Chibimiji: The Journal

New blog!

Sat, 08 Nov 2008 07:19:22 GMT

LJ looks and feels like ass and I've moved on to greener pastures.

See you there!

Fri, 25 Apr 2008 10:35:20 GMT

I admit it, I LOLed.

All these protesters should probably find something more productive and less completely futile to do with their time. Like say, thinking up ways to prevent the American economy from going further down the shitter. Boy, these people sure are gonna have a lot more to be angry about when China takes over the planet, and Tibet probably won't be numero uno on the list.

Today:

Mon, 21 Apr 2008 07:23:04 GMT

A Blizzard employee/CGI artist was impressed with my portfolio and complimented me on it.

A.

BLIZZARD.

EMPLOYEE.

WHAT

IS

THIS

MADNESS

~~SPARTA~~

Re: Things that make me feel like an old fart =(

Fri, 18 Apr 2008 09:32:55 GMT

Although I REALLY do miss my Scrubs, Pushing Daisies, and 30Rock...the advent of the writers' strike actually brought about some positive changes. One being the syndication of Dexter, and the other being the subject of this post. Since most of my favorite shows haven't returned to the air I really don't have a set TV viewing schedule, but there is ONE time of day that I'll religiously tune into: 11:00 pm, weeknights on FOX 11. Why is that you ask?

Reruns of golden age episodes of The Simpsons.

Let me more clearly define "golden age". The Simpsons stopped being funny after season 8.

I don't care that people say season 9 was "the last great season", that is utter bullcaca. I seriously am completely baffled as to why hordes of Simpsons fans think "The City of New York vs. Homer Simpson" is a classic episode, I could barely make through it without experiencing the bitter tang of bile in my mouth. "Crab juice"? Wow, now THAT is a hi-larious stand-alone punchline! It's crab, and it's juice! It's funny because it's disgusting and abnormal! Brilliant! =__=... Yea yea, the season does herald the introduction of Duffman, whatever, I honestly don't even like his character. His obnoxious and "in your face" attitude seems oddly familiar; I guess the Poochie model was ironically such a big hit they reincarnated him into a reoccuring character. One or two good gags, padded by inane, dumbed-down "humor" that is utterly, utterly stupid in the truest sense of the word, that pretty much sums up season 9 and all subsequent seasons. Apparently season 9 marked the exodus of many of the series' previous writers, and by god it SHOWS. Even though a couple of the episodes were penned by the seasoned veterans, I seriously hope they were either half-hearted "I'm about to leave anyway" throwaways or maybe a farewell "screw you" to the new show runner Mike Scully.

Seasons 2 through 8 will always be representative of The Simpsons as a series for me. (To a lesser extent season 1, but you've got to walk before you can run, right?) The humor was sharp at the right times, subtle at the right times, and always smart. The Simpsons had edgy satirical humor, brains to spare, AND tons of heart, a feat very rarely accomplished all in one show. All the characters had the perfect balance of personality; they were realistic enough to be relatable but with enough off-kilter quirks to make them humorous without jumping the shark. Homer is a paramount example: he was a loveable dullard, believably stupid but with suprising depth, compared to the completely boorish, sexist, one-dimensional running gag that he is now. It is an abomination what they turned him in to.

Why does this irk me so much? It's because The Simpsons was such a big part of my childhood. I grew up watching and loving this show, even when some my other friends were banned from watching it because of its "poor moral values" by parents who barely gave it a passing glance. If they had really WATCHED the show, they would have seen a sharp social commentary, played out by a family who, despite all their shortcomings, loved eachother unconditionally and promoted true familial love and loyalty. I believe The Simpsons truly was a pioneer of animation in the US, proving that cartoons can transcend the stigma of being purely "children's entertainment". To watch both the show and the characters be denigrated and devolved to such a shallow and moronic level is absolutely heartbreaking. At the risk of sounding way too melodramatic and/or elitist, I feel it's a spot on reflection of the decline of intellect that is so apparent in American pop culture.

After all that is said and done, I realize that the seasons I am talking about were aired from 1990 to 1997 =(

Back in my day, a movie ticket cost $3.25, gas cost $1.95 a gallon, Costco was known as Price Club, and The Simpsons was actually funny...

