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Wednesday, July 27, 2005


Despite the fact that no one seems to be heading this way any more (and justifiably; I've been fucking boring of late), I think I'll post something anyway.

Harvest my kidneys, harvest my kidneys, harvest my kidneys. Buy an Xbox.
"The Island" = shit and other observations


Today, mainly because I was obliged to, I spent two hours or so watching Ewan McGregor and Scarlett Johansonn muck about in the bowls of either LA or some huge machine, bereft of a specific purpose, mostly while wearing Puma-brand tracksuits. Oh yeah, and some football guy got cut open, while conscious, so they could take his liver and put it in the other Some Football Guy. (Why they [those bad guys in the black tracksuits], after so many years of experience and consistent medical breakthroughs, would not be able to administer the appropriate, effective, amount of tranquilizer is fully beyond my comprehension, but that's sort of an aside.) Some lady died after giving birth by being shaken vigorously (I shit you not.) and this grubby-looking fellow with greasy hair got shot for no easily-determined reason.

In fact, just screw easiness in general. Most of The Island is downright ineffable, in that most actions, proclamations, theories, problems, and contraptions are a little vague at best, if not downright iffy.
Okay, fine. I can live with two adults, equip with the mental capacity of eleven-year-olds, minus any form of sex-education or -drive, suddenly becoming irrepressibly horny and banging each other in some Scottish guy they pretty much don't even know's house. It's Holly wood. It's going to feature snogging. I can live with that.
I can live with a giant colony of veritably mindless clones mulling about underground, mere kilometers from downtown, Los Angeles.
Air-ducts big enough for a thirty-year-old man to crawl through? Fine.
Hell, I'll even throw in my willingness to accept the fact they'd clothe that thirty-year-old man, along with all his mulling friends, in nearly-identical tracksuits.
I am OK with these things, even if they aren't what I was raised on. I'm a tolerant person, I like to think.

However, Sean Bean with greasy hair? Fuck no. As soon as I saw that 'do, I had it in for this sorry excuse for a...something flick. (What genre is this movie, anyway? Action? Suspense? Thriller? Some random crap thrown together for no reason? I dunno. I really can't figure out what they were going for here.)
Actually, I lied. It was when I saw the 100% Puma tracksuit wardrobe.

Clones wear Puma all the time, without fail. If you see some guy walking down the street in a white Puma tracksuit, you know he's a clone. It's that simple. Simpler if he looks and sounds just like Ewan McGregor, but with the bitchiest, most unconvincing American accent and is hanging out with some butch-voiced blonde chick whose tracksuit is riding up her ass half the time.

Product-placement just gives subtlety a complete miss in this movie. Upon exiting the theatre, one is left with a stronger mental imprint of the name "NOKIA" (closed-up upon many a time, or whenever some one used a phone) than exactly why the clones need to be repeatedly denied bacon before their hearts can work properly. Or maybe that's just because the whole bit there was left utterly unexplained.
"Just because" is the best explanation you're going to get to do with anything in this film, despite so many obvious questions cropping up every five seconds or at least whenever any one started talking, especially poor Sean Bean. Why does he take on all these shitty roles? First "National Treasure", then "Ewan and Scarlett Run Around For a While". Each one a nail in my coffin. ;_;[/tangent]

The characters' level of awareness/ability to communicate/personalities are rather unstable, to say the least: Ewan goes from cynical and sarcastic to "Are these your friends? Where are their clothes?" in the blink of an eye and Scarlett...all she did was run around and yell a lot, so there wasn't much there to begin with.
Additionally, they go from being sweet-natured little children-in-adult-bodies to cage-fighters without any kind of warning. This whole bit had no real bearing on anything, when you get right down to it. We have some lovely conversation going, then POW!: Xbox logos everywhere. Everything is that ugly Microsoft-green hue.
Xbox, Xbox, Xbox. It's everywhere. One minute of pure Microsoft and then...and then...
It's over. Completely different scene, no one every speaks of poor Bill again.
Well, I lied again, actually: there's a sizable and obvious MSN logo on the side of a phone-booth in one scene. By this point, however, the whole movie is sort of a hazy mush of advertisements, so you don't really notice it that much.
We're treated to zooming-in on truck brand logos, of all things, for about half an hour, along with some delightfully ambiguous footage of things exploding and Scarlett hitting people with stuff.

