Put your player on "shuffle" and write down the names of songs to each question in consecutive order.
What do you think of me, Random Music Player?
1. "Can't Take Me" -Bryan Adam [...um? You're very...independent?]
Will I have a happy life?
2. Real World -John Mayor [So yes...so long I don't give in to illusions and stick to reality? Eesh don't think I can do that. REality's scaaary.]
What do my friends really think of me?
3. Cinderella- The Cheetah Girls [...I can slay my own dragons and am definitely not damsel-in-distress material?]
Do people secretly lust after me?
4. More to Life -not sure who it's by [There's got to be more to life...?]
How can I make myself happy?
5. Second Chances- Michelle Branch [... ... by paying a lot of attention to my chances and not let them slip by, I guess...]
What should I do with my life?
6. Hold On For One More day- forgot who it's by [...be stubborn?]
Why must life be so full of pain?
7. Us Against the World -Play [Right, because the world's against us?]
How can I catch a leprechaun?
8. So Yesterday- Hilary Duff [I guess leprechauns are too out of date to catch?]
Will I ever have children?
9. Everything'll Be Alright- Jimmy Eat World [...LOL]
Will I die happy?
10. Up, Up, Up - Rose Falcon [Suppose I'm going to go to heaven? If I take it direction-wise, at least...]
Can you give me some advice?
11. Bring On The Rain- Joe Dee Messina [Apparently you're suffering from draught, or dehydration, or lack of will. It's hard to tell. lol]
What do you think happiness is?
12. Leap of Faith- Michelle Branch [how...appropriate...]
Do you have any advice to give over the next few hours/days?
13. Fallen- Sarah McLachlan [...don't go around and tell people "I told you so"?]
What will tomorrow be like?
14. You Gotta Be- Des'ree [one word: bad, why else would you need to be stronger? =p]
What will next year be like?
21. My Place In This World-Michael W. Smith [foresee much soul-searching?]
Monday, August 29, 2005
Music Meme! (...meme? what a stupid word)
Put your player on "shuffle" and write down the names of songs to each question in consecutive order.
What do you think of me, Random Music Player?
1. "Born in the USA" [pssh, that's not true!]
Will I have a happy life?
2. "Daniel" (by Elton John). [I don't know what to make of this]
What do my friends really think of me?
3. "A song about a friend" [It's a russian song, actually, about how to distinguish a real fried from the not-so-good one]
Do people secretly lust after me?
4. "Michelle" (Beatles) [o_____O]
How can I make myself happy?
5. "Hello" [another russian song. i still haven't figured out what it's about (something about phone calls, rain, and falling in love). for russian people: "Privet" by Orbakayte]
What should I do with my life?
6. "Bird of Happiness" by Vitas. [russian song again. Hmm. So I should go on the quest for the bird of happiness? Overall, it's a very optimistic song, so heh]
Why must life be so full of pain?
7. "Kings can do anything they want" [AHAHAHAHA so true xD It's a funny song about love though- russian again!]
How can I catch a leprechaun?
8. "B" by Pinback [dunno. Kate's fault for giving me the song =P]
Will I ever have children?
9. "Soul Sacrifice" by Santana [I downloaded this for an apush project a long time ago. Damn, I guess this means I won't *want* children but will sacrifice my, um, soul's desire (for freedom?) and have them?]
Will I die happy?
10. "Go Light Your World" [an inspirational song, so.. I guess so?]
Can you give me some advice?
11. "Evening" [another russian song. not much advice in there.]
What do you think happiness is?
12. "Music of Vivaldi" [russian song. a life-reflection sort of song]
Do you have any advice to give over the next few hours/days?
13. "Champagne Supernova" [so.. should I get drunk? Or high? Or both?]
What will tomorrow be like?
14. "You'll be in my heart" [a couple people are always in my heart :]
What will next year be like?
21. "A Million of Scarlet Roses" [russian song and OMG I USED TO OBSESS OVER THIS SONG AND IMAGINE MYSELF AS THE GIRL IN IT ..er, when I was little. Yeah, not anymore. Um, yeah. .... :D]
What do you think of me, Random Music Player?
1. "Born in the USA" [pssh, that's not true!]
Will I have a happy life?
2. "Daniel" (by Elton John). [I don't know what to make of this]
What do my friends really think of me?
3. "A song about a friend" [It's a russian song, actually, about how to distinguish a real fried from the not-so-good one]
Do people secretly lust after me?
4. "Michelle" (Beatles) [o_____O]
How can I make myself happy?
5. "Hello" [another russian song. i still haven't figured out what it's about (something about phone calls, rain, and falling in love). for russian people: "Privet" by Orbakayte]
What should I do with my life?
