It's almost October can you believe this

It rained today! Il y a pluie!! Gosh, it was absolutely gorgeous. I got up at about 9 (really I woke up at 8, but I didn't want to get out of bed, you know how it goes) and made some tea and listened to aesthetic music and watched it coming down. It was very peaceful and lovely, and I treasured the moment deeply. ❤️ (Do emojis show up? Probably not. What a pity!) The kids didn't go to school today, because of suspicion of criminal activity, so we all stayed in and did homework and baked and read A People's History of the United States (can you guess who did each activity?) and it was nice. Dad was here too, but he mainly slept all day. For future reference, I must record the outfit I was wearing, because it was totally cute. So, I had my shorts, and a black tank top, and then I put one of Xander's flannels on top and put a pair of his socks on to keep my little tootsies warm. Very aesthetic and oversized and absolutely excellent. It's too bad I didn't go out; I'm sure I would have charmed the multitudes. This all makes me so excited for fall! I can't wait to wear cardigans and knee socks and drink pumpkin spice lattes and put on dark lipstick and listen to the 1975 while walking around campus. It's going to be beautiful! Fall is my favorite.

Okay, so this might be a little NSFW, but it has happened, and I must share. So, I was happily going about my business, reading Les Misérables fan fiction and having myself a grand ol' time when I stumbled upon a promising-looking fic about Grantaire playing piano for Combeferre and Enjolras. And you know I'm always a sucker for that, so I opened it right on up, and then. Oh gosh. Oh no. It was so terribly strange. The things they did, I'm telling you, I was not prepared, and I don't think I could ever be. And I know I'm a fairly vanilla person, like I admit it freely, BUT that goes beyond the boundaries of common decency, wouldn't you say? Not to mention it's all completely out of character, I mean sweet dorky Ferre would never be all weird and domineering and stuff. Okay, so is it a thing that people call each other "sir" and "master" and stuff in bed? Like, not in a flirty kind of way like "I'm about to blow your mind, sir" but like "oh, master, can I *insert act here* please" because I Mean. I think if someone tried to pull that with me, I would just laugh. Well, either that or be Highly Disturbed. I'm a pretty passive person (I think the correct term is "sub"), but I ain't into that, no sirree bob. Oh my goodness okay also! Apparently some people have a praise kink? So if you tell them that they did good or something, they'll get off on it. And I literally don't understand how that works, because what if you're at work, and your boss is like "oh yes very good job with the annual management session you did excellently with that"? Do you just... I mean, there has to be a way to regulate it, right? Maybe it's contextually limited? Wow, so I don't know, but I truly cannot stop thinking about this. I don't know if I'm horrified or fascinated or both, but I don't think I will ever be the woman that I once was.

I've been reading A People's History of the United States, and it's quite good for being Socialist propaganda. The history is all correct as far as I can tell, and it's easy to read. Well, okay, the prose itself is easy, but I've been really slow getting through it because all the injustices outlined therein make me so angry that I have to lay it aside for awhile. Or else I have to ponder deeply, because who doesn't love to think about history and its implications for today's society? I know I do! Wow, I really wanna start a revolution, though. If I had to strike, I'd like to think that I would do it. Rights for all! 

Did you know that William Jennings Bryan was Secretary of State under Wilson? Somehow that must have been lacking in my education, because I had no idea. It kind of sucks for him, because then he had to do the Scopes trial and die in disgrace, and wow, what a fall. But he did have a life to live, and I'm sure it was fascinating while it lasted. Also, I had no idea how active Emma Goldman continued to be well into the 20th century! She's so cool. I mean, I'm not an anarchist, but you gotta respect her conviction. E.L. Doctorow didn't do her justice.