Oh, and Ewan flies a motorcycle-thing (Sky-do?) through an office building, killing droves of innocent people, all in the name of liberating the clones, who were pretty fucking annoying, anyway.
He and Scarlett then proceed to survive a 70-story plunge, onto scaffolding that wasn't there before and be helped up by a cheerfully unfazed construction worker, who treats us to some vaguely sexist comments involving Jesus name used in a completely random fashion.

Ewan fights it out with Sean, hand-to-hand, then blows up some fans, and all the clones run free, tracksuits glimmering in the sunlight.

Charming.

Now what the fuck did I just spend four dollars for?

At least it was only four dollars, since I didn't feel like going to the Grande and seeing it in a theatre where I didn't have to injure my neck looking up at the screen/over the heads of those Asian guys playing with a cigarette lighter the whole time, while giggling incessantly.


On a completely different note, look at this. I drew it, my friend CGed it. (It was his idea, so he got the hard job. Ha.)
It's part of a short, angry comic strip, in which the guy on the far right (my friend) brutally murders every one, with a South Asian dagger that is based on a real one I've seen a few times.

See if you can tell which figure is me. -_-;

It's 4:30am and I'm not sleepy. But there's no one online right now, so I'm going to call it a morning. (I know people who have to wake up an hour and a half from now to get to work. Losers.)

Last time I stayed up this late early, I woke up at 8am, fully rested. O_o;;

My body clock is one fucked-up little bitch.

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Monday, July 25, 2005


Thanks to the cut of my bathing suit, I have a really obnoxious sunburn on part of my boob. I don't get why it's only on one boob, either. What the hell? It's pissing me off, regardless, especially since it's peeling. Bleh.

Yesterday, I said I was going to write an angry rant about something and, although I didn't receive any suggestions, I'm going to do just that.

Get ready for Godel's view on...


Affirmative Action
Just, what the fuck, man?


I don't know where to begin on this one. I really don't. It's just so full of holes.
To begin with, taking for granted that this here black guy, Joe, is going to be significantly worse off than this here white fellow, Jack, is pretty sad. Especially when you consider the huge number of white North Americans who can't afford to shop anywhere but Wal-Mart.
In fact, I'd reckon I know more well-to-do "ethnic" than white people.

So, say Joe grew up happily, owning 5 trillion video-games and wearing designer clothes from the age of twelve. He's a studious guy, worked hard in school, got into his University of choice, graduated with flying colours, and applied for a job.
Jack, on the other hand, was born in a trailer park, and had to save up all the money he made from a shitload of unpleasant, low-paying jobs to even get into a University at all. He worked just as hard as Joe, maybe even went to the same school as him. Maybe they were friends.
They graduated with the same average, got into the same University, and did just as well as each other. Then, they both applied for the same job, but--oh no!--there was only one position available.
No hard feelings, they figured the better man would win.

But there is no better man, because Joe's black, meaning he gets the job, even though he doesn't need it half as much as Jack does and even though he wouldn't be any better at it.

AA, as far as I know, and I've read up on it a bit, doesn't take into account your social status. If Joe is pretty much working for a hobby, he'll get the job over Jack, who has been eating cat food for the past month, because of his skin colour.
Uh...hello?

If we're going to introduce OK'd forms of discrimination, shouldn't they at least be, ironically enough, fair?


Then, there's the whole other side of the deal. Say Bobby, a perfectly ordinary, well-off white guy, applies for the same job as Suzy, a perfectly ordinary, not-so-well-off white girl.
Suzy gets the job and Bobby, not harboring any particular feelings of malice, inquires as to why he didn't get the job, hoping to use the information to improve himself. Or, he asks, was it just that they saw Suzy needed the job significantly more? He wouldn't mind that.
However, he's thrown an arbitrary curve-ball:

"Oh, there's nothing wrong with you, it's just that your a man."

Now, I'm all for burning men just for having testicles, but that's just plain mean. And what's worse is that it would be the only true answer to his inquiries.

What if they'd declined Suzy's application because she was a woman? Methinks she, along with 90% of people around would be none-too-happy. They'd probably fire the well-meaning Bobby and hire her instead, just well...because!!

What if some one told you you weren't hired because you were of ______ race? Would that make you feel all bubbly inside, like you were helping close the wage-gap or help along equality? Not unless you were fucking stupid.
You'd throw a fit. I'd throw a fit. Everybody would, or at least ought to.

Shoot me, but I don't see how it's any fairer to be poked in the eye on account of being French, as oppose to Korean.