I would name him Max, and he would be BFFs with Norman and Virgil

Wed, 26 Mar 2008 06:50:30 GMT

I just finished reading Watership Down and now I REALLY REALLY want to adopt a bunny. Like, BAD enough to warrant some serious cap locks, omgz. I've literally spent hours looking at the ones available for adoption, and I even picked out the one that I want. My mom said she'd actually be okay with it (surprising), but the whole art school situation is still up in the air right now. If I end up moving to SF, taking a live, skittery animal would be a bitch. Fuckin art school. I wonder how much taking care of a bunny would cost? Considering the fact that I just spent $35 nursing a sick $2.50 fish back to health, money would probably be a factor too...

BUT THE CUTE BUNNY IS SO CUTE D=

Oh yea, I finally joined a goddamn gym. Time to torture my fatass self on the treadmill =(

Rupert Murdoch, you dirty son of a mongrel bitch

Wed, 23 Jan 2008 11:09:35 GMT

Mass Effect = the new, Western version of The Satanic Verses, apparently...

I really like when that vapid, mouth-breathing "expert" actually scoffed incredulously when she said that she hadn't actually played the game, as if that uncivilized heathen actually had the NERVE to ask her if she had touched that garbage. Because you don't actually need to read/play/experience/have ANY remote firsthand knowledge about filth to know that it's filth right? That's what hearsay and sensationalist rumors are for. Kudos to FOX for its unshakeable journalistic integrity and top-notch unbiased and investigative "debates".

Mon, 07 Jan 2008 00:11:15 GMT

Yesterday was my last day at Nordstrom. I can't help but feel a little sad after working there for more than a year, even though I always thought this day would be marked with unbridled joy and much raucous celebration, but life is funny like that I guess? This job has lowered my faith in humanity a little bit more, but I can't help but feel a little down knowing that I'll probably never see some of my coworkers again =/

So now that I'm a free agent, I really better get my ass in gear about my future in art...

but there's plenty of time for that later, because tomorrow is the kickoff of FINE DINING 2008: EAST COAST EDITION! After busting my ass for a year and having next to NO social life (outside of Azeroth I mean), it's time to splurge, baby. Itinerary is as follows:

Jan 7th-9th: Arrive in Philly, land of cheesesteaks and the King of Prussia mall! Bask in the east coast balmy weather of 40-60 degree weather. Have Agnes drive us around in her mini cooper. See the Rocky steps!

10th-14th: New York City!! The Big Apple revisted! This time with a noticeably higher budget! Check into the beautiful Roosevelt Hotel. Watch The Little Mermaid on Broadway (yay! Plz don't strike again Broadway pplz, I want to see mermaids on heelys). Dinner at Gotham Bar and Grill, lunch at Jean Georges. Hit the sales on 5th Ave. Maybe some frrrozen hot chocolate if the mice and cockroaches haven't made a comeback. Get (hopefully not) rained on =(

15th-17th: Boston! Satisfy my urge to stuff my face with seafood! Fulfill my desperate craving for Ethiopian cuisine. Shopping on Newbury street with no sales tax =D Cupcakes!

Reservations and tickets are all booked and winter regalia is purchased, FINE DINING 2008!!!!

Also, I can't stop watching this...

She made a pact with the Devil or she is a Siren made flesh, there is NO OTHER LOGICAL EXPLANATION. How the hell do you have a voice like that at 17??? It doesn't even sound like its coming from her mouth! It's like she ate an angel and you're hearing its ACHINGLY BEAUTIFUL, SOUL-RENDING cries for help when she opens her mouth. I'm so pissed I missed the chance to see her perform at San Manuel =(

My brain is broke

Thu, 25 Oct 2007 09:32:45 GMT

I'm tired of being an LJ scrub. My English skills are rusty and writing actually takes a fair amount of effort now. I can feel my verbosity leaking out of brain =( How, then, will I sound arrogant and pretentious??? This is what Charlie must have felt like.

So here's a book meme. I'm smart, really =(

These are the top 106 books most often marked as "unread" by LibraryThing's users (as of 30 September 2007). As usual, bold what you have read, italicise what you started but couldn't finish, and strike through what you couldn't stand. Add an asterisk to those you've read more than once. Underline those on your to-read list.