Tomorrow, we have to go to CKC :( I've been dreading this ever since we got out the last time. What an infamous thing! Maybe nobody will go. Also, I have to call UCLA's psych department to see if I can get that class. How scary! I hope there are still spots. It's cognitive development, which is totally fascinating, and even if it didn't fit perfectly in my schedule and fulfill a requirement for my cogsci minor, I'd still want to take it. Fortunately, it's a lecture (like a big one), so hopefully they will be a little more flexible about letting me in. It's really very inconvenient; they don't let anyone but psych majors (and psych/ling majors) enroll in the upper div psych classes without a PTE number. So even though I'm a bona fide cogsci minor, I can't get in there. Such an elitist attitude! The linguistics department would never do that. 😒

(I'm sure they are all very lovely, and they have their bureaucratic reasons for being this way, I'm not hating) (not much, anyway). What else? Hmm, I should probably start packing to go back to school. Gotta get all that stuff, ya know. I wonder where my high liters are, now that I think of it. I haven't seen them since June. Well, now. It seems I'm going to have a lot to do. Isn't that exciting! Best get started soon so I don't start the year in deficit. This is definitely going to be one of the best years yet, I've decided! 

My nose is so itchy. What is this? Maybe it's a sign that someone is thinking of me. Is that it? Or is that when your ears are burning? I know that when you sneeze randomly, it means someone's talking about you. Let's just assume it's someone eulogizing my beauty and charm and leave it at that. 

I should probably go to sleep soon. Dad is going out tomorrow, and the kids are going back to school, so I have a chance to be productive and practice singing (for auditions next quarter) and all that. There's laundry to be done and a house to be straightened up, and I have a councilor to call! Maybe I can make an omelette or something too. Okay, I must go. Goodnight! 

Tfw everything's awful

I think I should mention for the records that "tfw" means "that feel when" and it's some sort of internet meme? I don't know. It's a tumblr thing, and when tumblr is concerned, there are no real answers (it's kind of like Dada). 

The only day worse than Saturday is Sunday, and that's tomorrow. What am I doing with my life? I hate the weekends, like I literally dread them all week. Who even does that? Me, that's who! Wow, I'm great.

See, on weekends, people are supposed to do fun things, go out, party, enjoy life, all that. But for me, the only drinking I do is alone, in my room, trying to drown my sorrows in crappy cheap liquor, and the only social interaction I get is when I have to talk to people at church (and my students, of course). I guess it's a social anxiety thing? I dunno. Like I don't wanna do anything, but then I feel horribly guilty about not doing anything, so I really can't win either way. Anyway, that's not the worst part. No, the worst part is having to deal with my family. On weekends, we're all home together, and it's hell and I hate it, and I want to die. Not that that's unusual, mind you, but it gets worse on weekends. And then on Sunday, we have to teach! I literally loathe it. Detest it. Objectively speaking, I suppose it's not that bad, but for some reason I really hate it, so I just go on hating it, and my wrath increases every day. Soon it will be uncontainable (that's a lie; I need to buy textbooks, so I must contain my fury long enough to get paid). Last night, I woke up a whole bunch of times because I was dreading the weekend so much, so I didn't get much rest, and I'm sure that didn't help anything? But then I slept a lot in the afternoon (not very restful or good sleep, mind you), so I'm not tired, but I'm still miserable, so maybe sleep doesn't have anything to do with it at all. Talia, on the other hand, got a full eight hours, and was wonderfully chipper. It made me happy to see her. 

Now I know full well how lucky I am to have a family, especially one with people who don't hit me or snoop through my personal things (usually), and I really have no right to complain, but I will anyway, because complaining is what I live for. So. It's always horribly hot in here because Dad only lets us use the air conditioner when he wants it (which is like never), and I'm sure that doesn't help anyone's mood, so everyone is constantly pissed off and/or sad. Me included, but I don't have the luxury of showing that, so let's discount me for a second. There are bugs everywhere, because people keep leaving the doors open (like, windows have SCREENS, they're meant to be used for cooling purposes, why can't you guys realize this), and I hate bugs :( Like, they're okay outside, but they're not meant to be in the house, and I'd rather keep away from them, you know? They probably thrive in here because it's so horribly dirty. Everyone is a slob except for me (and Xander, but he's not here), and we're all too depressed to clean up, so the house is a literal pigsty (literally- the guinea pigs' cage seems to spread out across the entire house somehow). It's almost to the point that I feel dirtier after taking a shower, because of how nasty the bathroom is. Oh yeah, showers. My family should start taking them. I think Talia and I are the only ones who wash every day, which is, ya know, kind of disgusting. I mentioned that I use a clean towel and washcloth and stuff every day, and it was like a frickin revolutionary statement, I mean everyone was so shocked and horrified, like "Maria that is WAstEfUL" like no, what's wasteful is you throwing away your health because you couldn't be assed to throw your linen in the laundry, this isn't 1736 damn it