This whole deal is reminiscent of the BOARD OF EDUCATION's recent attempts to introduce a system of determining whether race is a factor in performance in school. They wanted to be able to know which areas of the city to "pay more attention to".
Because race has everything to do with it. Because it's inconceivable for those Chinese guys with the expensive cars they always drive up and down the street really fast in, while smoking, who're still living in their mom's house, to live mere meters away from me. In-con-fricking-ceivable.
Those Indian people who said they like my mum's garden, who just had a baby, could never live just up the street. It just doesn't work that way. o_o!!!

Instead of taking into account that all the white, black, asian, and whatever else kids failing particularly badly all live in a series of run-down row-homes full of weed and graffiti, they look at Jimmy Ho, who's been wearing the same grubby jeans and t-shirt all year, and see he's failing everything, then assume that Jessica Fong, who never wears anything twice in a month, must be, too, because they're both Chinese.

Brilliant. Bloody fucking brilliant.


Then, there's the Law of Employers, stating that of course they're all WASPy racists who are never going to hire a single non-white in their lifetime.
And if they were, do you really think they'd let good ol' AA get in the way of their jackassery? Really? Are you that fucking stupid?

And if you train new employers, who aren't biased at all regarding this, to give two craps about the race of their employees...how is that going to solve anything?
It's like that one episode of South Park, where Eric throws a rock at Timmy because he called him a fat-ass and gets arrested for committing a hate-crime.


What happens when that one decade repeats itself, only more-so, and none of the white folk have jobs?
A Savage Hypocrisy indeed. *rolls eyes*


What's more, ignoring all this, I'd feel pretty ill-at-ease if I was only hired because I was white or a woman or whatever. I'd also be pretty super-pissed.

At least nobody gives two shits around here, for the most part.

Homogeneous = suck.

For now.

We'll all be beige, eventually. End.



I feel like it wasn't angry/coherent enough. I'm out of practice.
There's stuff I actually want to rant about, but it's too private for here. IRL people come here sometimes.

Tch.

Perhaps I'll go the way of the Azure, eventually.

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To be back to civilization is nice, although I am still bobbing--at least in my head--as though I were on the boat.
Boats. Don't talk to me about boats. You'd think I'd be used to living on one, after just over a year, total, of doing so. Every summer, I get stuck on a series of boats with my family, who cannot get along for shit. And damn. You'd think they'd be used to it, too, you know...having lived in the same house for, well, ever, in my sister and mine case.
But no. Every one's always bitching, all the time. Jesus. =_=

I'm kind of sleepy right now, and looking forward to a nice, comfy bed, unlike the one on the boat, so I'm not too coherent. I haven't been for a while. A few weeks. I need to find something to get really super pissed about. Something that just makes me want to claw out their eyes and feed them to them, you know? (Them being whoever I get super pissed at, naturally.)


Right now, I am just kind of irritated at summer's tendency to make every one busier than they usually are during the school/work year. No one's ever around to take advantage of the holidays. >: /

I don't understand it. People are so eager to get away from their homes, they never explore the place they live.
This city is nice and big and full of cool stuff, but all I ever get to do when I think I might have a chance to enjoy it is be carted off to some backwater, exclusively white, village, where there is nothing to do. Grr.

Went to a Cambodian restaurant there. Asian restaurants tend to have more non-white people. We were almost a minority, and it felt a little like home. Which was nice.
We got home and went to get a pizza and were the only white people in there. Felt at ease again.


Inexplicably sleepy. Can't form proper sentences. Blah. Coherency can wait a few hours. Then, I'll make a nice, long, angry rant about something.
Give me some controversial topics. Anything. I'll tell you just what I think of them, your face, and whatever else. I dare you.


For now...sleep.

*curls up and naps for a long time*

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Sunday, July 17, 2005


My cat keeps trying to run away. I don't get what his problem is. He expects us to feed him 24/7, then darts out the door as soon as my little sister forgets to close it, even though he always just ends up whimpering and crying to come back in.
The last time he was outside for an extended period of time (before we got him), he got the crap beaten out of him by another cat, picked up a crapload of fleas, and generally had a tough time of it all.
My cat is kind of a schizo, though, to begin with, so eh.

