My brother and I got into another minor scrum regarding the "use" of my place. What he needs to understand, is that the way he asks for things really irritate me. He assumes that I am parent extension, and hence am somehow obligated to give him favors or provide him with resources. This is definitely not the case at all, and he barely acknowledges that I am doing a favor, or maybe he just doesn't realize that this is a favor that actually inconveniences me. Just showing up at my place with friends on the weekend with out permission really really pissed me off. Leaving a voicemail does not constitute asking and receiving permission. What he needs to consider, is how personally awkward and irate I would have become if I came home and unexpectedly found my home invaded. What he needs to consider is how absolutely livid I would be if I came home with friends, or from drinking, or if I came home with a girl.

This is my private residence and represents my private and personal space that people come over only as invited guests. Furthermore, when I have other people living here, it also represents their private space as well. Especially when people pay rent to live there. If you can't understand that, then maybe you ought to think about it carefully, and think about sincerely apologizing before making any demands. I'll tell you what a sincere apologize is not. A sincere apology is not one that is immediately obtains forgiveness. That is a shallow apology, one that carries no meaning other than to get out of trouble. A sincere apology does not preface additional demands. That is an even more shallow apology, one that is made only so more demands can be made??

Another note...why are little korean girls calling my brother oppa? He's freaking taiwanese...
*shaking head*

[ esca | 11:46 AM | ]

 

Aprils Showers bring May Flowers

I've decided that I don't like the month of April. Come to think of it, I don't know if I ever did. There's a lot of negative things to be associated with this month. As a kid, there was always april fool's day to be weary of. Or poisson day if you're frenchie. Pranks are fun, but I always felt like I had a target on my head as a little kid. Maybe it was because I'd get suckered the most, as I was unbelievably naive at the time. I never saw the need to intentionally deceive very much, so I'd have trouble seeing through more complex schemes. It takes a schemer to sniff out another. There's also the end of snow season, which roughly falls along this period. For the boarders and skiers out there, you know what I mean. And there's also taxes. Yes taxes. Irrelevant as a kid, inconsequential as a student, inescapable as a working adult. I've got more taxes than I know what to do with, at least three different kinds coming right up. I thought I was doing pretty good with money and making a decent savings, but I realize now that's pretty much all going away in the next couple days. *sigh*

In other news, I went ahead a purchased a PS2 last week. I dunno...I figure I've been pretty frugal for a while, and felt like splurging on myself. Video games to me are like shoes to girls. I can never have enough, and I'll end up spending a sizable chunk on money on building a collection that rarely makes a full rotation. I actually already have an Xbox, but the games that are available on the PS2 have left me salivating for quite some time now. I stopped by circuit city during my lunch hour, and told myself, ok Vic, if there's a sale, you're allowed to buy it. Turns out there wasn't a sale. I went to find the sales associate and told myself, ok Vic, if there's a package deal then, you're allowed to buy it. Turns out there wasn't a package deal. Then I told myself, who are you kidding Vic, just buy it. I ended up dishing out 199.95, for the system 24.95 for the memory card, and 44.95 for Xenosaga, and mischievously haven't regretted yet. Muhahaha.

Almost stayed in the whole weekend as a result, but did end up at E Street again with Kien sat nite. He got into his research program at the NIH in washington. Big big deal. Congrats. He was somewhat worried about it, as he felt like he blew off his second interview. He tried to be the "funny" guy and went in with a fake chinese accent to imitate his parents urging him to be a doctor. His interviewer didn't even crack a smirk and actually cut the session short. But he's in and representing the top miniscule percentile of the top minuscule percentile. I was somewhat sick, and was feeling the love from my new console, but had to help him to celebrate. Turned out to be fun as he gave me this "Thai red bull", which tasted like a highly concentrated and syrupy version of the Westernized one, mixed in with some crown. He found it at some asian market up in LA. Told me it would be better any other cold medicine. Haha good stuff.

[ esca | 10:22 AM | ]

 

Death, Taxes, and Parental BS.

Last night, I was at my parent's house getting a home cooked meal and also fatherly advice on the taxly matters, when a solid piece of good news befell our family. My parents and my brother have been hyper stressed recently regarding colleges and acceptances. So far the best school that my brother had gotten into was Davis in cow country, which my parents were suggesting he go, although he preferred the more sociable UCI. But that all changed last night as one of his dark horse schools let him in.

