine, by the way, since colleges don't really care if you drop out at registration, I guess, and PUC is always an option, because I have until like August to make a decision. Anyway, I have my heart set on OSU, or at least as much as I can, since no matter how famous it is, or how well-respected, no one can convince me that it's not just another state school, but I feel pretty sure that I won't be able to go there. I mean, I have a scholarship, yes, and federal loans, and all that, but it's still more than a Cal State. And of course, there are plane tickets to consider, and all that. So I guess what we're asking here is this: Is my pride worth changing the status quo of my family's lifestyle? And of course, the answer is no. No matter how strongly I feel about it, no matter how certain I am that going to a community college will affect me adversely forever, I can't ask them to change a thing. How could I call myself a human being if I did that? It's so wrong, you know? Kitty and Sungmin might have to give up going to the performing arts academy, and they might have to limit violin and cello lessons for awhile. Dad might have to give up jiu jitsu, and really, that's his only outlet. Mom is stressed enough as it is; I couldn't add to that. And most of all, how could we pay for Juilliard for Zac? He didn't get any scholarships. If he had wanted to be self-sacrificing, he could have taken the free ride to USC, but you don't turn down Julliard, and anyway, why should he give up his academic dreams for us? I really shouldn't even be complaining about this. I get to go to college, they even have my major, I get to stay in California, and everyone's happy. Except me. THAT SHOULDN'T MATTER. OH MY GOODNESS. Why am I such a prick? I know it would affect me, though. I graduated in the top ten percent of my class, with all four possible seals on my diploma, and a 4.2 GPA, but I still feel like I don't deserve it just because I had a 3.9 second semester of junior year and didn't get the golden tassel for a universal 4.0. If something that small affects me that much, I just know going to a community college for my BA will drive me crazy. Ohio State certainly is no Byzantium, but it was the only option I could stand. I just sort of felt like this was my way out, I guess. Like, if I wanted to be overdramatic, I'd say it was my last hope. I've never felt like I was qualified to go to college ever since I got rejected from USC (I got into others, of course, but they're out of our price range, and even if they weren't, I wouldn't want to go, and so they don't feel real, you see), and if I went to a Cal State, it would be like the final affirmation that I'm a complete failure. Ohio State was my one chance to make good. It was like my tabula rasa- I could finally get away from the stigma of being the useless one in the family, go to a place where I could build up a whole new life for myself, and finally achieve something. It may be a crappy state school, but it's well known, and it's a real college at least (even if its reputation is based solely on the strength of its football team). I felt like I could get over the ridiculous personal problems I have, and finally do something right. But I can't do that, because it's too expensive. What happens to a dream deferred? It goes to a Cal State, I suppose.
No but like I think I've gotten increasingly paranoid as the years have gone by. I'm eighteen years old and a graduate of high school, shouldn't I not be worried about divine retribution for heretical thoughts anymore? It seems so childish. Yet on the other hand, there could be something in it! It used to be that I would only be petrified at night, when everyone else was asleep, and I was half afraid a serial killer might come in through the window and off me. But now I'm scared at random intervals of the day too! What if I unknowingly commit the unpardonable sin? What if I commit it knowingly? What if I've already committed it? And if I'm struck dead, will I go to hell? SDA folk don't believe in hell, per se though, so at least I don't have to worry about a Dante-style inferno. Man, this seems silly when I write it all out. That won't stop me from lying awake in terror for an hour later tonight though.