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Friday, July 15, 2005


[Quote=Toronto Star]
But more than anything, the Harry Potter generation is plot-driven. They want to find out what happens to their hero. "The cliff-hanger ending nags at me," says 17-year-old Danny Brown, a sunny, rugby-playing student with a 94 per cent average who's going to the University of Toronto on several academic scholarships. "I've been trying to imagine what happens."
His interest in the books has changed over the years. "As a younger child, the fantasy appealed to me. You're not always happy at school, and you can imagine a wizarding school and fantastical creatures. Now the appeal is the actual story, the struggle between good and evil, how wizarding government works, seeing how they interact with Muggles, how they set up their bank accounts — where the bankers are goblins — then you set up your own bank account. Is Rowling making some commentary on banking?"
[/Quote]

This is just too funny, for reasons I doubt any of you will really comprehend. Because it would be crazily weird if you did.


"Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" is awesome.

I still really don't feel like making a big post or anything. Lately, I've been feeling social, for whatever reason.

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Monday, July 11, 2005


Bwaaaaarg.

I don't feel like making a real post right now.

I'm too happy. Tch.

Also, I got a funny hat, which has been distracting me for the past while.

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Wednesday, July 6, 2005


"No! You can't fucking charge from five feet away!"

"I'm putting all my skill points into Knowledge: everything! : D"

"Lizforkas?"

"This is my human familiar. His name is Kiki and he probably gives me, like, a +2 to initiative or something, seeing as he's naked all the time. Or in a pretty dress. Either one."

"It's a magical crossbow. Twice the size of a regular crossbow. It shoots vorpal rainbows...maybe."

I really have jackshit to post about right now. -.-

Just try and guess what I've been doing for the past three days or whatever, based on the above quotations.

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Tuesday, July 5, 2005


: 3
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Friday, July 1, 2005


I don't get religion. I really don't. Hell, I don't even get faith. Or maybe it's just the people who buy into religion who I don't get. The people who, for some reason or another, believe it all, when, really, it's all very unbelievable, in the most literal sense of the word.

Every time some one asks me how I cope with "being alone in the universe" or "not having a reason to live" or some equally eyebrow-raising BS, I can't help wonder where they got the idea that I am having trouble coping with anything, let alone some of the most irrelevant, abstract things that don't really apply to life at all. At all. It's like they figure that, just because I don't have myself convinced that, once I die, if I'm a good girl, I'll go to some poofy place where there's an unlimited supply of Root Beer and sex just kind of isn't, I have no goals or any reason to have goals.

Even when not being addressed personally, it pisses me off. When some old white folks on TV go on about how, "The atheists need guidance," or, "The atheists want to take God out of our schools," (Which we've already accomplished, for the most part, thank God. [smirk]) I feel like breaking their ovaries/balls in. Also, it makes me laugh, because of the way they refer to atheists. It's like we're some misguided little child with his pockets stuffed full of sand-box sand, who runs around kicking his classmates just because he thinks he's better than them. (Which, perhaps, is an apt enough description, minus the misguided part.) And the entire "we" part of it just confuses me, to no end. It's like they're so convinced that everybody's just gotta have a religion, even THE ATHEISTS must have their own religion, only it constitutes absolutely nothing. Or, better yet, it constitutes Taking God Out of the Schools.

Once, a religious friend of mine said to me, in a voice that expressed genuine concern, "But, you should go to Church, in case there is a god! That way, you'll have all your bases covered." If there was any possibility of there being a god, I would have considered it. If I found it remotely possible that I will have some semblance of consciousness after I freaking die, maybe I'd have agreed with her on that. But there isn't and I don't and it, quite frankly, pissed me the hell off.

It's this attitude of, "Don't worry; you'll be okay! You just need to find God. You're lost," that gets to me, along with this disbelief that I could possibly get by in life without being convinced Jesus or whoever was hovering around, watching over sheep or whatever he's supposed to do. I mean, Jesus was a great guy, don't get me wrong: it's just that he died. He had nails stuck through him and he suffocated to death, via crucifixion. It was a sad thing, but it happened. And, somehow, I'm crazy for thinking that maybe, just maybe, he didn't come back to life.

Personally, I've always seen religion as a sort of cop-out. If you can't figure out exactly what's going on, there's no way it could be unmagical or just too complex for modern science to tackle. It's like using a computer your whole life, but never bothering to find out how it works and assuming there are little fairies inside the monitor, all running around madly so their different coloured uniforms will form the images on the screen. Or, better yet, it's like is never climbing to the top of the mountain to discover the river that has been feeding your family for generations is actually the run-off from a large amount of melting snow.

