Site hosted by Angelfire.com: Build your free website today!


may. 20, 2003
did i ever tell you bout the flying ants/termites? (im not so sure what they were). i drove to work a little early one sunday morning, so i sat in my car enjoying the dew covered, sparkly everything. sipping coffee. staring out the windshield. these large ant-like, winged bugs began landing on my car, i thought "hmm, they must enjoy the dew as well". as i carefully watched one (leaning forward as far towards the windshield as possible) it seemed to get stuck in a droplet, skwirm, and flop over.. .without its wings. "my god," i thought, "what a terrible way to die." but it continued to crawl away. "persistant lil guy." and then, en masse, hordes of the lil guys began doing the same thing. landing, flopping around, and recovering less their wings, and crawling away. their wings glistened iridescent all over the place. as i got out to walk thru the parking lot to work, i saw thousands of the winged ones spouting out of the ground like a geyser near a tree.
you think its strange? youre born, with wings, you get this one glorious moment to thrust up into the air and catch a breeze, only to lose those wings just as quickly. it was ambiguous as to whether the loss physically hurt, but damn.
mar. 2, 2003
a dream, or so its called. dunno if id add it to my wish list, but yea. this is definitely when i know somethings up with me. the other night, my dream went like this: i was noticing that i was becoming very lethargic, having trouble breathing, and very slowly, my skin was turning an unnatural brown. i dragged myself into the doctor. after examination, they told me that one of the valves in my heart was inflamed. as a result, my blood was pumping forward, and then backward again. just above stagnation. my blood was not getting clean tho. slowly i was dying because my heart was malfunctioning. they hooked me up to some sort of blood cleansing machine and started me on a strict regimen of pill chomping to somehow help that malfunctioning valve. i seemed fine for awhile. time passed. i moved. i chomped more pills. but a year later it started all over again. the pills were no longer working, my heart was getting worse. i cried. i had never told anyone about my heart, and here i was in distress that no one understood. i went back to the doctor. upped the prescription, and knew that this is what the rest of my life would involve: temporary fixes for my broken heart.
in real life, i moved the position of my bed..that change reversed a three month long lack of dreams. but now..my dreams are all somehow unhappy. is it me or the bed? they are tiring dreams too. im waking up still tired. my mind better finish up working itself out soon, or im gonna melt down.
feb. 17, 2003
ah, mammoth weekend. so beautiful. dont think ive boarded this hard in years =) but it was fantastic. nice, fresh snow to go around killing my leg muscles with. *drool*
feb. 8, 2003
as i was looking up at the sky today, the clouds had this surreal feel, they looked the way they should look in a painting: too soft, too flat, too perfect and not perfect enough. well, earlier in the day, i was also looking at the clouds and pointed out that they seemed like a painting to paul. he jokingly said "maybe it is a painting", and then flashed that smirk he uses when maybe what hes saying isnt a joke. so, later, as i was looking at clouds for the second time, i thought "you know..many things are possible, but i just could never believe that the sky is painted up there, or fake like in 'the truman show'". just one of those things that i trust. and that got me to thinking about "the thirteenth floor", and going to the end of the sim. i wonder what ever started people on thinking about whether this reality is real or not, and pondering the different versions of how it could be fake.
on a related note, i have this strange sensation in airplanes. i just never really feel as if i ever left the ground. its like i go into this room with some other people. sit. the air gets stuffy cuz the ventilation is crap. the room gets shoved around a lil to make it feel like motion. the doors open again, and it seems that someone has come around and changed the scenery. even when im next to the window on a plane..all that is out there might not be real, like the bus ride in "room with a moose". i guess flying just never lived up to my expectations. ive been on roller coasters with definite thrust. or on those large swing-like things where you pull the ripcord at magic mountain where you feel the fall and the wind. the thing about flying is that nothing is .. close enough. the whole experience is coated in a plastic that prevents the real feeling of it. so, it just seems as if nothing ever happened. i sit on the plane for the specified amount of time so that i can imagine i went all the way to the east coast or whatever, and when i leave, all the scenary people have done their jobs.. .but i still believe there are people in the planes that fly over my head, hmm.
feb. 4, 2003
ephemeral. ephemerality. _____one_____brief_____day_____ the non-repitition of only one cycle out of an infinite. dark transition to light, light transition to dark; the sun sets and its over. i wonder at each moment's individuality, its novelty, its rarity. i wonder if it seems boths long and short at the same time, as time moves contradictorily quickly and slowly as it sometimes does when i experience something new.
i think if i were an insect, i would lick the air..at ever chance.
hmm, if we all tasted the world as our main experience, would we be like butterflies? are butterflies' feet covered in saliva? do their feet drool?
it really would just be so great if we all walked around tasting everything, and our desire for something manifested itself in a puddle of drool by our feet. not as butterflies tho, but as people, with drool making its way out of our mouths without any concern for boundaries.
i like when people drool because at that moment, they are so out of control. whatever the moment preceding drool, numbness, fascination, playfulness, idiocy; when that drool makes its way off of the lips and begins to actually disconnect itself and fall, that moment, that precise moment, that person has completely lost it. its beautiful.
jan. 25, 2003
i suppose i could find something to say bout this new year. but. instead. im going to reprint some of the thoughts i had to myself in my notebook. i was cleaning things out and all these lil thoughts need to fit themselves in somewhere.