He got into Berkeley, and will be a '07 Cal Bear. I guess that sounds more appealing than '01 Big Green. When he found out his application status on the net, my brother started screaming, and ran around the house like a idiot. I was so happy for him. My parents were also overjoyed in their own way, which is, maybe a few small words of encouragement, a few smiles that look so awkward and out of place on their faces, and then time to deflate. As if they don't believe in unadulterated happiness.

They begin to bring things back down to earth, reminding my brother about his C's, telling my brother how much luck must have been involved, and how he should think about studying harder. It turns my brother applied as an architect, so my parents naturally had to comment, well, the incoming field for architects must be an easier applicant pool...

My brother though, was too happy to really notice or care, and he continued to prance around the house for the whole rest of the time I was there. Yet their comments really irked me. And then of course, my parents decided to take a few swipes at me, stating how, well it was TOO bad you didn't get into Harvard or Yale, and had you applied as an architect and then switched majors, aiya, if only.

At that point, I wanted to say so many things, but wasn't worth the effort. And my parents wonder why I don't like to tell them personal details, its because you're freaking retarded.

[ esca | 9:18 AM | ]

 

My brain is pretty kaput...

So, I'm going to be an echo board. I realized I haven't updated my links for a while. Not to diss...but why am I linking to Adam??? Hahaha. Anyways, here's a few sites that I check up on periodically because they tickle my brain.


Xanga-ites:

Expressive, moody, a tad on the wild and weird. She's beautiful, in every single way, words can't bring her down...

Liz

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite the fact that she's a Yalie, she's creative, she's has a penchant for the poetic, she's anti-elitist, and she's capable of fighting to protect herself. Check out

Ali

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He's got his priorities all wrong, his page is a little more than a social sounding board, but occasionally says something deeper beyond his 17 years, Check out

My Bro

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He's cool, he's hip, he shuai ge, except he's not chinese. He's bomb diggity, he's hot diggity, he's no diggity. Check out

Vu

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She's not a xanga-ite but she used to model in compromising pictures with scandalous snow sculptures. She's moody, she's in your face, she assumes you don't like her, she brings the hammer down on the phrase, "chip on shoulder." Check out

Jaein

I'll blogger link tommorrow or something, unless my mental block goes away.

[ esca | 2:13 PM | ]

 

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hehe...its funny getting personal mail over work addresses. You get snazzy stuff like that.
~_^

[ esca | 2:40 PM | ]

 

I like to space out when I shower. I'm a big proponent of long steamy showers, in fact I've fallen asleep in the shower before. Fun stuff, just zone out of your surroundings and lose yourself deep in thought. Anyways, late last night, after pulling off a 12 hr workday, (piddling to some, but significant to me) I was just getting out of a very nice shower and I reached for my towel to dry my hair. I probably wasn't paying that close of attention until the towel caught the edge of my earring and yanked it forward. OW OW OW OW OW

I was wearing a hoop, which is wider around the main part of the ring, but thin in the portion that actually goes through the ear. I had PULLED the thick part of the hoop half way THROUGH my freaking ear. Well, that was a doozy...

You can bet that woke me up.

T.T

[ esca | 10:35 AM | ]

 

Poker Night and Black Bras

Small money ballers gather round. Poker night over at Jon’s, 50 cent ante Texas Hold’em. I’ve realized that I’m not very good as a poker player. I think I give away far too much of my hand from my reactions, couple that with naturally bad luck, and I find myself constantly reaching into my wallet for a chip refill. I think I opened by losing the first ten hands or so. I did have a mini rally, and saved myself from actually falling into monetary debt leaving the table, but I did end up walking away sans vingt trois dollars. Oh well, pretty fun, as any time I watch Jon gamble is interesting, much less drink and gamble. Some people are just great at this game, as I’ve noticed Hong and the other Vic consistently win. Jimmy and I were the big losers, and Nancy played the role as loan shark. She’s sweet, but had everyone firmly entrenched in her pockets. Moolah moolah moolah.

So, after the sun came up, I decided to head home. While I was grabbing things from my car, I found a random bra in the backseat. My car has been getting to be somewhat of a mess, although still manageable, and I was grabbing some CD’s when I noticed something that looked like a piece of black underwear. Lo and behold, it was. At first I was excited because I was like oooh underwear, but then almost as immediately, wait, how in the name of the nine hells did this end up in the backseat of my car? Quickly I searched back in my memory banks to all the nights that I’ve been drunk beyond recollection and counted zero since college. I would have very distinctly and vividly remembered taking someone’s bra off in my car.

