Sunday, April 11, 2010
I had made a decision months ago that I was going to temper my enthusiasm for lolita.
It is as expensive as drug addiction and gets a similar amount of bad attention, ha ha.
but mostly, it is just expensive, and that was the major deterrent.
I discovered that this decision was an easy one to make and enforce in the winter months, when it was too cold and/or wet to make wearing such bright, fluffy, flamboyant, and expensive clothing very practical.
spring has arrived.
I don't know what prompted me to look, but I snuck a peak at the Angelic Pretty website and found some things I liked. But I had no money, so it was an empty temptation.
Well, yesterday, I finally sat down and put a bunch of items up for sale online. Suddenly, I had money.
Unable to stand a positive bank balance, I remembered those skirts and dresses and was overcome with the need for immediate gratification (a major flaw of mine, I admit!)
and thus, even though I woke up late and left even later, I made a hurried trip to Tokyo today.
5 hours (total) on the train for 3 hours in Harajuku,
but when I got home and put on my new layers of light, fluffy, cotton-candy like clothes
I breathed a sigh of happiness.
Maybe I'll have to indulge myself just a little bit longer.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Wow, I think I'm gonna throw up. Obama was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, recently renamed the Nobel Popularity Prize, or perhaps the Nobel Best-New-Catchphrase Prize.
I love how the CNN article I read, where this was announced, could not even dredge up a single accomplishment to warrant his receiving this prize. The best they could do was say he has completed diplomatic missions.
isn't that sort of the definition of being a diplomat?
The man hasn't even come close to accomplishing a single one of his campaign promises. In fact, didn't he just refuse to pull troops out of Afghanistan? So much for ending the war.
The only thing he has done -indirectly- was shift the world's perception of America. Except, he did that with his charisma, hot air speeches, and the color of the skin. Not with actions. He speaks well, sure, and man, he's got a great slogan that even my Japanese, poor English-speaking students can sing out on cue, but seriously? He hasn't done anything. When I think of the men that have come before him, that have actually earned this award, it makes me sick.
This must have been a pretty damn bad year for peacekeepers if Obama is the best they can do. The Dalai Lama, he ain't.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
It seems that I've reached the point in my life where my parents recognize me as an adult rather than merely their daughter.
There are lots of temporary little scary things like facing paying taxes, rent, and for food, clothing, and endless trips to Blockbuster.
However, I've discovered that there are some things that will likely always remain frightening: such as the now apparent comfort with telling sex jokes right in front of me.
Frankly, I told them, I don't think I'll ever be old enough to listen to that.
Unfortunately, by then they were already onto the "sipping tequilla" (I was winning at cards and I don't think everything was quite sinking in). My father made a comment about threatening to wake my mother early with his drilling (the cabinets). I looked straight at my mother and she looked straight at me and burst out laughing.
We're not even going to go there.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Did you know that in just this month alone, April 2009, 3 states have legalize gay marriage?
man, fuck California
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
apparently, if Obama keeps to his promises, we are gonna
fix the housing crisis, increase lending, create more jobs, squeeze more money out of Congress, raise education standards, insure every American, fix Medicare, cure cancer, bring the troops out of Iraq, increase American international influence, boost the auto industry, cut taxes (for the poor), raises taxes (for the rich)...
I'm sorry, I stopped listening after that.
Lemme know when the clapping stops.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
I've never been interested in keeping up on current events. I'll be the first one to say that I am generally pretty oblivious.
However, in preparing for my JET interview and possible stint in Japan, I've started reading the news everyday, for both the US and Japan.
it's enough to make me want to stop reading again.
everyday it's "more money proposed for bailout", "10,000 jobs lost", "international financial crisis"
I mean, for example, I've always been pretty optimistic about getting a job after graduation. I know it won't be THE job (since, even in a good economy, I couldn't be less qualified if I wrote my resume in crayon) but I felt secure that I would be able to find SOMETHING.
Yet the news makes me want to crawl into a hole and hibernate for the next two-three years.
