01~03~05 Jaysis. OH FIVE!!! New diary relocation - Just go to http://www.livejournal.com/users/stygmata already, eh? I'm talkin' to a completely uninterested crowd.

08~15~03 I’m going to sprinkle some Ballet Magic on you, kids! I like that big, bulgey –eyed look parents will give you when they’re shocked by your classroom ethics with their children. So I was teaching the toddler’s ballet class on Tuesday, and I know that this particular group can be very troublesome. It had been awhile since I was in the class, so what was I supposed to do to curb the over excited toddler-mentality? Well, Cameron taught me a trick that his studio uses for the baby ballets, and it really works! 1.) Tell the children, while also using mime, to take their voices out of their throat (similar to Ariel in Little Mermaid). Ask them to hold their voices up for me to see, and allow them to realise that they no longer have voices. 2.) Set imaginary boxes in front of each child, and tell them to place said voice into box. 3.) stuff boxes with tissue paper, then have each child close the box. I took this step a bit further, and had the children tape their boxes shut (ok, Tia… pass this *imaginary* tape to Lyzette after you seal your box!), then we tied it shut with a ribbon, then we used chains, and then I took my magic-ballerina key (isn’t it lame?) out of my imaginary pocket, locked all the boxes, and had each girl skip to the corner and place their box in the corner.

Oh ho, I’m not done yet… and this is what caused the bulgey eyes from the parents; I had the girls use imaginary shovels to bury the boxes deep, then I mimed putting up a fence around the corner, and THEN I stomped up and down on the “dirt pile”. Stepped out, locked “fence” door, and conducted my class. You know what? It worked! The little girls had so much fun lipsynching, pretending to talk, but not actually talking! Even my most demonic child was quiet through the whole class. Not only did I have a quiet and interesting class, but we also learned basic pantomime and used our imaginations. I feel like a big, purple, and green dinosaur now.

Also, I sprinkled “Ballet Magic” on the little girls. First, I mime very gracefully that I’m getting a big pot of “ballet magic” from the room. The girls might be wiggly or inattentive, whatever, and I’ll go and “sprinkle” said Ballet Magic on their heads. This causes them to magically turn into ballerinas, and to stand in 1st position, arms in brasbra. Whatever works. I think that the parents think I’m insane – “That little Asian girl looks kinda’ funny, she likes red eyeshadow. She hallucinates ballet magic.”

07~22~03 *plip!* don’t make me poke your eye out with my acrylic claws!

I gave myself 4 pink & white sculptured nails on my left hand. They look great, but I don’t see how anyone can function with a full set on. I’ll probably have to cut these talons down, I dunno. At least I have my thumb on the left hand free. It’s a real bitch to hit the “C” key on the keyboard. I’ve never been fond of acrylic nails, but at least I don’t have plastickey things glued on to the tips – anyway, these are self promotion so that I can advertise for myself. I can honestly say that I’m Thaddeus’ girliest girlfriend to date. Poor guy, he’s not used to having a girl with “peenk” flowers painted on her nails.

Had an interesting time while napping today. I was jarred awake in a most unpleasant way during a happy dream. In my dream, Thaddeus was kissing my face, but I noticed that the kisses felt kinda wet, and they were getting kinda rough – when I woke up, I found that not only was it not my boyfriend, but that it was my dog jabbing my face with his big black nose attempting to wake me up. His nose is huge, especially in forced perspective while groggy. My cute puppy, he was just trying to tell me that we had a house guest, 3 year old Mark. Mark is so loud, guh… he’s got to learn inside voices. Kid also has an affinity towards my piano. I adore bilingual kids like Mark. They practically form their own language, speaking in a non accent mixing the two languages they know. It’s so cute!

Besides that, nothin new today. Ditched school, slept a lot, listened to Thaddeus’ adventures in Hitman world, and just trying to survive in this heat. Oh, and I dropped a big jar of strawberry preserves on my foot accidentally – that really hurt. I’m such a klutz.

07~20~03 in retrospect...

07~20~03 Two all beef patties, pickles, lettuce, cheese!

I’ve been dwelling on weight a lot lately. I think that because there’s an obese girl in my class, it brings me to observe myself and others physically. So, yesterday was Kelly’s studio’s first recital, and I was able to assist with it. It was a lot of fun, but I couldn’t help but notice a few chunky little girls squeezed into ballet costumes and expected to dance with grace. Poor kids, if I were tubby, I wouldn’t want to be on stage in a see-all leotard, tights, and tutu. This brought me to tell Thaddeus about the scale I found in Kelly’s parent’s home. Spending all that time in their town, I decided to embark on a weight experiment – weigh myself before, directly after, and long after I ate. Am I being too obsessed? I really don’t have to worry about my weight, but it’s just fascinating. So the scale says I weigh 96lbs. before eating, 97 afterwards, and 96.5 long afterwards. That’s kinda disturbing to me, because it means that I’m retaining half a pound after each meal. I guess my metabolism is slowin’ down. If I keep retaining half a pound, in no time, I’ll be in the triple digits – and in no time after that, I’ll be a 125 lb. fatty!

Which brings me to another subject; my boyfriend’s weight is considered “ideal” on one of those ultra accurate scales. Mine is considered underweight (I don’t believe it though, since I’ve been the same weight for years). I had discussed with Thaddeus that we should have a 20 lb. limit. That is, when we’re together or married or whatever, we’d only allow ourselves to gain 20 extra pounds before we would start panicking and working out/dieting etc. He won’t be 200 pounds, and me… well, I gave myself a 30 lb. leeway, as I am a woman after all. My theory was that I should be allowed to have some extra padding, since women are naturally curvy and tend to have their weight distributed differently. Also, it’s cold on the East Coast, and I’ll need that layer of seal blubber to stay warm. So yeah, our deal is for him to not become 200lbs., and for me to not become a 125lb. fatass.

Surely if Thaddeus and I were to gain so much weight, we’d notice and stop ourselves. I sure hope so. There’s nothing I hate more than seeing a chunky girl eat. Fucking stop eating already!!! Oh, and what really burns is the soda that accompanies their meals – as if soda weren’t bad enough, they think that a 30 oz. “Diet” soda is going to help them out. Yeah, wash that triple cheeseburger down with a “Diet” soda. If that’s not oxymoronic, I don’t know what is. Gluttonous seacows. Look, I completely understand emotional eating; when I’m upset, I either have a tremendous appetite or no appetite. Most commonly I crave chocolates when I’m upset, but if I had a cottage cheese butt, I’m more than sure I’d eat carrots or something. Apple and lye maybe.

Having taken a nutrition class, I learned it’s really not so difficult to eat within the human boundaries. In fact, my friend Sarah McAllister lost quite a bit of weight just following her calorie requirements. Y’know, 60% of your calories should be from carbs, etc. I have a computer program that came with my book which taught us how much one should eat for their height, weight (or goal weight), B.M.I. or whatnot. Oh yeah, and fuck the Atkin’s diet. Thaddeus’ stepdad preaches the Atkin’s diet. You’d think that a chemist would realize the potential health hazards of Atkin’s diet. Eat a well balanced, varietous, and moderated meal – this means you, cheeky. Heh, my boyfriend calls me fatty sometimes, I rather think it’s cute. Maybe he’s tired of hearing me bitch about the fat girl in my class (she snacks on porkrinds all the time), so I came online and decided to type it up for the rest of the world to read. Maybe, like Cameron, my sense of weight is warped. Spending so much time with girls in black leotards and pink tights, staring at ourselves in the mirror, trying to defy gravity – it could warp my sense of normal weight. Maybe that fat girl in my class isn’t really that fat, but when she’s standing normally, the insides of her thighs touch. That’s gross. Okay Cameron, I guess I admit to being a part of society’s evil – Kate Moss rocks.

06~03~03

I've loved him since he's known the real meaning of love.

12~27~02 Anna's Ginger Thins If you happen to stumble upon this brand of cookies (Anna's ginger thins), buy em. They're so delicious! Crisp, light, thin, and shaped like cute flowers. "Swedish Product" it says. I feel so international.

Actually, speaking of international, I had a rather humbling experience today. My mom's back from Asia, and of course she brought back all sorts of mementos. I'm glad she's back to keep my dad company. I can't imagine him being home alone with no one but the dog to talk to. Y'know, living in the states can make you lose track that there are other countries and cultures out there. I feel pretty good about myself and my grasp of the English language, it's bound to make a girl feel smart when she knows that the "P" in Pneumonia is silent. So I'm reading through some home decor magazines my mom brought back from Thailand, and couldn't help but feel slightly stupid - I can't read Thai. I mean, I know that people can't be expected to know every language, but it sure sticks your ass back in place when you realise that you're an illiterate mofo in say... Sweden. At least I can kinda' sound out the letters when they use the romanized alphabet. Then I just look like a retarded monkey. Ook, ook.

When I was browsing the tomatos at the grocery store today (I took my time, I can't tell the difference between tomatos), some lady just approached me and said, "Oh my god! You are So skinny! Do you wear a size 1?"

She was very sweet, even though it was kind of odd that I'd just hamper her grocery shopping experience by being small-waisted. When she said that she loved the way I looked, I made an appointment with her to stop by my home studio for a colour consultation. She seemed pleased, but honestly, I was more pleased that a motherly looking lady thought I was eye candy. With my raccoon black eyeshadow and insultingly harlot-crimson lipstick, bitch-strapped motorcycle boots, I didn't think that a nice grandmother-type would be interested. Of course, being the size of an oompa loompa makes anyone approachable. So, in exchange for a cosmetic appointment, she taught me the difference between Roma tomatos, hot house, and cherry.

I want to open these star wars legos that I got for my darling. Grr, when I'm on the plane, it'll take a feat of self control to not just spill them out on my lunch tray and play "Vader vs. Storm Troopers! Rebellion breaks out in the empire!" Welp, I think I'll go finish off these cookies and have some crackers 'n cheese.

12~24~02 Happy Holidays, from Lexus of Santa Monica!

So this year’s xmas was about as meaningless as most xmas’s. People try to pretend that there’s some deep meaning to xmas, when we all know that it’s consumerism and greed at its greatest. Somehow, it turned from dirty, diseased, and desperate Christians prancing, speaking in tongues, and kissing baby Jesus’ white ass; to hardworking, decent, family folk kissing santa-dollah’s ass, singing in cryptic carols, and imaginary reindeer prancing on the rooftops. I guess that’s better than hearing Satan’s hooves on your shingles, eh? Jesus’ ass wasn’t even white if I do recall where the chap is really from. If xmas means giving, that’s all fine and good, but if you’re too bastardly to be kind on any other given day, why do you bother following the holiday hype? To look good? ‘Cause brother you sure look good in that new Abercrombie half zip pullover, and damn the picture sure looks good on that new flat screen TV.

I won’t fib, I wanted a lot of things for xmas this year. Some of them weren’t very feasible ($15,000,000.40 deposited into my acct. post haste), some of them I could just get for myself (Tulle lace overlay skirt at the Express and dress at Nordstroms) but I’d rather not, and then there’s the simple. There are the obvious presents that every girl wants, needs, and deserves. I want to be with my family, and I want to be with his family. I want to be with him. I need to be with him, and I miss him so much. As a kid, I’ve been used to being pretty disappointed with holidays, they were always pretentious or thrown together. I remember when we had our large home, and we always had our whole family come gather for a huge party there – there was the cash raffle, and somehow, my little brother Matthew always ended up with the jewelry box that contained the hundred bucks. Our tree was decked with coordinating ornaments, our fake fire burned brightly and merrily, and our trashy extended family brought us cheap gifts. I never really liked them – the parties that is. They were fun, but we always had to clean up in the end, and I never won more than $20 in the raffle. Selfish? Maybe.

Then there were the xmases we spent with just our family: Mom, Dad, Tan, Matt, and me. I really enjoyed those. Sure my parents were kinda depressed and unwilling to drag themselves out of bed because these xmases weren’t as beautiful and literally green as the ones before. The extended family was imitating our previous parties, and they probably don’t really want us there (weren’t doing a very good job of copying our parties anyway), our tree was no longer a sight to behold, and there was no chandelier hanging precariously o’er our heads. We don’t get a ton of xmas cards from Christians anymore, but hey, Lexus of Santa Monica and Beverly Hills sends us cards. Still, I liked that we stayed in our pjs, tore open our presents, and just spent a good ol’ time hanging out together as a family. It was nice taking the presents into my parent’s rooms and watching them unable to restrain their smiles. We didn’t have to pretend to like our relatives, we didn’t have to compare costs, we just had fun.

My best xmas ever was spent with Thaddeus. We sat on his bed and took turns tearing presents open, and laughing at each other. I kissed him for every present I got, and he seemed kinda’ shy whenever it was my turn to open a present. He really wanted nothing more than for me to be happy. I miss that xmas. I miss sitting on his lap with my face pressed against his. If the holiday’s supposed to be about love, kindness, and giving, then somebody please be kind enough to send me on over to Thaddeus (alive, happy, and well please). He deserves to be opening presents from me, in front of me. I deserve to be there, I really do.

Who fucking decided to give me a shitty xmas this year? Who? My mother’s in Thailand on business… Business!?! On Xmas day! My brothers and I don’t really get along too well anymore, my father’s depressed because my mom’s gone, and my boyfriend is on the other side of the coast getting cheap-shit presents from his ex girlfriend! Presents which he accepts. What is wrong with this picture? What, I ask, is so dreadfully wrong???

I’m trying to make things work, I really am, but no one sees it. No one cares. Close but no cigar? Yeah, I can try as hard as I can to leap over a 18 foot chasm, but if I only clear 17.5 feet, baby I’m gonna fall. So I guess I kind of do understand why my life and relationships are falling apart – no matter how hard I try, it doesn’t matter to the fuck next to you, close but no cigar, toots. I can’t please anyone else, I can’t even please myself. I’m prolonging the inevitable, I guess… but I really don’t think I am. I honestly believe that my family will eventually be completely dandy with me, and proud of me. I truly believe that my boyfriend and I will be together sometime, really together, not just visiting each other. Then again, I might just be delusional. Merry kiss’m’ass. If I can’t get what I want for xmas, then I guess I’ll just have to settle for a hydrochloric-cyanide cocktail.

12~20~02 Black Candles & Red Wine

Ever notice how concerned some people were with finding a group to belong in when they were in highschool? Did it make them feel superior, or just loved? People need an identity so badly that they have to label themselves and others too. I remember the first time I called myself "goth" in highschool. Daaaaamn am I still kicking myself in the ass for that one. The golden rule to being a "Being" is not admiting to being it. Make sense?

Anyway, that shit doesn't even matter anymore. Seems like when you're out in the normal real world, what matters is class, $$$$, and sometimes even religion. It's kind of like a sick hive-colony mentality that affects us on a greater scale as adults. At least it isn't as compressed and stupid as highschool kids who wear too much black and say shit like, "I hate preps" or "I hate jocks and they hate me". 'Cause sister, in the end it doesn't really matter what the hell you were. Not that it's up to "the man" or anything, but success and satisfaction is usually all self aspiration. That is, unless you're a Bush, Hilton, or Rockefeller.

Maybe I just had this after thought because here I am, planning a happy little gathering with my dearest friends. First there's DerSchreii (how industrially goth is that name?) with her drawn on eyebrows and 20 lb. black-buckled-stompy-boots. Then there's - TinkerKell the bouncey, curly blonde hair-blue eyed, childrens' cheerleading and gymnastics coach, who has a near obsessive fascination with the sexy disney-blonde Tinkerbell. Oh yeah, she's straight outta American Eagle and Abercrombie kids. If that offends you, choke down one of your uber gothique black candles. Don’t forget BlackOrchid. She’s one of those ultra zen girls who practices yoga, burns incense, makes sushi rice, and talks about meditation all the time - I mean, goddamn she's more asian than I am! Eyleen, who’s considerably older than all of us, she’s blacker than night (skin tone that is), and she’s a jaded Jazz Dance teacher who hasn’t had sex in a few years. Then there’s her friend Crystal, who missed her calling as the next Whitney Houston, and who doesn’t give a shit about men anymore. Last but not least, we'll throw in my friend Camiroquai, blonde, fixated with the 70's and old navy clothes, and takes ballet with me. Hm. A motley little crew, but hell it's bad enough that my adult life has to have those social restraints on them, much less making ridiculously discriminatory ones for myself. Fuck the clique ant-brained mentality, and you know what? Fuck status quo.

10~29~02 Pumpkins scream in the dead of night

This is Halloween.. and I think I'm gonna boycot it, even if it is one of my favourite holidays. Oh well, if I can't celebrate it with my Darling, I just won't celebrate it at all. My friend, Sylvia, invited me to a comfortable party. It sounded tempting, but I don't think I'll go. I love candy. Sylvia wants me to be a little bat. She even has purpley-black mesh wings for me! That's so sweet.

Speaking of bats - that leads me onto goths. I have a few dark-mistress-type acquaintances who're all models of the image. I feel like making a 'worship me' website too. They get cool things.

