Tuesday, November 23, 2004

You're a girl--or maybe a wagon--filled up with pancakes...
'G' is the lonliest letter. No, really. Look at your Friends list, and see how many people's names start with 'G', 'side from old Godel. Not very many--hell, on most lists, I am the only person whose name starts avec un 'G'.
'S', however, seems to be very popular. You've got Sammiechan, Sara, Shin, Setzer, SasukeUchiha.

Just noticed is all.

Oh, and, additionally, stick this banner up if you feel like it, and if it applies to you:



If you direct link it, it'll probably go down in a month or so, because ImageTown tends to do that to people who are too lazy to register, and too lazy to find a better image hosting location.

As far as I know, Vince has it up, and Azure-jiji said he'd get around to it. Therefore, through the bandwagon marketing strategy, very popular throughout Asia, I shall make every one feel like they have to put that banner up, in order to belong. Because, you know, the guys in my Male Harem are pretty cool dudes.

Which brings me pointing out that it was the toothpaste thing that happened at my school.
Some one actually bothered to use toothpaste to cover the walls in death threats. Christ, humanity is pathetic some most of the time. *rolls eyes in a very deliberate manner*

Wore my new, wool sweater to school today and lived to regret it, seeing as it made me terribly itchy. Gave me rashes and whatnot, and the worst part is...the fibers from the sweater got all over my nice, red shirt, so, now, that's making me all itchy and crap, too.

*kills some stuff*

You just can't win in this old world of ours, can you? That ought to be something everyone can relate to. Every one on the whole goddam planet. (I'm starting to talk like Holden Caulfield. Woo.) No matter where you're born, how much money you have, what race you are, whatever, you just can't win, even if it's over something as meaningless as a new sweater being itchy as hell.

My geography teacher was wearing one of our schools cheap-as-hell gym t-shirts, today. We gave him hell to do with it, since you simply do not wear your t-shirt after gym class (It is expected that, instead of merely shedding all garb, which would be easier, you change into a different set of clothes, incidentally.), and you simply do not go to gym class, even, if your shirt does not have your name on it.
At the begining of class, he looked over at my desk and said, in a rather confused tone, "[mon vrai nom], you have...birds...on your desk." Because I did. I had two Siamese (according to Samm, at least) birds sitting on my desk, happy as can be. Their names happen to be Jaque (the pretty one) and Pier (without the 'E', and my sister has mutilated that poor bird). Most people think they're exactly the same bird, since they're both Beanie Babies' Kuku and all, but, really, their totally different.
For instance, Pier's beak is empty: it isn't stuffed, I mean. Jaque's is full of stuffing, but old Pier's is just...empty. It flops about, and people are always stuffing it into his face in this unbelievably cruel fashion. I pity the poor bird, especially since my sister got brown marker on some of his head-fluff. Reminds me of how she drew "eyebrows" and "lipstick", in permanent, green marker, on this teddy bear my aunt gave me for my birthday, this one time. I was pissed as hell about that, I guarentee you--almost as pissed as when she "dropped" my Anne of Green Gables doll on the floor and it "broke by itself". Those were her exact words: I didn't break it. I just dropped it--it broke by itself.
My sister is one of those awful kids who's always whining about something. It really wears away my nerves, hearing her whine night and day. She wakes up in the middle of the night--or two in the morning, whatever--and starts screaming for my mom to come, because she's convinced some one is in the house, even though it's just her frigging hampster running on its frigging, goddam wheel, keeping me up until the wee hours of the morning.

Speaking of wee hours of the morning, I stayed up 'til two, this morning, finishing "The Catcher In the Rye." I was rather dissapointed to do with how little emphasis is put on the thought the title was derived from, wording-wise, though I think it fit the book perfectly, and really sends a strong message.

I love Holden Caulfield--he is one of the greatest characters I have ever read about, ever. He's so brilliant, but so depressed, and just feels worthless, but he doesn't mope around with people and doesn't bitch about how he's depressed all the time--not in a whiney, irksome way, at least.
It's a really sad book, in alot of ways. You've got this amazing person who just doesn't like anything around him, doesn't like himself too much, either.

Reminds me, somehow, of Suzy Park (hooray for generic names!) from Suki Kim's "The Interpreter," in alot of ways.
You should all go read that book. Awesome stuff.

...

Goddamit, some one just fucking called, then fucking hung up the fucking phone. I hate it when people do that--our phones are all broken, except for this really craptastic one that always puts you through an awful bit of static, so I have to sprint upstairs, to the kitchen every time it rings.

Bastard(s).

We're making allegedly-Greek pots in art class, and mine started out hideous, deformed, and, overall, the worst allegedly-Greek pot you've ever seen. However, I worked hard at it, and now people keep telling me, "Ooooh, that's so goooood..." like their having an orgasm or something.
I just choose to interpret that as a positive sign.

Which reminds me of this uber-intense video we watched in art class a while ago. Intense to do with the fact that the voice-over man was so involved in his lines. He spoke in this imposing, melodramatic voice, all about how, "Though we see the Greeks as an amazing, brilliant, revolutionary people, the inventors of Democracy, creators of amazing art works, we must not forget that they, too, fell victim to the influence of civil war, racism, sexism, and pornography." That's what he said. I swear to God, Stuart. I was laughing my ass off, and so were my friends who sit with me (our teacher never bothers to enforce the seating arrangements, bless her little heart), and once the movie was over, we were joking around about the intense voice-over man and his rediculous lines, when this girl comes over and says something along the lines of, "dud wtf pr0n iz narsty u r sick!!1111!!!112one!!" Only in more RL-ish phrasing.

As our good friend Holden would say, that killed me. Killed Tia and Yin, too. Also, Wendy, who sits at the other end of the room, yet listens in on, and contributes to, all our conversations.

I really ought to order a yearbook soon, before it really is too late. I mean, they claim they don't order extras, but every one knows that to be false, so lots of people, I imagine, bring their orders in late, simply because they're lazy bastards, like me, so I don't want to have to go without a yearbook, feeling all lousy, at the end of the year. I'd feel lousy because this is the last year I get to spend with my class, who I've known since I was younger than the sister I told you about just now. It's really depressing leaving people you've known for such a big part of your life.

We'll have to have a reunion or something, twenty years from now, and see how every one ended up. I plan to be in Japan by that point, but I'm sure I could make it back to see everybody one more time, if I had enough money.

Money. If When I get rich, I wont buy a huge-fucking-ass house with an indoor pool. I'll buy a nice-sized condo in Tokyo and fill it with all sorts of gadgets and TVs and radios and computers and whatnot, and it'll all fit together like a big jigsaw puzzle, and you wont know where you might find something next, as long as you were a guest.

I like that.
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