While we're on the tack of things that bother me incessantly, what the hell am I going to do about college? I've committed to OSU and CSULB, which is fine, by the way, since colleges don't really care if you drop out at registration, I guess, and PUC is always an option, because I have until like August to make a decision. Anyway, I have my heart set on OSU, or at least as much as I can, since no matter how famous it is, or how well-respected, no one can convince me that it's not just another state school, but I feel pretty sure that I won't be able to go there. I mean, I have a scholarship, yes, and federal loans, and all that, but it's still more than a Cal State. And of course, there are plane tickets to consider, and all that. So I guess what we're asking here is this: Is my pride worth changing the status quo of my family's lifestyle? And of course, the answer is no. No matter how strongly I feel about it, no matter how certain I am that going to a community college will affect me adversely forever, I can't ask them to change a thing. How could I call myself a human being if I did that? It's so wrong, you know? Kitty and Sungmin might have to give up going to the performing arts academy, and they might have to limit violin and cello lessons for awhile. Dad might have to give up jiu jitsu, and really, that's his only outlet. Mom is stressed enough as it is; I couldn't add to that. And most of all, how could we pay for Juilliard for Zac? He didn't get any scholarships. If he had wanted to be self-sacrificing, he could have taken the free ride to USC, but you don't turn down Julliard, and anyway, why should he give up his academic dreams for us? I really shouldn't even be complaining about this. I get to go to college, they even have my major, I get to stay in California, and everyone's happy. Except me. THAT SHOULDN'T MATTER. OH MY GOODNESS. Why am I such a prick? I know it would affect me, though. I graduated in the top ten percent of my class, with all four possible seals on my diploma, and a 4.2 GPA, but I still feel like I don't deserve it just because I had a 3.9 second semester of junior year and didn't get the golden tassel for a universal 4.0. If something that small affects me that much, I just know going to a community college for my BA will drive me crazy. Ohio State certainly is no Byzantium, but it was the only option I could stand. I just sort of felt like this was my way out, I guess. Like, if I wanted to be overdramatic, I'd say it was my last hope. I've never felt like I was qualified to go to college ever since I got rejected from USC (I got into others, of course, but they're out of our price range, and even if they weren't, I wouldn't want to go, and so they don't feel real, you see), and if I went to a Cal State, it would be like the final affirmation that I'm a complete failure. Ohio State was my one chance to make good. It was like my tabula rasa- I could finally get away from the stigma of being the useless one in the family, go to a place where I could build up a whole new life for myself, and finally achieve something. It may be a crappy state school, but it's well known, and it's a real college at least (even if its reputation is based solely on the strength of its football team). I felt like I could get over the ridiculous personal problems I have, and finally do something right. But I can't do that, because it's too expensive. What happens to a dream deferred? It goes to a Cal State, I suppose.
Sunday, June 23, 2013
Je-june
Cuz it's June, you see. I'm so hilarious I could just write an epic poem about myself.
You know, I really wanted to have an entry from each month of the year this year, because that would be really cool, kind of like a calendar of the events of my life (whut) but I messed that up, because I didn't write in May. I'm sadder about this than I logically should be; now I have to wait a whole year to try again. May I just say- this is a year without rain. No, that didn't work. I was trying to go for a pun, but it failed. I just am striking out here, aren't I!
Speaking of puns, here is a lovely exchange of wit and wisdom that Sonia and I exchanged while she was whiling away the hours in the airport.
Me: Best of luck in your travels, and may you find felicity and food wherever you go! :D
Sonia: I hope felicity is a cute guy!
Me: Felicity is the cutest of guys!
Sonia: I'll tell him you said hi. :D
Me: Tell him I quite admire his fly attitude ;D
Sonia: I'm sure it will lift his spirits.
Me: It's plane to see; compliments make everyone feel highly flattered.
Sonia: I like making people so happy it feels like they're walking on air.
Me: It makes one feel like an oxygentleman.
Sonia: These cute guys really know how to get you off the ground!
Me: They don't even need wingmen!
Sonia: But I bet they'd make you feel soar in the morning!
Me: That's the uplifting part of the experience. ;D
Sonia: It feels like we're high, man.
Me: Dude, I believe I can fly...
Sonia: I believe I can touch the sky!
Isn't that beautiful? We are such clever and witty souls. And the best part is that we have these brilliant conversations on a very frequent basis. Here is another piece, lovingly transcripted from my phone (is 'transcripted' not a word? Oh dear), just for you.
Sonia: Dude, apparently there's a font called "Coolvetica."
Me: That's font-tastic!
Sonia: It's totally Coolvetica bro!
Me: That was ComicSans-ical. :D
Sonia: Tubes New Roman, dudevetica! (we always describe things as "tubular" you see)
Sonia: Like an Arial backflip!