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
Anna Karenina
Crime and Punishment
Catch-22
One Hundred Years of Solitude
Wuthering Heights
The Silmarillion It's like the Bible, but with elves.
Life of Pi : a novel* LOVE
The Name of the Rose
Don Quixote
Moby Dick
Ulysses
Madame Bovary
The Odyssey* I'm pretty sure anyone who's EVER attended any form of school has read this book
Pride and Prejudice
~~Jane Eyre~~ I know this is supposed to be a classic, but it felt like a 19th century trash novel
A Tale of Two Cities
The Brothers Karamazov
Guns, Germs, and Steel: the Fates of Human Societies
War and Peace
Vanity Fair
The Time Traveler's Wife
The Iliad * Classics enthusiasts what what
Emma
The Blind Assassin
The Kite Runner
Mrs. Dalloway
Great Expectations
American Gods
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius
Atlas Shrugged
Reading Lolita in Tehran : a memoir in books
Memoirs of a Geisha Eeeeehhh...overhyped
Middlesex
Quicksilver
~~Wicked : the life and times of the wicked witch of the West~~ Hated it hated it hated it
The Canterbury Tales*
The Historian : a novel
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
Love in the Time of Cholera Maaaaybe...wasn't too hot on 100 Years of Solitude, but Oprah says it's good?
Brave New World
The Fountainhead
Foucault's Pendulum
Middlemarch
~~Frankenstein~~ A big screw you to Ms. McDonald; I hated you and this book
The Count of Monte Cristo
Dracula 10 million times better than Frankenstein, trufax
A Clockwork Orange
Anansi Boys
The Once and Future King
The Grapes of Wrath
The Poisonwood Bible : a novel
1984 Depressing
Angels & Demons This is the Dan Brown book right? Completely forgot what it was about.
The Inferno
The Satanic Verses This is some WEIRD SHIT right here
Sense and Sensibility
The Picture of Dorian Gray Not as scandalous as I had imagined it to be. Apparently debauchery wasn't what it is today
Mansfield Park
One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest
To the Lighthouse
Tess of the D'Urbervilles
Oliver Twist
Gulliver's Travels
Les Misérables
The Corrections
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time
Dune Don't remember anything about this book other than spice, blue eyes, and the cool suits that recycle body waste. Mmmm pee water
The Prince
The Sound and the Fury
Angela's Ashes : a memoir
The God of Small Things
A People's History of the United States : 1492-present
Cryptonomicon
Neverwhere
A Confederacy of Dunces
A Short History of Nearly Everything
Dubliners
The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Beloved WEIRD
Slaughterhouse-five
The Scarlet Letter
Eats, Shoots & Leaves
The Mists of Avalon
Oryx and Crake : a novel
Collapse : How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed
Cloud Atlas
The Confusion
Lolita
Persuasion
Northanger Abbey
~~The Catcher in the Rye~~ The epitome of boring coming-of-age stories
On the Road
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Freakonomics : a Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance : an Inquiry into Values
The Aeneid
Watership Down I'm really surprised I haven't read this already
Gravity's Rainbow
~~The Hobbit~~ I want to love you Tolkien, I really do...you just make it so HARD
In Cold Blood : A True Account of a Multiple Murder and Its Consequences
White Teeth
Treasure Island
David Copperfield
The Three Musketeers
Bastard out of Carolina

HAHA!

Wed, 15 Nov 2006 06:53:09 GMT

So out of boredom, I was googling "chibimiji" when lo and behold, look what I've discovered:

~~My first picture used without my permission!~~ Edit: link removed because apparently the url keeps changing as the guy uploads more pictures >__> It was my viera oekaki, in case anyone was dying to know.

At least they gave me credit. I'm sure this is some sort of landmark to becoming a semi-competent internetz artist. Hooray for me!

Also...

What possesses people to buy, or even make for that matter, olive suits??? I mean, OLIVE? REALLY? Besides being the color of dirty,ashen puke and/or diarrhea after a night of split pea soup and heavy mexican food, it matches well with NOTHING. Black too good looking and stylish for you? Navy too darn professional? Gray just not VOMIT-INDUCING enough? Then hey, by all means, wear a color that makes you look like you're 80 years old and coincidentally, the drabbest human being on earth. No sir, I do not wish to help you find a shirt and tie that matches that suit, because everything I would pick out would either make you look like your grandfather or ugly incarnate.

Now moss green, THAT is a respectable shade of green.

Oh Balthier, you dandified rapscallion you

Thu, 09 Nov 2006 11:41:08 GMT

WIP, late night one hour quick draw (it's quick for ME okay?? See, it has color and EVERYTHING! SHUTUP!) that I may or may not finish. I need to work on my mens, they always come out looking funky.

