At the prodding of Ms. Schu, I will now blog. (She's like the guilty conscious in the back of my head that's come to life.)

Nothing of significiance to post lately, thus, the half assed poetry about boys, which, is so retarded now looking back on it that I'm about to delete it from history, except: that would be cheating. Once you blog, you can't go back. (Well, technically, you can, you just hit the delete button. But we're living in my world here, a world in which deleting already-published blog posts is not allowed. It's the "no takebacks" from 4th grade. It's that 2am drunken call you wish you hadn't made the morning after. But you did, and you have to live with it. It's done and its over with, and even though there's the "delete post" button staring you in the face, prompting you to hit it with your best shot, you ignore, and move on with your life. At least in my blog world...)

Moving on.

I am going to India.

That is a bold statement, is it not? :)

And let me just say that "Save as draft" is a loophole into the "no delete" rule. When you save, you are interrupted, but plan on coming back to the post later, at which time, you could delete the post if you so wish, no one would know; it has not yet made it into the internet void, its just dangling somewhere in the air, like that little string of skin attached to your baby teeth about to fall off. But I digress...

Usually, upon called to dinner by my mother, I would save this post as a draft and come back to it later. But somehow I know I will end up avoiding the bold statement I've stated above. I will now publish this post, send it out into the internet world, so that I can abide by my own blog rules and will HAVE TO come back to this subject at a later time.

I bid thee goodnight, and a happy 2006.



It's kinda a cliff hanger, is it not? Dun dun dun!!!

Cute boy.
Cute waiter boy?
Cute chef boy.
Cute boy who cooks
Cute boy who cooks looks good in black apron speaks fluent french.
Cute boy.

Let me just say that Breakfast Burritos may just be the most perfect food on earth. You've got cheese, potatos, eggs, salsa, beans, and some kind of meat all wrapped up in a tortilla. So potable...so handheld...so YUMMY. They're so great, that they deserve to be capitalized in writing.

Wait...deja vu....I feel like I've blogged about this exact same thing already...But who cares. If you haven't read that post, then it's new to you.

And since when did Jodie Foster speak fluent French??

Good god, I'm still at work...waiting for renders is no fun.

So this is Christmas...so the song goes. I have nothing of interest to comment about lately. Either that or I can't remember any. To my right sits six bottles of Orange Cream soda, to my left, the packet of pop rocks is humping my spiderman mousepad. I wonder if I combine my left and my right, what will happen? Some people may guess that I'll explode. I don't think I'll explode, I think my mouth would just hurt alot. I mean, since I don't drink carbonated drinks often, just drinking soda alone hurts my mouth sometimes. So just imagine it with some watermelon pop rocks. Wow. The pain...

I still have remnants of Heath Ledger on my mind from last night's Brokeback viewing. Kinda slow but very...oy whats the word...(no not "burn". That's a Little Mermaid reference for ya K)...passionate I guess.

Ok, renders are done...back to work.

In reply to my email informing the staff at This American Life about the injustice on The OC (mention in my Nov. 17th post):

"HI, we were aware and actually offered a free gift to people who visited our website after the show for a few days ...

All best,

~e"

Bummer...I did not visit their website after the show, and thus, did not get my free gift. She didn't even tell me what the free gift was!!! Why didn't I even think to visit the website? Sheesh kabobs.

Good god, Santa sings!

Or should I say, holy jesus?

Not only does Santa sing, Santa sings in spanish! Santa stopped his picture taking amidst a long line of children, and proceeded to sing Feliz Navidad, while the instrumental music blasted on the speakers. I was so disgusted that I had to push my way through the crowd to get out ASAP. Whatever happened to the good ol days when you tell santa what you want, and then you get pushed down a huge slide by some weird elves? Ok, so I never really waited in line for santa, and that slide thing probably only happened to little ralphie, but still, how does santa have time to fit in a song or two with all those children waiting for him?

The holidays are a weird time for me. Every year, I WANT to get into the spirit, but every year, it just gets a little further and further away from me. I can't stand the crowds anymore, the commercials, and the waiting..., and ESPECIALLY the singing by santa, who should really just sit in his chair and say his ho ho ho's. I try to do it with the music, but even with that, there are some songs that really annoy me.

Oy..the holidays...the joy.

fuck.

Rather than do the usual "event blogging" (as Ms. Schu calls it I think?) where a blog of everything that happened to me during this year's Thanksgiving festivities is produced, I've decided to base this entry on thoughts and inquiries and wonders alone. I'll save my events for next time, perhaps.

I'll let you all in on a little secret: I'm in love. With a Mr. A-Z. My silly school girl crush that developed when I saw him last has now evolved into an all out love fest. ALL OUT I say.

It's weird. The first time I saw him, I developed the same type of silly crush for a couple days, and went back to business as usual. Last year around the same time, I saw him again, and same thing. But this year I can't seem to shake him off.

What is it about a boy, his guitar, a silly backwards cap, and a dreamy voice that makes me swoon? I knew he was one of those girl charmers the first time I learned of him: freshman year Vis 70N, it was a production class. Our final: interview a celebrity. What kind of weird assignment is that? Where were we to find celebrities in the city of SD? But alas, my group interviewed Tiffany. Y'know, the 80's version of Britney and Lindsay. Well, actually, I didn't know. Had no idea who she was until I heard one of her songs. Could've Been? Ring any bells? Well, even to this day I still only know Mandy Moore's version. Anyways, I digress.

So, when it came time to screen everyone's interviews, I was intrigued by this group that had interviewed some sort of no-name-not-quite-made-it-yet musician who seemed to have his own huge following in SD. They followed this guy around, in his car, to his house, asking him questions along the way. One point in the interview, they even showed him surprising some girl at her own birthday party, sat down, picked up his guitar and sang to her right then and there. She swooned. (I would have too.)

"No fair" I thought. They've interviewed some guy that's not even famous! Even though I was intrigued throughout the whole interview, I still didn't think the group followed directions for the assignment...he just wasn't a celebrity! Me and my stupid principles.

To this day, I keep wondering...had I been in a different group...THAT group, the group that interviewed him, I would've met him. I would have sat in his car asking him questions for the assignment. I would have been in his house while he showed us his practice room. I would've been at the birthday party where he made girls swoon. I would have been able to have a conversation with him. Perhaps we would have become friends? Perhaps he was in desperate need of a professional whistler? Who knows, I might've been the one touring with him right now, instead of writing this blog. Actually, he blogs too, so maybe we would be blogging together, but separately. You get the gist.

So you see, our paths almost-not-quite crossed. I feel like we have some sort of history together, even though he doesn't know it, and I'm kinda forcing it.

Maybe one day I'll meet him. But it wouldn't have been the same had we met for that interview. Because now, I'm just a silly fan with a silly crush. What would I say to him if I were to meet him tomorrow? Hey, love your music, your words, your voice, you? Nah, he gets that all the time.

I'd love to sit him down for just an hour with some coffee...and perhaps some apple pie, we'd chat and just shoot the shit. We could talk music, or not. We might learn that we both find the idea of pie very strange, but just can't resist the french apple kind, especially if its a la mode. We'd become great friends, I'd be invited to all the shows, even the ones in dublin. He'd soon realize that he has a professional whistler right under his nose so why isn't he using her to maximum capacity? I'd mull over the opportunity to tour with his band, just like I mull over everything else fantastic that happens in my life (why should he be any different right?). I'd weigh the pros and cons, and come to the decision that, aside from my fascination for anything livable and mobile ie, RVs, planes, trains, large tour busses, etc, that yes, I would rather like to tour with him and his band across the world.

And that, my dear reader, is what I think about amidst hours upon hours of holiday traffic.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? #003

I can't believe this! The OC has betrayed me!! (the show, not the county...at least not yet.)

Why would The OC hurt me like this? They made a reference to my favorite radio show of all time, This American Life, and then totally bagged on it. It's like...unwrapping a gift, and then immediately throwing it into the trash. That's what it's like.