there are just some things that i cannot accept. ppl sometimes ask how you know youre alive and not purely someone elses dream. well, im not sure how i know, but im sure i exist. alive. however, entertaining this idea of dream..well, all those ppl in my life, especially those whom i dont know, are merely characters. fillers. im pretty much a filler to them too, but my egocentricity doesnt go so far as to outright realize that. it would figure that as i am thinking this, i was thinking bout marlo in parallel, and who would come on the radio? the pixies. marlo just = the pixies. perfect. quite a moment of synchronicity. a moment defined. and someone other than filler pushes her way to the forefront of my thinking. but back to the real thought at hand..i understand that i dont feel complete often times. ..cuz i have doubt that i have any passion. "passion is the culmination of existence". i find myself half hearted about things, or lost. maybe i have a passion for ppl, but certainly not about myself and what i do directly. how could i not believe that passion is the result of existence. i cant disaggree. however, i still believe i exist. oh the dilemmas brought on when my mind wanders in class. so useless..

reuse is beautiful.
holding onto everything i come across is a pain in the ass.

is it wrong to allow your grandma to believe you are religious and attend church when you dont?

(a quote from juice) "i got so much underwear, i think ill bring ten pairs!"

will we one day manipulate the brain so thoroughly that there will only be one personality left? i mean, in black and white, weve got ritalin to slow us down, and prozac to speed us up. "velocity vs. viscosity". its all evening out. we'll start controlling excitedness, agression, shyness, alertness and energy levels, impulsiveness, depression..oh wait. we do that all already. and more. we are becoming mediocre in an attempt to become great.

i like to say "sadness at (something)". completely incorrect grammar, but..its just so pleasing. for instance "sadness at having missed dessert". its like a stage command or something. short-hand. whatever.

how does one change states of emotion? to be sitting calmly, and then burst into laughter..or better still, to stop laughing and again become composed. its like stopping running before reaching a destination..how does that happen?
when i was in 1st or 2nd grade, i was at this slumber party for this grls birthday. she had just gotten a kitten and there were about 20 of us grls who all wanted a turn at holding it. well, i think i was at the front of the line, but by the second time through, it just felt like i was at the end of the line, so i kinda wanted another go at it. but, the grl knew id already pet the cat twice, just like everyone else. well..i was lame and in a bad mood, and i started crying. i think they let me finally pet the kitten again. (yes, yes, like i said, i was very lame). only, i didnt stop crying. i didnt know how. i didnt start in order to actually pet the kitten again, i think i was just tired and something triggered tears. so, after i got to pet it again, i didnt want it to look like i was the kind of person to cry in order to get something..so i just kept crying. well..all those other grls put on a parade for me to cheer me up. but by now i had been crying for like half an hour. i was making myself cry. i just couldnt figure out how to stop. and deeper and deeper i got into not being able to stop without feeling weird. well..they called my mom and sent me home finally. all because i couldnt figure out how to return to my previous state.

one of the things ive learned at clics: ppl dont like to see themselves tallied up after asking a question. now i tally after they leave if i dont know them.

its hard for me to read when i have flavor on my mouth. this really became apparent freshmen year. yea, if theres much flavor, i get distracted and cant remember what im reading.