I'm pretty sure that babies are still being born, records are still being broken, and man has inevitably gone where no man has gone before. Life goes on, even in hard times.
I wish we could focus on that a little.
I honestly think it would help this wretched economy.
So hey, tomorrow, go outside and take a deep breath.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Would like to melt on top of someone for a little while.
Like a cheese sandwich.
this cold has really taken it out of me.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
The fires burning around LA have put a terrible smell over the city. My window sill was covered in ash. As an avid student of the Holocaust, such things give me the chills...
Saving grace being that Nicole's mother randomly decided to buy us all bunches of roses and eucalyptus. She's always very thoughtful. Nicole and I spent the evening cutting, trimming, and arranging bouquets, the result being that our room smells like roses, rather than acrid smoke.
Nicole and I have been talking more. A good things that makes me feel better about our relationship.
This evening she had a rather unique experience of being hit on by a huge leatherdaddy -with the line "Are you related to Oprah Winfrey?"
I spit out imaginary juice when she told me that. lol.
She dealt with it very well, though, which she always does.
Made me think of last weekend, and how smooth I am NOT.
Won't bore you all with the whole story, but this drunk? guy was totally hitting on me and being super creepy, getting way to close and backing me into a corner while I was waiting for an event in Little Tokyo.
I totally failed at dealing with it. I couldn't even articulate words. His friends pulled him away before I could even manage to wrap my head around the situation.
Who harasses a lone girl (especially one who looks about 16, which I probably did given the outfit I was wearing that night) on the street? How creepy is that? Wrong on so many levels.
But I was mostly annoyed with myself.
I really have no experience with the opposite sex.
It certainly makes me FEEL like I am 16 again.
ugh. really, just disgusted with how I dealt with that situation.
Nicole and I need to go to some bars. I need some serious practice.
I'm gonna be 22!
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Ignorant words of the day:
Apparently there was something on the news about gay mayors in Paris and Berlin. My brother blinked and said "I didn't know that was such a big thing in Europe. I thought [being gay] was an American fad thing."
I'm really glad I wasn't eating anything at the time.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
It rained again.
I know it's silly, but every time it rains
I feel like it's just for me.
Not very rational thinking from an atheist, but I'm allowed to dream.
I miss the rain.
Monday, November 27, 2006
I actually fell out of my bed in my hurry to see that off-hand pitter-patter that I could just barely hear over the sound of my fan; That is to say, I fell onto my desk and then into my chair. I went and sat on the desk by the window and, even at 3 o'clock in the morning, there was enough light from my room to illuminate the rain dancing plants outside my window. It was only for a moment and then it stopped.
I miss the rain.
Saturday, December 24, 2005
Yesterday, I was assigned to entertain my grandmother while everyone else went sailing. Not too bad. Made cookies though. Lindsay, being the fabulous cook that she is, didn't remember, however, that recipes are generally meant to be followed in a certain order. Psh, what do you MEAN "cream the eggs and butter"... just dump all the ingrediants in and STIR!!
Thursday, June 16, 2005
I vote today as a good day. My Rodeo got new tires. The radio may not really work anymore, the CD player is not worth mentioning, I'm pretty sure I'm missing a speaker on the back right side, the breaks leak, a belt is cracked, and, I've come to realize, ever side of it has been damaged except for the left. HOWEVER, it now has new tires. BOOYAH!
Something horrible, almost unmentionable, has happened. I had a country music song flicker through my head and, I blush to mention, I even sang a few bars. Before you stone me, for I deserve no less, let me make a small protesting explanation. Though I love JAATS, everyday at work she insists on turning the station to country. I've heard people die, ghosts speak, girlfriends cursed, the persistant unintelligance of backwards southerns personified, and seen Jesus crucified, resurected, and drive away in a Mercury. And, unfortunately, country stations are just as guilty of redudancy as any other station, so I get to hear this every. day.
Sunday, May 22, 2005
Saw "Donnie Darko".
Does everything have to be about fucking Jesus?
I liked Frank. He reminded me of dreams I had when I was a kid. Donnie reminded me of a boy from New Jersey I had a thing for long ago. I actually looked the actor's name up to make sure it wasn't him. Strange, two things seeming so familiar in one movie.