"Is that the show where they make boring people interesting?" For real? I can't believe... One of the writers there must have something against Ira Glass. I wonder if he knows. I wonder if he watched the show tonight and cried. Well, probably not. Ira probably wouldn't be caught watching such a show. (or maybe he would?) But why would they do such a thing? I mean...to even refer to it, the way they've done with other hot topics in popular culture...is TAL suppose to be grateful that The OC is bringing attention to their show? Only to be made fun of by the cuter and cooler couple of The OC? Geez.

Good grief Charlie Brown. What kind of monster has television become?????????

Starting today, I will begin a series of investigative blogs called, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? Entries will delve into the moronic and idiotic people, places, and things that I happen to come across throughout the day. And now, ladies and gentlemen,

ARE YOU KIDDING ME? #001

UPN News in Los Angeles...is it really "news"? Or just a clever covered up version of shows like Hardcopy and Entertainment Tonight in disguise?

Tonight, I happened to catch my first UPN News broadcast. Their opening act was a string of short 10 second clips featuring what will be covered on their upcoming news broadcast. I can't remember all the clips right now, I just remember thinking, "This is the news??"

ARE YOU KIDDING ME??

Second act: The broadcast begins.
They begin their top story with, not the bombing in Jordan that killed 50+ people, not Arnold and his failed propositions, but with Paris Hilton. PARIS HILTON??

Are you kidding me?

The story is as follows: The paparazzi follow Paris and her boyfriend and friends out of a Hollywood nightclub into their beamer, or porsche, or whatever crazy expensive car, and while trying to get away, the boyfriend rams his car into the back of a truck, then speeds away. Minutes later, they are stopped by police, and Paris is shown getting back into the car with her friends, saying to the cop as she walked away, "Thank you! I love the police!" All this, of course, is caught on paparrazi cameras. So, UPN investigates, shows a police deputy the tape, and asks whether Paris and her friends got special treatment, because they were obviously not sober. The story continues with the deputy sticking up for the cops, and blah blah blah. This story lasted, SERIOUSLY, for about 4-5 minutes. This might not seem like a long time, but just keep in mind, most news stories (live coverage not included) lasts about 1-2minutes...if they're lucky. Paris got 4, and was considered the top story on the 11pm news. Ugh.

Second story, which lasted another 3 minutes, was about 50cent's new movie, and the controversy surrounding it. Really now, is this real news? Hosted by a really hot anchor woman who once hosted "So you think you can dance?" This is why Hollywood gets such a bad rep I tell ya. I guess there's no need to miss the awful news in San Diego, I can just tune in to UPN News at 11.

As disappointing as his albums may be, Jason Mraz ALWAYS puts on an awesome live show. Just awesome. Plus he really knows how to make da ladies swoon. That really comes in handy when you're a rock star. When I become a rock star, I'm going to make the boys, the girls, AND yo mama swoon. I don't know how yet though, I need to find my schtick. Everyone's got a schtick. Jason's got his hat. Plus he's just really cute. No matter how geeky he is. THAT could be his schtick too. I thought the whole geek thing was just an act, yknow, I thought that doing the whole self proclaimed geek thing actually makes you cooler, thus making you not so much a geek. But it turns out he really IS a geek. It's like reverse reverse reverse psychology....or something like that.

Oh! I think I just found my schtick. But I'll have to keep it underwraps til after my rockstar-dom.

Rock on,
Rock out,
Just ROCK.

I just realized that you can't have coffee when you're pregnant. This realization came from learning that you can't have caffeine while pregnant.

WHAT?!

Which doctor made that rule? I'm sure fetuses (pl: feti?) need a little jump start to their mornings too. It can get a little *yawn* in that position after a while, yknow? They just need a little kick, just like the rest of us. I'm currently reliving the "No coffee" number from How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying in my head. Aw...I miss the musical. Just like I will miss coffee...

No, that won't do at all.

On an unrelated topic, I think my bladder has shrunk. Every morning at 5am, like clockwork, I'll have to get up and pee. This didn't happen before! I used to be able to sleep a solid 8 hours without having to get up and pee. It really messes with my sleep, having to get up for those 3 minutes. I'm in the REM cycle, I'm out to pee, I'm back in the cycle, and I already have to wake up. I blame my bladder for my time at the NIKE run this year. If I didn't have to pee everytime I started running, I probably would have made a better time. Which is what I'm telling myself for losing steve. Ha. But it's true steve.

In closing: I'm on a mission...the specifics of which will be revealed at a later date.

God, I'm so glad I have my blog to vent about all the small annoyances in life that really don't matter, since people half way around the world are homeless and freezing in their non-existent homes...

Ahem.

1. Halloween. What happened to this beloved day? I used to love this day, now its just filled with stress. Stress over the strange need to dress up, possibly due to the need to re-live some sort of childhood memory that half exists in my head. Stress over the need to be something not too boring or over done, yet creative and recognizable at the same time, AND, not TOO slutty, but just slutty enough.

Ok, who am I kidding, I can't even pull off slutty.

2. Myspace. Everytime I sign on I'm reminded of why I signed off the last time. And yes, I'm a big hypocrite.

3. The growing need to look up more and more words like "hypocrite" on dictionary.com because it seems as though I'm losing my spelling abilities. I used to be the best speller ever...in 5th grade. Now I'm reduced to looking up words online and getting a correct spelling within 2 seconds or less, instead of flipping through thousands of delicate thin pages for a word I wasn't really sure how to spell in the first place. Now how will I ever learn this way?

4. Boys. The whole lot of them. 'Nuff said.

5. My current state of my apartment, and the spiders that have decided to fill it.

6. Holiday specific wares. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, Valentines Day, whatever holiday, you name it, there's a decorative plate or something or the other for it. Who's buying this stuff? And worse yet, who's making it? Don't they know they're just increasing the clutter that exists in the world? How many sets of plates does one household of 4 really need? I can just go on and on about the kinds of unecessary and useless junk I see at stores like Linens and Things or BBB. I can go on, but for the sake of my blood pressure, I'll let it go...this time. I'll save my rant on the stuff in stores like that for later.


So, these are some of the things that annoy me right now. These are things that make me want to pull my hair, stamp my feet, scream and whine, and throw a tantrum like barbaric children. Oh yea,

7. Barbaric children who throw tantrums in stores you can't avoid. Like the grocery store.

I could throw a tantrum for all the things that annoy me right now, but no one's here to watch me, and really, isn't that the whole point of a tantrum, is to have someone around to throw it at? Otherwise, you'd throw one, and it would just land splat on the ground, with nobody but you to pick up the mess.

Which is why, dear blog, I have you.

Jess is back!

If even for only an episode, he's back nonetheless. And even though I think his days are up on this show, I'll gladly take some of him, than none at all.

I've finally finished Pride and Prejudice. The ending was a bit of a blur due to poor planning on my part. You see, I had to quickly finish the last ten chapters in an hour before it turned into an overdue book (again!), and I was not about to have yet another library fine (seeing how I already incurred some the day before). So, I tried to find another copy of it at the library so that I could check it out and finish the ending at my leisure at home, but to no avail. Alas, it was nowhere to be found. I then had to sit myself down and finish the last chapters in a hurry thinking that the library closed at 8, though I later found out it really closes at 9. In any case, Elizabeth does finally agree to take Mr. Darcy's hand afterall (gee, I didn't see that coming), and everyone is happy and all is well.

Except for me.

I now find myself conjecturing throughout the course of a day, fancying phrases like, "utmost care" or "urging earnestly." This is what happens when you read Austen. I should read more books with expletives for fuck's sake.

:)

Oh great. I'm a plagiarizer!

But can one be guilty of such a thing when one didn't even know that the thing to be plagiarized exists? I feel like my blog about nice was copied straight out of the ES script. Except they copied me. But did it first. And put it in a movie. Of course I had to blog about it second. I'm always late when it comes to this stuff.

Sigh...

Well, what else can I do, right? Just call me Clementine...

My orchestra has a concert coming up on Saturday.

There. Now when people ask me, "Why didn't you tell me?" I can tell them that I told the whole world, to which they can reply: But I don't read your blogs.

Ha ha... suckas!