P.S. Fran is totally a beard/fag hag if I've ever seen one.

P.P.S. Balthier is totally gay (not in a bad way, in the buttsex way).

Ugh...

Wed, 01 Nov 2006 09:35:33 GMT

Trying trying TRYING not to fall into the whole "life sucks" depression, god knows I LOATHE self-pity because it's utterly useless, completely selfish, and leads nowhere except into more narcissistic self-pity...but lately I've been finding it pretty hard.

I have no one that really relates to me.

I'm too angry.

I hate my job.

I have no goals in life.

I have no one I can depend on except myself.

I have no real motivation.

I have no future.

I can literally feel myself spiralling. Man, life sucks.

I really hope I'm not as weak as this. Pathetic.

R.I.P. Willoughby

Thu, 26 Oct 2006 02:11:50 GMT

You were a hamster among hamsters, despite having the gayest name ever. Have fun in hamster heaven, and congratulations, you have finally escaped Jesse's fiendish clutches.

Amen.

HA!

Wed, 04 Oct 2006 08:20:07 GMT

That dipshit deleted his myspace account.

me - 3, dipshit teacher - 0

It feels good to win.

Mon, 02 Oct 2006 06:57:22 GMT

So slicing my toe open on Sarah's demon bed (I swear it's out to get me, first it gave me a black toe, this time it cleaved it in half, next time it will RIP OUT MY HEART AND EAT IT) was both a blessing and a curse I guess. It ruined our plans for getting all skanked out in Hollywood, but I got to call out of work and have a 3 day break and a drunken girls' night out, which was nice. Although, the lil' conniption I had when I thought I would need stitches whilst I am lacking ze health insurance wasn't so fun. Health insurance is serious business!! Anyway, I decided to be semi-productive during my break:

Lolz buttcheeks. The colored version is here but I kind of like the simplicity of the uncolored one. Oy I need to work on my folds and not drawing people naked.

Two weeks into this job and I already want to quit.

Fri, 22 Sep 2006 06:11:49 GMT

Today was possibly the longest day of my life.

But it is a turning point.

I am going to make something of myself even if it kills me.

So I never have to do this shit again, ever.

Inconsequential mutterings instead of a real post because I am very tired and my feet hurt

Wed, 20 Sep 2006 09:07:52 GMT

Everytime I eat at the mall food court on my lunch break, I feel like I lose at life. God help me. I also never really realized how unmotivated I am outside of school. If you give me one night, I can write an 10 page paper on 6 different books I've never read a page of in my life, but if you give me all the time in the world I can't finish one goddamn drawing.

Part of a work in progress...scheduled to be finished sometime in the next 10 years. Thorn Harvestar copyright Jeff Smith. Shoddy linework, boring pose, shitty coloring copyright me.

Goooooooooooooooooooo English majors!!!

This is so weird...

Sun, 27 Aug 2006 20:45:00 GMT

In following with the latest internet bandwagon trends:

Sophia Loren looks like some sort of hag sea witch in that picture, I think the resemblance is stunning. I ran a couple of photos of me through their highly scientific system, and here's some other interesting (not to mention spot on) resemblances I got:

-Queen Latifah
-Stevie Wonder
-Michelle Kwan
-some old white guy

According to them, my sister's boyfriend's closest match is Gwyneth Paltrow. Fabulous!

Edit: The link on the collage seems to be broken, so if anyone wants to try it out, here's the link. You have to sign up, but it's pretty easy and they don't check if the email address is valid or not.

Thu, 24 Aug 2006 03:55:44 GMT

So life has been relatively busy for me lately, and I've just been too lazy to post about it. Firstly, in an effort to push my ass to draw more, I finally created a deviantart account after 4 or so years of stalking/lurking. If you feel so inclined, you can check out my art, but the pickins are kind of scarce right now because I'm too morbidly embarrased of my old stuff to post them up.

Secondly, what's a good deviantart site without a REALLY EMO ID picture?? NOTHING, that's what. Behold, the METAMORPHOSIS!
From this:

To this:

OMG I am so EMO! You can't see it, but I'm really crying rivers of blood tears inside me because life is so painful and my parents JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND ME. I'm pretty sure that at that exact moment that picture was taken I was contemplating death or some Edgar Allen Poe poetry. Or maybe I was asleep, I don't know. The point is I'm not smiling, and therefore am very deep and full of dark angry sorrow. I think my first foray into EMO portraiture was uncannily successful if I do say so myself, because not only do I convey that I am at a level of morbid despair and suffering so deep and nihilistic that NOBODY else could possibly comprehend, but I am also a FUCKING FAIRY PRINCESS. Awesome. You can also check out the lovely Jesse's attempt at emo-fying me here (you have to scroll down a bit, as Jesse is a much more proficient blogger than I am).