UGH

Okay, so also! Dad is really weird, as you know, so he doesn't let us use normal laundry detergent (it was a struggle getting him to let us use laundry detergent At All, but that's neither here nor there), and all out clothes end up smelling like ass, and not even remotely clean. I guess some of us (read: everyone except me and Talia) don't care about the smell or the lingering stains or even the indignity of having to go over everything with a lint roller three times afterwards (which they don't do, by the way), but when I wash my laundry, I mean for it to be clean, you know? I didn't think this was such an unusual concept. Also, we don't have a dryer, so we have to hang out our stuff on the balcony like we're in the goshdarn tenements. Talk about airing out your dirty laundry in public- literally everyone in the neighborhood can see my barely-cleaned thongs flapping merrily in the breeze. When I'm at school, I bask in the glory of a lint filter and dryer sheets and actual detergent, and washing my sheets every week, and living like the terribly privileged one-percent asshole that I am. It's really something, I'll tell ya what. It's also something to be able to eat off dishes that are definitely clean (because of course we're not allowed to use real dish detergent or clean sponges either) (and our dishwasher has been broken for years). SPEAKING OF, I feel like most people don't eat the way we do, like we manage to be both healthy and unhealthy at the same time, and that's a feat right there. I try to cook good meals for the kids, so at least they get something, but the rest of us (me included) eat horribly, and it's bad. I mean, for me, a shitty diet is a given, but the rest of all y'all ain't got no excuse. What can you do? I suppose I should start cooking for everyone else too, but frankly, it's daunting. They're all so picky! I mean, come on guys. Beggars can't be choosers. 

Right, so that's the setting. Then we have to layer the Interpersonal Drama on top (which is like something out of a frickin Victor Hugo novel), and the daily minutiae of our daily lives, which is all horribly depressing by the way, and it's a recipe for the Bleak House of the postmodern age. Which is, you know, saying something. I think I would feel personally offended if we never provided the basis for a Gritty and Meaningful masterwork, showcasing the depths of the human condition and standing in as a symbol of the grimness of society. (Come on, isn't that everyone's goal?)

Thus, to put it in the words of one renowned 19th century scholar, "men, women, and children are living in Shit." Oh, this is life, I suppose, and I mustn't complain (outside of here, where I will indeed complain profusely), because I am more privileged than 99% of the world's population, and frankly, I really don't have the right. I expressed as much to my therapist, and she started going on about how the "poor starving children in Mexico" lead the "simple life" and how living hand-to-mouth is actually much easier than living in luxury because those poor people don't have to think about nuanced feelings like Sadness or Anxiety. This was all very problematic, and I had to argue with her for the rest of the session (which wasn't very productive), but sadly, it's all that one could expect. I mean, the woman is white.

What was I saying, though? Ah yes. So, it's very bad of me to complain, and believe me, the guilt is eating away at me as we speak. But that's okay! We all need to feel guilty about something! (That's so far from being true, ignore me) And I know that oppression and pain aren't competitive sports, and someone else's suffering doesn't negate mine, but it's hard to feel that my problems are legitimate when I have a roof over my head and enough food to eat (that I don't eat, but it's the thought that counts) and own an iPhone and go to one of the best universities in the country. There are people who would kill to be in my position, and I'm squandering it by wallowing in my own Feelings. That's another reason to hate me, and actually, now that I think of it, it's another reason that I could be a Brooding Postmodern Antihero. Oh gosh, I don't like where my future is going. Before I know it, I'm going to be living in sin in a dingy apartment in New York City, punching random people in the face, or maybe killing men on the beach and having to go to jail because I was wholly unrepentant about it. And I won't even have the male privilege to get away with it! Oh dear, oh dear. What a sad turn my life has taken. At least, I can win some aspiring novelist a Pulitzer when he decides to write about me. 