6. "Bird of Happiness" by Vitas. [russian song again. Hmm. So I should go on the quest for the bird of happiness? Overall, it's a very optimistic song, so heh]
Why must life be so full of pain?
7. "Kings can do anything they want" [AHAHAHAHA so true xD It's a funny song about love though- russian again!]
How can I catch a leprechaun?
8. "B" by Pinback [dunno. Kate's fault for giving me the song =P]
Will I ever have children?
9. "Soul Sacrifice" by Santana [I downloaded this for an apush project a long time ago. Damn, I guess this means I won't *want* children but will sacrifice my, um, soul's desire (for freedom?) and have them?]
Will I die happy?
10. "Go Light Your World" [an inspirational song, so.. I guess so?]
Can you give me some advice?
11. "Evening" [another russian song. not much advice in there.]
What do you think happiness is?
12. "Music of Vivaldi" [russian song. a life-reflection sort of song]
Do you have any advice to give over the next few hours/days?
13. "Champagne Supernova" [so.. should I get drunk? Or high? Or both?]
What will tomorrow be like?
14. "You'll be in my heart" [a couple people are always in my heart :]
What will next year be like?
21. "A Million of Scarlet Roses" [russian song and OMG I USED TO OBSESS OVER THIS SONG AND IMAGINE MYSELF AS THE GIRL IN IT ..er, when I was little. Yeah, not anymore. Um, yeah. .... :D]
August-- Mike stared out
Mike stared out at the ocean. It was quite late at night, actually, even for a weekend. He would have to visit his great aunt tomorrow but, until then, or until his roommate grumbled to him in the morning (i.e. in a few hours), he had the time to himself.
The ocean was dark and it bled away into the sky under the cool blanket of fog that was rolling inland. It was difficult to see, but surrounded by the regular march of the waves as they rolled against the sand, surrounded by the indefinite space of swirling water droplets, Mike felt...something...vast....
If God exists, thought Mike, if he did...he must have proved his existence through nature. Amazing...this feeling of there being nothing else, of there will never be anything else...and something like happiness almost there....
Am I happy? wondered Zach, staring up at the ceiling. He had woken up and his brain had decided to put sleep on hold. Am I? And why am I wondering about it at the unholy hours right before dawn? I have plenty to be thankful for, I know, and I know how to appreciate it. But this...not quite faith...almost hope...what, for the sake of my own sanity I'll call intuition...why do I feel like there is something out there still...always..., just beyond my reach?
The leaves rustled outside, a lonely sound. All was quiet except for the quiet snore from his roommate and the occasional small nighttime sounds. It was normal...TOO normal, thought Zach. It was almost surreal...
Yawning, Nick closed his laptop. It was a few hours after when he usually went to bed. Today he'd stayed up longer waiting for...what?
His roommate already asleep, Nick got up from his seat as quietly as he could and went to stand by the window. After a moment of hesitation, he lifted the curtain and stared up at the sky.
Trees and stars. The little things that can make a person feel utterly at home or unbearably far away and alone.
It's the little things, after all, contemplated Nick. It's the little things that mean the most to us...and it's also the little things that can ruin the best human experience. For instance, the way my family signs the emails...and just when I'm starting to feel content, I'd remember something...the way my mother smiles at me when I come home from school each day and then.... Why?
Why? reasoned Mike. Why this? Why everything? How come? Is God real? Are we alone in the universe? Why does my roommate leave his stupid mug all over the freakin' place? He made a noise of muffled exasperation. Questions...always questions...never any good answers.
No one, mused Zach, can have all the answers in the world. The human mind can't hold it. Yet we love truth, or at least the idea of truth. We think we want so many things but how many of them would we really need? And despite of our differences, how similar we are!
We're all so much alike. Nick sighed. Yet, that doesn't seem to make friendship any more common and people don't seem to get along any better. It's weird how people behave. I've left a country and came to another, but I guess everyone...
Everyone, figured Mike, must be a part of something greater. It just would make so much sense if they do. It all adds up...
...people are like jig-saw pieces, reasoned Zach. No matter how much you argue about the shapes...we're still all made out of cardboard...
...so many people, reflected Nick, similar.... I know I am just like a lot of them in some ways...in a lot of ways...actually...
Mike glanced at his watch, straining to make out the time in the darkness, and sighed. "Probably should go back now," he muttered.
Zach rolled over on his side, checked the time again, and decided that he really must do something about these wakeful moments in the middle of the nigh-er-early morning.
Nick crawled into bed, glancing at his watch as he took it off. The time could be described as either very late or very early. Sleep? Definitely.