Bruckman, I don't get it. By your story left on my blog, are you saying I don't have a personality? Or that it's not developed enough? Were you mocking my contempt for nice? Or was it more of a social commentary on something or the other that has just totally flown over my head? I just don't get it. And what's this about applying personality in a paste? How do I get in on that?

In any case...

I'm beginning to develop a fetish for denim butt pockets. I've never really noticed til now, but the decor of the butt pocket on denim jeans I must say, are just the greatest accent to something already so wonderful: jeans. I've never been much of a butt person, nor do I intend to become one, butt, I'll be on the lookout for butts more so now...for those wonderful butt pockets.

I do miss my butt slapping wars with the roommates though...where's a butt to slap when you need one?

Penny for my thoughts?

Are thoughts only worth a penny? If that's so, I can sell all of Daily Banterings for a good $5.00, which leaves me with $1.45 in profits. I can take that money, invest in a second blog, and see where we go from there. I'm moving up in the world, I tell ya.

Man, a breakfast burrito from Pepe's sure sounds good right now. If there was only a Pepe's around here.

I had no idea the Burbank fires were getting so bad. I know that the heat is the cause of the fires, but I wonder if the fires are the cause of the heat, too?

So what does it mean to be "nice" anyways? Aren't people generally "nice"? It seems like it would take a lot of work to be mean, so out of pure laziness, don't people have more of an inclination towards what is nice, rather than what is not? That said, what does it mean to be nice these days? Has nice lost its meaning? (If not, it probably will after you read this paragraph. If not after that, just repeat the word 10 times.)

Everything now is categorized as "nice." That girl is nice. That boy is nice. You know what else is nice? A set of matching candle holders from Bed Bath and Beyond. Why does one like the other? Because they are nice. Everything is just nice. Nice almost seems too easy. If all you are is nice, well great, but then what? Nice doesn't explain who you are or describe what he is. Maryann and Ginger were both nice, but they were different in many ways. I don't want to be nice anymore. I don't want you to be nice anymore. We are more than just a pair of candle holders. I demand more, and you should expect more.

Remember that school house rock song? Well come on people, start unpacking those adjectives!



Came home from camping last spring.
Saw people, places and things.
We barely had arrived,
Friends asked us to describe
The people, places and every last thing.
So we unpacked our adjectives.

I unpacked "frustrating" first.
Reached in and found the word "worst."
Then I picked "soggy" and
Next I picked "foggy" and
Then I was ready to tell them my tale,
'cause I'd unpacked my adjectives.

Adjectives are words you use to really describe things,
Handy words to carry around.
Days are sunny or they're rainy
Boys are dumb or else they're brainy
Adjectives can show you which way.

Adjectives are often used to help us compare things
To say how thin how fat how short how tall.
Girls who are tall can get taller,
Boys who are small can get smaller,
Till one is the tallest
And one is the smallest of all.

We hiked along without care.
Then we ran into a bear!
He was a hairy bear!
He was a scary bear!
We beat a hasty retreat from his lair,
And described him with adjectives!

Whoah! Boy, that was one big, ugly bear!

You can even make adjectives out of the other parts of speech, like verbs or
nouns. All you have to do is tack on an ending, like "ic" or "ish" or "ary". For
example, this boy can grow up to be a huge man, but still have a boyish face.
"Boy" is a noun, but the ending "ish" makes it an adjective. "Boyish": that
describes the huge man's face. Get it?

Next time you go on a trip,
Remember this little tip:
The minute you get back,
They'll ask you this and that.
You can describe people, places and things.
Simply unpack your adjectives.
You can do it with adjectives.
Tell them about it with adjectives.
You can shout it with adjectives.

Burbank smells like a large BBQ.

Apparently the hills of Burbank want to join in on the fire fun too, so they've decided to go get themselves all burned up. I can't seem to take my eyes off the flames, they are so hypnotically mesmorizing. I teared up as I went to work this morning, not because of the white ash collecting on my recently washed car, but because white ash was attacking my eyes, and when you're biking, there's no windshield to protect you from such attacks.

Hmm...white ash...that sounds like a good band name. I call dibs.


Since I'm always late to rehearsals, I seem to have different stand partners each week. This week I sat in the back next to a friendly gal, and when I introduced myself, it went something like this:

Me: Hi, my name is Szu-Hua
Her: Su...?
Me: Su-Ha
Her (nods): Su ra
Me: no, SU-HA
Her: no, Su ra

Turns out, her name is pronounced Su-ra! We both realized our names sounded the same at the same, and had a jolly laugh about it. Ok, so I guess the whole story would be funnier if you had name issues growing up...
Whatever, you...........normal named person.

Sushi ain't so bad! I had "real" sushi tonight, with the seared tuna and the raw halibut and the raw spicy tuna and whatnot. I'm still trying to get used to the texture, but the taste isn't so bad.

Now I can finally join the rest of the asian race. Hooray!

Dear Readers,

Due to the lack of fresh ideas and new thoughts, the editor in chief here at DB will be on hiatus indeterminately until further notice.

Thank you.

Here's a new one:

Instead of Szu-Hua, I was greeted today with Alo-HUA! It's the perfect combination of hello and szu-hua in one, especially for those who are lazy, like me. Props to Fern for that one.

My friend is trying to set me up:

Not in the conspiratorial that-really-wasn't-MY-pot-in-my-locker...i-was-holding-it-for-Szu-Hua sort of way. (Ok not really...we didn't have lockers anyways.) More in the girl-works-with-cute-guy-decides-to-hook-up-guy-with-best-friend sort of way. Do people still do that anymore? Anyways, I'm sure these things always have with the best of intentions, but the cynic I am, I'm completely against these sorts of things.

Signs that I should take lessons:

While watching an incredibly crappy Hillary Duff movie (don't ask me why, this is just what happens when movies show up at your door), I wondered why one of the violin players reminded me so much of my old violin teacher. Why? Because it WAS my old violin teacher. What the heck is this guy doing in a movie? In a Hillary Duff movie, no less, and! on top of that, a CRAPPY Hillary Duff movie. Maybe it wasn't him, it was just a vision of him that my head conjured up to push me to take my lessons. Hmm...ok, not really. Maybe he was making a statement to old students like me: "if you practice, you too can be in a Hillary Duff movie." If that's the case, can I trade Hillary Duff in for Sarah Jessica Parker?

10 Reasons why I need to retire my flip flops for the winter:

My toes. They get cold easily. And when they get cold, my feet get cold. And when my feet get cold...it's over. But I'm not ready to put them away! How will people know I'm coming down the hall if they can't hear my flip flip flopping? I'm not ready to do the unthinkable, but for my toes, I must.

I'm in search of the perfect basket for my bike:

Now, before you start thinking flowers and ribbons and puppies, let me paint you a picture: Chrome. Wire. Shiny. None of that fru fru stuff. I'm talking more solid, good old Shiny Chrome Wire baskets. I've mentioned this to a few people already, all of whom have laughed at the idea. They suggested rear baskets, or even panniers. No way! My bike will not wear a fanny butt pack. It already has one. I'm talking Shiny. Chrome. Wire. Classic. That's right.

I couldn't decide which I wanted to read more: the article on SJP in my vogue, or whether Elizabeth will finally see through Mr. Darcy's admiration for her...so here I am instead.

Finally the people at Starbucks remember my name and order. TL % wm nw for Sue (sometimes Su). Is that so hard? And I've been going there for how long now? Come on people!

Oh, and here's a line I haven't yet heard used in conjunction with my name, other than the usual Su-Hahahaha, I'm gonna Sue you!, etc:

Man: Name?
Me: Su
Man: Su, are you a lawyer?
Me: 'scuse me?
Man: Are you a lawyer?
Me: Wah?
Man: Are you a lawyer?
Me: Huh? (long pause) No?
Man: Are you a lawyer? Y'know, cause you're name is Su.

Good god, dood needs to get some new material...and he thought he was so clever.


Right now Michael J. is telling me to "get on the floor" and dance with him. I'll have to oblige.