Me: We're so cool, somone might call the serif on us.
Sonia: We'd have to hide behind the papyrus!
Me: I hope they wouldn't type cast us as being too bold!
Sonia: It highlights our brilliance.
Me: Now that's what I'm essay-ing!
Sonia: They see me scrollin', they hatin'.
Me: They see me writin dirty.
Sonia: What the helvetica!
Me: Itallic like the thug I am baybay!
Me: Incidentally, "WHat the helvetica" could be the name of a sitcom.
Sonia: It's a show about a font designer! "Steve, what are you doing?" "I font love in a hopeless space!"
Me: "Aww, Steve you are such a spacebar!" "But Jim, you have to read the subtext!" (laughtrack) I really think this could be the next big break.
Sonia: And a highlight clip! With bonus attachments!
We're wonderful, you see. We really are. If the world doesn't realize our brilliance, that's just because we are uncommon men. I don't like texting, though. Which is a shame, really, because I have to do it quite a lot. Francisco is always talking to me (which isn't bad, because he's gotten used to me not replying to him, and often he doesn't reply to me either), and Sonia and Allie, of course, and Bonnie and Molly, and all them, and then I have these two new guys too. One of them is the most beautiful man in the world, and I'm convinced of this. His name is Austin, and he looks airbrushed. I first noticed him when we were sophomores, but I was too shy to talk to him, because he was so incredibly gorgeous. But then I started dating Alex last year, and they're good friends, so I got to know him then (which is quite a weird way of fulfilling a dream of a cute guy but oh well), and I realized just how attractive he was, and how funny, and all that, especially compared with my boo, who could barely string together a grammatical sentence without prompting. Then even after Alex and I broke up, I still stayed friends with all his friends, and Kitty's prospective beau is in that group, so that gave us a tie also. That was so rambling and terrible, ugh. Anyway, at the end of the year, I got him to sign my yearbook, and he said that he noticed me when we were sophomores, but he didn't know how to talk to me (and a bunch of other flirty stuff) and ever since then we've been texting every day. And that's my saga. Now where was I? Ah yes. So, the other guy is much less interesting. His name is Ethan, but he is in no way a Last Puritan. He asked me to prom in front of everyone in my Art History class (he's the TA), and I turned him down made him late to class. He's asked me out at least four times since then, and it may be more, but I'm not good at determining when someone is asking me out, so it's difficult to say. I guess he's not good at determining when someone is turning him down, though, so maybe we're even. He's so annoying! I don't even! He has like a 2.0 or something, because he "doesn't try," although I'm pretty sure that trying isn't the issue here. He's taking a lot of AP classes, which I would admire, except he's not doing well in any of them. Even if he did understand the material (which would take a miracle in of itself), he still would barely be passing, because he does quite literally nothing. He's still the most arrogant little conceited prick on earth, though, and never misses an opportunity to pump himself up. And he has that annoying way of flirting that some guys have where he tries to make me feel bad about myself all the time. Obviously, it'll take more than a few immature and poorly-crafted jibes from a prepubescent ne'er do well to make a dent in my ego, but it's really irritating to have to listen to his nasally snort all the livelong day. Now, don't think I'm some sort of elitist snob (although I am) for disliking the poor guy just because he isn't smart; it's his personality that bothers me the most. And his weaselly looks. And his grating voice. And his stalkerish persistence. And the fact that he's a junior. And his inability to grasp anything but the simplest concepts. Oh no, that was about his intellect (or lack thereof) wasn't it. Man! Well, I guess I'm a snob then.
Well. That was quite a bit about my social life. How terrible. How vapid. How trite. Next I'll be talking about my personal problems. Oh wait...
You know, it feels so weird to be out of high school. I still haven't quite grasped the idea that I've graduated and am really and truly a man of the world. Like, am I supposed to have an twinge of pride at some point? Or of excitement? Cuz really, I feel nothing. Maybe I have no emotions. Wouldn't that be interesting? I don't think that's true, though, because I'm pretty sure irritation is an emotion, and that is my modus operandi in this vain vale of tears. Maybe next year, in the midst of a lecture on morphology, or perhaps a presentation on the innate similarities of the Romance languages, I'll suddenly have a flash of realization, stand up, and call out to the world that I know where I am. That would be pretty cool. People would have something to put on their tumblrs.