09~20~02

I've been pretty busy lately. I don't mind though, I enjoy being busy to a degree. As I probably mentioned before, I'm dancing 5 days a week, going to school at night, and doing what I can to keep myself entertained. The time's drawing near for me to relocate to the East. I'm anxious, and a bit nervous, but I love Thaddeus, and it isn't as if I don’t have any friends on that side either. I'll miss my dearest friends in California, but I'm sure that we'll always be close. Thank god for great cell phone plans.

I know that I'll miss my family most, but I have this weird feeling that everyone in my family is waiting for something to happen. I'm not sure for what, and if it necessarily involves me. My parents don't even want to stay in California anymore. Out of everyone in this family, I think that Bruce, Matthew, and I have the most love for California. Tan just needs to move out of the house. I know he thinks that a lot of the family's financial matters rest on him, but they don’t really anymore. My parents make more than enough to do well with just Matthew, Bruce, and themselves. I almost feel like once I leave to start my life with Thaddeus, that the rest of the family is going to break apart. I don't mean it in the negative way I wrote it either, I just didn't know how else to put it. If I leave, then perhaps Tan will get on with his life, and my parents can stop worrying and concentrating on three kids at once. I hope that Matthew takes care of Bruce.

God, I make it sound like I'm packing up tomorrow or something! I don't feel like talking about my bout of bad sleep, nightmares, and panic attacks, so Let's talk about dance again. No, my injuries aren't gone yet. I wish they were, but I'm doing well. In truth, I feel less awkward dancing, and I don't feel like I look so stupid in the mirror anymore. Wait, that's a lie; I still look dumb leaping around. I don't have enough coordination to do the proper leaps and jumps. I've made a significant improvement since I started though. Eyleen and Cameron both acknowledged it, and coming from Cameron, it's gotta be pretty damned significant. That boy doesn't compliment anyone but himself (just kidding). I love dancing, and I'm slightly afraid that I won't be able to continue when I move to Jersey. Alright, I'm more than slightly afraid. I don't think anyone understands this feeling, because no one in my family or anyone close to me understands that I'm improving so rapidly that to stop learning now would be crushing to me. It's unfair, and I wish that everyone would just let me keep climbing until I reach a plateau. It's not hard to see yourself leveling off in dance. After awhile, you just can't do it anymore.

I'm glad that Eyleen is thinking seriously about moving to Boston. I'll have a female friend near me to speak to. Hopefully, her relationship works out like I feel mine will. It seems like there are changes happening to everyone. Eyleen and her man in Boston, Cameron in the Central West Ballet Company, Steve going to "meet the parents", Sarah with her own apartment, Simone dating again. I just wish that things would happen for Thaddeus and me - great things, wonderful things, what things? I don't even know. I think that I need to do this, even if it makes many people unhappy. Those people should just move on with life, and be supportive of us… because if they're tied to either Thaddeus or me in some manner, they should want for us to be happy.

08~20~02 The frosting on your cake

It's Thaddeus' birthday and I miss him so much. I wish I could have been there with him, to make his day special from the moment he woke up. I feel like a fuck up. I couldn't be there, and none of the packages I sent him arrived on his birthday. I even had bad dreams about forgetting to put the cookies I worked so hard on in his package. Hmph.

Speaking of bad dreams, I've been having them. I can't always remember them, but I think the ones from this afternoon were pretty bad. At least they were a different sort of bad, but I don't know which is worse - having to slaughter everyone in an apartment complex because they were possessed and wanted to kill you, and you couldn't escape; being in a freak gallery that must've been owned by Manson's taxidermy specialist with things coming to life at touch… "Things". Ah well, I won't mention my most recent dream here. Perhaps I'll forget it… for the better. Maybe it's because of my energy.

Ah, energy; I don't have much of it lately. On Sunday, I passed out for 4 hours during an afternoon "nap", I felt like doing the same on Monday, and I did it again today. I think it's because I haven't been eating well, or much. My metabolism burns faster than a v-12 engine, and I'm usually always hungry. I've been forgetting to eat, mostly because I get caught up in something, or there doesn't seem to be anything good in the house and I'll forget to eat. Thaddeus thinks it's absurd, and I suppose it is. On top of that, I've started dancing again. I had one class during Summer, but that's over. Starting Monday mornings, I'm assisting Eyleen in teaching a highschool colourguard/winter guard dance class, Tuesday 2 hours of Jazz, Wednesday 2 hours of Jazz, Thursday 2 hours of Jazz, and Friday assisting with the high school again. Sometime in September, I'll be dancing ballet for 2 hours twice a week. I suppose that I'll have to change my eating habits to keep from doing this 4 hour 'cat nap' in between. * twitch* Coffee and chocolate covered graham crackers just ain't gonna do it no more.

I'm really in a bitch mode right now, man! All I wanna do is bitch. I don't want to complain to other people, so I feel like it's okay to crap on internet people. Here's another one, not only is some muscle (groin I believe) down the inside of my left thigh all fucked up, but because of that, something in between my knee-cap on the inside of the left also hurts. Badly. The best thing about that is I get to down Glucosatrin pills, which are meant for people with joint, cartilage, and other arthritic type pains. Hey! It helps a lot, I love it… at least I know that an all natural product really does help. Course, it really only helps my knee, but that's one outta two! Damn I wish I could be with Thaddeus right now. I wish I could be there to cook for him, to give him birthday kisses, and make him a lovely birthday cake; the kind with layers. Well, I hope he gets his packages tomorrow. It took me awhile to send the one I made myself, because I wasn't content with just buying him stuff. I'm a girl, I ought to be able to put things together for him. Hopefully it doesn't get returned to me or torn into like the post office tends to do. I love you, Thaddeus… Happy Birthday.

07~05~02 Sparkles in the sky, and sparkles on my dog's nose.

Just when I thought my glitter problems were over; I noticed that Bruce-Li had silver glitter stuck on parts of his nose. Poor doggy. After recital, it seemed that I couldn’t wash the glitter out of my hair for 3 days. If I scratched my head, my nail would be full of silver glitter. When I was lying on a pillow, the pillow would sparkle. Agh! Now my dog! Will it never end? I really must find out what company made that glitter spray… it really is “stay fast”.

You know they’ve got Funfetti frosting, right? Pillsbury’s vanilla frosting with fun confetti candy shapes to sprinkle on top. Well, I’ve always been a fan, but now they’ve got Fishfetti! Isn’t that the greatest? Fishy shapes! I’m baking cupcakes as we speak, just to be able to use that Fishfetti frosting. I hope everyone’s fourth of July was great, not too full of mindless patriotism. It was the first year that we didn’t go to my church’s annual lake party. I kind of missed it… all the free food, burnt hotdogs, and desserts. I like char marks on my hot dogs. We still had fun though! I spoke to Thaddeus in the morning, and also to my relatives in Bangkok. Business is going well for me with my relatives in Bangkok, I hope it keeps up! We didn’t really do much in the afternoon. I practically starved with Matthew because I didn’t have a car, and no one was home. We could have eaten stuff around the house, but we wanted July 4th food.

My parents had gotten into an argument that day after we spoke to my relations in Thailand. I guess my dad thought my mother was being too direct about transactions of money, and he didn’t like it. They think differently, the two of them. I understand how they both felt, and I sympathize with both of them. My mother went to her friend’s house for a girly-gathering, and my dad slept. Tan went to his friend’s barbecue, and that left Matthew and I alone for awhile. When I got the car, I went to an open fast food place and picked up dinner for the family. It was nice, because at the drive thru, I had a perfect view of the City’s firework’s being shot into the sky. It reminded me of being in Disneyland. I wondered what parking must’ve been like Downtown where the fireworks were being shot. It was always full when I was a kid. By evening, Nash, Monique, and Loun came over with fireworks, and we had a lovely evening as a family. Bruce was terrified of the fireworks, but you know, he’s a great dog because he wouldn’t leave our side – no matter how scared he was.

It wasn’t the lights that scared him, it was the noises. He hated the whistling fireworks, but he would whine every time a loud popping one went off. Those pop-bang things were our neighbors. I don’t believe they’re quite legal. They’d light them, throw em out, and POP! Bang! It’d skitter about and spark red before it exploded. Very loud. Our neighbors also made those illegal bottle rocket things, which were entertaining. Bottle rockets remind me of shooting stars. It was nice that many homes in our neighborhood still burned those stupid fireworks. Sitting out in the front yard and watching everyone participate was fun. We would combine our fireworks simultaneously, and we never once spoke to the neighbors. They’d light up their big ones on their side, at the same time as we would, and the cars trying to drive down couldn’t pass through until the fireworks stopped streaming. Hee, that was great.

Matthew was really antsy about lighting fireworks. He was a big pussy, and we made fun of him through the night. He toughed up after he saw Nash lighting them up more freely, probably because Nash is younger. I had a spark get me once, because I didn’t realize that there was a little firework (Monique’s) that hadn’t gone off on the ground, so when I lit two medium sized ones, their initial sparks lit the one that I didn’t see. It popped, and I got a spark that hit my arm. It wasn’t an injury or anything, but everyone was just as startled. I laughed it off, and told Monique that she couldn’t place fireworks on the street. She’s only in 1st grade. My dad took the biggest one we had and placed it on the top of our fountain in our front yard. It was insane, because the fountain is front and center of our house, and even though it’s placed on a brick path, there’s lawn on eitherside of it. Also, a tree grows right over the fountain, and I knew that the sparks would reach the leaves. My dad assured us all that nothing would happen, and we had a waterhose right there (thank’s to antsy Matthew).

Of course, my dad’s estimates are pretty correct. It was a huge firework, streams of multicoloured sparks, and it lasted a long while too! Most of those burn out quickly, but this one was worth however much Matthew and Loun paid for it. People driving by would stop and stare for a second, craning their necks out of their windows. With good reason of course, it was a pretty sight, and absurd. They must’ve thought, “Those goddamned Asians, gonna start a house-fire!”. Heh, it was a fun night.

Afterwards, we cleaned up and I came inside to speak to Thaddeus. My dad and brothers watched Reservoir Dogs, while my mother chatted on the phone. I can’t wait to see Thaddeus again! I’m trying to plan a picnic for him, and when Gaylon comes to stay a night with us, I’ll make dinner. Nope, none of this Woodstown Diner crap, we’re gonna have home cookin! It’ll practically be a party, I think… Gaylon, Mike and Lisa, Gino and Kiersten, Chris, and hopefully Alicia and Bob. We’ll see. Maybe we can have a barbecue too! That’d be nice. In any case, I’m off to spread fishfetti frosting onto my cupcakes. I’ll rant more later probably. Bye bye!

07~02~02 Break a leg! Hell at least someone might've given a shit if I did.

07~02~02 “You looked great on stage, like you were having so much fun!”~Alex, ballet dancer with the arts center.

Well tonight’s the big night, it’s recital night. I feel confident, but not in the mood to dance at all. I’m pretty sure I know what I’m doing. Maybe I’ll take a camera, and we’ll snap pictures. Maybe not; because it’s not like anyone cares to see them besides my friends and my 2 little cousins in Bangkok. Ramona’s boyfriend, and Sarah’s mom are bringing camcorders to record our dances. Every other girl’s boyfriend will either sit through it even if it’s boring as all hell to them, or will lovingly look through pictures later with their girlfriends and make sure that their girlfriends get some kind of ‘goodluck’ or ‘well done’ treat. Be it flowers, a phone call, chocolate, a little stuffed thing, something. Maybe Eyleen will bring me something, or Kelly. Maybe Thaddeus will give me a phone call during intermission, but I doubt that. The poor guy’s all drugged up and in pain from his oral surgery.

After Curtain call

So, not to be conceited, we did great. I went out there and gave that audience whatfor. Nearly collided into Sarah McCallister once during the first dance, but it was a quick recovery. I felt good about the first dance, but great about the last one. We did it to that dumb song by Pink, “Get the Party Started”. Let me tell you, we partied. What was really odd was, each time after I danced, my feet hurt so bad I staggered offstage. I couldn’t even walk downstairs into the dressing rooms. The pain was concentrated in my arches, ankles, and heels. I have no idea what it could be, since we’ve practiced these dances a hundred times and I’ve never felt that before. I didn’t feel anything while performing, but that’s probably due to adrenaline. I almost wish we had more difficult, more challenging, and visually artistic dances this year. I’d like to do something a bit harder, because I feel like I’m going stagnant. I don’t want to be stuck on this crappy plateau forever. Give me double turns on pointe! I’ll fall on my bottom likely, but I’ll learn them eventually… with guidance - a lot of guidance.

I was a bit sad during the break between my dances. Not only did my feet hurt, but I didn’t get a call from Thaddeus. He must have been asleep, but I emailed him. Then during intermission, all the friends and families of other dancers (old and young) were taking pictures of each other, and giving hugs and encouragement; I sat against a wall apart from all of that and just kind of watched. I had my phone on my lap, and I just wished that someone would call to say goodluck. The best part of the night was Kelly making it to the show. I guess she hauled ass from Los Banos after work to make it in time for the second act, and to see me in our last dance. I didn’t know that she was in the audience, but the fact that I thought no one in the audience was there to see me did not affect my stage presence in the least. After we got offstage, everyone decided to stay for curtain call but me. I went outside to massage my aching feet, and sat on the front steps of the Theatre. I was so surprised when my phone rang, but I knew it was Kelly. My phone rings a certain way when she calls.

I was very pleased when she walked out to meet me in the front, and we went out for fast food afterwards. Ahh, the dancer’s diet… it’s not mine. I’m so glad Kelly was there, and that she was encouraging from the start. She said to me, “God, Mattha! You are… hilarious. You’re such a crack-up, I could not take my eyes Off of you while you were dancing. It’s so funny, you’re just doin it full out and you steal the audience with your expressions and dance motions. You were damned good”

From Kelly, that’s great. Kelly is an overly critical gymnastics, cheerleading, and hip-hop dance coach. If she says something like that, she means it. I felt good. After dinner, I looked at my phone. Still no Darling, I guess he was asleep. We went back to see Sarah’s last dance to Moulin Rouge. It was a cute dance, and a lot of the women were older, but were very good technique wise. Their costumes were supposed to be Moulin rouge slutty, but whoa! Sarah went overboard with her costume! She was Skanky-Ho-Mama! It was the last dance of the show, and when Denisa, the director of the school, went up to thank everyone, she gave all teachers a curtain call. Eyleen called us out, but Kelly and I had already started walking out, and now I’m home. I got 3 calls to go to the after party, but I’m not really in the mood. I’ve come down from my adrenaline rush, and my dance high, and now I just wish that there was someone who was actually interested in my night. God knows my family doesn’t give a damn, and Thaddeus.. well he doesn’t really care about the recital either. It was important to me, and Kelly cared. Jango, my stuffed puppy from Thaddeus cares too.

Hell adrenaline fades in less than 10 minutes after I get off stage. I’m just left panting with extremely sore feet. Adrenaline doesn’t give a shit either. Someone should say “congratulations” or “I’m sorry I missed it, but I bet you were great!” suddenly this rant has gone downward. So it's time to pull the hair pins out of my hair, and the ribbons. I got another run in my brand new tights, washed the makeup off my poor, clogged, tired face. I can't seem to get rid of all this excess glitter on me... I'm going to go to bed glowing in the dark like some haggard pixie. Goodnight folks.

06~26~02 No one really gives a shit

I was so "On" today at my dress rehearsal. Yay! I was pretty nervous too, being that I'm doing a dance that I wasn't going to do, and had to relearn my position (front and center). Also, our dance to the song "Trust a Try" by Janet Jackson was falling apart at the seams during practice. A bunch of people would either show up, or not show up at random, and expect to still have a place in the dance. We ended up cutting a bunch of people, giving Cameron, Amanda, and me a solo, and changing a lot. Hell we just finished the end of the dance today, the night of Dress Rehearsal, I'm surprised that we were able to pull it off so well! It's not a lie to say that Trust a Try went well, but it would be if I said we were perfect. We had a lot of mistakes, not just a few, but the recoveries were good. I just feel very confident that by July 2nd, we'll have it down. We'd better, after we cut all those people off. In anycase, I burned the stage down with my character-dance. I played the part of the foxy, man stealing, flirt; and in the first dance, I just gave it my all. In anycase, playing the part was so fun, but Thaddeus has no worries! I'm not gonna meander around a city block and strut my stuff for any other man!

I don’t want to leave Eden 06~05~02

When did I lose sight of what I wanted? When exactly did I just lose control of my life - my life!? It’s so easy to blame someone else for my problems, for my anger and lot in life. I remember in highschool, it was pretty cut and dry; I was going to go to FIDM and be a children’s clothing designer. I wanted it, badly. I had the connections, I had the company, I had background, I just needed the formal training. When the company dissolved due to bad partnerships, I still wanted it. It wasn’t as possible anymore though, to go to school in San Francisco and to pay for a private institutional education. I left home for awhile, and saw how hard it was to live in that city myself, I saw that it’s a difficult life to go to that school and survive on meager wages accompanied by expensive rent. Coming home I found that I had to do menial work to help my family. Tan also had to help out, and it was especially hard for him to come home from North Carolina to our shattered state. At least I saw it coming.