Beyond the vague feelings of the human subconscious, the great clockworks of the fourth dimension hummed quietly to itself as it warped and folded in ways that would give an astrophysicist a heart attack. In levels even higher up, at dimensions that neither humans nor amoebas know anything about, beings whose existence was only wondered about placed the pieces, dealt the cards, and begin to play.
The players moved, the roles were settled, the stage revolved around the predetermined rules.
Another round of the Game had begun.
[end of August]
______________________
It's okay Lucy, we can still take over the blog together! (Which we're probably doing already but oh well). ;-)
The ocean was dark and it bled away into the sky under the cool blanket of fog that was rolling inland. It was difficult to see, but surrounded by the regular march of the waves as they rolled against the sand, surrounded by the indefinite space of swirling water droplets, Mike felt...something...vast....
If God exists, thought Mike, if he did...he must have proved his existence through nature. Amazing...this feeling of there being nothing else, of there will never be anything else...and something like happiness almost there....
Am I happy? wondered Zach, staring up at the ceiling. He had woken up and his brain had decided to put sleep on hold. Am I? And why am I wondering about it at the unholy hours right before dawn? I have plenty to be thankful for, I know, and I know how to appreciate it. But this...not quite faith...almost hope...what, for the sake of my own sanity I'll call intuition...why do I feel like there is something out there still...always..., just beyond my reach?
The leaves rustled outside, a lonely sound. All was quiet except for the quiet snore from his roommate and the occasional small nighttime sounds. It was normal...TOO normal, thought Zach. It was almost surreal...
Yawning, Nick closed his laptop. It was a few hours after when he usually went to bed. Today he'd stayed up longer waiting for...what?
His roommate already asleep, Nick got up from his seat as quietly as he could and went to stand by the window. After a moment of hesitation, he lifted the curtain and stared up at the sky.
Trees and stars. The little things that can make a person feel utterly at home or unbearably far away and alone.
It's the little things, after all, contemplated Nick. It's the little things that mean the most to us...and it's also the little things that can ruin the best human experience. For instance, the way my family signs the emails...and just when I'm starting to feel content, I'd remember something...the way my mother smiles at me when I come home from school each day and then.... Why?
Why? reasoned Mike. Why this? Why everything? How come? Is God real? Are we alone in the universe? Why does my roommate leave his stupid mug all over the freakin' place? He made a noise of muffled exasperation. Questions...always questions...never any good answers.
No one, mused Zach, can have all the answers in the world. The human mind can't hold it. Yet we love truth, or at least the idea of truth. We think we want so many things but how many of them would we really need? And despite of our differences, how similar we are!
We're all so much alike. Nick sighed. Yet, that doesn't seem to make friendship any more common and people don't seem to get along any better. It's weird how people behave. I've left a country and came to another, but I guess everyone...
Everyone, figured Mike, must be a part of something greater. It just would make so much sense if they do. It all adds up...
...people are like jig-saw pieces, reasoned Zach. No matter how much you argue about the shapes...we're still all made out of cardboard...
...so many people, reflected Nick, similar.... I know I am just like a lot of them in some ways...in a lot of ways...actually...
Mike glanced at his watch, straining to make out the time in the darkness, and sighed. "Probably should go back now," he muttered.
Zach rolled over on his side, checked the time again, and decided that he really must do something about these wakeful moments in the middle of the nigh-er-early morning.
Nick crawled into bed, glancing at his watch as he took it off. The time could be described as either very late or very early. Sleep? Definitely.
Beyond the vague feelings of the human subconscious, the great clockworks of the fourth dimension hummed quietly to itself as it warped and folded in ways that would give an astrophysicist a heart attack. In levels even higher up, at dimensions that neither humans nor amoebas know anything about, beings whose existence was only wondered about placed the pieces, dealt the cards, and begin to play.
The players moved, the roles were settled, the stage revolved around the predetermined rules.
Another round of the Game had begun.
[end of August]
______________________
It's okay Lucy, we can still take over the blog together! (Which we're probably doing already but oh well). ;-)
Sunday, August 28, 2005
blah
There are few things more depressing than going shopping with your pretty cousin who is a dress size 2.
That is all.
That is all.
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Friday, August 26, 2005
August- There was one thing
There was one thing that Mike liked about math that he had never tried to explain to anyone before since he did not want to come across as a geek. But he liked math (especially when they worked out the way they're suppose to). He liked the neat rows of numbers and figures and especially the equal and inequality signs. Those established relationship between all the other figures and, if you did the steps just right, if you applied the rules according to the rules, the problem would be solved. It's simplicity in itself, by an odd definition which Mike would rather die than explain, especially to the regarded nerds in his classes.