Then, it came to me. It must be tu tram’s. We met up last time in LA and she had changed in my car. She must have forgot about it as I had sleeping bags and blankets in there then too.

So, content that the mystery of the black bra had been solved in my mind, I finished picking out my CDs and grabbed it, and headed upstairs. I figured, it probably wouldn’t be that great of an idea to leave the bra in my car, because, I frequently give people rides. About a minute later, I finally put those pieces of information together. Wait, if I’ve had a black bra sitting in the backseat of my car in plain open view for about the last month, and I frequently give people rides…

I’m not a player I just crush a lot.

[ esca | 2:57 PM | ]

 

I’m on “orange” alert. Not just orange, but High Orange Alert. I have this sneaking suspicion that someone had too much time on their hands when they were creating these color classifications. Not every color needs to have a classification, it won’t feel left out. I think the official nomenclature is US Department of Homeland Security High Orange Alert.

I suppose I shouldn’t let my general apathy discount what are in effect, prudent safety precautions at secure installation with military propriety and classified information, but I’ve seen the works, and I know the holes, and if someone were truly motivated enough to get in, they could. Or rather, any one with middling government backing and funding.

But then again, they have plenty of posters everywhere reminding us that treason is a capital crime, and we’ve got that trigger happy Texan in charge. Damn Yalie, burn them all, burn them all. Oh wait, burn the Harvardites first.

[ esca | 12:33 PM | ]

 

I feel so ixchbod right now, can't even explain it...and it tears me apart to have to try to act normal in the face of the world. I want nothing more than to scream and scream and scream and find something absolutely beautiful and destroy it. Or tarnish it. If only for me to stand in the tattered ruins so I can pause to reflect. Because misery loves company.

I feel like I've been patiently waiting for the last month or so, for someone to ask me how I've been doing so I can scream and scream and scream at that poor person. Maybe I should go walk around the park and go scream at the birds. I want to scream until I'm hoarse, or until my vocal cords plop out onto my lap, and then I would wring the bloody heap to extract the last few screams.

I want to find the most patient person on the planet and annoy and piss the hell out of them. I am so weird.

[ esca | 12:16 PM | ]

 

In the past week or so...someone's asked me if I'm suicidal and someone's told me that I should probably go see a psychiatrist. Blah. I'm not that bad. Actually, I did get one bit of good news, from future Dr-to-be Kien Vuu, who told me my hand doesn't look like its broken.

I think I'm cycling through bouts of apathy and sadness. Sometimes I feel so blasé about everything, that I could just chill for hours and not do anything. Work fatigue, and work in general probably contributes to this vegetable state. Other times I feel sad and glum, mostly because...yeah. I'm not going to mention her anymore, I decided. Every time I mention her, the problem gets worse. I'm wondering if I'm on some level actually trying to make myself feel worse. Maybe I'm just a masochist.

Every time I mention her, I want to talk to her. Every time I talk to her, I get angry and sad. From 3000 to 200, but still too far. Shit, I'm violating my rule, I'll just refer to her from now on as "taco".

So I had this taco, and I left it out in the sun and then it started to rain and my taco got all soggy, so then the flies came and then the animals and they destroyed my taco and ripped it into a million little pieces and ran off after the ice cream truck and all I have left is this one packet of hot sauce that I grabbed from the condiments table, that I'm going to spread over this piece of bread and use it to wipe my ass.

[ esca | 4:53 PM | ]

 

I feel weary…of being and thinking differently all the time. If life were a stream, why must my path always traverse the rapids? Always I feel as if I’m at odds against something, pushing and pulling to move. Even when the path is downhill and well trodden, my uneven legs give way to a lopsided gait, and like a fish on the sand, I thrash and recoil against this burning rage in my lungs.

Scream scream into this battered room, beat beat upon these padded walls. I’m convinced that my life must be a patterned hallucination, and my catatonic and drugged body lies dormant and tied to some nameless table, in some nameless room, amongst the nameless halls.

[ esca | 2:54 PM | ]

 

My brother has a somewhat unique way of looking at the world, and I personally question some of his motives. He's very superficial, like we all are, but maybe I cut him some slack because I can see where he's coming from. He's my brother, for better or for worse.

Anyways, he's in serious debt, at least relatively speaking as a high schooler, so he's earning his bread while working at an in-n-out near my place. Cool, he definitely needs a little more discipline. Since its closer to my place than my parent's home, he asked if it were ok for him to come over for a little bit before work, to kill time between his afterschool and work hours. I told him it was ok so long as he stays out of the bedrooms, and keeps clean, basically because I have a tenant, and its not cool for my bro to mess around. This was before I figured out completely the details of what was really going down.