the end for tonight.
dec. 18, 2002
wow, its been awhile i guess. i can blame it on the torrid love(hate) affair that i have with my comp. so..here im just going to spew out some unpolished crap. yay!
you know when youre in aim or something and theres your screen name, and then you point to it with an arrow and write a comment? "buGskwishy<----really lazy" like that? well..ive almost started pointing at my own head in real life and saying things like "really lazy" so far i have refrained..but im getting closer and closer to looking like an idiot, and making some sort of allusion that hardly anyone will understand..

ive quit drinking caffeine, lets all pray that coffee is my soul and the actual stimulant is not. without a soul i might end up the star of a soap opera like kay on "passions", setting up schemes to get with my cousins fiance and crap like that (with all the messy drama being yelled back and forth with my love behind the thin walls of a confession booth in church). (oh right, like youve never seen passions. and even if you havent, you are actually missing out, its so bad its almost good. its the perfect mockery of a soap opera without ever intending to be). so paul would prolly say that my soul-less, soap opera life would be more exciting, but i would have to reiterate that i dont want to live in a soap opera. i dont even like the soap opera style pile of dramatic crap i have to shovel out of the way as it stands now, let alone people intentionally back-stabbing me.

so i thought i would have oh so much glorious time to read now that its the holiday. but dammit! all ive done is shopped. i hate shopping. i hate malls. i hate people. i hate carrying around piles of clothes. i hate shoes that dont ever ever fit. but..rosco's at the end of a melrose trip might just be worth all the hell.
at least the moon has been beautiful. maybe ill even go with magnificent. so bright and full, its the kind of night time setting that makes me wish i smoked cigerettes just to justify freezing my booty off to enjoy the moons light. i guess i could dance out there again, keep myself warm, enjoy the moon, enjoy my own shadow. but..winters air is always thick with laziness for me.
shadows tho. i could dig on my shadow. it has such a greater possibility than i have. lives out movements that my body couldnt be convinced into contorting intself into. blending with other shadows, unlike my self that preserves its identity to no end. shadows. yummm.

its really unnerving to drive for a couple of hours with a dried out cow skull in your back seat. well, its unnerving to me at least. why would i have a cow skull in my back seat, you ask..i dont know, im freaking weird. my mom has had it in our living room ever since i can remember. then she had me drive it to my god parents house. i dont know why my god mother wanted it.

..i know i had more to say. but only one last thing before i take off for awhile to be in the real world..
on sunday afternoon, i hopped on the 405 towards LA..and there werent any cars whatsoever going in my direction. i felt like i was in the twilight zone. for about 3 miles, i drive alone, on an LA freeway, and it was light out. freaking strange.
nov. 5, 2002
a poem, not composed by me..
July 5
Once I wrote a song
                  almost.
Sixteen lines that walked
up from my belly to my head.

As I stood waiting for the light to change
         and making up a melody,
     a yellow bus passed by--slowly.
Looking up I lost the lines I thought I'd learned
              and several more that never came
all because a bus passed by
and someone smiled from out a yellow window.
-rod mckuen

nov. 1, 2002
as a result of the bass in his voice,
and as a result of the crap of my phone,
the words he spoke resonated into the plastic to physically tickle my ear.

oct. 30, 2002
so here's my theory: the only way to truly make a choice in this world, is to leave the choice up to chance. hear me out.
first, i suppose, i must introduce my ideas concerning free will. i dont think we have it. i dont think we can be anything other than what we are, and what we are is that mundane biological thing that acts according to its dna. we are all manifestations of the genes we carry, we all boil down to our atoms that are acting in a predisposed way. given that idea, we will always act in the same way given the exact same circumstance.
however, i also dont believe that my life, and ours lives, are predetermined. i think there is, and always will be, an element of chance in our lives. there will always be things outside of ourselves: the weather, other people, the malfunctioning of an object, the flip of a coin. as a result, i see ourselves being set off on other courses by these events. plus, i think there is a development through life, just because we react one way to an event when we were 16 doesnt mean we will act the same way at 28. but the development is based on the combination of the way we are predisposed to act and the experiences we have encountered.
and that leads me into making choices. i just dont think we can. given a choice, i think that depending upon when in our lives that choice is presented to us, we will have to act one way or another. when we give in to something we think we dont want, really, we are doing the only thing we can do.
this confuses the idea of striving to be something, or striving to change oneself. to be a better, or worse, person is not in our power to choose. we simply have the character that does things which build up the "good" type of character, or we dont. its really no fault of our own if we just cant be a certain way. its really not in our power to decide.
so, to choose, then, is to do something without concern for what one is; to act in a way that is not dependent upon the way we are predisposed to be. i see the only way to do this is to allow chance to rule ones life. if we were to flip a coin every time we had to make a decision, the matter would be out of our hands. sometimes we would do what it is that we would have done anyway, and sometimes we would not. either way, i think that is the only way to take any control in the course of our lives.
the crappy part of the whole thing is that, in order to follow through on this coin flipping plan, we have to be the sort of people that would flip a coin, the sort of people that would in fact follow through on the decision that was made by the coin.