Thirdly, I'm finally going to learn how to surf! It's about freakin time.

And lastly, I'm probably going to end up working at Nordstrom's for the time being, until I find a better full time position or I get accepted into art school. Let me tell you, the Nordstrom's application/interview process is a bitch. I feel like I'm applying to be an astronaut on a mission to the fucking moon or something, all they need to do is ask for the urine sample. BUT, since everyone there works on commission, it should be a decent paying job. God knows the shit I had to put up with at Macy's, at least now I'm being paid extra to kiss ass and call it ice cream. if anyone wants discounts (when I get the position of course) hit me up.

Oh look!

Tue, 15 Aug 2006 04:53:00 GMT

Joanna's taking a big steaming digitial dump on her computer screen! Oh wait, no, it's just this monstrosity:

Tripe. Fucking tripe. I can't even be bothered to put some real effort into my drawings anymore. I'm out of inspiration, so I just fall back on drawing the only think I know how, random skinny vacuous girls with little to no clothing with some sort of generic fantasy theme. I keep drawing it from the same angle, the same pose, same perspective, same fucking everything. Four years ago I would shed blood sweat and tears laboring over 5+ hour oekakis almost every single day (I'm not exaggerating), making the lines as smooth as possible, the colors complimentary, the composition exciting, etc etc. I would be proud of my work, I would learn new things, and I would endure the toil with pleasure and view the end result with satisfaction. Now...this.

What happened? It's really depressing to think that I might never be as passionate about drawing as I once was, and that it might never be as enjoyable. I don't want art to turn into work. Because god knows how I really hate work. Is this a sign that I should avoid art as a career? Or will forcing myself to draw every single day again bring about a renewal of passion and enjoyment, perhaps encouraged by real, TANGIBLE satisfaction in my work because of my technical improvement?

I need answers.

But I guess in the big picture, none of this matters anyway, because I have no future and am going to spend my life as an office bitch.

Sun, 06 Aug 2006 09:10:03 GMT

I can't stop binging on avocados and lychees. They are so fucking good.

Bitching post, it's been awhile

Mon, 24 Jul 2006 06:20:31 GMT

So the power's been out on my block for the past two days, and we've been surviving on flashlights and candles. As romantic as it sounds to eat, shower, and sit around doing absolutely nothing by candlelight, it's getting a little old. I'm writing this by candlelight as I speak (ok, type), and I'm starting to get a little freaked by the gaping chasm of darkness that is my house. Charging my laptop at Starbucks and hijacking spotty wireless from a block away tain't no romp in the park either. Right now, all we can do to escape the MOTHERFUCKING HEAT that my house seems to suck up during the day and radiate at night is to swim, because of our inability to turn on that sweet sweet whiff of god's breath that is air conditioning. I actually lost track of how many hours I spent in our pool this past weekend, but let's just say that yesterday I dried off at 9:30 pm last night, and I've probably met my tan quota for the summer (by the way, swimming in complete and utter darkness is kind of fun yet thorougly scary at the same time.) The two gallons of Rite Aid ice cream that we bought on Friday is probably liquid in our "freezer" by now, and wasted ice cream makes me ornery like an alligator with no toothbrush (Waterboy reference, sorry).

...My brother said the Edison truck was finally outside (after two days of black out) inspecting the busted transformer/fuse, but that they just looked at it and then drove away...

...My dad just opened the refrigerator, and the scent that wafted out can not be described by any words known to man...I can FEEL the stench on me, I am unclean...

As a kind of positive side effect, I got to see Superman Returns for free (i.e. my parents paid for it, since there was NOTHING ELSE TO DO in our power-devoid house), and I have to admit that I actually enjoyed it. I've only seen short clips of the old Supermans, and nothing about the franchise really interested me. However, this installation was different; I have found my new Orlando Bloom (or actually, a supplement to my ritual dose of Orly, for nothing will ever replace him), and his name is Brandon Routh. As Superman, he looks overly CGed or made up and somewhat plasticky (that's some greasy ass unmoving hair he's got, and that ironed-in curl's a little off-putting), but as Clark, MROWR. I always figured me to be the type to go for the "loud, thundering man" as some people put it, but "Clark" with his geeky glasses, dorky demeanor, and shy/quiet/doormat features just melted by heart/loins. I wanna take a bite out of THAT. Kate Bosworth isn't too bad on the eyes either, I can see why Orly went for her.