He's there with his girlfriend.

Well, I think originally it was just a "friend," but after kicking it for while(at my place too) they are now a couple. Hahah. It was interesting at first, I left some dishes in the sink, and every time I came home, someone would have done the dishes. It was pretty cool. At first I thought my brother was shaping up into something more than his lazy behind, but it tuns out it was the girl. Anna K. Korean girl from RBHS.

My bro also likes to roll with the korean crowd, not that there's anything wrong with that, but it makes me feel all cringy inside just due to my experiences. How many times was it just me and Kai against the sea of koreans. Ying wei wo men shi zhong guo ren...ke shi, han guo nu ren tai ke ai.

Anyways, I'm torn between acting like a peer or a parent to my brother, because there's a lot of things I can say here. I don't want to get on his case for high school, but there's something about setting standards and upholding them, and he must be the first to admit that his grades are below even his own standards and do something to change them. What is the wisdom of finding a girlfriend right before leaving for college? And ummm....wtf is his doing in my place with his girl?????

[ esca | 9:55 AM | ]

 

Nine recently blogged about the politics of men, (or they happened to be men) and it got me thinking. Yeah…I wanna blog too, even though my hand hurts, and I can’t type too well. But I gotta pinch in. It really takes a guy to know a guy, some things girls just won’t be able to understand. Or I suppose, more aptly is accept. Guys are more static, girls, dynamic. I think as guy we know that there are many faults in ourselves, but not everything is something we would want to change…just yet.

Guys are usually nice to girls because they want to sleep with them. I’m generalizing, but yeah. Every girl knows this, every girl uses this…to varying degrees. It maybe just a small smile, a longer look, a slight touch.

Believe it or not, guys are aware of this too, how girls react. We can’t fight the system, but we can play the game. One way to look at it, as a guy, is that every girl out there is available, if you’re willing to pay their price. How much does it really take to get laid? For Jenny L, or now C, it was a three year relationship topped with a three week honeymoon. Nice. Sometimes the ante is too much, for instance, as not every guy would wait until marriage to have sex. But some do, and that’s just the way it is.

So as a guy, a lot of time you need to decide if the girl is worth keeping on that potential list. And you’d be amazed at how randomly these lists are compiled. That one girl at the coffee shop, or that waitress at the bar…yeah, they make lists, often. If as a girl, you make this list, and you actually like the guy too, its VERY much so in your best interests, to stay on this list for as long as possible. This is when you set the tone, for how serious the rest of the relationship will be. Just to add, there are optimal time periods, and making a guy wait too long, is almost just as bad. Its different for every guy, but one day is too short, and on the order of a month is about right. Guys start their “timer” early though, you maybe on the clock when you don’t even know it. Oh yeah.

Unfortunately, a lot of the girls that are on any particular guys’ list, don’t want to be there. We tend to make them of the broad inclusive type. You only have so many favors to give out, so every once in a while, you gotta purge through the list, and cut out the ones you’ve lost interest in, and the ones you have no chance with. Also, cut the ones just out to use you. Yes men, get used too. After all while, you tend to be wary of the girl that’s only friends with guys and doesn’t hang out with other girls. Or the girl that’s nice to everyone, honestly, there is such thing as being too nice, it rings of shallow, and fake.

There’s also, the infamous, too hot to handle girl. Now, this girl is what occupies our mind, the girl that you really have no idea what her intentions are, you’d think she interested in you by her actions, but you have wonder what’s possessing her to be interested? It’s the one you definitely want, but gotta watch carefully. The lioness that jumps out of the sheep’s clothing, and you then you go a-ha! I knew it all along, all along. Sure, every guy knows…but that doesn’t stop us.

If a guy doesn’t trust you, he’s probably thinking you’re fake. If a girl seems attracted to a guy, and he doesn’t think its possible, he’s thinking she’s out to use him. Everything becomes a trap, a little leg there, a little skin there, a bra strap there, and the guy is thinking conspiracy.

Even if the girl is actually is into him. Call it the bitter ugly guy syndrome.

[ esca | 2:02 PM | ]

 

...