By the time we had rebuilt ourselves to being stable, my parents had found a different sort of business entirely. It was still marketing, which is perfect as that is what my mother is familiar with, but it didn’t’ require her to work half as hard and to be away from home so often. In fact, both my parents stay home full time now; which is still odd to me. I also don’t have the responsibilities I used to have, and my entire future outlook changed. I realized that I didn’t have to do the full time business anymore, and that it was possible to receive residual income without working for someone else. Maybe it was because life had gotten so simple for me, I no longer had the stress of a 40 year old entrepreneur on my shoulders, maybe that’s why I became content and decided “I’m going to go on a Mission for my church and because my parents seem excited about it. I don’t care either way, and it sounds like it could be fun! Learning a language, traveling! Alright!”

I fell in love, and now I realize that if I go, I’ll lose the man I love. I also know that I had no choice in the matter at all, my parents are putting family honour at stake on my decision. Again, I’ve lost control, and I don’t know what to do. I can regain control of the situation, yeah, but I can’t do it without hurting myself. If I choose to not go on a mission, my parents would feel as though I shamed them, shamed them to go live out of wedlock with my boyfriend. It sounds awful. If I went, I’d hurt myself, knowing that I cheated myself of my best friend and love. I’d hurt him. It doesn’t seem like I can get out of this without hurting someone. I’d like to go on a mission – just like that children’s song. Unfortunately, I’d like to go on a mission to make my parents happy, and to not stay full term. I’d like to go as an excuse, that I went and tried it, it wasn’t for me, and I’m coming home – home to Thaddeus. I almost see no way out of anything but to just start my own life with Thaddeus and be happy that way. I’d lose my family, my dear brothers whom I love so much, my doggy I rescued, and my parents who raised me, loved me, and cared for me. I’d be starting a family with Thaddeus of course, but tell me what woman wouldn’t be afraid? I’m so afraid that it won’t work and that I had made the wrong choices when I finally decided to take control. I’m so afraid that I’ll be left without any family, no one left to love me and to help me out, to assist in taking care of me. No matter how old you are, you still need someone by your side to love you. Sure my parents will probably love me still, deep down inside. I guess you can’t stop loving your child; but if they’re not going to express it, hell if they’re going to pretend they hate me, it’s no different than them really not loving you, is it?

06~01~02 I wrote all this down before bed and surprised myself with the content as I was typing today. Hm, proof that mood swings do exist.

My day – how was it you ask? Riddled with pain. It hurts to walk, cough, laugh, or even breathe funny. It sucks to be a girl, but this pain sure beats bein’ pregnant. I’m just glad I finished off my dance exams and finished bathing Bruce-Li before my dreaded week. Honestly, I think this week was more anticipated than it was dreaded.

Thank goodness I have a caring boyfriend who understands my obscene amount of physical pain, and irregular mood-swings. Thaddeus read and described the comic “Preacher” to me today. Great comic! I laughed so hard I had to clutch my poor, swollen belly. I was pretty productive earlier though. I did give a woman and her friend a make-over, and sold her some foundation. Most of the time I was lying down with a cup of tea, thinking of brown dresses.

Ah, the brown dress! You know, brown has always been a very elegant colour. I had heard of some crazy little Christian cult in Salem County making women who had engaged in pre-marital sex wear brown dresses in lieu of white ones for their weddings. I suppose it’s supposed to symbolize dirt as in filth, but I see it as a very interesting concept – dirt as in fertile soil, growth, and beauty. I became so attached to the idea that I started designing wedding wearables in brown. Imagine something in a beautiful brown, majestic heavy-weight silk, embroidered or embossed; perhaps a chocolate taffeta, satin, or even rich shantung. Very nice.

I think that whoever tried to downplay the meaning of a couple’s wedding in such a manner was a stupid bitch. An individual’s past sexual choices shouldn’t really reflect on their marriage. Unless it was a history of infidelity or something, the prospective partner might want to consider the effect of that on their future relationship… certainly not busy-body clergy-men though. It’s not your damned business. It’s not classy, or tactful to try and rub something like that in, bringing up the past to mock their future. For god’s sake, they’re making a covenant together, to start a union together forever, doesn’t that mean something to you? They’re starting the rest of their lives with each other, you stupid jesus-whore. If Jesus attended the wedding, I bet he’d want the couple to have the best one possible, he wouldn’t splash mud on the bride’s dress and yell, “Look! Look! A brown dress! Whore! Harlot! Jezebel! She’s not a virgin!”

Did you know, marriage didn’t even include white dresses before the 19th century (and during)? Unless you were wealthy enough to afford white fabric, you didn’t wear white. It was more a symbol of affluence than it was a symbol of purity. Eventually, wearing white became like a hot trend that has not faded to this day. Hell in my culture, wedding dresses mean red & gold, or peacock colours. Let me tell you, if I have a wedding, I’m going to be wearing my designer white dress, and at the reception, I’ll wear my red & gold silk, and even later, I’ll wear my custom made brown dress. If you got a problem with that, or if you even snigger, hell if you look like you’re thinking something negative, you can go pull your head out of your own shit-hole; maybe that’s why you’re seeing so much brown.

Midnight, and I can’t sleep. I know Thaddeus is nestled comfortably in his bed, asleep on those odd pillows of his. I couldn’t eat today, nothing seemed appetizing. I had a few perogies, but I’m making do with tea and rice krispy treats now. Yes, at a restless midnight, I decided to make rice krispy treats. Oddly enough (well not really), my family was still awake to share them with me. I think it’s a nice way to say good night to them all.

I wish I were nestled with Thaddeus right now… I could hug his arm, and the warmth of his body would make my stomach feel better. He’d probably wake-up and give me kisses every so often, even if I were asleep. He’s a softy like that, well, when no one’s watching. I think the tea is starting to take effect on me. * Yawn! * Guess I’ll end this pointless hormonal whining and go to bed. G’night folks, hope you all sleep well and enjoy various brown things like chocolate, tea, and steak tomorrow.

05~30~02 There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home?

I had a wonderful week in Jersey, but I've been so sluggish since I've come back from the East. Ugh, it's getting harder every time to actually come back to California. Don't get me wrong, I adore California, it's really my most beloved homestate. It's a difficult decision to make, moving to the odd little East Coast permanently and leaving my homestate and family in California. There isn't a way for Thaddeus to come get a nice little home here at all, no possible way. I don't mind though, because his reason for being unable to come to this fair-weathered state is a noble one. Thaddeus is such a virtuous man, for being a superior father, and for not shirking his responsibilities. The more I’m with Thaddeus, the more I understand that I need to be with him for the rest of my life. It’ll be fun just being bored with him!

Things look so lovely on that side of the continent too. His friends and I get along great, I adore them all in their own unusual ways. His mother and step-father are so kind to me, and his sister is such a sweetie! It was such a great feeling when Thaddeus’ mother mentioned that she’d been keeping an eye out for rentals in the area, and also that she’d be a “mom” figure to fuss over whether or not we had enough apples and bananas in the fridge. I’m really fond of Thaddeus’ close relations, from his friends to his family. I just hope when I venture there permanently that they’ll support us with continuing care and companionship. I also hope that I won’t upset anyone too greatly; anyone who definitely does not advocate me starting the rest of my life with the man I love.

If you’re one of these people, please understand that both he and I just want to be happy, and that I’ll never be an adult if I don’t venture out and gain my own experiences through trial and error. I just hope that when this happens, it will not be considered a mistake. I really don’t want to come running home, much less with accusatory fingers pointed in my face saying “I told you so”. I am going to try to keep a happy relationship with him always, and I know he will try too. It’s true that I’ve never had my own children, so I can’t boast that I know anything about child rearing; but Mom, you’ve been a great example to me and I hope to be a great companion and (should birth control fail to work) a great mother. It’s not the same, directing the church’s nursery and being Ashleigh’s nanny; but at least it’s given me some experience. Don’t worry about that, it’s not even an issue so long as planned-parenthood is in existence. Thaddeus has proven himself so far to be a magnificent father, and to be so caring to me too. His standards are even greater than many supposedly god-fearing men. He loves me, and I love him.

On to my week’s summary! Whew, this is gonna be a long rant! We had so much fun that week, it’s a shame I had to come home for memorial day weekend. My mother’s and Kelly’s birthday were that weekend. So, eight days with my Darling and what did we do? Well, it won’t be in chronological order, but I’ll try to not make this so jumbled. Hrm, let’s see. Oh, yes, I finally got to see Spider-Man! It was Fab-u-lous! I really believe that Spider-Man is the best comic to movie adaptation so far. Of course, there were some teeny-tiny-minor inaccuracies, but you’ve got to make some changes when the comic is over thirty years old and the movie lasts only a mere two hours. I actually like the idea of Spidey having organic web-shooters. Those shooters make more sense really. I mean, where’d Peter get the funding and facilities to invent and maintain his comic-book web-shooters? Huh? Huh? That’s right, let’s just save storytelling time and give him little spinnerets.

Thaddeus took me out for a gooey Pecan-cinnabon before Spider-man, and he bought me a bag of candies. He is so darling, really! He doesn’t even like those messy cinnabons, but he still took me out for one, talk about brightening a girl’s day! Later on, I figured that he knew chewy candies were quieter than crunchy popcorn in the theater. Okay, it does get annoying to hear that crunching sound through the movie, but mark my words: I will have popcorn during a movie date with Thaddeus.

Star Wars Episode II was also amazing. It was wonderful to have been able to see it with Thaddeus on opening night. I like movie dates with Thaddeus, though I wiggle around a lot in my seat, and I think that bothers him. It was a fun night, that night. We started with dinner at Friendly’s (we being Gino, Kiersten, Chris, and Mike). His friends were comical as always, and their different reactions to the movie were amusing. Thaddeus would give me a knowing nudge sometimes, an involuntary movement of his hand in mine at certain parts. It kind of triggered me to notice details in the movie that I wouldn’t have seen before. I guess he knew when things were coming beforehand because he had read so many spoilers! Mike exclaimed in pure amazement when Yoda started sabering Dooku’s creepy bottom, and I cried when Shmi Skywalker died.

I think my favourite moments that week were the days we stayed in and made dinner together. I loved making meals for Thaddeus, working together in the kitchen. We’d cook together and do the dishes together, I’d serve dinner and he’d serve dessert; it was wonderful. I absolutely love caring and doting on him, even if it’s something as stereotypical and simple as filling him up with home-styled Asian cooking. I wanted to cook for Cynthia and Richard too, maybe even for Morgan; but Morgan seems to only want soup and pizza (plain pizza mind you). I don’t think Cynthia likes spicy foods very much anyways, so I’ll someday learn a bit of Chinese and Vietnamese dishes for next time, but hey! Friday night piazza is fine by me!

Friday was fun too! Richard got a shipment of spider-man toys for us to riffle through. It was just a box of someone’s collected spider-man memorabilia – action figures, cars, balls, etc. We sorted them all out together, while Richard pondered over the “battle ravaged spider-man”. He couldn’t figure out if the costume’s paint had been worn and scratched off by the previous owner, or if it was supposed to look that way. When I looked up and saw it, I said “Battle Ravaged Spidey!” and we all had a good chuckle over the hilarity of the dumb name. The weather was very nice on Friday, I was able to wear cropped pants, tank tops, and flip flop shoes. It was very lucky that the weather was so lovely that day, so Morgan could have outdoor playtime. From lightsabering, and rescuing me (Queen Amidala) from Darth Tyrannus (Thaddeus), to even Peter Pan! It was so much fun! I got to be Wendy and even the Alligator. Morgan was usually always Peter Pan, while Thaddeus got to be everything from the Alligator, Captain hook, and even Tinker-Bell! Heh… both Tinker-bell and Thaddeus are blonde, does that count?

All in all, I had a great time. Like I said, it gets harder and harder for me to come home, because I’ve slowly but surely made Thaddeus my home. I love him so much, and I really will be happiest when I’m with him full time. He’s the only one who can make me laugh as if I had no cares in the world.

05~12~02 I love her, does she always love me?

Happy Mother's day everyone! I love my mom so much. Sometimes, I wonder if she loves me half as much as I love her. I haven't always been a good girl over the years. Ah well, can't be angels all the time I guess. Lately I've been trying to be a good girl for my whole family, I dunno why. I remember a few years ago when I didn't really give a rat's ass if the house was messy and if there were dishes in the sink, if there was a party I was there with my friends. Maybe it's Thaddeus, he's kind of brought me down to Earth a bit. I've seriously considered my behaviour and thought that if I can't take care of myself and do something for my family now, how was I gonna make it on my own ever? I probably wouldn't.

So Mother's day.. sure we oughtn't just celebrate and honour our parents on those special hallmark viva-la-capitalist days. It's just nice to have a holiday to commemorate them sometimes. It was a pretty decent way to ditch church with my brother though. Heh, church was great though, we got to listen to the little primary kids sing songs dedicated to mothers, and hear children give prepared speeches about their moms. That was the best part, and then the teenagers came around with chocolate truffles wrapped in pearlescent cellophane for all the moms in the church. My mom was teary eyed, and it was nice seeing mothers in general being appreciated. Tan and I cut out shortly after, while a married man was giving a rather chauvinistic sounding speech about his wife and mom.

So we went and sinned on Sunday, spending money on the day of rest. We had fun though. Tan got workout clothes for my mother, and I got her a dozen specialty fuschia roses, with a bunch of stargazer lilies, and ferns and such too. We went home, wrapped up Tan's clothes for my mother, I made a lovely flower arrangement in one of my mother's favourite crystal vases, and then he went to go stall her at church for a bit. It was taking me a bit of time to cut the stems on the flowers. Tan thankfully kept my mother at church for a good while, long enough for me to make a card out of my scrapbooking materials. See? Who says that scrapbooking is a useless art? If I didn't just happen to have cardstock paper lying around, stickers, and etc. she wouldn't have a card at all!

We hastily wrote in the card with silver ink: Because you know that when you travel, Matthew needs you to bring him "Hello Panda" cookies in your bag; because you know Mattha's favourite foods and namebrands, and because you can make Tan's special rice dessert... We love you! Okay, that sounds a bit odd and kind of lame, but it's sort of a joke. My mother was given a survey from Matthew's school once, one of those 'tell us about your child' questionnaires. She had a problem with one of the questions and went to Tan for help with the survey. He made some jack assed remark about how she didn't know her child well enough if she couldn't answer the questions. It was a joke, but she just had a problem with the way the question was worded, and didn't quite understand what they were asking.

Anyhow, yes. We love our mother. Not just because she knows I wear a size 5.5 shoe size in esprit, but a size 6 in gloria vanderbilt; not just because she knows that J.Crew's adult 0 fits okay, but size petite 0 is perfect, but because she put up with all the shit we gave her for 25 years of Tan's life, 21 years of mine, and 12 of Matthew's. Trust me, we made life a living hell. She makes me the best hot/sour lemongrass chicken soup when I'm sick, she knows when Bruce-the-dog-li is hungry by the way he nudges her, not just begging. My mother knows when Matthew's faking sick, and she knows when Tan's pissed off as hell but isn't showing it. My mother will cut church with us to go shopping out of town, and just laugh when the christian housewives glare at her. She's so stylish, kind, smart, thoughtful, and caring; she's the only mom-of-3 I know who'll wear midcalf-spike-heeled-black-leather-boots, she's the only mom I have. I love my mother.

I'd also like to wish Thaddeus' mother a wonderful mother's day, she makes the greatest american sammiches, with mustard I can't even find in the store. Seedy goodness! Her chicken is delicious too!

05~06~02 Cut and Paste

Scrapbooking is fun! I always thought it was kind of hokey, but now that I'm actually doing it, I find that I'm really satisfied with the work that goes into it and the memories that are being preserved. I keep losing my pictures, or I store them in places where they're prone to damage... scrapbooking is not only a decorative and busying medium, but also a useful one! I hope to have a number of pages to show Thaddeus soon. I've started making his pages, and it's funny because there are some pictures of us from last year where we're standing next to each other. I am so small compared to the super-hero! In some pictures, I look like a kid. Hmph. Thank goodness for high heels.

I've been getting horribly ill when I'm on my monthly, if y'know what I mean. I've also been having a longer period, a week. After visiting the doctor, I was told to take calcium supplements. The more liquidy the better, so pills weren't really an option. We happen to have calcium in powder form, all of the vitamins my parents get are powder-to-liquid form, but you know what? The calcium is nasty. It's sickeningly sweet, and gritty because it doesn't quite dissolve the way the other vitamins do. Ugh. I've been avoiding it, but this month; I realised that I was going to have to do something about myself or I'd be suffering every month. *gulp* I hate crunchy drinks, unless they're slurpees and icee mochas. I imagine that this sort of calcium-sweet is like Luke Skywalker's bacta-sweet. Mmmm.. chemical-ey. Besides that, I'm doing pretty well. I'm a trooper when I'm happy! The prospect of having geeky-comic book hero week with Thaddeus is enough to make any nerd-girl-at-heart grin from ear to ear!