I have a liquid gelcap stuck in my throat. No amount of water I drink can make it go down. So now I can't go to bed, because the gravitational forces needed to pull a gelcap into your stomach will not work when one is horizontal. Now I wait.

















Perhaps I will wait while reading.

Day three.

Good god, its been three days, and I'm bored outta my mind. With the exception of the little blackout today, there's been no excitement. And I would hardly even call a blackout exciting. And what a day to call in sick...due to the blackout, everyone was sent home at 2:30. And then, to make matters worse, due to the blackout, everyone was partying by 4:30 at Wally's house just down the street. His call was like boredom punching me in the face. By 4:32 I could've been sitting poolside, sipping on whatever concoctions they would've handed me in this lovely fall weather. Instead, I sadly declined and went back to bed. The only time I went out today was to take out the trash and check on my power. That is not so fabulous.

In the meantime, I've began re-reading Pride and Prejudice since a new version of the film is coming out in November. It always amazes me that this book (or this author rather), written more than 200 years ago, can still relate to present day (minus all the fluffy language). I guess that at the core of it, love, relationships, and courtship still transcends time.

I've always wanted to use the word "transcend". Cool.

It's weird, due to my irratic sleeping pattern, I've been having odd dreams. Well, they're more like visions. I'll see myself having conversations with people, and I'll wake up and later wonder if it really happened, or if I just dreamed it. And currently, I'm still wondering about some of them...

Being sick is no fun.

I've read, watched my dvds, slept, played my guitar, got a tire alignment, and even signed on to myspace, only to realize, there's not much to do there. I'm on page 278 of an 800 page Vogue magazine. I spent the latter half of the afternoon with my G boys, Gaye and Green. I'm so utterly bored, but don't have the energy to be out and about. So here I am, blogging.

With nothing to blog about.

I'm in the mood to do something crazy...suggestions?

I never realized that cats really do eat mice. I thought it was just a cartoon thing. But this morning, as I opened my front door, there it was, laying on the pavement: a dead rat. Not only was it dead, it was bloody, covered in ants, and its stomach was gone. All I could see was its skinny skinless, fleshless, vertebrae bone. Quite a sight first thing in the morning, let me tell you.

So now I'm getting suspicious of the cats around here. They're always staring me down when I walk by them. I think its because of my bike...they're confused by this shiny two wheeled monster that I'm always walking around them, its nothing at all like dogs people walk. Neither I nor my neighbor that shares the same porch step have cats. So why would a cat drop off a dead rat in front of us? And plus, after I stopped staring at the dead carcus, I looked up and there was my neighbor's fat cat, and I swear, it was meowing AT me, like it was trying to communicate with me. I could very possibly be their next victim...

For now, I'm the victim of tiny invisible germs that have made its way into my body. I knew I didn't feel quite right this morning, I thought it was just from staring at a dead rat for too long (it was actually rather fascinating, as well as disgusting). But then my body started aching all over, and now I'm hot one minute and cold the next. Man, these germs know what they're doing. They invade on a Friday afternoon, and most likely will camp out all weekend, so instead of doing all the things I had planned for the weekend, I now have to entertain these germs in bed. Maybe this is what the cats are plotting. They get the germs to break me down first, so that they can attack me while I'm weak. One step out the door and I'm a gonner. If you don't hear from me, try looking for me on my porch step- bloody, half eaten, and covered with ants. And if you don't hear from me or see me on my porch step, the ants mostly likely got to me already. With the help from the spiders of course. They work in conjunction with each other.

I can't possibly go to bed right now.

I just had a deeply enlightning and interesting conversation with a friend about aliens and government conspiracies and the moon landing not actually happening. However, now that I'm safely home, I'm a little freaked out. Did you know there are three different kinds of aliens? And the government knows about them? What if they come for me in my sleep?

I know it all sounds very silly, but my imagination likes to run wild after midnight. A little too wild. I am a bit freaked.

So now i'm going to blog happy thoughts:

Frosting on cupcakes and sideburns on cute boys
Bright yellow beetles and warm milk from soy
A nice pair of pants that fit me just right
These are the thoughts that'll keep me sleeping at night.

(It's working, it's working!)

A tall cup of starbucks or a small cup at CB
Watching pole dancing from my drunk gal sivie
Playing so loud that my ears actually ring
These are a few of my favorite things...

When the ghosts come, when the spiders crawl, when the aliens are there
I simply remember these favorite things
And then i don't feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel so scared!



Wow, that Julie Andrews really knows her shit. That really did the trick. No wonder she played two different nannies. And she looked hot in both movies. I can't decide which I prefer more, her as a bobbed hair blonde Frauline Maria or as a long brunette haired Mary Poppins. I'll take them both.

Now it's safe to go to bed!

Episode #0008: The older I get the less I know.

What a difference a day makes.

The day after labor day, I woke up, and it smelled different. It smelled like fall...like the first day of school, like new clothes and trapper keepers. Except I didn't have any new clothes to wear to work today, instead I opted for the fat jeans and the usual flip flops.

Sometimes going to work seems no different than going to school. You have your principals and your teachers that you have to watch out for, ie: the owner boss and your boss boss. Your co-workers are your fellow classmates. The lunch hour has turned into recess. The only difference is, there's no homework, and you stay late-not for detention, but to finish up work. Really, in the grand scheme of things, how far have I really come?

Something's come over me lately. I've been feeling this need to read and learn everything that's out there. Violin lessons aren't enough. There's so much more I want to learn. Guitar, yoga, languages, sewing, ballet, voice, ceramics, painting, taxes, and yes, even how to refinance a home. I just feel like I don't know enough about anything.

I'm like a packrat when I go to the library. I checkout more books than I can possibly read, and end up incurring fines for overdue books that I don't even get a chance to read. I go to the local barnes and noble and want to buy every book I touch. I have duplicates of books I've bought at the used bookstore that I had forgotten that I've bought. It's madness. And still, I feel like I can't read fast enough, absorb information quickly enough. Why is that?

I feel like a hungry baby that just needs to be fed with knowledge. Does that mean I should go back to school? I'm not patient enough for that right now. And I won't be able to stick with just one subject. There's just too many things I want to learn to stick with one, or two, or three.

I wish I was one of those 19th century upper class girls where all they had to do was take their lessons and be accomplished in them. If only that was my job: to learn different skills all the time. That would be awesome. Except I wouldn't get to wear those lovely puffy dresses. With gloves. ...Or would I....?

Maybe that's why, to answer your question, there is this resurgence in my blogging. No, that doesn't answer your question at all. It doesn't answer mine.

In any case, tomorrow I will undergo a special project I just thought of last night. It will be fantacular. Just like me.

An unexpected surprise awaited me on the way back to the valley tonight: a flat tire. It was as if my corolla was protesting the return to the valley. (My bike, on the other hand, would never throw such a tantrum.) I felt like such a useless girl as AAA came and changed my tire. Note to self: need to increase upper body strength. Time to pump some iron.

This weekend I had some really good chinese food back at the OC. Not the faux food that restaurants in Burbank or a certain Mr. PF Chang call "chinese food." I mean the REAL stuff. The good stuff.

John Williams at the Bowl was great. Although, not as exciting as my last two visits to the bowl, but still great nonetheless. One thing I noticed was how much John resembles the colonel from KFC. I wonder if anyone's ever told him that?

So after a culmination of things: a night at the bowl, the summer orchestra, the recent concert, an incredibly beautiful violin solo I heard on the radio, I've realized that I desperately want to become a better player. I know I have the potential, but no matter how much more I practice, I'll still need someone to guide me and coach me to play better. There's just so many things I still need to learn. So I've decided that I need to take lessons again. But with lessons comes commitment. I just don't know how much time I can devote to practicing everyweek to really take advantage of my lessons. But it's getting to the point where I'm yearning to play better. And I don't usually yearn for much...except maybe chocolate and ice cream.

In the mean time, until I figure out what to do with this lesson business, I'll just continue to play. The valley orch. begins the day after tomorrow, sooner than I realized. I thought I'd have a week or two to chill, but I think it's better this way. Once you get off track it's hard to get back on again.