Man, ya know what I wish? I wish I weren't so damn ugly. Like, I'm pretty sure a lot of people wish that, and to be honest with you, I'm closer to Esmeralda than Quasimodo in the grand scheme of things, so my complaints might seem a little silly, but trust me, they are heartfelt. I'm never going to be thin enough (which, granted, might be an eating disorder thing, but STILL), and my smile is hideous, and my hair is thin, and I have horrible bags under my eyes that never go away, and my eyebrows are so THIN what the heckie, man how does that even happen? Also, I think my boobs are shrinking? Which is totally not fair, I mean they were two of the only things I had going for me. And yet, people won't stop hitting on me! So, looking at things objectively, it really seems that we've arrived at quite a Critical Situation, and I can see no way out but to join a nunnery, and that's something that I definitely don't want to do, because I've seen that opera about the Carmelite nuns and I know how it ends, okay, I Know How It Ends. All in all, I'm a little dissatisfied. What can you do, though? I have a body that works, and that's what's important.

I should go to sleep, but I don't want to, because once I do, it'll be Sunday, Bloody Sunday, and that's the worst bloody day of the week. If I were ever to find out that I was a princess and needed to go off to a small European principality ASAP to give a rousing speech about identity and multiculturalism, I think now would be a good time for it. Naturally, I wouldn't stay there, but the event would take long enough that I wouldn't have to teach. Oh yes, and they would pay me (or give me access to the royal treasury or something), so I wouldn't have to feel guilty about not working. Oh me, oh my, tomorrow's coming, and I will cry. Let's see if I can manage to get out of bed (if I do, that will be a victory). All right, time to go. Goodnight! 

September!

Happy September! Well, it's been September for a bit. But I can still wish that it's happy, can't I? Goodness knows we need some happiness up in here.

Dad has somehow gotten a teaching job at La Sierra, teaching remedial math. We all suspect that it's as a courtesy to Xander, and he will crash and burn, but of course we can't say that, and we are all very supportive. And it would be nice if he could earn some money. Mom is reneging on the promise of a legal separation with him, which is understandable because it's extremely expensive, and thanks to Xander, we have a lot of unneeded bills to pay (somehow he ended up having to pay rent in New York even though he's moved out AND in LA, which means that we have to cover it), so I don't blame her. But I do think that she was more than a little happy to take the easy way out here. No one is at all on the same page, which means that I'm on everyone's page (which is highly exhausting), and let me tell you, I've never seen such deluded individuals. We could provide fodder for the best of postmodern dramas. Actually, I do think a musical loosely based on our family is in order; something like Next to Normal, but without hot imaginary sons and with more puns? Kind of like Camus-meets-Victor-Hugo-meets-Jonathan-Larson, ya feel? Anyway. So our home life is a disaster. At any given moment of the day, someone is off wailing in a corner, and that someone can never be me, because I'm a Good Mom and I can't give in to petty things like emotion. Or anxiety. Or, ya know, anything. I am marmoreal! (That's a nice word, isn't it? Very picturesque) I gotta say, though, sometimes I just really wanna fight. Like, I really wanna beat the tar out of someone, just once. I think it would be very therapeutic (maybe not for them, though).

It's gotten very hot lately, and it's almost unbearable. Dad turns off the air conditioner when he doesn't need it or want it, completely heedless of everyone else and our protestations, and it's always a battle, trying to turn it on before he can turn it off again, and turning it on when he leaves the house so the air can get a little cooler to tide us over through the next hot spell. Then he gets mad, but it's worth it to have a little bit more comfort in this horrible humid heat. How did I live in Ohio for a year? I often wonder. It's so sticky and gross with the moisture in the air, and I really do feel like I'm suffocating. Yesterday, I tried to sleep downstairs, because upstairs was unendurable, and I woke up like five times because I was all sweaty (also because of nightmares, but that's really a given). I hate being sweaty! It's so nasty and disgusting. Like, okay, I could never live anywhere but California, right? But I'm expressly Not a heat person. Cold is good; I can deal with cold. But heat? No. Sometimes I wish I had elemental powers like Storm so that I could envelop myself in a little bubble of ambient air at all times and not have to deal with environment problems (when I'm not wishing for that, I'm wishing for Bobby Drake/Emma Frost ice powers). Oh yeah, how did Emma Frost come to get his powers anyway? And did she somehow get Paige Guthrie's diamond form too? Gosh, I'm so out of the loop. There's like a whole chunk of the universe that I'm totally missing. 