[ esca | 1:59 PM | ]

 

angry angry mad mad mad
hurts me now so bad bad bad
feelings kept so sad sad sad
softly whimper sad sad sad
you're all I ever had had had

[ esca | 3:45 PM | ]

 

I have so much template on the brain, that its hanging out of my ass. All I ever wanted was to design an aesthetically pleasing polymorphic template class that would unify the world with its ability to store generic data, but nooooo. Freaking templates, did you know that templated abstract classes do not truly exist as a singular entity, but actually are created as seperate class types per instantiation? That MyClass< int > and MyClass< float > are considered different and you can't assign one pointer to everything????

Wtf is the world coming to???

I'm not even really manipulating memory, as system limitations deter use of dynamic memory allocation. I'm just manipulating addresses...but it won't let me!!!

I know what "a" solution is, but its uglier than a tijuana street hooker. I can reroute all my template classes to derive from an essentially empty class, just to have that one "common" type which all pointers can access. Either that, or I could use void pointers, or I could simply cast the shit out of everything. Just give me any address and I'll cast it into some sort of long. I am delirious...

10 minutes till lunch and I get to figure out if that girl is in HS or not... T.T

[ esca | 11:21 AM | ]

 

Freak...

I went to my parent's home to pick up a few things, and I parked in front where my brother usually does, thinking he must be out. As soon as I opened the front door though, I heard my brother and my father screaming at each other. It turns out that my brother got his car stolen, and my dad was letting him have it. My brother has the absolutely worst luck with cars, and things in general. He always forgets things and loses things. In just the past few months alone, he's racked several K in general car charges, ranging from transmission problems, to tickets, to flat tires from running over pieces of wood. That one was the best. He ran over a piece of wood in the middle of the road, and then went to sleep. The next day, as my dad took that car to work, when he tried to get home, he found out he had two flats. Yeah...and my dad works in carlsbad, about a 30-40 min drive away without traffic. Now he just got our, actually my old car stolen, and she was a beauty. A brand new 97 Honda Civic, right before high school graduation and right as I turned 16. Well, a couple months later, but totally unexpected, and so totally cool. So many memories...a lot of near miss accidents and recklessness...*sigh*

Anyways, I felt a little torn between their arguments. My father is somehow blaming my brother for his irresponsibility, but my brother is saying how its not his fault. He had locked the car, and parked it in the school parking lot. (damn...what happening to MCHS???? Sundevils!!) It was gone by after school. Sadly...I don't think we'll ever see it again, as its most likely to be chopped up into parts and sold to the lowest bidders. I don't feel its my brothers fault, but he does somehow keep finding himself in tricky situations. My brother has told me some pretty sketchy stories about his driving, like one time when he was tailing a "crappy" truck full of hispanic males closely to piss them off. He did such a good job, that they thanked him when they stopped at a traffic light by jumping out of their truck, and hitting the car with a baseball bat. My brother added that "they got away before he could stop them." Um no...what the fuck are you talking about?? You just narrowly avoided getting a beat down! They probably looked at how young he was and decided that some things were beyond them. I think I was a little pissed at my brother, but didn't have good reason to. My dad was doing a pretty good job laying into my brother already, so for the most part I let it be.

So my baby is gone gone forever. Gone the way of honda heaven, into that giant pile of scrap metal in the sky. = \

[ esca | 9:37 PM | ]

 

I think last night has been an accurate reflection of my life for the past few weeks. At about 11:24, because I remember looking, I lay exhausted down on my bed, while contemplating several tasks that I ought have finished by now. Letters, electronic and snail. I remembered to buy more stamps, but haven't ordered more checks. Rebates to send out, DVDs to return, mental screws to fasten in place. I think the last conscious thought I had in my mind, was that I really ought to get up, or else I'd pass out really soon. Or maybe I just imagined thinking that. Sure enough, the next thing I knew, I woke up at 4:33, because I once again remember looking, with the lights on in my room and to soft whirring of my computer fan.

Tangent: Do soft humming noises make anyone else fall asleep? So soothing...

Do you wonder where your soul goes when you sleep? Does it go to some forgotten land that we no longer recollect? Do you ever wake up and feel like you're actually just gone to sleep? Why do young children pray that they'll wake up in the morning, what is it about sleep that seems to be the waking mind's anathema?

I'm afraid of sleeping now, but I'm just as afraid of waking. In the sense that I feel my sleeping is escape from reality, and that my waking is an escape from my dormant subconscious mind. I feel like with each cycle, that I'm on a bus that has gone past my stop. Every ensuing minute, I travel farther and farther away from my home, and the desperation grows. But I can't get off the bus...