My migraine returns, so its bedtime.

Goodnight blogworld.

Episode #0001 - "A New Beginning"

Cups of coffee this week: 0
# of falls this week: 0
Spiders killed: 5.5
Days biked to work: 5
# of DVD games completely out the door: 1!


Ok ok, so the week won't really be over until Sunday, but it's the work week that really counts anyways.

Today marks the end of a caffeine free week, for I will break that by rewarding myself with coffee in the morning. (C'mon, it's Saturday! Saturdays mornings are MEANT for coffee. Followed by Sunday mornings...) I think the only kinds of beverages I've had this week were water, soymilk, and tea. Although, I don't think water counts as a beverage. Water is just water. Oh no, but tea has caffeine! But well, I am chinese. I HAVE to drink tea. If I don't I'll be disrespecting great great ancestors somewhere, I'm sure. The coffee thing, I just wanted to see if I could do it. Now that I know I can go for a week without coffee, I'll probably still have coffee. I just wanted to see if I could do it. And I did, so hoorah.

The concert went well, I suppose. The thing about not having a stand partner is not having someone to turn your pages in critical situations. After a deadly page turn in the middle of a movement, I completely lost my place...for an entire page! I'm hoping people couldn't tell I was lost. Jyvonne was telling me today about an electronic screen that displays your music, and turns the pages with the press of a foot pedal. Now that's something that would have come in handy on Wednesday! There was a great turnout for Jyvonne and I, thanks to the Cannerians and friends and family, but it wasn't close to full. I did find out however, that there is an orchestra that rehearses at that very hall during the year on Mondays. It would be alot closer than Valley College, but somehow, I feel like I should stick with Valley College. I want to stay with the oboe guy and the flute lady. They're such incredible musicians. I still have some time to decide.

That's all for tonight. Tomorrow, I'm spending an evening with John Williams at the Hollywood Bowl, followed by fireworks!

Stay Tuned...

My current migraine messes with my head, and leads me to think illogically.

The logical thing to do would be to go to bed and sleep it off. But if I were thinking logically, I wouldn't be having this headache, and thus, be having the need to sleep it off. Anyway to sleep now, so early and so hot in the evening is unthinkable. Instead, my illogical ways of thinking have led me to

1)Paint 10 toenails
2)Eat one (1) fudgcicle
3)Skim through a book
4)Play 3 songs on my guitar
5)Consider practicing for the concert
6)Not return some necessary phone calls
7)Re-consider the consideration for practicing due to head pounding
8)Begin a blog entry

And after all that including continuous head pounding, its still not late enough to go to bed.

So tomorrow's the big night: Concert night. It seems as though alot of people may show up. Even Sheila and Harley, my neighbors that always talk to me forever about cats and JFK might show up. It's gonna be one jammin party...if people don't fall asleep. I'm a little nervous since I do feel unprepared. But it's all for fun anyways right?

Sometimes I wish I were a comedy writer. Then I'd get more traffic to my blog. And I'd be writing for fabulous shows like Sex and the City (which is coming this Fall to the WB by the way...hooray!). But maybe...just maybe, I can write for my own show.

It would be called: Bikes and the Valley. Not as glamourous, but just as fabulous. I can be the topic of my own show, and write about a writer who Blogs about writing shows. Intead of Carrie Bradshaw's shoes and Mr. Big as her weakness, a nice pair of pants and a good cup of coffee will be my vice. (Speaking of pants, Emily had on a fantastic pair of jeans on today. Fantastic.)

Oh boy. This is going to be a good show. I can feel it. Oh yea, and I'm calling dibs on the title of Bikes and the Valley, trademarks and copyrights and whatnot, so I better not see this show on TV in the future! (Unless I'm co-writing it of course. And the role of myself is played by Sandra Oh. Even though she's korean and I'm chinese...no, that won't do... I wonder if Ellen plays a good chinese. They do wonders with makeup these days. She's a comedian, the show would practically write itself then. Plus I can use all the help from her soaring ratings on her own show. PLUS! her show tapes in Burbank, she can just dance her way down the street to my apartment, we'd go over ideas for the next installment of Bikes in the Valley, and she can have me as a guest on her show to promote my own show! This is going to work out fan-tabulously.)

This will be great. Oh yes.

# of falls within the past two weeks:
SH: 2
The World: 0

Ha. Take that world!

*********

It's too hot and I can't sleep. So I've decided to blog instead.

May I just say how much I love Wallace and Grommit. We're working on the movie's website at work, and I get to see bits from the movie, which looks hilarious. Sexual innuendos up the wazoo! They're everywhere. Robert doesn't believe me, but oh, they're in there. It comes out Oct 7th. Who's with me?

I like the fact that I keep a blog. I can go back and read about events that I may have forgotten about, like things from college. But with it being so public, sometimes I can't write about the more private issues. Which I guess is where a journal comes in. But really, who writes manually anymore?

I can't continue this entry anymore. It's getting to that point where I'm just writing for the sake of writing. Plus my knee is killing me. So I guess I'll go to bed. I wish it wasn't so hot.

Yesterday I spent half an hour just staring out my window spying on my neighbor's cat. He was doing backflips on the walkway. Left...and then right, and then back left again...and then...wait...wait...back to the right! He could've just been trying to scratch his back, who knows. But it was fascinating.

This reminds me of the days back in Apt 15 when we'd used to watch Monty in his tank. Especially when finals and papers and midterms came around. During those times, he was especially fascinating to watch. He'd climb up on his rock, and then jump off of it, letting the water safely float him down. It was as if he knew that we had to study and write papers, and so would seduce us even more by giving us quite the show. Who knew crayfish could be such the tease?

I'm not a huge fan of cats seeing how I'm allergic to them, but there have been a few that have caught my eye. If I wasn't so allergic, I would definitely have a cat. In fact, I'd probably steal my neighbor's cat. There are about 10 altogether in our complex, but only this one I was watching would I steal. He's just adorable. I think he can sense that I like him. If I leave my door open, he'll have the audacity to open the screen door with one paw, walk in, and sit on my couch. He's done it several times. And sometimes I'll catch him lounging on my doormat when I come home from work. Sometimes cats are just like little kids. They're just as cute, but don't talk back or ask endless questions.

I think I will give myself the title of "The NON-CAT cat lady."

I even have a large brimmed hat.

J'aime practiquer mon francais. C'est une langue tres belle. Quelquefois, j'aime faire semblant que je suis Jean Seberg, de la film, A bout de souffle. J'ai des cheveux courts, comme elle. Mais, elle est plus jolie avec ses cheveux courts. Et, je n'ai pas une robe fantastique de Dior. Bouf.

Mais, j'aime faire semblant que je suis une etudiant de New York, et j'aide une homme qui a tuer la police, et qui je ne sais pas si j'aime.

Et quand je veux, je marche dans les rues de Paris pour vendre des copies de le Harold Tribune. (Sans une robe de Dior.)

For some reason, I'm really fond of trees.

I was in my car stopped at a stoplight the other day, turned my head to look out my window, and what did I see? A perfect tree in all its beauty. It was just standing there, so perfectly tree-like. Yea, there were some other trees next to it, but they weren't as perfect as this one. If only I could collect trees. I've seen some really nice ones that I've wished I could keep. But I guess their beauty, is not just for me, it's for all to see.


I'm also fond of a good pair of pants.

Couple things to blog about before I leave tonight:

1. DO NOT go see Broken Flowers. Just got back from the movie, and it's not worth it. Even if you think you love Bill Murray.

2. Monday, January 10th, 2005. Upon re-reading this entry I realized that I've done it. I'm no longer Winona Ryder. I can no longer say "I don't know" because I'm doing what I know. Or at least, "going through the necessary steps to get there." Have I put myself in a corner by giving a definite answer? Well, I have. Literally. (No really, I sit in the corner now. :-) Apparently, guys don't get the "nobody puts baby in the corner" line. I tried using that on the boys, and not one of them got the joke, or knew what I was talking about. And suddenly, Emily walks in, I tell her I'm sitting in the corner, and automatically she says, "Nobody puts baby in the corner!" I guess it's a girl thing.) I feel good about my decision so far, but still a little awkward and out of place. I'm sure as with everything, adjusting takes time.