It seems ridiculous to use these examples now, but it's simply a matter of perspective. Thousands of years ago, people had no real understanding of how anything worked. They attributed most of it to gods: disease, weather, eye-colour, the works. They thought sticking pigs and other things upon spears and then burning them would make good things happen because it would please the gods. Because they didn't understand.

And we don't understand most things. The world we live in is still largely a mystery, when it comes to how everything fits together. But this isn't an excuse to attribute it to some divine power governing things. If anything, it's a reason to completely throw away any belief that some sort of divine power might exist: we've gained so much knowledge and achieved so much as a species, its only natural for us to continue learning, until we understand at least a great deal of It All. Until the sun burns out and we all die, of course, and our seething minds are ground to a halt. (Ten points if you can name the reference.)

When I say I can believe in God as readily as I can believe in fairies, the Great Pumpkin, or the Easter Bunny, it's not out of being misguided or blind or contemptuous, it's out of simply following what I've learned since I was little:

-the Sandman doesn't exist
-Santa Claus doesn't exist
-the Great Pumpkin was basically a rip-off of Santa Claus
-the Easter Bunny? What the hell?

I was told, at some point, that each of them existed, with the exception of TGP, but realized that believing as much was...well, how could I? It didn't make a lick of sense.

And so, when people say, "Don't worry--Jesus still loves you," or that I'm taking God out of schools or that I simply do not have the will to get out of bed each morning, I glance at them but briefly and say, "That's lovely dear," all the while thinking about how I think it'd be cool to have a bisexual boyfriend, since we could go around taking candid photos of hot guys (and girls) together.

So shut up...


...please.




That said, happy Canada day. : )

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Wednesday, June 29, 2005


I miss the snow.

Because there is something altogether charming about having to wear a ski-jacket, over a sweater, over a turtleneck before going outside. There is something profoundly endearing about wearing two pairs of socks and earmuffs over your toque, all the while being entirely thankful you remembered it was going to go down an extra ten degrees today and brought a scarf. And everybody dressed the same way, freezing in the same way, despite being covered in so many layers.

It's quiet in winter, because talking wastes calories needed to keep warm. People keep their heads down as they walk, hugging themselves, and no one minds being bumped into as much as they would have were it summer.

Because summer is, by far, the most uncivilized of seasons. Crime rates go up because air conditioners break, people collapse in the street. Every one's in a bad mood, nothing feels cozy any more. Being outside is about as enjoyable as a cooked noodle is crunchy. It's like some hideously rude person is breathing down your neck the whole while it takes you to dash between air-conditioned establishments.

And there's nothing to freaking do. God damn it! During the winter, being inside is just nice. Looking outside, everything is snow-covered and pretty and freezing and you're inside, not snow-covered, maybe kind of a little bit pretty, and not freezing. But in the summer? You look outside and think, "Fuck, no way in hell am I going out there." There's nothing artistic about it. It's just, "If I have to see one more housefly, I am going to scream and ship myself to Antarctica. Which brings me to another thing...the bugs.

I hate bugs and all other creepy crawlies, whatever they might be technically, based on their number of legs. There are a few exceptions to this rule, yes: butterflies, moths, ladybugs, spiders, crickets, bees and dragonflies. But bugs in general just suck. They're hideous, rude, blood-sucking, itch-causing, disgusting little creatures that I would gladly never lay eyes upon for the rest of my life. And, so, after years of being plagued by the little bastards, Something Wonderful has happened:



Electric. Fly-swatter.


My cousin's husband brought the thing over when he came to pick her up a few days ago. At first glance, it looked like some kind of kiddy tennis-racket, and I thought little of it. I mean, hey, the guy's got two kids: him having some toys lying around isn't inconceivable.

What it turned out to be was much more like him than anything else I could have thought of. My dad came inside, pointed to it--I was on the phone--and mouthed, "Don't touch the metal on this." I gave him a weird look, so he said, out loud this time, "It's an electric fly-swatter. The current runs through these metal wires and explodes bugs when you hit them with it."



Godel: o_o Friend on phone: Did I just hear something about exploding bugs?

I hadn't actually gotten around to swatting anything with the little gem 'til just a few minutes ago, so I was half surprised, half delighted, when the mosquito let off blue sparks for a split second, then fell, motionless, to the ground. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, I can't wait to find some more bugs.

I'm a bad person.


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