05~04~02 I “Heart” U

I like baking, but I always take longer to finish a recipe than I should. Every time I make those “simply easy sugar cookies” for Thaddeus, I take all day to make the dough, roll it out, chill it, cut it, and bake it. The recipe card thingy says that the prep time should only be 15 minutes, and bake time 10… a total of 25 minutes. Either they’ve got a cookie assembly line going, or I’m a perfectionist… or I just can’t cook. I beg to choose the former. I’d like to make peanut butter cookies for Thaddeus and his family, but I don’t know if he likes peanut butter cookies. I do know that peanut butter isn’t an ingredient he’s particularly fond of, but it’s not the same when it’s in cookie form is it? I don’t think so. I was never one of those “spoon in the peanut butter jar” kids either. Why am I always talking about cookies? Well, I always spoke about them in my livejournal, but that’s deleted. I don’t know why. I think I have these delusions that I’m going to be a happy housewife for Thaddeus, in a cute frilly apron, and immaculate kitchen, making dinners for him and doing the dishes together… then having great sex afterwards.

Well the highlight of my day yesterday was picking up some cookie cutters. I now have heart, pumpkin, and star shaped cookie cutters! Yay! The stars were on sale, and they were red, white, and blue. I believe that the whole “United we stand”, “Go America!”, “War on terrorism” hype must be over. Ha. All the fat assed Christian ladies got their cookie cutters full price when they were sending the military boys care packages… I got mine fifty percent off! Whoop! I plan on baking a sparkley batch for Thaddeus, since I say to him every so often, “I love you more than all the stars”. In truth, that little adage doesn’t even make sense. I love you more than all the stars what? Eh? He knows that I mean, “If my love could be quantified in individual, measurable increments; my love for you would be greater than the amount of all the separate stars in the galaxy. And then some.” – but really, that wouldn’t fit on a cookie. Hell I can’t even fit “I heart U” on a cookie.

I’m in a particularly good mood today. I’ve been in a great deal of pain for the past three days, and my nose is acting up again. Last night, Thaddeus and I had a tiff of sorts, and it was horrible. I lay in bed sobbing like a kid, holding my stuffed puppy (Jango) that Thaddeus bought me. I had to turn the music up really loud, so my family wouldn’t hear me bawling in my room. I remember getting up and dragging myself to the bathroom, nearly getting sick in the toilet… when I came out, my dad was waiting to use the bathroom too. “You look like hell… I told you not to go running around with Kelly when you’re sick.” Thanks dad, sometimes though, festering in the house and thinking about my cramps just doesn’t do it for me. Well hey, I got cookies, and together, Kelly and I found where they keep the trash bags in Target. She also dropped by so I could measure her Tinkerbell poster for her, and help her frame it. I really don’t know how that girl can live alone; much less keep two cats alive in her apartment.

Well anyways, I’m in a great mood because Thaddeus spoke to me today, and he resolved our depression with the simple words: I love you. *shiny eyes* Just knowing that he’s happy with me, makes me happy. Simple pleasures really; it’s not about the stuffed doggy or the godiva’s chocolates, it’s just knowing that he loves me back and wants to spend the rest of his life with me (so far). I’ve already got our future apartment planned out! It’ll be wonderful when I can live with him, and we can work on things like decorating a new place, cuddle all the time, and sussing out each others’ personalities. It’ll be wonderful; finding new ways everyday to love that man. Optimistic? Maybe, but I know that things will happen slowly. I don’t plan on moving into a new place asap, or when we get it, having Illadro figures displayed on almond-wood shelves immediately. Give me a card table with a tablecloth any day, baby. Anyways, my priority is the bed. Perhaps I can ship my bed over, and we can put them together. Hmmm… ah well, we’ve got some time before anything starts happening. I just like to jump ahead! I think I’ll go snuggle with Jango the dog.

03~01~02 Breathing like Darth Vader

My church wanted me to play piano for them this weekend. It was a big tangle. They call me when they've got a use for me, and this time I said no. When they asked if I knew anyone else who could play, I said "Tan could." meaning that he knows how to play the piano, not meaning that he would. So my brother wasn't happy about this, and kind of turned the tables on me. I reluctantly agreed on playing, since I couldn't be bothered to say no again. I felt bad for the blokes, and half obligated for some unknown reason. Thaddeus wasn't happy about that. Those churchies should've taken my first no, and they should've been more prepared. I told them today through my mother, that I changed my mind. I had things to do, and I'm sick. She added that one in herself. I do have things to do! Much needed sleep to catch up on for instance, a lesson to plan for Sabrina, and a trip to the mall with Kelly and Sarah. Thank goodness for Thaddeus, I wouldn't have had the guts to tell them if it weren't for him. He's my hero.

Since their call though, and since a certain amusing dream I had, I've been practicing the piano again. Well, if you can call a few minutes today starting practice. I dunno; I've been pretty insecure about certain things all my life, looks, ability, and my talents are part of them. So I'm not a supermodel hottie, hell I'm not even past an "A"cup in my bra size - but some guys are into the petite girl look. Sure I can't dance as well as those girls who've been taking ballet since they were 3, but I dance pretty well for someone who started when they were about 18 or 19. I can't compose music, and I can't really play hymns, gospel, or modern music well... but I think that gospel and hymns suck anyways. I could play that sort of music if I put my mind to it, but why bother? It always sounds shitty (hallelujah!) and I prefer the devil's classical, romantic, or baroque music over that anyday. I don't really even wish I could compose music... I'm just not interested. Tan can just sit at the piano and grind a beautiful minuet or concierto out of his empty head, but I can't. I'm not exactly jealous, it's just that I don't have any desire to. I love that I can play music from those bygone composers', and really... I guess I can play it well enough. I just wish I were better, and it's my own damned laziness that keeps me from getting better.

I don't challenge myself. Just today, I was picking out the strains of "Nocturne in C Minor, by Chopin" and moving through it pretty slowly. It was far, far, far from perfect, and was going to take a lot of work. I just wasn't happy that I could sight read the damned song that easily. Like I said, it wasn't even close to finished, but the fact is, I could pick it out. I need to challenge myself, work on a song that I can't even sight read. I also need to stop comparing myself to other people. So what if Tan can compose, and Thaddeus' ex is accomplished? I got myself a stack of National Guild gold pins somewhere... collecting dust. That means something doesn't it? So what if I was told that I'd never be a good dancer by some people? I'm an assistant dance teacher at our local college, and on occasion I help teach the girls at one of our highschools. My ability doesn't mean jack to anyone else, even though I'd like it to; but hell, I gotta make it mean something to myself. Starting tonight... um, maybe after I come back from Sabrina's piano lesson. Starting sometime soon. Tee hee!

02~24~02 I think I can cook

What I really wanted to say with last night's rant was clear, but wasn't. I didn't actually want it to be a whole recap (scrape on the surface) of my crappy relationships. Know what? If you're some disgruntled ex who treated your former "love" like shit, was only affectionate to your significant other when it was most advantageous, always off & on, making sure you're not with them, but no one else was either, then don't come running back for more when I've found a person who makes me happy. Don't fucking come running back to ruin my life, to ruin his, and maybe to even ruin your own. It's a damned shame you hurt yourself by getting involved with no-name women like some whore, and it's a damned shame you didn't realize what you had going for you in the first place. Cry me a fucking river if someone else is enjoying the happiness I can bring them, and if I'm enjoying the happiness he brings me. You had your chance, and if it's driving you so goddamned insane that you're in denial, go check yourself into a psychward. God knows you need to... you fucking insecure bastard. Dominate your own damned self before you try to manipulate anyone else's life.

On a lighter note, my piano student bought me a valentine's gift a week or so ago. It just came in recently... it doesn't fit me though. *Sigh* I have to go through J.Crew's returns/exchange process, and that's really quite a hassle. Oh well. I can't even fit a 34A... that's pathetic. Hell, J.Crew got some new lingerie in, and I might just exchange for that. I get to teach her sister starting next week. Whoop! Does that mean I get double the presents for my birthday? I sure hope so.

I made dinner today. It was absolutely delicious! I made beef stroganoff, kind of. I added my own marinade to the meat, and sprinkled mozzarella cheese on my own plate. I like it with cheese. My salad was just salad, with mushrooms and carrots in it. Mmmm.. I love mushrooms in salad. Thaddeus told me that there's absolutely no nutritional value in it, it's literally just edible styrofoam. Not good for you, not bad for you. Well I eat food for the taste before nutritional value, and you know what? It's damned good styrofoam. I know. I've had styrofoam before. See, whenever Market America ships us something (like, everyday it comes packed in styrofoam peanuts. These're special peanuts too, they dissolve in water. Really nasty goop. Anyways, my dog used to be really into those foam peanuts, and I decided to have a go with one. They smelled kind of like popcorn. It was really nasty, and melted all over my tongue. Okay. Now I'm embarrassed. Even Bruce-li doesn't try to eat them anymore. Must've grown out of it. Just because the dog eats paper and cardboard doesn't mean I do. Stop staring at me like that.

I can't wait to be with Thaddeus again! I'm going to make him a lovely dinner, and maybe even dessert. I'm so pleased with the successful dinner that I feel like making my family another dinner! Matthew would probably eat some more. Matthew and I can always eat another serving. Thaddeus doesn't really eat as much as I do though, and considers food to be fuel more than to be enjoyed. It's funny having dinner with Thaddeus and his family. I'm really the only one who asks for seconds, besides Richard. I feel strange about that, but his mother seems to enjoy that I adore her cooking. I think that's one of my highlights of visiting, we get to have dinner at his mother's place at least once! She's the greatest. It just strikes some people as odd that I can eat more than my boyfriend. He's almost twice my size! Ah, that's okay. My metabolism works fast enough for the both of us!

02~24~01 On the subject of heartbreakers and such

Once upon a time, I was in love (or fatally obsessed) with a certain man. I'd known him since I was 13, and was blissfully happy when I was in a relationship with him, though I was too ignorant to see certain negative signals. I wasn't really treated the way I wanted to be. I was more like a doll, or plaything. If he pushed the right buttons, I laughed. If he pushed the wrong ones, I'd cry. It must've been nice having a real-life human toy. After a while, our relationship just didn't work. My family disliked him, he disliked them, and he broke up with me. We agreed that it was for the best at the time. I was pretty grudging about it.

In that period, we weren't "officially" together, but you know how it goes - the emotional ties were still there. Well, at least I thought they were. I still adored him, and he treated me fairly like a girlfriend. Then when another cute woman walked into his life, he dropped me completely, never failing to remind me that we weren't together anymore, and that I was seeing other men too. Well of course I'd see other men... he was seeing other women, and he wanted me to see other men. He didn't want me to be tied to him. I'd go on these "blah" dates, and physically I'd be there making conversation, but my heart was still with the heartbreaker. I was practically dating for his sake, if you know what I mean. Sounds weird, but what's a girl to do? Then, whenever his current girl broke up with him or left him, he'd tug on my heartstrings a little, and remind me that I still adored him. I was hooked.

It happened about three times, I think. I don't know, I can't remember. In anycase, the last time it happened, he told me he was getting married, and that I really needed to let go. It was like, one night he was telling me he loved me, then for a week, he decided to remind me we weren't together anymore, and then he was getting married. I was crushed, but you know what? I didn't take it as hard as he thought. In that stale period of "Off and On", I went to speak to someone I had thought of often during that period of emotional abuse. I went to see if I could have real love, instead of that damned infatuation. I knew that something wasn't right, and that there was no way in hell I should be treated like a safety date. I knew there was someone better, more kind, more compassionate, someone who actually would love me because I loved them back.

So when he told me that he was getting married, I shed my tears of closure, and said "congratulations, I hope you're happy." I really did want him to be happy. When he asked why I took it so well, I told him pretty plainly that I was finding my own happiness. He found that amusing. Shortly thereafter, he got his heart stepped on, stomped on by this woman... a pretender who could be anything he wanted her to be. It seems that he runs into a bunch of those... hasn't really got a good track record with them. So there was this woman, pretended to listen to his every word, hung on them, and doted on him - of course it was all a lie. It's too bad he didn't give real devotion the time of day. It's better that way though, because I had begun to figure it out, not too long after the first time he discarded me like a used toy, that there was no way in hell I could be with this man. I thought I wanted to be with him, but sense told me that it wasn't going to work. I treated him like gold, and he treated me like a new release dvd... they always come out with a better "collector's edition".

Of course, abruptly after his marriage fiasco, he was back to me. By then, I knew that I was truly, madly, deeply in love with a real man; and girls, it wasn't him. He had the gall to tell me that my relationship with Thaddeus was a joke, and that I was going to leave Thaddeus to be with him. He even said that in a year and a half, we would be married. *ahem* Um, no? Do I have a say in this? Of course not. I never do. This time though, it was different. With help from Thaddeus, I knew I had to disconnect myself from this man. He wasn't good for my emotional well being. I had been too attached to him from my younger years. I held him on a pedestal... I had that image of him deified in my mind. It's like having a highschool sweetheart, and being too attached to the posterity of that sweet 16 relationship, even though you know it can't be like that forever. Face it kids, people change, people grow up, you should too.

Let me tell you, in my summary, I made it sound like it was really easy to just say, "Eh. No. You're a baddie, you played with my heart, I don't love you anymore. I quit. Cold turkey."

It wasn't like that though. There was a lot of soul searching done, it was like kicking an addiction. I even went back to speak to him various times, against all warnings of the friction it would put on my current relationship. I nearly lost Thaddeus. I kicked myself in the ass several times, and you know what? Logical deduction and reasoning screamed - no, howled at me: "What the fuck are you thinking? He treated you like shit!" Well kids, I did what I had to do. It was difficult at that time, and I'm not gonna lie, there are a few rare moments where I have a teeny-tiny passing thought of him. It's hardly ever positive though. You know, I'm just happier that I closed that chapter in my life. There were good moments, sure... but the bad times really outweighed the good. I found that I look forward to every moment I can be with Thaddeus, and every thought I have of Thaddeus makes me happy. I love loving Thaddeus, and he loves me right back. He really does treat me like a princess, and because of that, I thoroughly enjoy doing the same and treating him like a prince. Sounds kiddy and simple, but that's a lot more than I can say about Mr. Ex.

In short, you may have had blissful times, you may have had great times, he may have seemed like your perfect angel, but get real and take out the trash or you and your environment will start reeking too. Oh, and don't forget to put the lid on. Are you listening, Alicia? This one's for you Kitty-boo-boo-fuck.

02~18~02 I love my cousin Ashleigh, I really do; but…

So I got to babysit two kids today. I usually keep an eye on my cousin’s baby, Ashleigh. She’s 18 months old, extremely intelligent, beautiful, and a damned stubborn little beast. I adore her, but this kid’s got attitude for a tiny tot! In anycase, we’ve gotten quite accustomed to each other. Her cousin, Hannah, was here today. Now Hannah’s a 7 month old baby – she’s the sweetest little thing! Very good natured, doesn’t really cry or throw fits, and seems constantly happy, even when teething. I don’t really enjoy watching both of them at once, but one at a time is fine by me. I’m getting paid a measly amount of cash to do this, so that’s motivation enough. I think what bugs me most about the job are the parents. Now, I grew up with my cousin, and they’re both my age (a year off at most). Why the hell did they pop kids out when they can’t really take the responsibility for them? Hannah’s parents are pretty okay, but Ashleigh’s mom and dad are ghetto-beyond-control.

Okay, so I’m exaggerating. They’re just ghetto. I mean, they both have jobs, but “yo yo” if you’re just going to have a baby to tie your boyfriend in, you shouldn’t have one at all. It’s damned cruel to see them not getting along, and Ashleigh is well on her way to being 2 years old. Sooner or later she’s gonna understand that her parents don’t get along. What’s going to hurt more? Always having known that your parents aren’t together, or living in disillusionment and believing that things are okay in the house – Fucking Bam! One day your parents announce that “Honey, it’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault… we’re going to have a divorce.”

Phht. It’s not anyone’s fault now, but it could’ve been prevented then. I hate seeing her parents fight, then make up, then fight again. Why did they bring a baby into the midst of that shit? I don’t know. My cousin’s selfish… I love the girl, but yeah, admittedly she is. Did she really think that things were going to be slap-happy perfect as soon as she gave birth to Ashleigh? Now they’re living together, she’s got an engagement ring, and of course, no official date to their utterly unexpected wedding. The only thing keeping them together now is that they hardly ever see each other. My cousin works from all day, and her boyfriend works graveyard. “It’s like a roomate arrangement” she said. Sure, okay, people may argue that once she got pregnant, what was she supposed to do?