...and great, Jimmy's just informed me that he saw Brandon at the airport around a month ago. First the "being on the same plane as Orlando Bloom" thing, and now this. I seriously hate you Jimmy. Seriously.

Oh my god...

Fri, 14 Jul 2006 11:44:55 GMT

What is it about Fandom Wank that makes it SO GODDAMN ADDICTING? Seriously? It's like a solid kilo of pure undiluted crack. I just waded through around 1000 COMMENTS AND I CAN'T STOP. It's 100 times worse than the anonymous secret confessions of UCB (which by the way, has THE most active lj community out of all the UCs, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised) because instead of restoring my faith in humanity, it just makes me stare blankly and seriously wonder if people like that really do in fact, exist on the same plane as the rest of us. I mean, I honestly don't know what is SO AMUSING to me when I discover new lows of humanity and common sense/decency, all concerning the FREAKING HARRY POTTER FANDOM. I mean, Christ, some people just really ARE that batshit insane.

SOMEONE HELP ME IT HURTS T___T

Still Life (F)arts

Fri, 14 Jul 2006 08:18:31 GMT

Oooo scary. Done with graphite, the blue is actually part of the photograph because my camera is crappy and I couldn't scan these due to the ginormousity of my art pads.

Leeezard. One of my first pen and ink pieces. I really like the look of ink, but it's a fucking BITCH to work with (hence the spillage on the lower left).

I occasionally have panic attacks because I feel like this class and my efforts are futile and getting me nowhere in life, and that pursuing art is just one really big joke. I'm starting to reconsider law school, after a recent talk with Jack's lawyer in his posh office with a shelf full of very important looking leather bound books and expensive furniture. If he can be happy doing his job while making a ridiculous amount of money, why can't I? I have the skills, all I lack is the drive and resolution, because I'm afraid of commiting. I told him my plans for art school and a future career in illustration or design, and he gave me a patronizing look then uttered the words "starving artist" with a hint of a smirk. My sister yells at me for wanting to go to law school because I think it's the safest financial path, and because I don't know what else to do. "I have SO many friends who paid $40k for law school and haven't even passed the bar yet! I only have ONE friend who passed the bar and is making money, but he's MISERABLE and HATES his job! That's such a STUPID reason for wanting to go to law school!" What makes it even harder is that I really DON'T know what i want. Sure, I'd like to do something that's not UTTERLY TEDIOUS and that I enjoy for a living, but I'd like to be able to eat too. Why can't I just decide?

I really need to feel smart again.

Fri, 07 Jul 2006 10:31:14 GMT

It's funny how I'm an English major, yet I can literally count the number of times I've written for pleasure on one hand. I feel like I'm adequately connected to my artistic side at the moment, my $200 worth of art supplies concur. It's not unusual for me to get the late night urge to draw up a storm, but I rarely, if EVER, get the urge to WRITE (my 2-5 sentence livejournal posts can attest for that). So, I feel like I should respect this new urge (thank you Mr. Afram, English Literature teacher of South Pasadena High School and certifiably mentally retarded monkey, for reawakening my literary spirit at the cost of your SOUL. Being able to compose well-written and bitingly sarcastic responses to your 7th grade level, barely-literate, troglodyte BILGE validates my existance, as well as making me look like fucking Shakespeare compared to your dim-witted short-bus riding excuse of a brain). Therefore, I present the first three paragraphs of my first ever totally intentionally/willingly written piece of fiction(as it is unfinished, I have no idea what the point or plot is, and therefore a work in progress). Be gentle:

----------

It had been a rough year. Countless petty squabbles, pointless accusations, flashes of blinding anger, anxiety, paranoia, even a bona fide breakdown or two, you name it, I had gone through it. I had become a cynic in the truest sense, a nothing-matters-so-why-even-bother-trying type of pessimist. Humanity had failed me, and I was tired of waiting for its ever-pending salvation. I purposefully alienated myself from society, seemingly twisted into something resembling a highly convincing humanoid automaton (Now with ultra-realistic hi-tech verbal capabilities and motor skills! Emotion drivers not included. Order now!). The change was slow, subtle, and stealthy, yet I could see it happening little by little, and I did nothing to hinder its progress. Deep down, I secretly feared for my soul in the aftermath of this abysmal metamorphosis, yet my pride would not let me renounce my newly acquired hermitic armor. As I said, It had been a rough year.