and heres a question i have in relation to this, can someone explain pride to me? this concept has bothered me for entirely too long. how does it work? how can someone be so "proud" of the things they dont choose? i mean, i guess i have to factor in the above beliefs about not being able to choose anything. but lets forget that. lets start with something we can assume that we dont choose: ethnicity. i dont think we have any say in that matter before we are born (if you think that, well, we will never be on common ground..). how is it that someone is proud to be white, or asian, or black? pride seems to assert a kind of investment in the thing that one is proud of, or happy about. it just doesnt make any sense whatsoever. i could just as easily have been born a korean girl as i could a white boy. how can i be proud over one or the other? i can say that maybe im grateful for having had one opportunity or another, but pride? pride makes no sense.
oct. 25, 2002.
am i the only one who can see envy as a good thing? not that i think its a good thing to be envious in the normal sense of the word, i just think that there is a way to be envious that doesnt entail hatred. i guess im trying to describe the feeling i get when someone else made something beautiful, and i would be envious, but instead im overcome by pleasure at its existence, with or without me. i wish so badly that i had made the thing because its spectacular and glorious, but instead of envy, i feel happy. hmm. what is the word?
i guess it goes alomg with my desire, at times, to simply live vicariously. dunno why it can be so satisfying, but sometimes i recieve more enjoyment by observing someone elses enjoyment of a thing, than i would recieve first-hand experiencing the thing. its like a two-for-one deal. i get to not only think about the experience of the desired thing, but i get to experience how someone else experiences the thing too.
i migt have to search for better words at describing that.