C’mon, you know you’re pregnant when you miss that period. It’s not like my cousin’s never had an abortion before. So stop shouting fucking bloody murder at me! It’s a preventative measure at that time, keeping that cluster of cells from becoming a fetus. Hell, if there were any problems with broken condom or unsafe sex, use the morning after pill! It’s not really hard to come by people. It’s pretty well known that most so called “accident” births and marriages thereafter don’t really last. So please, don’t call me and ask me to keep your baby overnight because you got in a fight with your “fiancee” or even husband. Go pick her up at your mom’s house.

02~17~02 Being a peacemaker

I hate it when people wear those WWJD things. Bracelets, shirts, stickers on their cars, whatever. I hate them. If Jesus did exist, Jesus wouldn't do what you fucking do. So remind yourself all you want of "What Would Jesus Do?", just don't expect us to think you're gonna do it just cause you've got a tackey beaded bracelet that says it. Don't expect me to treat you like Jesus would either.

02~15~02 Happy belated Valentine's day!

I think I wanted to wish everyone worth acknowledging a Happy Valentine's day! Hopefully it was a wonderful day for you too! Happy is what you make of it, and I made it a lovely day for myself as best I could. I helped Eyleen teach the beginner's dance class, we accomplished quite a bit in our intermediate/advanced class, and I got to meet up with one of the old cheerleaders from my highschool! We spoke for almost an hour, before my friends and I decided to head off for lunch. It was nice to see that she agreed with me concerning the fact that Mokee is a horrible cheerleading coach, plays favourites, and brought the highschool squad down. Hmph. It's a shame she couldn't go out to lunch with us.

I got a valentine from Madelynn, an 11 month old baby girl. It was adoreable... she scribbled crayon on it, and drooled I think. Her mother signed the card for her though. Odd how some babies just find an attraction towards certain people. I danced with her across the floor awhile. She loves the sensation of spinning, but after a bit, my arms got tired and I had to give her back to her grandmother while Sarah (her mommy) and I worked out a bit of our new dance. It was great being with my friends, but coming home was just as fun! I had a lovely package waiting for me from Thaddeus! He of course sent me all my favourite girly-goodness treats. Even my mother was jealous! *laugh* As much as I love chocolate and stuffed creatures, my favourite present had to be the card he Made for me. Yes, Made. My darling is brilliant, isn't he? I had way too much candy for my own good yesterday.

My family and went out to dinner that night. We had some pretty decent Chinese food. My mother and father went shopping thereafter, and I played with Matthew in the arcade. Man, we played dance dance revolution, and I sucked! There were boys and guys there who were playing on "Maniac" (only the most insanely difficult setting) and still getting an 'A'. I was playing on Extra Easy and still got a 'D' or 'E'. :P So much for being an assistant dance teacher... I can't even play a kid's dance game. My feet and ankles felt numb afterwards. I give those boys props for being able to play for so long and not becoming exhausted. While we were shopping, I was able to pick up a gift for Thaddeus. He'll love it, and it's kind of a joke involving quadrupeds. *shh* I won't tell what it is yet, but it's nothing big. Here's a hint: My dad thought it was intended for Matthew.

Lighter news yet! Bruce-Li has started wagging his tail again! Yay! He got it caught in a rat trap outside. We set some in our new garage so that critters wouldn't attempt to make it their new home, possibly destroying the new lexus. I guess Bruce got too friendly with one of them. I'm just glad he didn't try to gnaw his tail off. You don't understand how glad I am that Bruce is wagging again... whew. Now we won't need to take him through that grueling ordeal of vets, x-rays, and splints. Can you imagine that? A tail splint? Poor dog... he wouldn't even be able to sit properly.

St. Patrick's day is coming up! I hope I can see my dearest super-girly Alicia in the St. Patrick's day parade! Either in person or on TV. I bet she'll look so adoreable in those velvet Irish dresses! I've always wanted one... expensive little things. *giggle* and she'll have to wear bloomers! Yikes! Bloomers sound so kiddy... but hell I had to wear em for cheerleading too.

In the spirit of Valentine's day though, I'd like to mention that I love Thaddeus. I've loved him since I've known him. I'll love him for the rest of my life I'm sure... hopefully we can still love each other for the rest of our lives in an intimate relationship; and I would have loved him earlier had I known him in my younger years. I've always loved him, and I always will.

01~30~02 I love Thaddeus.

I'm the luckiest girl in the world. I really am. It's the most wonderful feeling, knowing that I love Him, and He loves Me. I never want to lose this feeling, and it grows stronger everyday. I've never loved anyone so completely before... so much that I can actually say he is the perfect man for me and to me. This is lame. I can't find the words to describe the acuteness of how I love him, and how much he means to me. If I tried, it'd just sound like frou-frou pretentious ramblings. I used to write crap like that... fit as many big words and stupid metaphors as I could into a sentence. No more though. Just these few words - I love you, Thaddeus... completely, perfectly, and eternally. Strong words, but I mean all of them.

01~20~02 I hated yesterday.

Yesterday was awful. Yesterday was our dress rehearsal for the central valley's dance show. There were lots of people entered in the show, but I noticed that this year the show consisted mainly of ballet and tap. That made the piece I was in the only jazz dance in the show. What made it worse, the song my friend chose to make the dance to was a mix of "Big Spender" (which I think is cute), and Alien Ant Farm's cover of "Smooth Criminal". I felt like some 13 year old skater girl dancing to Alien Ant Farm. Christ.

I guess we had a bad start since we showed up. Kelly and I made the beginning of the dance up on Tuesday, finished it Thursday, and finished our own solo parts Friday. Our dress rehearsal landed on Saturday. Well we both had to go to the rehearsal after a busy morning, and sit through a boring program of repetitive dances. I love ballet, don't get me wrong, but after awhile, it all starts to look the same. The most boring was probably the folklorico dancers, and the old Scottish Highland dancers - all these balding old men and chunky women curtsying over and over again to each other on stage. Our piece was the end of the second act, so we sat, and sat, and sat. We weren't allowed to leave even to pick up a bite to eat. Thus both of us were extremely tired and hungry by the time our turn came. On top of that, Eyleen told us we couldn't use the pompons we had built the dance around! Said they were too distracting.

That kind of threw me off, I was nervous since we'd have to find things to do with our hands and arms impromptu now, and so when we were finally out on stage, I kind of had a gut feeling something was going to go wrong - I mean besides having put in 7 hours into the dance, versus everyone else putting a semester into their pieces. Actually, the first half of our dance went nicely. There were a lot of remarks about how cute it was in the crowd, murmurs and the like, but it all went downhill from Alien Ant Farm. I was slow on the counts since the beats from the two songs are different, and I just lost it. Behind in the dance my mind blanked out and I forgot the dance on stage. My smile vanished, all my charisma and stage personality disintegrated, and I could only stare at Kelly for an instant before I remembered where we were in the dance. It just so happened to be one of the hardest parts of the dance. Immediately, I rushed myself back into position, praying that I'd be ready to just jump into a turning off-center attitude, double pirouette, single chainee, double pirouette, pose.

Actually, it wasn't so bad. I got up to Attitude-double pirouette-single chainee-and BAM! Falling on my ass. I really wasn't ready for the momentum, and I remember uttering a scream as I was falling. It's actually kind of frightening to fall when you're turning so fast. There's a brief sort of pause, and this feeling like the world has tipped in a stomach wrenching way. You kind of gasp, and it feels like no air is coming in, or you're gasping the wrong way and all the air is being punched out of your lungs, and then all you see is a blur (the glitter, rhinestones, and stagelights probably), and hear a smack, and you pause again and realize you're on the ground. It sucks. Then when you figure that you're on the ground, you have three choices: get up and stare like a wounded animal, run off stage, or feebly try to complete the dance. I chose the latter.

I personally think I should have just run off the stage. If I had, then people would have just noticed that I was behind and confused in the middle of the dance, but wouldn't know if my running off stage was part of the dance or not. In any case, Eyleen wasn't happy, and the other dancers in the audience were sitting there with mouths hanging open - like "what the fuck was that?". God it was humiliating.

My wrist hurt later on too... I didn't realize it was in pain til after I kind of collected myself. I guess it was an aftershock thing. I know I caught myself with my left hand; which is overall better than breaking my tailbone I guess. I'm sure some people really wouldn't mind if I were in a full body cast. Segue...

People who don't know me.

I've been called lots of things in my time - devil, evil, demon child (those were from my own parents mind you), wicked, cruel, annoying, fucked up, cruel, stuck up, snob, freak, and even bitch. Sure it was either hurtful or funny, but the main thing was, people who said those things knew me. They've met me, hung out with me, or lived with me. Some were friends, some were bitter enemies, but all of them had at least come into contact with me at least once. Really, they've got a right to say what they want about me, and I them. We all have different personalities, and sure some are pretty damned quirky, if not downright psychotic.

But hell, if you don't know me, please don't call me a bitch. Sure, gather vague opinions of me from reading my rants and my livejournal, but don't formulate concrete ideas of who I am if you haven't yet met me or written to me personally. Shit, if you can't be bothered to make eye contact with me, shake my hand, or venture to say "Hi" or "Hey" or "Yo", then keep yourself a stranger and understand that I'm a stranger too.

Everyone is probably guilty of gathering false assumptions toward other peoples' personalities at least once in their lives(see? I just did it too). I know I have, and I've regretted it many times. For instance, I once assumed that one of my present friends was just a cheerleader, stuck up probably, and likely not a very nice girl. When I finally did get to speak to her, I found out she was one of the sweetest girls I had ever met, and not stuck-up perse, just shy. Sure she was preppy, and sure she was a cheerleader, but she was also a lot of other things - a good cook, a swimmer, babysitter, confidante, and eventually she became a friend. I hate that for two years, I cheated myself of having her for a friend.

All in all, I find myself an agreeable person to be with. Most people like my company, and if they don't, well I just tend to avoid them. Don't call me a bitch if you don't know me, don't call me "THE DEVIL" if you've never even heard of my misadventures, and don't fucking talk shit about me to other people... especially if they don't know me either. It really isn't hard to get to know me. For god's sake, I'm online almost everyday. There's my fucking email address, guess what? It's also on MSN Messenger. Go ahead and add me to your buddy list and msg me sometime. I'll usually chat back. You wanna know my AIM userID? Well it's VictaIacetLux. I chat on mIRC's Undernet, my nick name's Stygmata. It ain't that hard people. Get to know me. You might find that I'm a pretty fucking nice person. Thank you.

10~17~01 I feel better

I'm not sick anymore, yay! Unfortunately, my friend Kelly is. Yeah, she's so sick she's puffy on one side of her face, her voice is crackley, and she sniffles a lot. I wish she weren't sick though. I need a companion to go to the arcade with me and tryout that new video game: Dance Dance Revoluton. It's a video game, but instead of just pressing buttons with your fingers, you dance them with your feet. Wow. I've never played a moving video game before. The people look real jittery or angry. There are guys who stomp all over the key pads, and that intimidates me. I really don't want to get up there and stomp around, muchless break my ankle.

Hell I'm always wearing the wrong kind of shoes when I'm there. High heels, platforms, strappy shoes, or flip-flops - you name it, just never sneakers or normal shoes. Maybe I'm subconsciously making excuses for myself. Mattha! Don't play the moving game! Games weren't meant to be physically exhausting! woooogabooga!

I'm too embarrassed to try it alone, and too embarrassed to try it when there are other people around. Why, oh why did they have to put that game in the front of the arcade? Everyone who walks by can see you breaking into insane spasms, gesticulating like a kid with multiple sclerosis. I want to take Matthew to play it with me, but I can only take him after school's out, thus kids would be crawling all over the arcade by then. Or I could go in the morning while people are in school, but I don't want to play by myself! Oh, the dilemma!

On to other dilemmas! Boobs. There are big uns and little uns; then there are the Freakishly Gargantuan like Ms. Minka's. Jesus Christ on a Cracker! She's got a Double K cup size. Like, I believe it's a 41KK. Man... and I was proud that I can fill out my meager A cup. But I think my real idol is Mistress Mirage. I want to look like her when I grow up. Maybe not so space-agey though, but hey... what a cutie!

10~12~01

Least anticipated Halloween

This is the first Halloween I'm not eager for. Halloween has been ultra crappy for the past few years, and I know exactly why: Christians. Leave it to them to ruin everything for fun loving people. Oh, but no, fun is part of the natural man. Naturally, a human would want to have fun; so of course it's against Christian law to have fun. I guess it pisses God off to see us Human. A few qualms here... didn't God create us in his image? Didn't he make us humans? Doesn't he love to have people sing him praises and take at least one day out of the week to worship him? That sounds like fun to me. Is it so wrong for a human to want fun too?

I remember when I was a kid, hell in Junior High even, my friends and I could go cavorting through the residential streets and trick or treat. We'd come back with all sorts of loot! Costumes, kids, parents, and happy people everywhere. Y'know, there weren't really any crime incidents either, save for the occasional pumpkin smashing. Nowadays, all we have is one christ-on-a-cracker church after another making 'halloween carnivals'. Kids don't trick or treat anymore, they go to churches and play games, participate in 'wholesome' activities like that apple dunking game (can we say mono?), and bounce in a huge inflatable bounce-house, make maccaroni jewelry and pictures, and eat nachos. These Christies are slowly, but surely destroying what used to be a downright fun holiday. Sure I'll have people emailing me with shit like, "Oh, but there was this one incident when a girl got punched in the face, and some jackass tried to steal her candy!" or "This boy found a razor in his cookie!"

*Ahem* Urban legends, and the ratio of crime to trick or treaters is outrageously low. That's like saying we shouldn't send kids to school, because there was this one time when someone brought guns to the school and went on a shooting rampage, and another time someone planted bombs in strategic places around the school. Have some choco-treats kids.

I guess my biggest resentment this year aren't the Christ-Carnivals though. I am very upset - upset that I won't be spending this holiday with the man I love. I was very eager and set on being with him for Halloween. Halloween happens to be one of my favourite holidays, and I had planned to make delicious domestic treats for him (impress your man with martha stewart baking), watch Nightmare Before Christmas, and cuddle through the night. Maybe even going to a few Halloween parties. I even had a costume planned out. *sigh* It sucks to be so far away from the perfect man for me.

Segue, Thaddeus seems to be the one holding me together lately. I mean, I'm not some manic depressive or anything, but Thaddeus and the prospect of being with him in the future makes life worth living. I love him more each day, gushy stuff, eh? I really want to be with him forever, watch him grow old, always be next to him, have him holding me in bed, teasing him when he becomes a doddering old pervert. No one has ever made me feel so beautiful, and I have never known anyone who could even come close to rivaling him in anyway. Biased opinion? I really don't care.

To top it off I'm sick. I don't mean mentally either, I mean physically. I'm in a really bad way, and I feel exhausted in the day. I think I get about twelve hours of sleep now, and then I get a sudden two hour spurt of energy in the evening. This can't possibly be good for recovery. Seriously though, my sickness isn't affecting my ramblings at all. (dot, dot, dot). In any case, I can't leave you respectables without a dance update, eh?

*clear throat* Well, yesterday I went to class simply to turn a form in. I should have taken the advice of my Darling and stayed in bed though. As I step into class, I find that my dear friend Kelly wasn't able to make it. Guess she had some last minute homework to do. Being that I was the only one who knew her section of the dance, I had to teach the entire class Kelly's section. Okay, Kelly's an overly flexible gymnast. She likes to jump. She likes to jump high in strange positions. Not only did I have to show the class what the jumps looked like, but I had to teach them how to do them too. Ugh, my body was not pleased with me by the end of the day. "C" That's what the jump is supposed to look like in mid-air, try to get your toes to hit the back of your heads, they like to yell. And then Eyleen asks me to put a bit of pointe-shoe work in. I think I'll just gracefully decline, I'm not up to dancing on my toes lately.

Okay. That was damned boring. But hey, some people actually are interested in how dance is coming along. It's moving, it's fun, I'm happy. I sure hope everyone else in anonymous net land is happy too. Oh, and hey... Have a nice day.

07~27~01

Boxers vs. Panties

So Thaddeus and I were having a talk concerning my latest craze: Boxers. I love boxers, mind you not boxer briefs, but Real boxers. I love boxers on men, and I love boxers on women too. I wear my boxers all the time around the house, even to dance class. Therein lies the debate... boxers are underwear, but they're underwear for Men only. For instance, it's morally okay for a woman to walk around the house, a friend's home, or even to the grocery store and select places in boxers. It is Not okay for men to go out in public with boxers on.

Course, Thaddeus had a mini fit over this. He claims that boxers are always underwear, no matter what sex wears them. For instance, would it be different if a man wore panties? Would it thus be 'okay' for a guy to go out in public wearing panties? Well, I wear panties underneath my boxers, so it's quite different. Unfortunately, the hypothetical issue of men wearing panties on the outside of their boxers came up... *shiver* that just ain't pretty. Days of the week panties? Can you imagine that? "Field Hockey Friday" written in glitter on pink panties over mens' boxers?

