081708 - [Perpetual One-Thought: August: Shifting Phases]

I'm in the middle of the worst yellow fever bout I think I've ever had (if Asians are allowed to have it, as has been the subject of many a conversation).  Even the allure of infamous Natalie is waning, political inclination and eating habits aside.  "Everyone has their flaws" says Cat.  But it doesn't help that the odds of us being together are worse than the odds of us ever working out, which are dismal.  I shall forget you for now, sweet obsession.

Nevertheless, my fascination with Mary-Louise Parker from Showtime's show "Weeds" is probably not a surprise to my friends who know my "type."  Ignore the fact that she's pushing 44 years old.  Might not be able to tell by the face, but the hands definitely give it away.  I don't even care.  Not that my "type" is a 40+ year-old woman... what's with that awkward smile.  Oh, charm charm charm.

Still, sir, I think it ironic that I'd been clamoring for some twinge of romantic (word choice?) excitement for a few weeks, and the moment I'm burrowed, alone in confinement I forget all about it.  Passing whims, shifting phases.  You really wield me like a jackknife, sir.  I'm always surprised by my mercurial utility in an overall bigger picture.  Yours, of course.

I hope you don't find it offensive that I refuse to lower my head when I speak to you, nor capitalize your name when I write (you know that's never been my forté in my poetry anyway).  But I already know the answer to that question, and for that I am thankful for your understanding.  So much has changed between you and me these past few months.  It's been a wonderful ride.  I know I still have a lot of growing to do, but many thanks for everything so far.  It's funny when people say that sometimes they hate you, since I can't relate.  At all.  Then again, I have everything in the entire universe.  The prevalent theme of my overall mindset has continually been thankful.  Would my overwhelming love spread further into other depths, from friends first, then to, surprisingly, my family?  Yes.  You're fucking hilarious sometimes. 

Why can't I let go of this annoying bitterness towards her, the lingering feeling of guilt mixed with disdain and regret.  Why is it that I foster this disease, putrid, bile culture.  She's not allowed to be prevalent anymore.  Yet, she is.  I wish I could drop it like I usually do.  Why did I fall in love for so long?  Epicurean lovesick fool.  Your blind, choking wedding band.

I'm such a tramp. 
(Sure, you are.)

Eileen mentioned I should write to him.  Trivial things such as this, as always, help...
Do Italians take a shower everyday?

Listening to: Copeland - Eat, Sleep, Repeat

080108 - [INTRA as of August 2008]

When I was 10 years old I was asked to make an "About Me" poster with pictures of things I liked, cut out from magazines and posted on a 3' x 5" white poster board.  I wrote down my full name, my current height, my favorite color at the time (green, instead of black/red), etc.  One of the most definitive components of the poster is what I didn't like: I pasted a clip of Bill Clinton, the word "marijuana" and a glass of milk in the area of "What I Don't Like."  How much more indicative is this of a Republican-infused rearing?  Milk and pot aside.

And I'm damn proud of it.  If I remember correctly, my disgust with Clinton had nothing to do with the very many disagreeable decisions that characterized his administration, but rather the feelings of betrayal and shame that his adultery and perjury evoked.  An idealized office occupied by a "morally corrupt" man, of course, in the eyes of a 10-year-old.  Of course I hated him.  Today I still think he was a terrible president.  But it shaped me.

When I was even younger, I remember watching television, something to do with the glitz and glamor of celebrity life.  Fast cars, bling bling, money money money.  I turned to my father who was watching behind me, and declared,

"I HATE RICH PEOPLE."  That is the one of the most disgustingly pathetic lines ever.  My father was patient, as per usual.  He told me:  "Son, don't hate the rich too much.  A lot of people work hard for their money, even rich people.  There's a reason why they're rich."  Or something like that.  These small instances, small pieces of advice that stick out so much in mind that they forever became the foundation of who I am today.  Shit, man I want to BE rich.

Am I always going to be trapped by these inherited ideals?  Who's to say they were ever "bad" in the first place?  Contrarily, much of it is very much "good," but say, isn't that my opinion?  Sometimes I do want to change them, but God knows I've been wired to think the things I think and wholeheartedly uphold them as long as I live.  I believe in them, I've mused over their merits, and stuck to them; and sometimes that makes me look
like a
bad guy?