I wonder if I should try to sleep downstairs again today. It might be cooler. But then again, it might not. And the kids might want to sleep down here, so I would want to give them the couches, and I'm not really keen on sleeping on the floor, you know? It's too bad I'm running low on alcohol; I could dose myself up, and then I'd be able to fall asleep anywhere.

Right, so speaking of which! I'm really running low on my supplies, and it's terrible. Did I mention that some lowlife was filching my whiskey? It like to broke my heart! I mean, I'm not at all stingy- I'd be more than willing to share- but they took So Much, and really, it was my only recourse, so I was sad. I used the last of it on Labor Day for our family dinner, and it was barely one shot, so it didn't do jack (that was a pun, please appreciate*), so it was barely even worth saving. But then again, I feel like most of the beneficial effects of alcohol are psychological anyway, so maybe it actually was good. Who knows? All I can say is that I wish Xander would hurry up and visit so he can buy me some more, better, hard liquor. I'm terribly sick of our (disgusting) brandy. Really, I'm thinking these Romantic Parisiens must have had more money than they knew what to do with if they were able to consistently get drunk on brandy. Or maybe it was stronger back then? Or more cheaply produced? I'm sure people like Grantaire could knock back a bottle a day, easy, even so. Hmm. Is that why all these Impressionists were so obsessed with absinthe? 

As I said before, though, we're running low on our spirits. This is very worrying, because I literally can't eat dinner with my family unless I'm drinking, and once we run out, I have no idea what I'll do. Eating is hard enough for me anyway; I wouldn't be surprised if one of these days I'll have to sip through a shot or two even just to eat on my own. Why do I gotta be this way, man? If only people never had to eat anything. I would be happy to spend my life drinking alcohol and never letting a bite of food pass my lips. Oh, dreams! 

Anselm has started asking me for help with his homework all the time. It's nice and all, but son I ain't tryna write your whole assignment for ya, kay? Kids these days. Was I that dependent on outside help when I was a freshman? (Well, in math, yeah) It really does make me feel like a real mom, though. There's nothing like it! I make the kids food, and dress them, and brush their hair, and help with homework, and nag them to clean up and stuff (really, it's Anselm more than Talia, but I get on her case too), and wow, man. I'm good at this. And also, it's NOT my calling. I will never have kids of my own. Of course, this makes me feel somewhat guilty, because I've been socialized all my life into thinking that I should be a Good Wife and Mother, but I'm sure one of my siblings will provide grand kids for Mom and pass on the family line and all that, so I don't have to take on that particular burden (although maybe I should?), and I shudder to think of what kind of anxiety-ridden messes my children would be if I had them, so it's probably good for the future generations if I stay single, if we really think about it. Besides, I'm terrified of giving birth. Like, babies squish your internal organs. I'm 100% not about that, man. Okay, but where was I? Oh yeah. So tomorrow is the open house at the high school, and Mom doesn't want to go with Dad (ofc), so she says I should go, but I'm not excited because I absolutely Know that her "conscience will get the best of her" and she'll tell Dad about it, but she won't want to go with him, so I'll have to go with him, and trail around with him for two hours. He'll tell me I'm a failure and crap at everything as be really embarrassing and offend everyone, and it will be a horrible experience. But Anselm needs someone in his corner, so of course I can't back out. But I do wish that Mom's conscience would fail her sometimes. 

I watched two episodes of Sense8 today. It's a good show! So aesthetically pleasing. There are some problematic elements, but overall, it's pretty well done. Of course I'm not even halfway through the season, so I don't know for sure, but I already hope they renew it for season 2. We could use more shows like that, and less like Sherlock or Supernatural. Gosh, I used to love Supernatural. But then it got so yucky, and now it's just kind of like that one weird friend that you try not to talk to because they always end up being really offensive and mortifying, but you always say hi when you see them because you shared a Past together. Such a let-down! It should have stopped at season 5, man, that's all I'm saying. 