Trouble sitting? I thought about getting a tattoo recently. Watched the movie Ninth Gate, great movie by the way. I loved it. Anyhow, on the back of the DvD cover, the blonde woman has a tattoo on her bottom. It's an inverted star, the self same one on the cover of the book everyone kills each other to obtain in the movie. It looks really good on her, and I think it'll look really good on me! Fact is, I have connections to an extremely talented tattoo artist, I could get it for free or for next to nothing; but I'm scared. Yes, yes, a regular pansy, that's me. I'm afraid of the pain and the after care that'll be needed. If I have problems sitting, what do I say? I have hemerroihds? Got fucked too hard? Certainly not "I got a tattoo. It's a satanic symbol." Hell, I'm not even a satanist.

Pioneer children sang as they walked, and walked, and walked, and walked! That's an actual song by the way. Primary kids at my church sing it, I play it on the piano for them. So I guess I had a pioneer kid experience yesterday. My parents are gone for the week in North Carolina... going to business conferences, tuxedo only catered parties, and boring lectures. I had a car, but it broke down when I went to deliver my niece, Ashleigh, to her aunt's home. Amazing, my luck. Took the child inside, went back to my car, started engine, and tried to reverse. The stick shift just moved down in a disgustingly slack fashion, and the gears didn't shift. Something's wrong with my transmission I bet. So, my car's still sitting there, and I'm without transport.

Wait! There are those who would deliver me from my predicament... an uncle for instance. My uncle is kind of an idiot, you need to understand that. I've been saying it a lot lately, but I only say this when I talk about him... problem is, to him his own shit don't stink. He was lurking around my house while my parents were gone, using my computer, using my free dvd rentals, eating my food. I don't mind, he was brought up like an older brother, my mom had kind of adopted him. He was instructed to drive me where I might need should problems arise.

Well, I had to go to a bank across town and make the house payment... before someone in a black suit came and boarded all the windows in my house or charged me a $20 late fee. My mother always instructed me to go to the bank before 5:00 pm. So I tell the guy, and he blows me off a few times. "The bank closes at 6:00." he says. Point is, I want to go before Five Fucking O Clock! He leaves and makes sure to not be around until 4:59 pm. When I call him, I ask, "Did you want to make a point or something? Waiting til 5:00???"

He had the audacity to say, "Yes."

So I start yelling at him, "I Don't Give a Fuck if the bank closes at six! I wanted to go before Five!!!!!!" and he keeps calling me rude, and I throw the phone at a wall. It broke. My little cousin and brother had to fix it while I was gone.

So we go to the bank, and at the bank I slam his car door on my way back into his car. He yells at me, "I'm your Uncle! Don't forget that! You need to respect me!!!" Like fucking cartman's 'respect mah authority!' bit. I yell back at him, "You need to Respect Me before I can respect you!"

I knew it would elevate to this, but I'm not stupid... Loun yells, "If you're going to have an attitude like a bitch you can get out and walk!" Thank goodness we were at a stoplight. I open the car door calmly and Slam it... hard. People on the street were gaping at us, and I had to weave between stopped cars. I knew that I was within a few miles of some friends' apartments, so I walked... in the hot, blistering, hundred degree sun. I had a bunch of cars honking at me and guys yelling, "Hey baby! Want a ride???" I was sorely tempted.

Reached my friend's home, cried for a few seconds, then said, "Dude. You guys got anything to drink?" And so I hung out with my friend Adam and Jeremiah for a few hours, watching baseball, x-files, and cartoon network. I smelled like sweat and men's cologne... had to cover up the smell, so I used their cologne and kind of washed up with a small washcloth in their bathroom. Geez, you ever notice that guys don't have any pleasant smelling soap? Their soap is so... so soapy and Neutral. Whatever, I didn't want to reek. We had all you can eat tacos for dinner! I wish I could have taken an all you can eat to-go box.

Now those are friends... they're the kinds of friends where if they weren't home, I'd have broken into their apartment and helped myself to their drinks and cable tv until they got home. Hell, when we were light enough to joke about the incident, Adam goes, "If we weren't home you could have stolen my bike, that'd be cool."

Back again

Ugh. I have a headache. I just woke up, I think I took two naps today. My parents didn't even know I was home. It seems that when I have problems, I try to get away from them; however temporally. It's nice to sleep, and forget that things are falling apart in the waking world. When I'd wake up in a half dozing state, I'd feel happy still. The problem is, whenever sleep ebbs away everything is still there, and it's been there festering while I was napping.

*yawn* So, I'm having a hard time keeping someone I love almost more than self happy. Man, it shouldn't be that way. I should always be able to make them happy. Because of aforementioned predicament, I'm questioning my position in said person's life. See, I'm pretty optimistic in a surreal way. I have these dreams that I'm gonna be with him for the rest of my life and be content, happily ever after. Great make-up sex when we argue, watching movies together, taking walks with our future dog, having dinner with him, listening to him when he feels like talking, and pretending that he's listening to me when I'm babbling.

Sometimes, I just need to wake up. It doesn't always work that way, especially when I live across the country. I would wait, because to be with him and to share my life with his is worth waiting for. Unfortunately, it doesn't always work that way. I understand that I can't expect him to hold on the way I do, it's rather unrealistic and practically sycophantic. I have to let things run their course. *sigh*

Right now, I'm ready for whatever decision he makes. I won't stand to be another factor bringing him down. Goddamnit, I'm supposed to be one of the uplifting parts in his life! A Good chapter! One that he'll want to read and re-read again, and keep continuing! Agh! This sucks. Okay. *breathe* If things go shitty, I want them to be shitty for only one person (namely me) and not for him. I kind of paraded into his life when he wasn't expecting me anyways... I can't write anymore now. I keep getting emotional, and I don't want to be. I'm just gonna be as calm and collected as anyone. *clamp*

07~16~01

Sunbeams cause sunburns

My throat kind of hurts today. God knows why, it's a hot summer day, we don't have any airconditioning or fans on, and I'm feeling chilly. I came out in an old pleated skirts (I still fit my clothes from late junior high, scary isn't it?) and a button up sweater, my family looked at me (with one of those looks really only reserved for me) and asked, "Aren't you hot?".

Maybe I'm sick.

Lately, as you may know, I've been mopey. I'm still waiting for that something bad to happen, and I hope it doesn't happen. I don't like waiting, much less, waiting for something horrible. I've been trying hard to be pleasant to people. Doesn't always work though. At times, I fear I aggravate situations for myself and others moreso.

I'm going to go now. I really don't have much to say yet. I'll probably add more to this later.

07~14~01

Later on in the day I just can't shake this feeling. Goddamnit. Mark my words, something bad is going to happen. *shudder*

07~14~01

Swimming in some really thick stuff

I've been feeling out of sorts lately. It started with a feeling similar to forgetting something when leaving for vacation, like... forgetting to instruct my secretary what happens if the sales coordinator of a huge retail store calls about a time estimation on an order. That feeling kind of metamorphed into a keen fear in the back of my mind, like paranoia. I'm afraid that it's affecting other people around me too... I hope that most of all it doesn't affect my relationship. It's kind of like a need that I have, it makes me clingy, and that's not healthy for any relationship. After a few sleepless nights, moreover, fitful sleeping nights, my body's slowing down.

Went to Starbucks again with Simone. The people there all know us by appearance (of course, we're the only ones who go there dressed like some horrific silent picture film), it isn't that we want to hang out at Starbucks, but it's the only cafe we have that's open til 11:00, and we have nothing better to do. I went up to the counter and ordered a drink, hot, as it was a bit chilly that night. The guy behind the counter asked me something, and I thought he asked me, "With Ice?"

In reality, he was asking me "What size?" I said, "No." He kind of stared at me and asked me again, so I said, "Hot." I blinked, and realised momentarily that he was asking me what size I wanted my drink to be. It was pretty ridiculous. Course, that wasn't the half of it. The poor guy gave me the price, and I slid my charge card to him. He looked at it, and slid it back to me. I didn't understand why he would do that, (I mean, it's not as though it says DECLINED all over it... does it?) so I pushed it back to him. He glanced at it, then said, "That's nice" and pushed it back. I was getting a bit frustrated now. I thought, well... maybe he's new and he doesn't realise that we can charge coffee. Unfortunately, when I looked down, I found that it was my own slipping mind that was confusing him. I had been trying to get him to charge my driver's license. "You sure you don't want an espresso? Double?" Ha. Ha. *mope*

I'm not a smoker, but I have had cigarettes on occasion. Simone and I were smoking Djarums' clove cigarettes the other day. I had only had half, and I felt what I guess people would call a really strong cigarette 'buzz'. I couldn't even finish it; so we saved it for later (why waste a whole half?). Last night, when I was finishing that half, I felt it again... really potent. I'd never EVER had a cigarette buzz before, and I always wondered what people were talking about when they talked about them. In fact, aren't cloves supposed to be the lighter, less potent cigarettes? I've smoked Marlboro reds before with some friends, and still never got that feeling... and those are some nasty-icky-strong cancer sticks. I told Simone too, "My eyes just focused and unfocused... I feel really light headed. Maybe it's the pack?" She wasn't getting the same feeling... It's kind of embarrassing, now that I think about it. I got lightheaded over half of a fucking clove... that's like, smoker-candy; isn't it?

Better Cheddars and Sea Gulls

As I went to bed lastnight, my feeling started to ebb away leaving a different one in its stead. I now have a sort of inexplicable sadness, a sense of dread. I wonder if something's going to happen? I woke up at 11 in the afternoon, which is actually quite late for me. These past few weeks, I've been waking up around 8 AM, despite what little sleep I may have or haven't had. After doing a few things around the house with my brothers, my family kind of started lounging in the living room and talking about my father and the old days. My father was a gangster, not like the 'have sex, do drugs, get drunk, get high, make other young girls pregnant, shoot people' type of gangsters that we have here in America; but like the depiction of rival trouble-making groups in the old kung-fu movies. My father would race dirtbikes, learned different ways to streetfight, stole lunch from open markets for fun, and just had a real adventurous time in his youth. Somehow, we found slides of an early vacation my parents had taken to the old country, and so we just watched the slides and laughed over stories that my parents had about certain people and places that were photographed. At the end of the slide carousel, there were pictures of me as a little girl. I must have been about 7 or younger... but there I was, with my box of crackers, feeding sea-gulls and sitting on boulders with waves crashing all around me. I was a chubby kid too, well, in the face, I looked like a china-doll. It was strange though, because I felt sad to see those pictures. I can't explain it, but I think it's because things were just more carefree in childhood. I just needed my box of crackers, some sand, rocks, waves, and sea gulls to make me happy.

There was a picture of me, beaming in such a delighted way over the discovery of a starfish in some tide pool. I was holding it up by one of its leggy things, and smiling a scrunchy sort of smile. It isn't that I wish I were a kid again, but I miss that feeling, and I wonder how I can attain it. I really only come close to it when I'm with Thaddeus. It's the feeling of perfect joy, just being together. We don't have to do anything too complicated to experience that happiness, but just be together. That's how I feel... and I miss that feeling. Sometimes, when I don't have him with me anymore, whether online or on the phone, I become frightened that I'll never get to experience that sensation again, that I'll lose it somehow.

07~11~01

Orange and Blue

So I was shaken awake this morning *literally* by a phone call. My phone was shaking, that is, and thank god I was rattled out of my dream. Thaddeus called, and I don't quite remember what all was said in the beginning, but I know I told him about a horrible dream that doesn't seem to horrible now. I remember the vivid colours of orange and royal blue. I just remembered the dream again when I was watching a movie, and the football team in the movie happened to have the colours of Orange and Royal Blue. Okay kiddies, close your bathroom windows and get ready for story-time!

I think I was laying down in my parents room on the floor, waiting for Thaddeus to call me or waiting to call him. I remember that the floor was carpetted, which is odd, since our floors are tiled now. My parents came in, and so did my little brother, waking me and telling me to go to my own room. I got up with my phone, went to the bathroom to brush my teeth or something. While I was standing in front of the mirror, a huge, iguana-sized lizard jumped from the bathroom window at me and immediately wrapped itself around my right arm. I screamed and reared back, I'm sure, shocked at first by the thing being around my arm, and feeling it's tight suction around my arm. It was as though its four legs were actually suctioned to my arm, in a not painful way, but in a way that I knew couldn't be good.

The lizard was bright orange, it had royal blue knobby thingies on it's head, like antennae. It was quite warm, and soft, and squishy... in a pleasant way. You know, the thing felt like a puppy. It felt like a puppy when they're pretty young, without much fur, and when they're dry... just soft skin, almost powdery, and very warm. I grabbed it and pried it off. It was disgusting, I could feel the suctioning of it as I was pulling it off my arm. It was squirming around and whipping its tail as I chucked it back out the bathroom window. It was horrifying, when I looked down, I could see orange powder residue on my arm and on my hands. My skin was swelling, and it looked like I had gotten scratched across my arm... like marks that would have been made by a wire being dragged across my arm. It was red and swelling, and I was trying to rinse it in water.

My bathroom doesn't have any hand soap, and that reflected in my dream, because while I was rinsing, my daddy and Matthew came running in and mentioned soap. My dad kept warning me to not get the powder in my eyes, and that I would have to wash my hands with soap first. Suddenly, I felt the impulse to wash my eyes, I don't know why. I didn't want to run the risk of getting the stuff in my eyes though. Matthew ran to get an encyclopedia in my room to read up on that sort of lizard, and to look at its picture. As soon as they left the bathroom, and I had turned off the water, another one of those blasted things jumped from the window and hooked itself around my arm. It felt bigger than the last one, and harder to pry off... and as soon as I hurled That one through the window, I was back to rinsing.

Matthew must have heard my scream, and he rushed in. It was late, I think, and I told him we had to go buy antibacterial soap. So he went with me, and we stopped by 7-11. Immediately I ran into the back, where I wasn't supposed to be, and turned on their water and started to soap. At first, there was just a typical loser-type employee there, and it looked like he was talking to a drugdealer. A few minutes later, while I was rinsing my marks (which were now scabby, thin, scars... like I said, ran a wire or a thin chain across the arms), people kept streaming in. A principle and some girl were behind me looking, watching as I washed the poison off my cuts. The principle was analysing them, and the girl mentioned that I looked like a vampire movie character, since I was now wearing (don't ask, I don't know) a white, cotton, flowey poet's blouse, and the sleeves were stained with water and a bit of blood. Then she pointed out the underside of my left arm. I hadn't noticed anything there before, and when I turned my arm, I started crying, because I didn't know I had gotten poisoned and cut there. The wound on my left arm was growing steadily larger, and it was gaping, bloody, and disgustingly cyst-like. I stuck it underneath the running water, hoping that it would help... then the phone started to beep and shake. Thank my darling's spider-sense... I might have lost my arm.

Ch-ch-ch-Chinchillas!

Lots of interesting things have happened since my last update. Okay, not too many interesting things, but I should fill up this space to make up for my last month, eh? Well, my cousin had a baby girl, and she's surprisingly cute for having come from such physically unattractive parents. (I was being quite kind in my description, by the way.) My dear friend Simone got new pets! Chinchillas!!! Oh, they're so adoreable! I can't tell even begin to describe how Darling they are! They're these fuzzy bunny-mousey-squirreley-hoppy creatures that are mostly fluff. I mean, mostly fluff... when you try to grab one, your hand just sinks into the fur, and you realise how skinny they actually are under their fuzzy exterior! She named them Gir and Cupcake... *starry eyed* Isn't that just Cuuuuuuute?

Cupcake is the most feminine one, she's got long whiskers, and long eyelashes. Gir... she's kind of got a mashed face, and her whiskers are abnormally short. We think that maybe someone in the petshop got bored and cut her whiskers. The very thought kills Simone, so you really oughtn't mention it at all to her. Gir is more social out of the two, and she likes to jump onto people's laps and shoulders. I have a scratch on my back, since she jumped onto my shoulder, off a wall, crashed, and tried to use my shoulder as a foothold. Okay, that wasn't so cute... and it stung when Simone put the antiseptic stuff on it, but still.. she seemed really, really, sorry!

Simone and I also did some shopping. We went all around the town looking for Lanyard (that plastickey string stuff that kids make keychains and bracelets with to string onto their backpacks), I guess she's going to attempt to weave it into her hair for a techno-fetish Siouxsie Sioux look. It looks pretty promising.

Overstepping my bounds Hmmm.. whatelse? Oh, here's a new one. I made new acquaintances in the channel #anime. It was difficult at first, as they weren't the most welcoming channel. In fact, I can attest that they're actually jack asses with no cordiality for newcomers at all. My first welcome was a kick, and it continued that way for awhile, speak, kick, degrade, kick, insult, kick, offend, kick. Somehow, somewhere along the lines of text, I made friends. Maybe they've never had anyone bite back. I mentioned to a new friend of mine (who is steadily becoming a dear confidante), Youma, that most people on the internet are horribly insecure. Whatever power or popularity they recieve online is like an adrenaline rush for them, and thus they act out whatever role they have in their fantasy internet realm due to the lack of control over their realities. It's a shame, and I've seen it in many internet chat-spaces. I'm glad to have made friends with the people of #anime though... they help me to be less constructive than I already am. Ahh... the life of an internet-loafer. Someday, I will be pearshaped; but my ass hurts right now.