During the start of this regrettable era of my life, I had taken to walking the local park on a daily basis to help clear my mind and help postpone the stroke, brain aneurysm, or psychological implosion that seemed so inevitable. This small, nearly-abandoned copse was much more than just a public facility to me; it offered solitude, quiet, and a sense of disconnection with the world that I had come to resent. Although, disturbingly enough, I found this tiny bit of euphoric calm less and less effective as time passed. When I first discovered this bit of isolated vegetation, there was a certain attractiveness about it that had nothing to do with aesthetically pleasing qualities. In fact, it was rather neglected, a decrepit plot of land that the nearby city folk rarely frequented. The trees were wild and unmanaged, the brittle bushes were consistently browning in what could only be described as a slow, prolonged death, and the pond in the center of the park seemed a most unpleasant shade of deep brownish green that did not suit its shallow depth. Occasionally I would happen upon the hired caretaker attempting to subdue the weeds that threatened to permanently choke out the meager patches of grass that eked out a miserable survival on the yellowing dry dirt, but the battle was a half-hearted one. With his head hung low and back hunched, he randomly pulled at the assorted mishmash of unwanted flora, not really bothering to notice whether he pulled up a fistful of weeds or of the already dying grass. He moved his gloved hand here and there in a slow, weary fashion that was almost depressing to watch. As I observed his figure on several occasions indiscriminately swiping at the thin stalks, he imparted to me the impression of a defeated, down-trodden man, one who had over time accepted this fate of drudgery and futility after it had beat his spirit into a broken submission, a sole pathetic figure floundering amongst a sea of crabgrass and ragweed. One knows when one is fighting a losing battle.

Perhaps it was the park’s unattractiveness that compelled me to walk its untidy and chaotic paths in the first place. This was an eyesore to most people, but to me it represented a sort of unruly freedom, as the park remained unashamed and unapologetic for its disorderly mess. It was indeed a mess, but to me, it was utterly charming in its rebelliousness, a haven of tangled foliage amongst the cold and soulless pre-planned sterile sparkle of surburbia. The overgrown branches seemed to offer me a hearty wave hello as I passed by their knotted meshes every morning, swaying lightly in the wind while maintaining their jumbled yet elegant lattice. The pond at the center of the park remained a popular haunt for me, offering a serene backdrop in which to lose myself in reveries of self-introspection or deep thought, the lazily floating islands of scum being just as relaxing to watch as any man-made desktop waterfall or miniature Zen rock garden or whatever ridiculous contraption my fellow corporate office drones considered all the rage now and days. Here was my unkempt Shagri-la, my weed-plagued secret garden, my unsightly sanctuary. However, as I should have known (being a born-again cynic and all), such a pure and innocent happiness was never meant to last.

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In retrospect, that first paragraph sounds REALLY emo. But I can assure you, my aim is for a warm, fuzzy, possibly ~~cliché~~ ~~hackneyed~~ inspirational plot/ending/moral/anti-hating life public service announcement. This isn't by any means autobiographical; I tried to make it gender neutral, but it somehow comes off as masculine to me. Eh. Not great, but it's a start. I really need practice in creative writing, it's such a stretch from the usual mind-numbing essays that I had to squeeze out of my dry and withered brain (seriously, it was like trying to milk a dead cow...which...I'm assuming is kind of hard...). How do you do it Jesse, my lover? Impart to me the mystical properties of the magic goiter!

To assuage the indignant cries of my attention-whore artsy fartsy side, I will attempt to upload some of my art class works in the near future.

I love big shiny words, they vindicate my sense of self-worth.

Chicken, eh?

Thu, 29 Jun 2006 07:11:19 GMT

How do you taste?

You taste like chicken. Your succulent thighs, legs, wings, and breasts melt in the mouth. Your crunchy outer coating barely hides the juiciness within.
Take this quiz!

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Stolen from Jesse's blog. Chicken, how utterly...generic. Well, I guess it's better then that quiz that kept labeling me as the "gay carebear". Quiver before the might of my succulent thighs!

It's been a crazy past month.