oct. 16, 2002
i was trying to think about what it would be like to be kevin bacon. to have a "six degrees of separation" game evolve about me and my career. and not only do kids across the US play this game, but visa has taken it upon itself to use this cultural phenomenon in its commercial. its that universal. kevin bacons not even 50 and he has this legacy! yes, i was trying to consider what it would be like to be him.
oct. 14, 2002
"What if one day or one night a demon slinked after you into your loneliest loneliness and said to you: 'This life, as you live it now and as you have lived it, you will have to live once more and countless more. And there will be nothing new about it, but every pain and every pleasure, and every thought and sigh, and everything unspeakably small and great in your life must come back to you, and all in the same series and sequence...The eternal hourglass of existence is turned over and over again--and you with it, you mote of dust!'
"If that thought took control of you, it would change you as you are, and maybe shatter you...The question in each and every thing, 'Do you will this once more and countless times more?' would lie as the heaviest weight upon you acts! Or how benevolent would you have to become toward yourself and toward life in order to long for nothing more ardently than for this ultimate eternal sanction and seal?" -nietzsche.
oct. 13, 2002
well, as usual, someone came up from behind today and felt my hair. a stranger. he just reached out and felt it. no concern for the actual person who he was touching. no restraint in keeping another persons private space in the world sacred. no, he followed through on his own compulsion to feel my hair.
i dont get it.
does this happen to any of you?
or are you this person? *squints eyes and stares*
how is it that so many people do what they wouldnt normally do in my presence? cuz this isnt the first time, or the only thing they do. (granted, i have followed someone i didnt know around just to smell them. but, that was different, they never knew i was smelling them).
now, if he had been a friend, on the other hand, i dont think id really care at all. in fact, i might even appreciate the sign of affection. but something about it being a stranger just completely violates the rules of personal space.
oct. 7, 2002
egads! i did impulse grab another book!
apparantly i never plan to again exist in real life.
oct. 6, 2002
a book is such a beautiful thing. currently im reading five or six of them, and so long as i dont impulse grab another one at the library, then im doing fine.
oh to have a book, some coffee and an afternoon..or even just some hot cocoa and a book. beautiful.
what tears me apart, however, is my draw to both read and listen to music. its a shame that i cant fully be enveloped inside a song at the same time that im wrapped inside the pages of a book. sadness. as my brother said "its like trying to listen to two conversations at once", neither will be satisfying.
ah, the heartbreak.
sept. 23, 2002,
i dont know where to even begin to describe the disgusted feeling i get when i have meat stuck under my fingernails. "how often does that happen?" you ask. all the time. i like to eat meat with my hands. i dont like cutting it up. i dont even like using a knife in the pre-cooked stage of preparing meat, which inevitably leads to raw meat being trapped under my fingernails. i dont know what it is specifically that is so horrifying, its more of an intangible feeling of death. i know, not a very sophisticated observation, but i just dont think anybody else thinks about this. there i am, preparing meat for marination, and i discover that i have the equivalent of dead body in little slivers under my nails. its so unsettling.
sept. 22, 2002
a quote from a friend:
"..but the lead singer was amazing. shes prolly about 260 lbs., 5'10", covered in tattoos, bright pink hair with a strip of black, named magenta. she was wearing what looked like it could have been a trash bag of a skirt with pins and patches sewed onto it, and a revealing tank top. there were four tatoos of marylin monroe on her right arm. four. thats how big her arm was. and she had so much attitude and pazazz. you know what slightly disgusting sexuality that ursula from the little mermaid had. imagine that times ten. smoking a cigarette, drinking a beer through a straw, and screaming and yelling with this odd sex appeal. she was marvelous."
sept. 16, 2002
i was stopped at a red light and i could actually smell the cologne of the guy in the car next to me.
the end.
sept. 9, 2002
so, i lost my moms car keys in an ikea in san diego. beautiful place to lose keys.. .i dont think they ever even imagined cleaning a place like that. after 3 hours searching on hands and knees thru the entire place and its cushions, a came up only with dust bunnies the size of grapefruit, and a starburst. (funny thing: not one person in ikea gave me a weird look or asked what i was doing as i went down every row and kneeled down to see under the crates. is doing that normal?) it could only be worse luck to lose my keys at disneyland, or in the ocean. actually, on second thought, disneyland might be better in that there are all those kids running around from tunnel to tunnel cleaning so that the happiest place on earth might not become the biggest dumpster in the world (why is it that ppl pollute their own environments? when animals do that, they infect themselves with diseases. we, however, would rather pay ppl to clean up after our laziness).
well, ikea is not the happiest place on earth, especially when im waiting for a towtruck with only 46 cents in my purse and coffee is 55. the cruelty! (i considered bumming a quarter, but i felt somehow guilty at my wanting a luxury at someone elses expense (and my thoughts drifted back to the day before when i handed some homeless grl the entire contents of my coin purse.. .)) oh, and then the towtruck cant help me cuz of some accented excuse that he cant tow the car without getting in and putting the car into neutral, and he cant get in the car without the key! (a. what do they do when you lock your keys in the car? and b. what do they do when you park illegally and they tow your ass?)
anyhow, the matter ended three days later when the spare set of keys in la. made it down to sd. (and many trips back and forth to ikea from my roomate).
its not as if my mom trusted me with her car in the first pace due to past experiences, and then what do i do? lose the keys in another city.
my mommy loves me.
sept. 8, 2002
.moving.
..and building up my arm strength
strangely, no one wants to hang out in my room for hours while i unpack things, so my only company is the 80's station that whimsically fades in and out.
i was thinking.. .how do ppl move when they live somewhere that constantly rains? where do they set things down? do they tarp it all? oh the stupid things that are on my mind.

i was also thinking about how much cuter everyone would be if they had to hop around as little birds do.
to be a bird, hopping around as a watch it and drink coffee. to constantly peek up and think, "my god! wherever i go, its as if that things eyes follow me!"
sept. 3, 2002
who says women are bad drivers?
you try applying your eyeliner in an inconveniently placed mirror while talking on the phone and driving. ..
for real tho, ppl do the stupidest things while driving. its amazing more of us dont die out there on a regular basis. i mean EYELINER for gods sake!
my friend told me once that he drove on the freeway during fairly normal traffic with his eyes closed for 30 seconds. apparently the regular ish that happens wasnt enough for him and he wanted to see just how invincible he really was. craziness.

sept. 2, 2002
ah, skating at the beach. does it get any better?