Man, that Tumblr though! It's like my life force now. I was late to the races in getting one, but now that I have one, I don't know what I'd do without it. Now I can look at cats and recipes and gay porn and indignant protests against certain political parties' platforms all the livelong day! Whoever thought up the idea of the website was a genius. I would like to shake his hand.
Now, although I should like to stay up later than this, I really shouldn't, because our first pair of students of the day have kindly and helpfully decided to move their lesson to 10 in the morning so they can go off and party in the afternoon. The little titches. How dare they have a social life? Doesn't go with the ascetic lifestyle that we champion here, you see. Anyway, time for bed. Goodnight!
Ooh, here's my chance. Goodnight? Oh no! The hour is ill/which severs those it should unite/let us remain together still/then in will be goodnight!
Call me a romantic, but I love Shelley (zing!). Ok, but good night for real.
You know, I really wanted to have an entry from each month of the year this year, because that would be really cool, kind of like a calendar of the events of my life (whut) but I messed that up, because I didn't write in May. I'm sadder about this than I logically should be; now I have to wait a whole year to try again. May I just say- this is a year without rain. No, that didn't work. I was trying to go for a pun, but it failed. I just am striking out here, aren't I!
Speaking of puns, here is a lovely exchange of wit and wisdom that Sonia and I exchanged while she was whiling away the hours in the airport.
Me: Best of luck in your travels, and may you find felicity and food wherever you go! :D
Sonia: I hope felicity is a cute guy!
Me: Felicity is the cutest of guys!
Sonia: I'll tell him you said hi. :D
Me: Tell him I quite admire his fly attitude ;D
Sonia: I'm sure it will lift his spirits.
Me: It's plane to see; compliments make everyone feel highly flattered.
Sonia: I like making people so happy it feels like they're walking on air.
Me: It makes one feel like an oxygentleman.
Sonia: These cute guys really know how to get you off the ground!
Me: They don't even need wingmen!
Sonia: But I bet they'd make you feel soar in the morning!
Me: That's the uplifting part of the experience. ;D
Sonia: It feels like we're high, man.
Me: Dude, I believe I can fly...
Sonia: I believe I can touch the sky!
Isn't that beautiful? We are such clever and witty souls. And the best part is that we have these brilliant conversations on a very frequent basis. Here is another piece, lovingly transcripted from my phone (is 'transcripted' not a word? Oh dear), just for you.
Sonia: Dude, apparently there's a font called "Coolvetica."
Me: That's font-tastic!
Sonia: It's totally Coolvetica bro!
Me: That was ComicSans-ical. :D
Sonia: Tubes New Roman, dudevetica! (we always describe things as "tubular" you see)
Sonia: Like an Arial backflip!
Me: We're so cool, somone might call the serif on us.
Sonia: We'd have to hide behind the papyrus!
Me: I hope they wouldn't type cast us as being too bold!
Sonia: It highlights our brilliance.
Me: Now that's what I'm essay-ing!
Sonia: They see me scrollin', they hatin'.
Me: They see me writin dirty.
Sonia: What the helvetica!
Me: Itallic like the thug I am baybay!
Me: Incidentally, "WHat the helvetica" could be the name of a sitcom.
Sonia: It's a show about a font designer! "Steve, what are you doing?" "I font love in a hopeless space!"
Me: "Aww, Steve you are such a spacebar!" "But Jim, you have to read the subtext!" (laughtrack) I really think this could be the next big break.
Sonia: And a highlight clip! With bonus attachments!