C. I did it. I'm now on myspace, with picture and all. Well...okay ok, so I couldn't actually sit through the entire process of filling out my profile, but at least I've half assed it. Half ass is better than no ass, right? So there.

I didn't mean to offend anyone with the last blog, all I meant to say was that I've succumbed to the idea of an internet community. After this post, I'm going straight to create my Myspace Profile. (And let's face it, I can promote this blog, and my concert coming up. Who knows, I may become the next Myspace whore.)

Okay okay okay.

What is up with this myspace business? I can't rag on it too much because several of you who read this actually log on quite regularly. Yea, you know who you are.

Oh, but if you weren't reading this, the nasty things I would say about myspace. And the whole idea of things like myspace. I was on friendster back when it was still around (is it still around?). I vowed not to join until I got inundated with emails from people wanting me to join as their friend. Now, I don't have many friends mind you, so to be inundated with emails rather intrigued me. Back then I didn't want to join, but still they broke me down.

Even now, I still don't want to join. But I hear it everywhere. Myspace this, myspace that. Sivie is always showing me something on HERspace. Apparently, Ms. Parker blogs on hers. I think I signed up a while ago and forgot about it, and never used it to its full potential. I guess myspace is the place to be.

So, once again, I'm succumbing to the many evils of the internet:

*Junkmail/Spam
*Forwarding emails withing 10 minutes of receiving it if I didn't want to die
*Popup ads
*Friendster.com
*"Register now for your free (fill in the blank)"
*Musical birthday ecards
*The email that screams if you stare at it too long (pure evil...)
*Ticketmaster.com
and finally,
*Myspace.com

See you all on the dark side. May the force be with me.

I can't remember what I came to blog about. It was going to be something good...

In any case, I finally found the nerve to speak up and talk to my favorite oboe guy. Leonid, to be exact. Actually, we never introduced each other, we just talked about whether or not we got our notices in the mail yet from the other orchestra. Neither one of us have. But, I finally got to say what I've been wanting to say to him for the longest time: I love your playing, it always sounds beautiful. It feels good to get that out. I just felt like he had to know. I think he appreciated it.

So I lost my rehearsal space at work. We have this great sound room at work that I've been practicing in, but it recently got rented out, so I'm out of a space. Today I was practicing in my office when suddenly I hear the main door open and shut. I figure, if they want to, they'll come poke their head in to say hello. So I keep practicing. And who of all people pokes their head through the door? None other than THE BIG BOSS. Boy, was I embarrased. Why, you ask? I'm not really sure, but I was just embarrassed. I'm sure the owner of the company wasn't expecting anyone at work, much less, anyone practicing in one of his offices. Oh well. C'est la vie.

Oh yes, I just remembered what I came to blog about: Dreams. Isn't it strange how you can have such strong feelings and emotions in dreams? I can still remember how I felt in a dream from 5 years ago. I was about to die from driving off a freeway on ramp.

It's just so odd to me that our bodies can be lying perfect still in one world, yet our brain can be experiencing all sorts of things in another world. Last night I shot someone in the head and I saw part of their bloody caved-in head. Even now, typing out that sentence, I can still feel this sense of horror and guilt at having shot this person, and knowing that she was going to die. However, last night I also met Save Ferris in person, and in that world, they were supposedly my favorite band of all time (which is weird because I haven't listened to a Save Ferris song in how long??). I was ecstatic to be meeting them.

These are just words: horror, guilt, ecstatic. But what I felt from last night's dream was way beyond what language is capable of describing. How is it possible for us to have these emotions in our dreams if we've never experienced these emotions in real life?

I don't know what it's like to shoot someone, but I sure did last night. How does my brain know how to feel if it's not really happening? Are dreams some sort of loophole in the matrix of things? How do I know that I'm not dreaming right now, and in fact, I really shot someone in real life last night? Or maybe dreams are when we unplug out of the matrix? I've gotta watch that movie again...

I just read this from a fellow blogger and had to share it with the rest of you...

"I came home one day last week and I wanted a cookie. And not just any kind of cookie. A Keebler Fudge Shoppe Grasshopper. For the uninformed, a Grasshopper is a mint cookie dipped in chocolate and 'made with the generous help of Elfin Magic.' And if Grasshopper cookies are any indication of the general benevolence of elves, then I must make it a point to meet more elves: invite elves over for dinner, pay for a classified add that reads, 'SWM seeks elf,' or maybe open up my own elf recreation center. Whatever it takes, I must find a way to bring more elves into my life. Because Grasshoppers are delicious, maybe even the most appetizing thing baked in a tree."

Geez.

Had to endure yet another phone call from my mother who thinks I have no life. (But I had some Al Green on in the background so it wasn't as bad...he was backing me up with his sexiness.) She seems to know more about the online dating scene than I do. So I go to the site and just cringe at the sheer annoyance I get from reading people's bios.

Adrian from SF says he is "financially stable, mentally mature, energetic, cute..." etc etc and blah blah shit.

Everything is relative, isn't it? What's the standard he's comparing himself to? Just because he thinks he's mentally mature doesn't mean I don't think he's mentally retarded just by reading his retarded bio. I mean, good for him that he has enough self esteem to think he's cute, but how does him thinking he's cute sell me on wanting to contact this dood? I'm sure I'm just as retarded by blogging about it, but boy, I hate these online things.

Excuse my slower than usual typing not that you can see me typing but I am currently typing with one hand as the other is holding a popsicle which my mouth is eating. Ok, done.

So the cemetary music is going just swell. I wish regular orchestra could be like summer orchestra! And plus, my favorite oboe guy just showed up this week! He's this small older gent with a cute European accent, and his oboe playing is just some of the most beautiful music I've ever heard. He always hits his notes right on, and his sound is just so sweet, listening to it is like drowning in sugar. He is that good.

I've actually been practicing (not as much as I should be, as always) and I'm getting a little better. I always feel really good after rehearsal, like I've accomplished some great feat. In fact, I wish I could be practicing right now, but it's late.

Goodnite blogworld.

How much do I love Amoeba? Let me count the ways...

Not only was I able to find all the recordings I needed, I was able to get 2 of them at used prices. Awesome!
I thought I would be lucky to find 1 recording, 2 at the most, but I was surprised to find all three Tchaikovsky recordings that the orchestra is playing.

This summer orchestra thing is off to a great start. Jyvonne from work joined with me. I love Jyvonne, she is like laughter in a bottle. She's awesome. So not only that, there's a few people from the regular orchestra, AND!, the conductor is cool...not like the other guy. Plus, we rehearse at a cemetary. How cool is that? Well, it's in a Hall on top of Forrest Lawn, the same cemetary that Marilyn Monroe is buried in. So, we're inside, which is not very cemetary like. It'd be cool if we could play outside though. I'm sure all the tombstones would appreciate it.

*****

I got a pedicure for the first time this weekend. The loofah rock thing...that kills me. It tickles my feet to death. So much so that I don't think I can go back. I was straining so hard to refrain from squirming in my seat. The lady thought she was hurting me. And then she was massaging my calves...that tickled too. I get the whole "being pampered" thing. I can see why people love it. I just don't know if i can do it again. I wonder why I'm so ticklish?

*****

I'm trying to get back into the whole running thing. I even have a shuffle now, and a cool arm band to stick it on. But, I just ran for the first time in months 2 days ago, and my legs are still sore from it. It hurts when I try to sit down. Boy, I suck. But Run Hit Wonder is coming up soon...in September! How will I ever be ready for the 5K?

Stay tuned...

Why is it that I feel slightly responsible for the disappearance of one blog, and the possible breakup of another? I'm sure both had nothing to do with me and my own disappearance, yet I can't help but wonder what would have happened had I kept in touch with my blog more.