My ass hurts

Speaking of which, I took Bruce-Li out on a walk the other day. It turned out to be a jog/run. I came back stinky, sweaty, sore, and tired... and it was only a mile and a half. Damn I'm out of shape. I don't run unless I'm running away from some kind of frog-fish beast (read The Shadow over Innsmouth - by H.P. Lovecraft, you'd run too). It really killed my bottom and ankles though, mostly because we'd be running full speed, and the damned pooch would stop suddenly to sniff at something alongside the path. God given brakes to quadripeds... ha, but I have thumbs. I win. So, yeah... my bottom is sore. Then I went to the dance studio for the first time in a week. Eyleen must've felt some sadistic need to torture us with flexibility conditioning (PMS?), so not only do I suffer the pains of running, but also from being forced into strange positions and splits for two hours. *creak, crack* That was my hip, by the way.

There's always more stuff to add, but I guess I'm plumb out of things to babble about. I'll type more words later; but now comes time for tea with Simone. G'night all, and oh, before I forget: Go vote for Daniel... he deserves a 10 in www.hotornot.com

I don't have the exact link, but I'll put it up later. He is a cutey, and the scores are showin it! Anyhow, I'm gonna make like Susan Storm Richards and disappear! *plink*

06~15~01

I like free food.

I think I like free stuff in general. There's this warehouse store in California called "Costco". So this place sells everything in bulk for a bit cheaper than average price. It's a rip either way for my family, I mean, sure each individual roll of fruit roll-ups are priced competitively compared to the grocery store, but the fact that you've gotta buy 300 lbs. of it makes it kinda' pointless. My family doesn't eat anything that sits around the home for more than a week. Left overs get left, bulk foods eventually evolve into living organisms in some hidden corner. So we'll end up buying $25 of fruit roll ups, and eat only about $3.00 worth.

But that's not what this rant is about. No sir, it isn't even about Costco. Hell, I started it with the intention of telling you folks out there about Sampler Saturday at Costco. So we go to this huge warehouse place, and there are card tables set out at every aisle with a red-aproned, minimum-wage worker doling out Free Samples!!! It gets us everytime. That's how we're fed on Saturday if we're too lazy to cook. Unfortunately, the idea of saving money by wolfin' free samples doesn't work on our family. We're spontaneous buyers as well. My Mum will try a sample of strawberry tarts and go, "Mmmm.. That's a good tart! Oh! It's only a few dollars per dozen! Let's buy some!" and thus we go home with about three tons of strawberry tarts.

Blessed free food

I had free food today. Blessed free food. There was a picnic at our local lake area, hosted by my church. The good Reverend himself mentioned something I thought was interesting: We thank God for the food that He put on our table, yet we made the food or bought it ourselves. We worked and labored and 'toiled' over it. (Toil... over it, not on it. I hope.)

Sure I'm religious, and I'm thankful for food and such; but I admit, it's like "Hey, I'm thankful for the cow that this came from. Cool if the cow came from God at some point of its life." Yeah, I'm damned grateful for whoever made those extra chewey, thick, chocolatey brownies.

Essentially, the food wasn't free. We were supposed to bring something to add to our 'blessed pot-luck'. Hey, if you don't bring somethin, I guess it's free. Oh, Oh! And before I forget, even entrance into the lake wasn't free. We nearly drove away when we found out that it was four bucks per vehicle. Four bucks! That's almost ten 39 cent cheeseburgers! *spit* The girl in the booth bent down to look into the car (I admit, we drive a sweet car) after telling us to pay up or leave, no even being in God's party did not mean we got in free. She saw me and recognized me from highschool. Yee! happy reunion! She was the bitch that was in the group of druggies and freaks! My Friend! (Mind you, I don't mean bitch in a bad way.. she was a bitch, but so was I) As Tan started to drive off, she called at us, "Come back! Come back! Mattha, is that you?" And we chatted for a few minutes while the car behind us grew aggravated. As you may have already figured, we got in free. Kinda' funny, since a young man in there was complaining about her. "She wouldn't let me in without paying. I said, 'it's after 6:00, isn't the park supposed to have free entry after 6:00?' She said 'I don't care. Oh, and I don't care if you're with the church too.' Darn she was not pleasant!"

It's good to have friends. She looked really good too... good like, rehabilitated.

I miss The Good Reverend. I'll be gone tomorrow on business, and I didn't get to speak to him much today. *Foam at mouth, wheeze* Uh, *wipe* one last thing. Music. You kids gotta listen to this song I'm about to throw out. Don't take it as an offensive prejudiced satire of Asians either... I'm Asian, remember? So this group consists of a few Laotion boys who sing/rap in a humourous imitation of an imitation of what lots of Americans think is an Asian accent. Check 'em out. The guy's name is Tai Mai Shu (which, by the way, aren't even syllables that exist in the Laotion language) The song is called Tie My Shoe. Got it? That's some good listenin' there... it's meant to be funny. It is. If you don't like it, screw you.

06~01~01

I dreaded to brave those musty corridors again, but fascination downed all my qualms. The boards creaked beneath our feet, and I trembled once when I thought I saw a faint, rope-like line traced in the dust near the staircase.

Right, so I've been reading Lovecraft. Heck, it isn't even Lovecraft that I've been reading, but stories revised by him. They're not so bad, and once I start reading a story, I become engrossed in it. I guess I don't know if it's bad or not, but hey... I like them, Pseudo H.P. Lovecraft or not. The Loved Dead and Other Revisions. I think they were young authors aspiring to become like the old chap. Still, if I were an authour and I got my story "revised", I'd take it as a hint - "You suck. Let me finish this for ye."

I haven't updated in two months. I've been slackin', but hey, I've been busy! Or something. Sleep is preoccupying too, baby. I guess this'll be an extra long rambling to make up for it. I saw Thaddeus, he came, he went. If I had preternatural powers or a knowledge of some power beyond this mortal realm, I'd use it to have him stay here with me. But I don't. So maybe if I practice hard enough, I can use the force instead. *Fzzt, bzzt!*

Serioiusly though, Thaddeus exceeded all my expectations... and I'm not talkin' appearances (but if I were, mmmm, mm... finger lickin' good!). I really have to admit that when I'm with him, it seems as though we are the only two people who exist. Revvy-baby, I love you. *Kiss!*

School, dance, and cheerleading... bah, I'm too damned lazy to write about that. Another rant for another day. Let's just talk about today, pretend that there weren't two months inbetween the last rambling and this one, huh? Okay, glad you agree. *pat, pat* Have a banana.

Today, I woke at at an abnormally early hour to take my little brother to school. Some field trip. Problem was, Matthew decided in between snores that he didn't want to go to the field trip. I thought, "Well damn. I woke up for nothing." and went back to sleep. When I woke again, my parents and Matthew were busy outside doing yard work. Whatever had possessed them, I can't even begin to ascertain. Ia, R'lyeh! (gotta read Lovecraft to get it.) So there they were, at the side of the house, getting rid of trash, washing lawn chairs, polishing some patio furniture, and weeding around what little vegetation we had. I stood and watched them awhile before my mother noticed me and forced a task on me. It was so hot, unbelievable that the weather could be so overbearing at only 9:30 am! So we finished, and I ate half a doughnut. It was pretty nasty. Then I worked my ass off on this stupid machine trying to finish up summaries on the research of a new hormone releasing drug we just contracted. My parents were leaving town and gave me the impression that they were going to need the summaries to teach a seminar. By the time I finished and handed it over to my smartly dressed mother, she breezily replied, "Oh, I don't need that today. Put it on my desk."

*simmer* I sat here til my back was aching typing that... that... thing!!!! But I got $20. Yeeee! *hop* "Here's $20. In case you need some gas." Yo, you're one cool daddio. *wink* That's my parents' solution to most of my troubles... buy something. Hey, works for me. And they wonder why I'm a chronic spender.

Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman

On to spending... Spiderman is the greatest. I love Peter Parker. So I went and tried to acquisition two action figures for Thaddeus; Spiderman classic, and Spiderman with the venom symbiote costume. Actionfigurexpress had them, yes indeed, but I made a mistake on the order. It took them over three days to call me back so we could patch things up, then after they charged me, they never sent him the effing figures! Oooohh... that really pushed my buttons in a non-tickling fashion. Course, I called and gave their voicemail hell. Another week before I got any reply... based in Hawaii... bah, what the hell kind of excuse is that?

I find these figures (well, Thaddeus finds them) on Kaybee Toy's website. I decide to take a jaunt to the mall today and look for these lovely figures, but all they've got are: Arctic Spiderman, Extreme Sports Spiderman, Ninja Spiderman, and get this... 'Fireman Spiderman'. What the hell? I just want Spiderman. Yeesh. People... say that outloud to yourselves a few times. I urge you. "Fireman Spiderman". Makes your skin crawl.

Off to Toys 'R' Us; I found myself playing with Toy Story toys, thinking of Morgan. They had this gnarly Emperor Zurg toy... a 'room guard' it was called. Set it in front of your door, it has a sensor see, and he says all sorts of different things and moves, aiming his blaster, eyes flashing. "Is this sector in need of a leader? Well, I will take over this sector in 5 seconds. beep-beep-beep-beep-beep! Mwahahahaha! I am ruler of this quadrant, no space rangers allowed! *zzzap! Zap!!!*" Dude, you don't even realize how awesome the thing was. I think it probably went up to Morgan's knee or past. But there I was, playing with the thing for a good 15 minutes... maybe more. Then began my search for classic spidey again. I found the line of toys! Oh, hallelujah! *Gasp!* Can it be? They only had Venom.

Took that baby to the cashiers and asked for Spiderman. "What's it look like? Ew. That's a freaky doll." Doll? DOLL??? I shoulda' shot the guy... he had no right to claim masculinity, he called a venom action figure a 'doll'. So I politely explained that the one I was looking for is an action figure, a red one... similar to this, with blue tights. They didn't have any. Apparently Venom is overwhelmingly popular. After he informed me of this, he goes, "So... you still like toys? Kinda like a big kid huh? I'm one too."

I gave him the look of death and said, "Sure. Just not the same toys you play with. Perv." and walked out. He called actionfigures 'dolls'. *shudder*

Man I was in a foul mood. It didn't help that tonight happens to be graduation night. The streets and stores were crawling with pre-pubscent dolts. On my way home, a limo was next to me. I didn't bother looking at the tinted windows, that is, until one started rolling down. Some pimply, over make-upped girl with a hard as plaster hair do peeks out and goes, "Heeey! Heeeey! Whassup?" When I rolled my eyes, she and all her teeny bopper friends started laughing. I turned down my music and shouted back at her, "Did you just want me to notice you in the limo? Or did you want me to congratulate you for the task of actually completing highschool with a 2.0?" They rolled the window back up. What I really wanted to say was, "Tell your driver that his tail light's out." Then shoot the back tires and tail lights with my trusty CZ-35.

Okay... so I don't have one a those... but if I had one, I'd do stuff like that all the time. Yeah... *stroke gun*

04~05~01

I?m as excited as pop-rocks coated candy lollipops! The time has come, my friend, to see if both Thaddeus and I can stand the elongated presence of one another. I mean, it?s one thing to wake him up on a nightly basis via phone line, but quite another thing to actually wake him in person? I?m not so cute when I?m crusty and tousled. He can hear my voice and see that it?s actually accompanied by a bounce, skip, and twirl. Really? no joke. I was even told today that I?m quite graceful on high heels? sad part of the fact is, I?m a klutz. I suppose that it?ll be useful to have Thaddeus around to catch me when I trip over those imaginary cracks on the sidewalk! What a SuperHero! Eh? Eh??? Well, I think so? *spit*

On a side note, relating to the subject indirectly? have you ever pondered blue as a color? Like? blue - there?s sky blue, cornflower blue, azure blue, and cobalt blue. Wow, cobalt blue? and what a color that is folks. I mean, sure we know what cobalt blue is, but who the hell ever uses cobalt blue as an everyday descriptive? Like, ?Hey whoa! There?s some cobalt blue carpet over there.? Yeah? visit: www.hoteldiva.com, they use cobalt blue descriptively. I uh? think I?ll go take a swim in that cobalt.

My birthday: (goddamn am I self centered or what?) My birthday falls on Friday the 13th, which also happens to be Good Friday, which also begins my entry into adulthood in that I leave the teens behind me, (20? not quite legal drinking age) and to top it all off, I?ll be committing heinous acts of indecency with a self proclaimed Satanist in San Francisco? which by Californian standards is Sodom or Gomorra, which by east coast standards is Hell. Hrm. Mean anything? Maybe not to you blokes? but I think that people should start filling their bathtubs and buying canned goods soon. Yay! Thaddeus is coming to see me!*bounce, dance, twirl* I hope that nothing terribly awful happens? like being stuck full of pins and flayed and hung on a lamp post in protest of the extinction of flying monkeys or what not.

So Hey! Have you guys seen my new glasses? Check ?em out sometime? Other than that, I haven?t got much to say. I?m all a flutter, anticipating with great pleasure my birthday gift. Thaddeus is the best gift to be given to mankind? rather like that self sacrifice the Christians speak of? but he?s not for mankind. Nope, no sirree bob? he?s for Me! *sighs* I?m so in love! *jaws rising out of the water!* Current music: Soul Power - The Smashing Pumpkins with James Brown

03~09~01

Let?s have a killing spree at our local post office part II

I hate the post office!!! I HATE the post office! *Wreck!* ARGH!!!! *Mangle, shred, bite, rend* I Utterly despise, detest, loathe, and Abhor the effing post office!!! *stomp, stomp, stomp* Where is my package from Thaddeus??? Where??? Well this afternoon, after waking up very late into the day, I began to notice my tempestuous disposition. Am I usually this bleak and quick to anger? No. I miss Thaddeus? and the package that he sent me was supposed to sustain me through this shitty weekend without him. *Sob? Weep*

So I give the post office a ring, and after a long hold time I finally ask, ?Is there a package waiting for me? #501?? Postal guy takes his time in searching, then comes back and says, ?Yeah? it says you have a package. Let me look for it.? Another 10 minutes go by, then the same bastard comes to the phone, more hesitantly now, and says, ?Um? sorry you don?t have a package. Don?t know why that slip says you do, maybe it was from one you picked up yesterday??

I DIDN?T PICK UP A PACKAGE YESTERDAY YOU IMBECILE!!!!!!EH PO(#%U FK (*#@&)(@$ N FP*# KDJ S:ODIUT#@(Y%* #% @&#%*()Y@UI$ %^!(#% %K#< (*F SKH:FV~!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ARGGGHHH!!!!!!!!! *Kick!!!* Ow. That hurt. I?m gone tomorrow, from 3 in the a of m until midnight. I won?t even get to see if they lost the package to the abyss or not. *Cryyyyyyyyy*

As though that weren?t bad enough, last night I had a Terrible 3 hours at the advanced studio. I mean, okay? I strained a muscle at the college studio? that means to take it easy. I explained this to the director, and yes, she said to be careful, but being careful doesn?t mean stepping on your back while you sit with your legs apart, trying desperately to grab your ankles on either side of you, and trying to get your nose to the floor. It doesn?t help that I haven?t been going to the more advanced studio for about two and a half weeks. I didn?t realize I could get so sucky in just two weeks. I could hardly do the sequences across the floor? and I was frustrated. Mira, my sweet Ukrainian pal, even asked me if I was feeling okay about myself, that I looked frustrated. That, my fellow readers, is drastic. I try to never be frustrated when I am dancing, much less look it. What the Fuck are you going to gain by yelling at me, ?Triple pirouette en pointe! Stick it! Come on, Suck up and spot!Triple, not a double! Get up on your toe!!!!!? Hell I can barely do a double pirouette on either side of myself when I?m not wearing toe shoes. Get a grip people! I think it?s noteworthy enough that I can even prance about on my toes when most people can?t even walk straight on flat feet!

Ohh? my feet hurt, my calves hurt, my left hamstring hurts. Let?s sum it up. 6 hours of crappy dancing and self esteem crushing yesterday, 20 minutes of cursing the post office today? I mean, I know their job is a job from hell, thus making it something I devised, but by no means does that allow them to take it out on me!!! *whine* If all goes well, I will have a good day tomorrow. Say it with me, I will have a good day tomorrow. *inhale, exhale, inhale, inhale?*

03~08~01

The day has been steadily sloping downhill. I woke up extra early this morning, not only to get ready to go to the studio, but to call Thaddeus and wish him safe journey. I found out that old people take fitness walks in the mall too? before the mall opens. News to me, old news to Thaddeus. Recommended? I never heard that. So there they are? old bats in brightly colored warm-up suits, power walking up and down the mall strip. Hmm. They must?ve thought I was there for the same reason too, in my leotard and dance pants.