We're wonderful, you see. We really are. If the world doesn't realize our brilliance, that's just because we are uncommon men. I don't like texting, though. Which is a shame, really, because I have to do it quite a lot. Francisco is always talking to me (which isn't bad, because he's gotten used to me not replying to him, and often he doesn't reply to me either), and Sonia and Allie, of course, and Bonnie and Molly, and all them, and then I have these two new guys too. One of them is the most beautiful man in the world, and I'm convinced of this. His name is Austin, and he looks airbrushed. I first noticed him when we were sophomores, but I was too shy to talk to him, because he was so incredibly gorgeous. But then I started dating Alex last year, and they're good friends, so I got to know him then (which is quite a weird way of fulfilling a dream of a cute guy but oh well), and I realized just how attractive he was, and how funny, and all that, especially compared with my boo, who could barely string together a grammatical sentence without prompting. Then even after Alex and I broke up, I still stayed friends with all his friends, and Kitty's prospective beau is in that group, so that gave us a tie also. That was so rambling and terrible, ugh. Anyway, at the end of the year, I got him to sign my yearbook, and he said that he noticed me when we were sophomores, but he didn't know how to talk to me (and a bunch of other flirty stuff) and ever since then we've been texting every day. And that's my saga. Now where was I? Ah yes. So, the other guy is much less interesting. His name is Ethan, but he is in no way a Last Puritan. He asked me to prom in front of everyone in my Art History class (he's the TA), and I turned him down made him late to class. He's asked me out at least four times since then, and it may be more, but I'm not good at determining when someone is asking me out, so it's difficult to say. I guess he's not good at determining when someone is turning him down, though, so maybe we're even. He's so annoying! I don't even! He has like a 2.0 or something, because he "doesn't try," although I'm pretty sure that trying isn't the issue here. He's taking a lot of AP classes, which I would admire, except he's not doing well in any of them. Even if he did understand the material (which would take a miracle in of itself), he still would barely be passing, because he does quite literally nothing. He's still the most arrogant little conceited prick on earth, though, and never misses an opportunity to pump himself up. And he has that annoying way of flirting that some guys have where he tries to make me feel bad about myself all the time. Obviously, it'll take more than a few immature and poorly-crafted jibes from a prepubescent ne'er do well to make a dent in my ego, but it's really irritating to have to listen to his nasally snort all the livelong day. Now, don't think I'm some sort of elitist snob (although I am) for disliking the poor guy just because he isn't smart; it's his personality that bothers me the most. And his weaselly looks. And his grating voice. And his stalkerish persistence. And the fact that he's a junior. And his inability to grasp anything but the simplest concepts. Oh no, that was about his intellect (or lack thereof) wasn't it. Man! Well, I guess I'm a snob then.
Well. That was quite a bit about my social life. How terrible. How vapid. How trite. Next I'll be talking about my personal problems. Oh wait...
You know, it feels so weird to be out of high school. I still haven't quite grasped the idea that I've graduated and am really and truly a man of the world. Like, am I supposed to have an twinge of pride at some point? Or of excitement? Cuz really, I feel nothing. Maybe I have no emotions. Wouldn't that be interesting? I don't think that's true, though, because I'm pretty sure irritation is an emotion, and that is my modus operandi in this vain vale of tears. Maybe next year, in the midst of a lecture on morphology, or perhaps a presentation on the innate similarities of the Romance languages, I'll suddenly have a flash of realization, stand up, and call out to the world that I know where I am. That would be pretty cool. People would have something to put on their tumblrs.
Man, that Tumblr though! It's like my life force now. I was late to the races in getting one, but now that I have one, I don't know what I'd do without it. Now I can look at cats and recipes and gay porn and indignant protests against certain political parties' platforms all the livelong day! Whoever thought up the idea of the website was a genius. I would like to shake his hand.
Now, although I should like to stay up later than this, I really shouldn't, because our first pair of students of the day have kindly and helpfully decided to move their lesson to 10 in the morning so they can go off and party in the afternoon. The little titches. How dare they have a social life? Doesn't go with the ascetic lifestyle that we champion here, you see. Anyway, time for bed. Goodnight!
Ooh, here's my chance. Goodnight? Oh no! The hour is ill/which severs those it should unite/let us remain together still/then in will be goodnight!
Call me a romantic, but I love Shelley (zing!). Ok, but good night for real.
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