Well dear friends. I'm trying to make my return. Sadly and wrongly, I've put my life on hold for the past two months on the account of work. What is this work, you wonder, that would keep me from a life, from my friends, from my beloved blog. Ah...it's so easy to ask such questions now. But once you are in the middle of a blizzard, it's hard to see out. I've had to put my tunnel vision on, in order to trudge through the snow. But things are getting better now, and winding down. So here I am.

I got a haircut. For a fresh start.

I went to New York. Finally, after all that talk. I even said hello to New Jersey. Hellooooo New Jersey!

I'm trying to get back into my music. But that's just frustration all around.

And now I'm trying to find the proper way to end this blog so that I may start out the next on a high note.

Good night.

Last night I saw Norm from Cheers, ironically in a bar where everyone knew his name. And then proceeded to have some delicious fish and chips served by a Ken doll look alike who will apparently, "Catch us on the flip side." Do people say that anymore?

Last night while brushing my teeth, I looked over and saw a slug beneath my bathroom window. A slug!! I've been telling this story to people, and they seemed to find it as odd as I did.

It was just there on a corner, slugging around with its two antennaes. So I got a paper towel from the kitchen and decided to flush it down then toilet. But then I saw it sluggin around in my paper towel, still alive, and I knew I couldn't do it. (Plus it was thick and fatty, half the size of my pinky!) So I took the slug outside, and left it on my doorstep, and watched it slowly slug away.

So long Bernard, may you never slug back again.

****
A couple weeks ago, while driving to work, I was turning right when I saw this guy in his car stopped at a light. Nothing unusual, right? Until he pulled out his NOODLES! The dude was eating noodles in his car! Now, I understand that with LA traffic, many people like to multitask in the car: have meetings on their cell phones, watch their DVDs, sing along with their music, and on many occasions, eat. All that I understand, but am not a big fan of. In fact, I am guilty of eating many meals in my car. But never have I had the audacity to eat NOODLES! That's crazy! But maybe I'm just not crazy enough. I can barely eat burritos in my car, and those things are hand held. Everything's wrapped up for you all nice and easy and I still have trouble with it.

But this guy had the chopsticks (or fork) and a bowl of noodles. Now that's multitasking. Noodles involve soup...often hot soup. Noodles involve two hands: one holding the bowl, one holding the utensil. This guy was eating noodles.

What's even more odd is that it was only 9am in the morning! Not that I'm dissing noodles for breakfast. I'm sure noodles are good at any time of day, just like breakfast is good for dinner. But the combination of eating noodles at 9 in the morning, in his CAR no less, just made the whole thing quite an unusual sight.

Mr Noodle Man, if you read this...HOLLA BACK.

Dear Readers and Friends,

I have returned, for a brief period in time. Things have been busy in my life, to say the least. However, I am taking a moment to return to my blog, its been neglected and now its getting dusty.

First things first, they have CDs at the library to check out. Sure, I've known about this for a while now, but it's always been the same old thing: operas, classical music, jazz, and the like. Don't get me wrong, I love those three types, but after a while it gets a bit old. However, I recently checked out Justin Timberlake's solo album. Who knew the library was this hip? Not me. I didn't get a chance to peruse the rest of the library collection, but knowing that JT is in the mix is good enough for me to want to go back.

Second of all, TV shows on DVD is great until you start believing you live the life on screen. Whoever decided to put seasons upon seasons of TV shows on DVD must be rolling in money. It's the greatest thing ever: you watch your favorite shows when you want, without the commercial interruptions. No longer do you schedule your life around your favorite shows, you dictate when you want to watch them. Everything is just fine and dandy until you start feeling like you don't get enough in one episode. You have to watch two, or three...or even four. What makes it worse are those damn cliff hangers. You're always thinking, "After this episode, I'll go to bed." But no! Those cliff hangers make you want more, they make you stay up and watch the next episode until whatever the current issue is gets resolved. What are there, like, seven to eight episodes on one disc? Three or more discs in one season? Before you know it, you're up at three am like a zombie trying to figure out why Carrie and Mr. Big had to break up again.

As much as you hate those commercial interruptions, they just might be the best thing for you to keep you sane. It breaks up the drama of a show, giving you doses of our materialistic and capitalistic society in 3 to 4 minute blocks. One minute you're watching Jennifer Garner kick some dude's ass, the next minute you're learning how Celebrex can help change your life, despite the unpleasant side effects (which, is another blog on its own). These doses of reality keep you in check, reminding you that even though Sydney works in Los Angeles, and just because you happen to work and live in Los Angeles and have driven by the same places that she's kicked ass at, you are NOT Sydney Bristow. And when the hour is up, you go back to living your life as a channel changer, not an FBI agent, no matter how much you think you can kick ass according to next week's previews. Especially with those costumes. That's hot.

In the DVD world, it's not so easy to separate life from fantasy. There are no commercial breaks spoon feeding you doses of reality. You're not waiting for an entire week to find out what happens, thriving on 30 second previews throughout the week. (And even then, those previews can be VERY misleading at times...especially on FOX.) In the DVD world, you're on your own. Theres nothing to stop you. Before you know it, you think you're a master ass kicker, even though you've really been the master of sitting on your ass for the last few hours. Or, you're wondering when Big will come back from Paris to sweep you off your feet.

Thus, the question is, "Is TV on DVD the greatest thing in the world? Or is it best to let the networks dictate when you watch your favorite shows?"

In the end, you're typing in front of the computer, watching the words form as you type, asking big open ended questions, pretending to be a hotshot columnist with an obsession for fashion and shoes.

Oh how I wish I had curly hair.

Yesterday on the radio they were making fun of Nicole Kidman because she's afraid of butterflies.

All this time, I thought I was the only one!

There's just something about butterflies that doesn't sit right with me. They just give off a very evil sort of presence, but it's hidden behind their pretty little wings. It's kinda like how bugs are attracted to the zapper. The light seems so alluring, so beautiful, but once you get up closer, ZAP! You're dead. It's just like a butterfly. They seem so pretty, fluttering hither and thither. But once they attack,

ZAP! You're dead.

Ok, so it's not really like that. But it's kinda like that.

I like to feel as though I'm ahead of the game. I'm on to their butterfly secrets. I know them for what they really are: pure evil, while the rest of the world is completely oblivious, drawing them with crayon and tattooing their images on the body. But I know better.

And what about the ones with the eyes on their wings. Ew, creepy. Especially when there's a swarm of them on the trees. If I ever get caught in a butterfly storm, I think I would seriously start crying, in sheer terror.

AMEN.

Whoa! What is going on?

I feel like my blog woke up this morning and decided to recruit itself some readers. So this is what happens when you leave a blog alone for a couple days. I guess my wish of going national/international came true!

But really, how did my audience jump from 3 to 13? I still can't figure out that part. However, I'm enjoying the comments, thanks! I am quite confused, but so very appreciative.

That aside, let's get down to business.

Things I've learned over the past week:

1. Blanket covers are not called blanket covers.
Apparently, they are called "duvets." And no, not just "duvets," it's not that simple. Being a derivative of French, the word "duvet" has the fancy French pronunciation: Du-vay. Never again will I make that mistake, Ms. Aisle Number 6: Bedding. Thanks for saving me from a lifetime of embarrasment.

2. "No cuts, no butts, no coconuts."
I knew better in 4th grade. Cutting in line back then was a big no no. I forgot that very important lesson last night at the grocery store. I met up with Mitch there, and by the time we got in line, I realized I only had 2 items, while he had....a basket full. So I cut in front of him. Later, he informed me that the checkout lady told him he was a special customer who won a $10 gift certificate. It could've been mine, had I not cut in line.
Let this be a very important lesson to all of us.

3. You may not have control over certain situations, but you have control over how you react to them."
I definitely agree, but it's still something I need to work on. I tend to overanalyze and overreact in certain situations, causing myself unnecessary stress, and giving myself unnecessary grief when I should really just move on.


There you go. Three things I've learned this week, which I am now passing along to you.

May you learn from my ignorance.

And yes, I do wear a helmet.

When will this impetuous rain ever stop?