Speaking of Netflix, I'm probably going to watch some now. I feel the X-Files calling to me. Or maybe I'll read Les Misérables fan fiction. I read a super cute one the other day, and I still think about it in spare moments. Maybe I should read it again. Anyway, that's all for now. I shall bid you a fond adieu, and a lovely bon soir as well! Au revoir! 

*because it's Jack Daniels. What a good pun 😎

I'm this close to finishing my chapter for the social behavioral book, and I'm Very Proud of myself. All I need to do is write a bit more about Behavioral Control and dig up a couple of case studies (which might not even be my job anyway) and cross-reference everything with the lecture notes, and put in the citations, and I will be Good to Go! Think of all the small little pharmacy students who will partake of my knowledge in the future. It warms the heart, almost. Now, of course I would never purposefully try to indoctrinate anyone, but it's very nice to be able to plant little nuggets in the text that advocate questioning the establishment and being a good person. Maybe for some of my examples, I can talk about the harmful patriarchal beauty standards that have become the Subjective Norms for many people and how it is the job of the healthcare professional to go against that. How excellent! We're going to raise a generation of socially conscious pharmacists, and that's how I can do my part (part of my part) to making a better world.
Whee!

Can I just say, my lipstick looks really good right now? I'm out in public, so of course I'm looking nice, but I took a lot of care with my lippy, and it looks absolutely lovely. Also, I'm wearing my new bra and it makes my boobs look So Good. If Bernini could see me, he would want to sculpt me immediately. And I would let him, of course. Because there's nothing like going down in history as a hot nude Last Duchess-style Olympia (what a terrible mix of allusions). You know, I've been thinking about this, actually. If some respectable artist-type person wanted me to model nude for them, I would probably do it? Like, I look pretty nice nude, if I do say so myself, and I'm not at all averse to more people appreciating my beauty. But like, it would have to be artistic and stuff, and not get spread all over the internet so people could call me bad names and send me death threats. I'm not at all into that, you know. Maybe like a postmodern think-piece on the need for liberation in an all-too restrictive society? Oh no, but you know I'm pretty white-passing, so that might be problematic. Unless they accentuated my Asian features, and then that's kind of like yellow-face, isn't it? So maybe not that. But something. Something cool and awesome and inspirational and not Banksy. Do you know, I had a boyfriend who adored Banksy, like he would never shut up about him. He thought the work was deep and meaningful. Also, he pronounced it "Bansky." Oh man, that's such a hilarious memory. Makes me laugh every time. I'm so glad this whole thing with Dismal Land is getting everyone's attention, because now more people can join me in making fun of the pretentious and classist white-boy debacle that is Banksy, and that's something that I've always wished could happen. Oh, and the idea that it's a good thing because it's exposing underrated artists is completely wrong; from what I've heard, he's just taking advantage of relatively-unknown artists, including young people and people of color, and that's just terrible, especially since he's marketing it as a good thing. Don't you think, sometimes, that the establishment is giving us bread and circuses to distract from the real problems (such as, say, Syria), and we're buying into it? I think so. I know I am. Really, it's quite worrisome to think of where the world is going, and how quickly it's going there. Something definitely needs to be done.