Republicans will always be seen as the colder of the two.  "If you're 18 and not a liberal, you don't have a heart.  If you're 40 and not a conservative, you don't have a brain."  Of course.  I'm just venting about looking like a cold-hearted son of a bitch.

It's funny how my vote won't really help McCain this November because I live in California.  But I'm still voting for him.  What has it come to when an American citizen is afraid to say he loves his own president after all the undeniable good he's done?  Just because I'm in a fucking university in California and negative news sells to the masses?

Listening to: Sparklehorse - Return to Me

072208 - [Perpetual One-Thought: July: I eat a lot of nothing]

I think I'm losing weight.  During the school year I eat a lot, but the transition into apartment life has allowed me to fit into my super emo jeans significantly easier. 

It may be because I'm a complete night owl; for the past six weeks I have consistently slept anywhere between 4-6am.  No apparent reason.  My body clock is completely out of sync with the rest of the world.

I feel like a vampire.
I'm completely unproductive in the morning so I force myself to stay awake way into the night.  The problem is that if I don't have a deadline, I don't do much work anyway!  It's a vicious cycle.

I can tell that I've lost weight.  Browsing around in Lightroom today, I looked at some of my 2007 photos and the contrast is apparent.  I'm glad I have, though; the whole purpose of not working out anymore was because the excessive protein and added bulk went not only to my major muscle groups, but to my freaking face.  It really isn't my style anyway, the whole... "buff" thing.  I could care less.

On the other hand, I did want to tone everything, become cut.  I have yet to accomplish this feat. 
I am also very lazy.  The proximity convenience of the dorms/gym now gone, I have little impetus to go. 

Maybe I should use some ridiculously masculine wallpaper as motivation.

Listening to: Radiohead - There There

071208 - [Perpetual One-Thought: July]

I'm so surprised right now.  Filipina girls are craaaazy pretty.  TFC is ridiculous.  Conversely, Filipino transgenders give the Thai variety a run for their money.  But that's beside the point.  Even though I absolutely despise the show, there's something about scandily cald go-go Wowowee girls dancing in unexpectedly hypersexualized routines.  What's more shocking is HOW RIDICULOUSLY beautiful some of these girls are.  My father dismisses them, calling the majority "nitwits," which I believe is somewhat unfair.  He tells me to wait until they speak before I pass such high judgment.  Nevertheless, I just want to meet them, HAHAHA XD

My typical reaction is, "WHAAAAATTTTTT... why are they so HOTTT?!?" and I continuously say this as I watch the show.  Never have I ever believed Filipino girls were as pretty as Koreans, a purely subjective assumption, but ... NOWWW ... I'm still undecided.

My car broke down on the freeway a few hours ago.  I am sad.

070808 - [Perpetual One-Thought: July]

Before work influences my mood, either positive or negative ...
Today's ridiculous gas prices have forced me to utilize the oh-so-amazing cruise control feature in my dinky ass '90 Toyota Camry.  I refuse to wash that piece of sht because every time I park on the sidewalk I get hit by those damn sprinklers.  Anyway, cruise control coupled with two very new "indie" (I've come to despise the classification as of late) compilations have helped me survive my drives to Palmdale and Woodland Hills and back to LA.

The basis of these follows these guidelines:

1. balance
2. overall aesthetics--only songs that I deem are "hits" in my world
3. "indie" or rock nature

Of course there are exceptions, but to catalog them here ...

CD 1

1. Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Maps
2. Radiohead - Bodysnatchers
3. Stars - Ageless Beauty
4. The Bird and the Bee - How Deep is Your Love
5. Usher - Will Work for Love
6. Coldplay - Viva La Vida
7. Lupe Fiasco - Superstar
8. Broken Social Scene - Swimmers
9. Hot Chip - Out at the Pictures
10. M.I.A. - Paper Planes
11. Radiohead - Weird Fishes/Arpeggi
12. Rilo Kiley - I Never
13. Priscilla Ahn - A Dream
14. Journey - Don't Stop Believin'
15. The Flaming Lips - Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots Pt. 1
16. Tegan and Sara - Nineteen
17. Los Campesinos! - Death to Los Campesinos!
18. Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Gold Lion
19. Sara Bareilles - Gravity

Listening to: Radiohead - House of Cards