sept. 1, 2002
santa anna winds at night must be one of the most beautiful things i can possibly think of. (d'no if that sentence quite makes sense grammatically..) they are warmness in darkness, and nostalgia, and wind chimes, and skating, and looking out at beautiful cities, and summer, and whispers, and timelessness. they are bitter-sweet.
just thought id share, a moment in time, stepped away from in order to appreciate it. a moment, stepped away from because if that werent the case, it would pass by just like every other one.
today has been one of those days.. .where i noticed small things that might otherwise have passed by, or annoyed me. it was flippin hot and in my agony, i went to coffee for the air conditioning, and of course my daily dosage. quite quickly, i was not only cooled off, but cold. the hair on my arms stood up from goose bumps. i almost shivered. then the sunlight hit my arm as the sun sank lower towards the horizon, and that small part of my body was warmed. the contrast was amazing. to be cognitive of all those temperature changes! d'no, just amazing. not to mention all the happenings that i was allowed to watch. couples flirting, teenagers acting impressive, a man and wife having fun spinning 'round on the barstools. ppl really are interesting when you stop to notice.
i wish more of us shared the same accumulated vocabulary, not merely what the words mean, but what they have become to mean to those who use them. it would make this sort of sharing much more profitable. one word dropped to mean a whole experience. but, maybe you catch on anyhow.
g'night

aug. 31, 2002
flashback lunch: the hour during the day when the radio doesnt make me say "dear god, what _is_ this crap?"
every other dang minute that i am condemned to listen to the radio cuz my cd player broke is a damn shame. "the vineshiveswhitestripesblinkjimmydashboard" are taking over the radio *cries* but.. .at least they arent as bad as system of a down: the one band that makes me get up and turn the radio off. thats some impressive crap, i must say.
aug. 29, 2002
props to the peacock today who used the crosswalk! i had a moment of zen as this happened instead of my normal rage.

and now, a quote (because it amuses me more than my own words right now):
"they served pink champagne at the party, which tasted so good that i made the mistake of drinking a lot of it, and on the way home we had to pull over to the side of the road so i could throw up on the flora and fauna. in california, in the cool night air, you even felt healthy when you puked--it was so different from new york" -andy warhol.

aug. 28, 2002
alright. here we go on something that might end up being a trend with me: retelling old stories. (i do that _a_lot_)
"i bought this skirt, yes a skirt. it has no slits or anything..its a long skirt, so im a lil immobile in it. well, i have the tendency to forget im in a skirt and try to do things that i can do if im in pants. so i was at the movies the other night with brian and eric, and brian did something that i wanted to pretend to kick him for..well, my momentum went into the kick, and then was thrust around into angular momentum due to the confines of the skirt..and all of a sudden i was on my ass. ppl should not be caught on their asses unexpectedly in public..its quite embarrassing"
aug. 24, 2002
the effects of scary movies before bed:
so i watched this movie last night, "the devils backbone", and i gotta say, im not usually scared but the ghost in this movie really got to me. it had this crazy gash on its head that continually leaked blood as if it were dissipating into the air.
my dream was slightly unrelated
somehow i came to be the caretaker of four decapitated heads. i was to bury them; that was the only way they would recieve salvation. so, im not sure where they came from, but they were old and slightly decomposed.. .stored in separate plastic bags. i began digging four individual holes in my front yard for their (secret) burial. i dumped the first one into the hole and briefly caught sight of the horror. the second one i looked away as much as i could while still making sure it fell into the hole. by the third one, i was crying uncontrollably and could hardly see thru my tears. but the third was also the one that breeched the threshold of horror. it smelled more than the others, and was soaking in its own fluids in this plastic bag. as it slid out, the juice spilled everywhere, and i thought of the death i would have to clean up. i finished burying the last head and covered them all in dirt.. .and then sat down, curled up, crying.
that was my dream
the other night my brothers friend dreampt about rampaging thru the city with a sword and chopping off ppls heads
perhaps i was cleaning up his mess.

aug. 22, 2002
day one..(of thoughts i cant help but record.)
peacocks, apparently, get more retarded as they age.
case in point: a peahen and her four (fairly large) kids are crossing the street. i am in a very large suv driving in their direction. the kids realize imminent danger and run OUT of the way.
the peahen, on the other hand, stops, infront of my car, and freezes. maybe shes staring me down. regardless, shes going to die.
you tell me whos stupid.