Tomorrow, I have to go back to the courthouse to finish with jury selection, and I really don't want to. Now that I think of it, I'm not sure why, because it gets me out of the house, and allows me some time to sit in a cool air-conditioned building and read. But however you look at it, I've lost my enthusiasm for performing my civic duty! Which is really very worrisome. Have I become cold and jaded? Have I lost the fire and passion of youth? Where are the passions I essayed, where are the tears I made to flow? Oh no!
Really, though, I think it's more to do with the jury selection process than the actual civic-duty bit of it. Like, I would be interested to sit in a trial and aid democracy (and I would be more so if the trial weren't ALL OF 10-14 FRICKIN DAYS), but sitting motionless and listening to a racist old judge ramble on about his wife's tendonitis is really not so fun. I think anyone would be put off by that (except for the other old people, who are perfectly happy to join in the discussion). Not only is it boring, it's annoying! I totally get not being able to use phones in the courtroom, I mean that makes complete sense, and I'm not complaining. BUT it makes it hard to pay attention. I'm one of those people who has to be doing something, you know? In class, I can take notes, but here, there's nothing to take notes of (except for all the old peoples' medical issues, and I think I'd rather not remember those), so my mind just wanders. Well, that's okay, I guess. I always have fun thinking about linguistics and social issues and lambasting the patriarchy in my head. Sometimes I even write speeches for myself. It's a good time. The fact remains, though, I don't want to go to this thing! With luck, I can offend the old white men enough that they don't want to have me in their courtroom anymore. That's the hope.

So I've been sleeping a lot, but I probably should go to bed and sleep more now, since I have to Get Up For Democracy tomorrow, and I feel like it's going to be hard enough to stay awake in there anyway. Hopefully I'll get there early enough that I can get some coffee, otherwise it's going to be a time, I'll tell ya what. It's too bad we're not allowed to wear sunglasses inside, otherwise I could lower the shades and take a discreet little catnap. Okay, anyway, time for me to go sleep (ish)! Hopefully I won't have weird dreams! Goodnight!

I'm in the depths of Heat Hell

It's atrociously and disgustingly hot, so much so that it's a genuine outrage and a crime against nature. Every minute I spend outside is a minute off my life, but being inside doesn't help much either, because Dad won't let us use the air conditioner. He says it's "noisy." I don't understand how this is a problem, since he's hard of hearing and can barely follow our conversations (granted, that might also be because of his slow rate of understanding), but who can explain the complexities of man? Anyway, it's horribly hot, so I'm trying to sleep on the couch, but since Talia also needs to sleep downstairs, I have to take the one in the front room so she can have the nicer one, and it feels really exposed. I mean, anyone could walk in here at any time and see my snoring away with my hair all over the place and my boobs probably halfway out of my shirt. Puts a bit of a crimp in my style, wouldn't you say? Maybe I can claim it as performance art.

Aside from the heat, we also suffer greatly from the cruel impressment of time. You see, tomorrow is Sunday already, and on Sundays, we have to teach. I've been dreading it all week, but my dread only seemed to have made it come faster, and now the fateful day is upon us. Gosh I hate it so much! I know I'm making money and I'm so privileged and all- but it makes me want to die or fight or die fighting or something of that nature. What I need is to be abducted by aliens so I can gain some perspective. It's probably hard to worry about your day job when you're miles away in outer space. Failing that, I need to get a better job so I can stop coming home on weekends and teaching these little horrors. (Okay, that won't work, because I'll still have to come home, and I'll still have to teach. But at least then I won't feel guilty about hating it.) There's nothing to look forward to tomorrow either. Like, we teach, and when we're not teaching, we have to be home with the family, and I don't really know which one is worse. So I don't have a reason for getting up except that I have to because we need the room for the kids. If not for that (and the overwhelming heat), I would probably lie despondently on the couch all day and think gloomy thoughts. I'm just fun that way.

On Monday, I have to go back for more jury duty selection. The judge is the prototypical bureaucrat, and is so damn slow that we've barely even started eliminating people. It's such a pain. Like, I'm into jury duty- I've wanted to be selected since high school (at least)- but this isn't what I'm here for. Also, the judge is really racist, and he talks like he's from the south, which he probably is. It's such a pain! I don't want to be selected, actually, cause the trial is supposed to be 10-14 days, and with the Honorable Judge Timesap presiding, it's probably going to be double that. Of course, I can't get out of it by saying that I'm a student, because school hasn't started yet, so I'm pretty much stuck. What a nuisance! All I can do is hope that I manage to offend the attorneys so badly that they decide not to keep me. Maybe I should cosplay. 

I slept for like three or four hours today, so I'm not exactly tired, but I don't want to be awake. I also don't want to sleep, because then it'll be tomorrow, and the amount of strength that I'll need to get through that is more than I probably possess at the moment. But I think I'd rather be asleep than awake. Sleeping is always nice. Sometimes I have dreams about battles, or musicals, or if I'm lucky, linguistics. And no one can try to talk about feelings with me. Oh sleep it is a gentle thing, beloved from pole to pole!