[ esca | 9:12 AM | ]

 

Why do people blog, or journal, or write in general? Is it out of boredom, or personal dissatisfaction, or do people write to share something? I'd have to say, on balance, that most bloggers fall a little towards the dissatisfied category, expressive of what's wrong vs what's right. Maybe that's an evolutionary characteristic, in that the disgruntled bloggers seem to "survive" and be the ones that garner attention. Are people then, just more interested in pain and suffering? Is that just an intrinsic characteristic of human beings? To believe that pain is real, and pleasure is dream? Where have all the hedonists gone? Or do we simply wish to pinch ourselves awake in the mundane repetition of this dreary world?

I think, that people are simply more honest when to comes to hurt and pain. More honest about why, and maybe how. Perhaps more creative as well.

Which leads me to thinking about the general tone of my blogs, and I'm wondering if it has been a little on the negative side lately. Maybe, maybe. Does that mean I'm just a negative person in general? That could be the case as well. Perhaps its just that certain things have been on my mind and that just weighs heavily in the text. I don't write as if I were necessary talking directly to someone, more as tapping into this mental dialogue inside my brain. My mind is like a senate filled with unending filibusters. Unending...someone help me.

Is negativity just a self-fulfilling prophesy? Maybe I'm seeing so much and feel this way, because I'm on some level actively trying to find it. Those minus things that look like lines (-) and carry electric charges. You know what I feel though? About the things that are negative in my life, that bring down my general demeanor? Those are the real positives for me, and they are important in my mind. Its exactly how only the really important things in your life can stress you. Or at least really stress me.

But then I guess that makes for an interesting mix of things, when the things you care for are precisely the things that make your life difficult. I just hope I've made the best decisions of late.

*sigh*

I miss my Liz and there's a very precisely Liz shaped gap in my life. I feel conscious of that at random times during my week, and I suppose that just the way it is. I think I used to fill up those gaps with resentment and pride, but as those feelings are fading away, I'm wondering how I let that go by. I'm starting to feel the heaviness at my seams, and I'm simultaneously wishing this gap would close, and at the same time, admiring this beautifully shaped indentation on my soul. Run my finger along that jagged wound, and trace the outline to my heart.

[ esca | 11:50 AM | ]

 

Hmmm

Yesterday was a little bit of a low for me, of the get wasted and try desperately to talk with someone mode. Not that something like that ever usually works. You end up sounding really stupid and throwing your dignity into the gutter, not that I had much anyways. *sigh*

New direction: Time to grasp hold of the reins of life again. Well I'm on hyperwest now, good bye blogger and thanks for the year of fun in the sun. Actually, I'm still "powered" by blogger, I'm just hosted by hyperwest. Hopefully I'll have more freedom to do some more things, we'll see. Thanks to Jon for setting everything up, he's like automatic. If only he were a better crafter... ~_^

I've been thinking about starting a new blog, or some type of forum blog. Something against the grain, something where you take controversial ideas and sift through them, to see if there's knowledge to glean from what people discard. I feel a lot of people are close-minded in the sense that a CW "bad" idea is dismissed without much personal thought or reflection. Its the type of thing that you might have grown up with and always assumed to be true, but ought to really think about why. A should prostitution be legalized, should parents be sterilized after 3 kids, should organ donation be mandatory for prisoners, especially death row inmates, should organ farming be capitalized type thing. Should all relationships be open, should divorces be outlawed, should adultery incur jail type, should laws be moral type thing. Raise the roof and stir the pot. Any thoughts? Criticisms welcome.

[ esca | 10:15 AM | ]

 

switching over to hyperwest.net/escadawg.

[ esca | 10:45 PM | ]

 

Mismatched intentions and actions

I won't say that I'm the most patient of people, because I'm not. I hate waiting. When I'm waiting for someone to show up, I'm always very anxious. I compulsively check around corners, cover different angles, attempt to mentally "force" the next person to be them. Play it off as nothing too, my anxiousness that is. I'm not someone to stick around when things get messy either. If it looks like something is going south, I usually take my prepacked bags and jet. Wait till the storm blows over. Sometimes it doesn't. Nor am I someone that feels comfortable not being in control. I could be free falling, and I'd still try to flap my arms.

Yet sometimes, you can't help but want to the last one at the party. The empty ballroom that whispers of laughter or shrieks of delight. Its the calm before the storm, before you close those doors for the last time. You want to be the last one, because you can't walk away if there's still something moving. Waiting for that last song for that last dance.

Saranghae...

[ esca | 10:23 AM | ]