Was a good, though. I'd suggest it.
The Director's Cut had a lot of pointless footage of fans. They were all British. One of them indicated that Americans were too stupid to understand such a "deep" movie, but Brits could because they could "talk about it and keep talking about it". What the fuck does that mean?
Saturday, February 12, 2005
He moved through the crowds with oblivious numbness, the crustiness of his smile not oblivious even to him. There was no lust and there was no love in his smile or in his eyes. He was a shell that smelled of sex and looked of wine. Tight black pants cracked over his skin as he stepped, long leary hand reached out to him, gripping his dull aura, fingers on his ass and pressed against his chest. He breathed their musk like poison darts to his soul, he drank their horrid filth like brandy. He was dark and he was bad and he was gone. And as he fell beneath their fingers, his blank reflective eyes blinked once.
Wednesday, February 2, 2005
Today is a dangerous day.
I feel like a serial killer, with my deadened eyes, and heavy body.
My mind is half turned off but somehow I weave through the crowds with more than my usual adeptness.
I don't like these people who walk so care free, their arms flailing about without consideration,
Strides too wide and legs too long, with faces and eyes so round and open.
Little sounds annoy me, flick me repeatedly like the brush of sandpaper.
I pick appart the arugments I hear, in my head,
tired of listening to the Ode of the Pointless Life, tired of listening to worthless children and their anticlimactic stories about boyfriends and girlfriends, and the "likes" interupting their sentences.
The anger is there but only slightly, like it's trapped in a padded white box in my chest. I feel numb. Paralized.
The forced smile on my face, when I am forced to do so, feels like someone took a knife to Barbie's face, carving into the plastic and leaving the shavings sticking out from her skin.
I can't work up the emotion or effort to speak, though my appearance does not inspire conversation.
The words "jesus", "christian", and "gay" used incorrectly inspire my attention, draw my eyes like a subtle poison.
I feel like a serial killer.
Sunday, January 16, 2005
Mother and I went a little fruit crazy. There lies in my kitchen a papaya, a miniature watermelon, banana, apples, a mango, blueberries, blackberries, grapes, and a coconut. There was also this freaky, yellow, spike fruit thing that I wanted to buy but was tugged cautiously away from.
Mother made a smoothie with the papaya and bananas. She just got back from Mexico and said they'd had a wonderful one there. The one she made taste like a mild glass of throw up. I do not exaggerate. The smell alone burns my nose. My father's face scrunched into "yes dear" smile when approached with the thick orange liquid. He thinks it has the texture of cotton but made no comment on the taste.
The coconut was a card, though. I wish we'd had a camera to film the whole ridiculous scene of events. I studied it, determined it to be impenetrable, and my mother suggested a hammer. We compromised on a drill, to access the milk, then finish it off with a hammer to get the meat. Easier said then done. It was like some ridiculous Real World episode. My father is drilling a coconut in the kitchen with my mother shrieking in the background "Watch you hands! Watch your hands!" The frickin drill is rolling all over the place and my father is half cursing beneath the laughter. There was a moan of relief from all parties when the shell finally gave. Afterward, my mother takes the coconut to the garage and finds a hammer. Watching my mother kneeling on the cement beating the crap out of a coconut was my treat for the day. Too bad the meat was akin to a tasteless rock.
*Gulps her orange juice* May you never taste like foot nor styrofoam, my faithful fruit.
Sunday, November 7, 2004
The ghosts in my house are back. They were gone for a good while, a year at least, and I nearly forgot about them. Sat in my chair the other night studying Bio and kept hear odd sound coming from my closet. Someone was messing with my hangers. I did eventually inspect but saw nothing; rather, the sound moved into the ceiling like clawed feet. Interesting.
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
:Like, Dude, your hair's on fire.
::Oh shit, is that me?
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
peice of parents conversation I heard (hopfully out of context):
mother- "you were very rough last night"
father- "well it's been so long since anything's happened"
*shutter, gag, die*