I just wish it weren't so damn hot. Maybe I should move to Seattle or something. Ew, but then I'd have to live in Seattle. Whatever can I do? @the government please fix the environment stat pls&thank

I guess I should try to sleep, though. It's healthy and stuff (I think). Goodnight! 

I like making dinner because I can make it however I want, and then it's easier for me to eat, and it's just good all around. And okay, I don't wanna sound egotistical or anything, but when I'm on point, I'm on point, ya feel? It's true, a lot of the time I burn things, or forget ingredients, or do other weird things, but when I don't do any of that, my culinary creations are true masterpieces. That was so today. I made a pasta primavera with coconut cream and ginger and lime, mixed with steamed mixed vegetables and served with roasted lemon-garlic chicken (it should have been lime to go with the pasta, but we didn't have enough limes), and it was really amazing. I marinated the chicken for a few hours before roasting it, so the flavor soaked in nicely, and I got that perfect al dente texture to my pasta. Really, I was very proud. And I feel like it's pretty healthy, because I didn't use a cream sauce or anything, and I put in a lot of vegetables (cooked nicely and without lots of oil), so I feel proud of that too! Now I just need to learn how to cook brown rice, and I'll be in the business.

Xander left for school today. It was sort of sad, because I like having him here, but I'm also happy for him. He's moving on to a new adventure now, and it's so exciting! (And he gets to leave this hellhole house, and that can't hurt) I'm just sad that I didn't get him to buy me any more alcohol before he left. My supply is running dangerously low. It's a little weird to have him going to USC and me going to UCLA, because we're supposed to be rivals and all that, but this way there will be alumni of both schools in our family, so it will help everyone with admissions no matter which route they take. (but UCLA is better though)

Today was Sunday, and I was really proud of myself because I did not spiral into a depressive episode and lie on the couch unable to move because of my abject misery. And I think that really shows some personal growth, don't you? I even taught some students, and I think I did a real swell job. A+ me, good going. After that, Mom and Anselm and I went shopping, and I got this darling little pink-and-white polka dotted throw, which really was something of a highlight of my day. That goes to show exactly how banal my life is, but at least I can take pleasure in the simple things. That ought to be worth something, right?

Okay, now I'm really mad because I read a stupid article on Tumblr about how racial stereotypes exist for a reason, and we shouldn't look too deeply into the criticism of popular media because it's Just How Things Are, and they're so wrong that I can't stand it. I hate how Asians are treated by the mass media, and I refuse to accept some ass-backward white person opinion about How Things Are because they don't know, and I'm not one for Complete Objective Truth, but I'm advocating it now, because the systematic oppression of an entire race of people, and the aiding and abetting of this travesty by the selfsame people who call themselves proponents of social justice is not a good thing and can never be a good thing no matter how prettily they may try to frame it. And I'm just a girl at a computer screen; what can I possibly do about any of it? They're going to continue on in their merry and casually racist ways, patting themselves on the back for Enjoying Diversity, and there's nothing I can do to stop them. I can feel it like a fire under my skin, all the things I want to do and want to accomplish, and times like these, it burns so hot it's almost unbearable. I can't do anything, and it's so frustrating, and I want to go out and lead rallies and build barricades and shout down authority, but all I can do is sit here and be enraged. If someone put a torch in my hand right now, I believe I would take to the streets this very minute, doing my own part to overthrow the establishment that has held us in its miserable and misbegotten sway for so long, and if someone came up to me and asked me to fly to Washington to lead a protest, I would ask to be front and center, directly in the first line of fire, ready to die in my passion for a world that doesn't care. But all I have is me, and I want to explode. As you can see, it doesn't take much for me to work myself up into a proper indignation. Isn't that silly? Oh, but it's not, it's not. The world needs to be changed, and I think I was born to do my part in helping it happen. But I can't, not right now, and that's more exasperating than I can say. What wouldn't I give for a voice to reach the people? All I want to do is fight.