I wonder how my Darling is doing? he got his cd?s, so at least he has something to listen to on his trip. I feel mopey without him, and can?t even make the decision between baking some sort of chocolate goodness for myself, or convincing someone to sign their soul to my black book. *sigh!* I?m not even feeling deviant.

Oh yes, I?m handicapped again? mildly. Another one of those twisted sexual innuendos in the studio this morning. ?Open your legs? huh? Well when a person is sore, one Can?t spread their legs farther than a 100 degree angle when sitting. So to prove that my theory is wrong, the lovely Sara (and she is lovely) has me sit facing a wall, in my 100 degrees, as she takes her foot to my lower back/bottom and shoves me in. Yay! Alright! I got my body to press flat against the wall, my pelvis too? so I guess I Can reach that 180 degrees? then I felt it? again, my left hamstring. If it had a sound association, it would be *kksch*. Eh, it?s not so bad? I can walk it off and keep dancing? just won?t be pressed up to any walls anytime this week? or next.

After a lovely three hours of pure masochism, I?m home again? only to find that relaxation isn?t top of the schedule for my family and I. Paperwork? paperwork that is income dependant. Not mine for that matter. I?d like to scream, ?Do it your damned self! That?s what you get for procrastination!? But I need people to owe me favours? it always helps to have people in my debt.

I didn?t get Thaddeus? package yet, and I wonder if the beasts at the post office didn?t already flay the package like a juicy cattle-carcass? just because it?s being sent to me. I think his curse of the Universe being against him is beginning to rub off on me. Then again, being that I am The Devil (or The Plague), I am part of that curse for him. Tee hee. I NEED that package before the withdrawal kicks in! *hyperventilate*

On my final note, I?d like to clap hands for my dear friend Toby? aka: TobeDawg. He?s kind. He?s compassionate, and feeling. I was watching as he posted a comment up for a mopey-the sky is falling-Gino, and he touched my heart in a way that only a gay man could? Toby is kind! I almost felt badly for myself that I cannot comprehend the word sincerity and sympathy, save when it is most advantageous. Toby is one of many who calls me Satan (my family included), and thus his quote will be immortalized in my ramblings: ?Mattha, people have problems! You can?t say that someone doesn?t have problems! Everyone has problems! They may not seem like problems to you, but they?re problems to them. Goddamn, Satan.? Goddamn indeed.

03~07~01

A typical and not so very strange day. Woke up late, as always... and commenced to clean the abode. I realised soon after that it was time to pick up my dear friend, Toby, from work. Well, I was running about 5 minutes late... that's not even close to fashionably late yet... but still late.

I felt sorry for Toby... he walks everywhere. By the time I got to Target and had them page Toby over the PA, "Toby, call line 293.. line 293." he was gone long gone. Being that I have no sense of direction, I ended up driving about 16 minutes around my city (in which 5 minutes of driving straight on will get you in another town) looking for pedestrians that could possibly be him and trying desperately to remember where his apartment was. I've been there... dozens of times.

But hey! We had a lovely lunch and I got a discman from Toby too... which belonged to some poor unfortunate that thinks his discman is in the corner of that cluttered closet... SOMEWHERE??? Well it's mine now. And it only cost a gardenburger and fries. Didn't get the cd inside, but that's not my style of music anyways... Berkeley's greatest hits or something along those lines. Panasonic is my friend.

On a more depressing note... my Darling is leaving for the weekend tomorrow! *weep* I won't be able to speak to him before he goes either, because he will be gone before I'm awake... actually, I'll be awake, but I'll be getting yelled at in a dance studio on the college campus somewhere. They scream things that a perv can take as great sexual innuendos: "Tighten up! Harder! Push those muscles! Squeeze your asscheeks tight! Spread your legs!!!" But alas, what is a sexual innuendo without my darling to think of? I shall miss him so very much... I can feel withdrawal starting to work its claws underneath my skin. *wince*

I'm sure he will have fun though... A Perfect Circle; that's who he's going to see. I just hope that he doesn't get snowed in while he's at some singles' bar meeting women... snowed in at a strip joint... that could cause even a SuperHero-man of steel to buckle. Here I am thinking of the worst case scenarios... what's the worst that can happen? Being snowed in at his sister's house? Ehhh... we'll save that for "Nude, Nubile, Lolita's issue #47" special or something. Right. So I'll miss him. *sighs* Truly, seriously, and no loopholes in the contract, I love you Thaddeus. *sign at the 'X'*

03~05~01

Immaculate Conception

*rubs tummy* I am a baptized Christian, but I can't say that I've been the most devout. Still, God works in mysterious ways. I am pregnant... through immaculate conception, no less. I don't recall ever having sex, but according to an unstable and dysfunctional woman named Angela, I am pregnant... with her ex-husband's child. How did this come to be? Hell even I don't know. It was New Years the last time I saw him... yes, I laid in his bed... but he wasn't anywhere near me save for once, when he asked me very politely if he could lay down by my side. I told him, "You may, but don't touch me and make no attempt to kiss me. Stay on your side."

Cold? Maybe. Well... I should see to having this holy child or aborting it with a coat hanger. Or I should go to the hospital where the candy-striping bitch works and throw a huge tantrum, confronting her and grounding whatever caused her to tell an entire hospital staff that I have some hellspawn festering inside my womb. I'm a virgin for cryin' out loud! Soon they'll be saying Hail Mattha's instead of Hail Mary's.

On a different note, while I'm still feeling wrathful, what is it with men? It's almost as though they have an acute radar sense of who is single and who is not. Being NOT single, they tend to want me more. Where the hell were all of you when Thaddeus wouldn't even give me a sidelong glance? Seems like I can't step out into a public place without some poor guy smiling their 'trump card' smile at me, asking me if I'm busy on the weekends, if I want to go out sometime, or why I don't call or mail them. I can't even carry out a conversation with my Darling on the internet without some blundering fool calling me on the other line out of a half assed whim. "Maybe she'll go out on a date with me? Maybe she's single?" I'm very kind to the ones who ask me out... I simply tell them, "I'm sorry... but I'll have to ask my boyfriend if that's okay."

Is a taken woman more desirous? Forbidden fruit?

That doesn't even count for the time Victor tried to lure me out into his car on a cold night during some party. When that wasn't possible, he tried to force kisses on me. Mm. No. I'm not saying that some of these blokes never had a chance, I just wonder where they all were when I was dreadfully single. So I'm sought by men now, pregnant by a higher power, and stuipd. *pause* Stupid.

I'm stupid people. Dumber than a post. A regular ignoramus. Humperdedoo! Hyuk.

From Valentine's day to present 03~04~01

Happy, happy, happy, bouncey! That's how I am and have been for the past few weeks. It all started when I came back from Florida... the godforsaken wasteland that it is. I had my amount of fun, but have to admit... art deco and ex boyfriends are best left to the sunscorched land which is Florida. So let's start the rambling...

I love presents... I love nice things, cute things, fun things, and presents. I'm sentimental and romantic, so give me a handwritten letter over a sterile email anyday. *Waves red envelope* So I get a Valentine in the mail, one which I admit I was expecting. Poor post office... I would drop by each day waiting for my letter from a certain SuperHero. Course, they got their revenge later... as I may elaborate. I think I had a brush with death at least 3 times that day. I was so oblivious to my surroundings... really fast cars for instance. *Hop* I was and still am ecstatic over it! It's a crying shame that I delay writing about the event til long after... couldn't truly hope to describe my fuzzy, warm, caramel coated feelings to the fullest weeks later.

The Post Office... 2nd ring of inferno

*ahem* My not so happy event. Because I was so pleased with my lovely valentine, I sent a love letter in admiration back to my Darling. Oh, and it was something... pink envelope with little kittens on it, paw prints, hearts, lipstick kisses, and the works. It was even scented like my personal chemical death. (Pheremones?) Inside my cutesy love letter, I included chocolate... heart shaped, foil wrapped, Dove chocolates. I even paid extra postage to insure safe delivery.

Fuckers jacked my envelope open and ATE the chocolates intended for my Darling!!! *destroy random object* "There's a huge, gaping, paper wound from the corner of your envelope to the center, Mattie. Like someone had stuck their finger in it and ripped a jagged line through it."

ArGh!!! I have it down to two suspects: 1.) a fat, ugly, postal worker with his shoelaces untied all the time. Probably couldn't get a sappy love letter if his life depended on it. 2.) a desperate, spiteful, vindictive, fat, greasy, ugly postal worker who always has stringy hair and who has to watch soap operas to get her kicks. Can't stand the idea that some Handsome, Blonde, SuperHero is getting a doting letter (with chocolates to boot) from a lovestruck young girl. I'll get my revenge. I'll complain... call the govt. post office complaints dept. and give them my two case scenarios... they'll find someone to fire.

*anger... fading... visual color... returning* I got the ultimate gift lastnight... you're lookin' at it bright eyes! This website! *Tada!* It's the best thing since elastic lace on lingerie! I think it's a beautiful site, and it fits me... the color scheme, the lay out... it's perfect. Created by none other than Thaddeus Russell... both he and this website couldn't be better than if he were touched by the holy spirit himself. *tssss*

... okay... that's enough touching. Get your filthy paws off'a him or you'll have less than a holy trinity. *puff* That's what I thought. So. I love the website, I love him. If he were here right now... well... the website wouldn't be the only thing getting updated. *admire* Isn't it grand? *flutter* and if you don't think so... fuck you.

Flashback to an unrecalled date

Did I mention beforehand that I'm a girl? Oh yes, I did. Let's see here... where shall we begin? How about from the moment I wake up? Right then... I am not a morning person. I never have been. Oh, oh! Wait, let's have flashback! I love flashbacks!

Okay, So my group and I were on a week long trip to San Francisco, studying dance and dancing for a low budget music video. It was fun, but harsh... the choreographer was a friend, but entirely unfriendly when it came to teaching. We had had 2.5 hours of sleep (the lucky ones), and were required to wake at 6 in the A of M. Not a good thing. This wasn?t a one time event either. It happened often, where we got very little sleep and had to wake at an ungodly hour. I?d find myself sinking into a stupor, not speaking for a while, moody, ready to snap at Francesca (who deserves every bit of my wrath, the idiot wasn?t even supposed to be there), once even sitting against the wall of the hallway in our hotel, arms folded, staring. Twice maybe.

It was cute how Eyleen, our instructor, found me just sitting there, a ballet shoe on one foot, a jazz shoe on another, and tons of dance material in or around my bag. ?Oh, Mattha? it?s okay. We?ll go get some coffee soon. Just hang on.? She would console me. She?d laugh her friendly laugh that reminds me of the giggle of some Sesame street muppet, and smile. ?You?re outfit?s coordinated at least.? Heh? how hard is it to coordinate black and darker gray? Sometimes, Eyleen would whisper the coffee reinforcement to me in the break of dawn when she knew I was ready to say or do not nice things to Francesca. A shame coffee doesn?t wake me up or cause me to be more hyper. It?s just a comforting drink for the morning.

01~30~01 Ah? waking up again. I woke up twice this morning really. The first time I woke was about 3 am or so. I don?t recall. My digital phone said I woke up and dialed a number? His number. Yes, He. I am obsessive with this He? I have been and will be for quite awhile I?m sure. I?m not very good at the whole unrequited love deal? I understand that it?s unrequited, yet still I push for more. One day, my pushing will cause him to fall off the face of my planet.

I don?t remember speaking to him at all? but I didn?t check to see how long I was on the phone with him before I deleted the number. How odd. I am usually incoherent when tired? better that you meet the incoherent me than the I?m-gonna-rip-your-throat-out-and-spoon-feed-it-back-to-you me. I guess that doesn?t count as waking up. 8:00 AM, there?s a tentative knock on my door. ?Mattha? you gotta take me to school today? I?ll give you another ten minutes okay??

Matthew, so kind to be polite in the morning. He just knows how to play his cards right. I realize, though, that I Do need to get up. I have to be at the college studio before 9:00. So I drag myself out of bed and look for a pair of tights for what seems like forever. I think that I kept staring into a void that was my underwear drawer and drifting off. I ditch the kid at school? drop some milk off at home for the family, and notice something? a something blue on my brother?s work desk. Lo and behold! My social working brother, Tan, had left behind the handicap placard that he sometimes uses when dropping off or picking up patients from rehabs and hospitals. Unremorseful as I am, I swipe the placard and start my day right? best parking I?ve ever had at the damned college I go to. I know, I know? I?m a superstar. Eyleen was rather shocked that I could do such a thing, but hey! There were a dozen handicap places still vacant! If they want to park, they?ve got more than enough to pick and choose from. Hell, it?s similar to going to a Godiva?s and being asked, ?Dark, milk, or white chocolate??

I found that my leg injury keeps me from doing a lot in class, but I?m still able to dance? which is what matters. See? A leg injury! I can?t do the splits on my left side anymore, I can?t do any graceful leaps and jumps on my left side either? I practically am a handicap! With my luck, karma will strike (or the all seeing eye of God) and I?ll be a paralyzed broad within the next 7 minutes? finally needing the handicap placard. I likely won?t be able to find it then. Aside from that, I had a good day in the studio. Home, home, home. I hate home sometimes. Everyone has fallen ill at home, and they use me like a slave. Unfortunately, as I clean and scrub, and run errands, the sickly ones sleep. When they wake, they don?t notice that I?ve done anything, thus taking out their swinging, drug induced emotions out on me. What do I do? I shut myself in my room and think of something to write. I always want to write about him? but I cannot. I think of all these wisps of ideas, but they escape me? or my mind grows heavy and I feel the sudden need to sleep.

My CD player isn?t working. It just stopped working suddenly? as though it were hit by a stroke long overdue. I don?t mind though. I?ve been wanting to buy a new one. Still? music always gets to me. The majority of the songs I listen to contain lyrics that affect me so strongly. I hate that lyrics can take a hold on me so? make me love him, miss him, and grieve for the loss of him more. It?s like getting slapped in the face as a constant reminder, ?You?re not his, you never will be, and he doesn?t need you in his life.?

It?s bordering on an unhealthy addiction, my adoration of Him. When I drift into inbetweeness, I can feel him with me. I swear that I can feel his body, his warm breath, his smile. I imagine that when I close my eyes, my eyelashes brush his cheek softly? and that I comfort him physically and spirtually. But it?s really just a waking dream? and I know it. Maybe that?s the reason that I sleep when I think of him. In any case? I?m finished babbling for the night. I?m going to bed again.

01~31~01 Not the best of days. I remember telling Thaddeus that I wish that sickness would hit me suddenly, instead of creeping about the corners of my tired body. Well, it's a dream come true. Sickness strikes. Aside from that, all hell broke loose with the family today.

I am an emotional person, we all know that. My parents decided today that it would be a fine time to condemn me for being so emotional. "You can't let your life be controlled by your emotions!" and blah blah blah. It sounded like braindeath... in that they made my capricious personality seem like it would be my own undoing. You know, there's an oldwives tale that mentions falling in dreams. It's said that if one falls from a height in one's dreams, or are killed somehow, that the body is so shocked it registers the trauma into the central nervous system and thus one dies by dream-persuasion. Or some people just jolt and wake... from the fear. A myclonic twitch is it called? I don't remember. Anyhow, my family is pointing out that I'm twitching into spasmodic seizures. I don't believe it.

They do have a point though. My emotions rule me to be overly angry, overly upset, and overly dramatic. Like I said in a rant before, I love Him so much that I may very well be pushing him away. Other peoples' emotions concern me at times too... I'm such a hypocrite. A natural pain monger, that's what I am. I can hurt people (and I do) for vengeance, spite, or for the sake of fun; yet the well being of people in general is utmost. My mother said, "Don't be so sweet to people. You're too kind to people you don't even know." It's true too. Even buying a burrito yesterday at a fastfood restaraunt, I smile to them and converse with them... hoping that I can be a temporary sunbeam or some shit. I think they appreciate it, who knows. Like today, when I found out Thaddeus had a sorethroat, my main concern was for him to get better. I wondered if he was taking the proper precautions. A happy him is a happy me. Anyhow, I made some resolutions with the family. Logical ones. I think I'll talk about them later, after I've had the night to mull things over in my mind.

Oh yes, I got my new leotard and leg warmers today. I was overjoyed about that. My black leotard was beginning to see the pearly gates, and I had some other ones... coloured and non solid. The more advanced studio I've been accepted to won't allow me to wear them. "We have a dress code, and our director would like for everyone to try and keep it. Intermediate/Advanced girls need to wear black leotards, black or pink tights. Intermediate burgandy, secondary intermediate wear blue... absolutely no fishnets okay Mattha? *half smile*" Right then. I love my new clothes... though I'm not sure how the stripey red leg warmers will roll over with them. Heh... too bad. I'm off to lay in bed and stare at the ceiling...