The rain is creating havoc in socal. For instance:

Today it took me an hour to get to work. My car and I were moving at the speed of a mule. I blame the rain.
Today it smelled like a dead rat in the women's bathroom. Don't ask me how I know what dead rats smell like. I blame the rain.
A few minutes ago, there was a loud gunshot like noise near my apartment. Everyone got out to figure out what it was. Our community of single apartments bonded over a gunshot that turned out to be just a transformer blowing up. I blame the rain.
My socks are wet. I blame the rain.
I can't ride my bike. I blame the rain.

I think the rain can hear my blogging, because it just started pouring like mad. Alright alright!! I didn't mean it!!

****
I've been watching movies. Eternal Sunshine and Life Aquatic come to mind. They're different. I like them. It's been a while since I've really enjoyed a movie. That makes me wonder...at school I majored in film. I came out here to be a part of films. And somehow I ended up where I am.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I enjoy my job. I love the people I work with. I feel lucky to even have the kind of job I have. There's really not much for me to complain about. But every once in a while, I start thinking about why I'm doing what I'm doing, and what I want to do. Oh that dreaded question. "What do you want to do?" It's been haunting me ever since highschool. I was hoping by the time I graduated I would know the answer to that question. Well, I do know the answer, I guess I was hoping I would know a different one. The answer is: I DON'T KNOW.

It's like the opening scene in Reality Bites where Winona Ryder is making her speech and she loses her note cards, and her answer to this big question was: I don't know. And the whole crowd cheered for her for having such a wonderful answer to such an important question. Well, where's my cheering section, dammit? Everytime I'm asked that question, and I answer with "I don't know," I'm always secretly hoping for some magical crowd in a corner ready to burst into a standing ovation. And then I can walk across the stage, receive my diploma, throw my hat in the air, and go make out with Ethan Hawk.

So much for that.

In life, the "I don't know" answer always makes me sound incompetent and maybe even a little ditzy. The real answer to them is, "If I knew what I wanted to be doing, I'd be doing it. Or at least going through the necessary steps to get there." Is it so bad that I don't know what I want to be doing? Why would I want to put myself in a corner by giving a definite answer to that question if I want to do and experience everything? There's just so much out there.

But I guess there is a reason behind asking the question. I'm guilty of it myself from time to time. People need direction. Some sort of road map. And answering that dreaded question puts you closer on the map. Or something like that.

One day, I'd still like to become a professional whistler... No one would take me seriously if that was my answer to that dreaded question. But I could either be the next Gwen Stefani (of the whistling world), or I can get sick of it after a month. Who knows? Who ever knows what will happen? So why answer such big questions?

This blog blows.

Holy Cow.

I had no idea Alias was this good. Why didn't anyone tell me sooner? I've already missed what, 2, 3 seasons? Not only is it action packed and engaging, Jennifer Garner is always dressing up in really hot costumes. Boy am I late on this bandwagon.

In other news, I forgot I had 13 going on 30 added to my queue, and it just came today, so I get to watch more Jennifer Garner!

All my plans to take my blog international have now been upstaged by somebody else. Tonight, I'll cry myself to sleep.

I'm obsessed with looking for funiture on craigslist. I need a couch. My apartment is in a constant state of ambiguity due to a lack of furniture. Well, let me correct that, a lack of the proper furniture. I'm at odds with the apartment that is missing a solid foundation with which to begin a proper relationship; that is, a couch. Does my tv go on this wall or that? Depends on where the couch goes. Does my bookshelf go on this side or that? Depends on the couch. What will be the theme/color of my living room? Depends on the color of the couch. So many things are dependent on this couch i don't have.

And the fact that I just blogged a whole paragraph on my materialistic needs while thousands of people are without homes on the other side of the world puts me to shame....Must find a proper charity to donate some money to...

Is it just me, or is it everyone? I'm having trouble enjoying certain things these past few days. Sometimes i'll forget, but every once in a while, I'll remember, and feel guilty for enjoying something while thousands of people can't.

Less complaining, more appreciating.

Alas, it is once again, the new year. A time when people reminisce on the past year, make resolutions for the coming year, and all that bullshit. Well, since you didn't ask for it, here it is, my

TOP TEN SNIPPETS FROM BLOGS OF 2004:

January 19, 2004
In reference to canceling free cable:
"So goodbye, Real World San Diego. Now I'll never know the ways to party it up down there. Goodbye queer guys, oh how i'll miss you and your gay ways. Goodbye Carrie, and the rest of the girls, whom I never got to catch up with during this short time of cable bliss. And soon you and your sex will be gone forever, perhaps only to be rented out at the local video store in chronological seasons. Goodbye MTV music videos all day everyday. My love for you is like whoa."

April 13, 2004
"So i was at the bookstore with steve the other day buying a magazine when the lady handed me my change. I quickly glanced at my quarters and saw that in my pile of change, i had a michigan! And stupidly i yelled out "MICHIGAN!" a little too loudly only to realize too late that i'm suppose to be yelling out stuff like this INSIDE my head, not outside. The lady chuckled at me, i tried to make a joke of it, and was quickly escorted out by steve, who, being the good sport he is, is still my friend despite my embarrassing outbursts."

July 26, 2004
"Are real nerds ever really aware that they're a nerd? My theory is, if you have enough awareness of your nerdiness, then you are aware of your actions. To me, there are several levels of nerdiness, and a real nerd is one that is not aware of how others perceive them. Unless, you self-proclaim yourself to be one in order to fit in with the counter culture folks. Y'know, those who wish to be unconventional and unorthodox in their ways. So if you realize you are a nerd, maybe you're really not a nerd? But if you are a nerd, and you want to counter those who go out of their way to be unconventional, then aren't you really just plain conventional? In one word...normal?"

August 19, 2004
"Isn't it ironic that my initials, SH, coincide with the same initials as Straight Hood? Coincidence? I think not."

August 22, 2004
ALL OF IT

August 23, 2004
"My car, my lovely white corolla with the noise in the back, my place for solitude and safe haven is now SUFFOCATING ME to death with its scent. Everytime i get in my car i'm reminded that it has a new smell. And it's ok for the first 10 minutes or so when i first get in the car. After that, i start getting a headache! I'll either have to roll my windows down, or turn on the ac, but both just makes me cold. While innocent in name and intentions, i do believe this baby powder scent will be the death of me. As much as i love baby powder, whatever that poser scent is in my car is suffocating me, and perhaps i should've gone for the new car smell. I can't even cruise the right way now that i'm so nauseated by this baby powder. Damn you baby powder! I shake my fist at thee!"

August 31, 2004
"People should know when they serve desserts a la mode, that the pastry to ice cream ratio should be equal, if not include more ice cream. Yet, theres always only one scoop of ice cream. What's up with that? Especially if you're sharing...that brings your ice cream ratio down 50%. You would think that it would also bring the pastry ratio down 50%, but for some reason, it just doesn't seem to work that way. So when you're sharing, like we were last night, you just don't get as much ice cream as there should be with such a dessert. I just think people generally like their dessert with more ice cream than pastry. Am i right?"

September 7, 2004
"I once heard someone somewhere say that they really enjoy a nice pair of pants. Perhaps it was in a movie. I'm not really sure where i heard it, but when i did, i felt like i couldn't agree more with another person on a statement. Abortion, religion, politics, these are all things i can get in debates about for hours on end. But enjoying a nice pair of pants? To that i can't say anything more than "Amen, brotha."'

September 21, 2004
"Today i realized i've been with my blog for over three years now. (Don't tell my blog, but i think we're getting serious.) We don't see each other all the time, just when i feel like it, which i think is a nice balance in this sort of relationship. But i'm starting to get a little too attached. Sometimes i blog in my head when i don't have a computer around. (Especially in traffic.) And i tell myself to remember my headblogging but i usually never do. I always come back to this blog. So even when i try to cheat on my blog i can't actually go through with it. I think this is that time in the relationship when that darn four letter word enters the relationship...

i BLOG you."

September 30, 2004
"Orchestra is cool because its the only place you can say "ritard" without offending anyone."

"I'd like to end tonight by reminding you of an old saying in Tennessee, i know its in Texas...probably in Tennessee: " Blog me once, good for you. Blog me twice...great for me."