You see, math, if done correctly, can be solved. Life can seldom be solved as easily.
"No, mother," said Zach patiently into the phone. "I don't need a ride home today. Yesterday's Saturday, you've visited, today's Sunday and there're classes tomorrow. I don't think I should go home today. "
There was a pause at the other end of the line.
"I see," said Zach's mother with just a hint of hurt. "You're prepared to LEAVE completely already."
Zach swallowed his own offense and sighed. Parents. If they would find a better way to get their kids to do stuff, they wouldn't rely on guilt half as much. So it goes.
Three boys, all alike in destiny;
In a Far Away College, where we take our scene....
School had started and soon the three each established their own residence within the campus, each in a different hall, with a different roommate and a different declared major. It was completely normal, the course of the events, and the three separate lives could see ahead with no more forbearance than what humans normally possessed. And yet...
___________________________________________________
It's less of masochistic tendency than self-understanding, Lucy. I honestly can concentrate better at 8AM than at, say 1PM. It's also necessary, most of my GE classes (that I still need to take) are taken already and I wasn't too patient when I was picking my classes. =p
You see, math, if done correctly, can be solved. Life can seldom be solved as easily.
"No, mother," said Zach patiently into the phone. "I don't need a ride home today. Yesterday's Saturday, you've visited, today's Sunday and there're classes tomorrow. I don't think I should go home today. "
There was a pause at the other end of the line.
"I see," said Zach's mother with just a hint of hurt. "You're prepared to LEAVE completely already."
Zach swallowed his own offense and sighed. Parents. If they would find a better way to get their kids to do stuff, they wouldn't rely on guilt half as much. So it goes.
Three boys, all alike in destiny;
In a Far Away College, where we take our scene....
School had started and soon the three each established their own residence within the campus, each in a different hall, with a different roommate and a different declared major. It was completely normal, the course of the events, and the three separate lives could see ahead with no more forbearance than what humans normally possessed. And yet...
___________________________________________________
It's less of masochistic tendency than self-understanding, Lucy. I honestly can concentrate better at 8AM than at, say 1PM. It's also necessary, most of my GE classes (that I still need to take) are taken already and I wasn't too patient when I was picking my classes. =p
Thursday, August 25, 2005
ah well, here we go
| time | Mon | Tue | Wed | Thu | Fri |
| 8AM | Introductory Psychology | Introductory Psychology | |||
| 9 | Introductory Psychology | Introductory Psychology | |||
| 10 | Great Works of German Literature in Translation: Romanticism to the Present | Great Works of German Literature in Translation: Romanticism to the Present | Great Works of German Literature in Translation: Romanticism to the Present | ||
| 11 | Evolution of Cosmos and Life (11-12:15) | Evolution of Cosmos and Life (discussion) | Evolution of Cosmos and Life (11-12:15) | ||
| 12 | Evolution of Cosmos and Life (discussion) | ||||
| 1 | |||||
| 2 | |||||
| 3 | |||||
| 4 |
The Cosmos thing is a "GE Cluster", which means I will have it the entire YEAR long, and it takes care of 3 science class requirements, the seminar requirement, and the writing 2 requirement =).
Oh and, Susan? Calculus and Chem at 8 am?! You're more masochistic than I thought O_O.
I'd try not to have classes earlier than 11 or at least 10 and be free on Friday, but commuting and carpooling make that hard D:
wow
Ok, I seriously thought I was at a wrong site. o_O
Yay for new layouts.
I'll post my schedule when I'm absolutely sure what it is (there might be changes to even the classes I posted in my xanga).
p.s. Susan, could you fix the spacing on your post?
Yay for new layouts.
I'll post my schedule when I'm absolutely sure what it is (there might be changes to even the classes I posted in my xanga).
p.s. Susan, could you fix the spacing on your post?
Aja
| time | Mon | Tue | Wed | Thu | Fri |
| 8AM | Calc 16C | Org chem | Cacl | O chem | Calc |
| 9 | plant physio | p physio | p physio | ||
| 10 | IST lecture | IST lec | |||
| 11 | IST discussion | IST disc | |||
| 12 | |||||
| 1 | |||||
| 2 | |||||
| 3 | |||||
| 4 | IST seminar |
-To Lucy-
I don't know what the heck's up with the spacing, but I hope this works. If not you'll know....
[edit 14:38] Think the spacing's way blogger read linebreaks. Oops, my bad...this isn't html in notepad. =p
_______________________________________________________________
Original message:
Be surprised. Be very surprised.
Couldn't find the good ballpoint pen until this morning, but I don't think you can tell that much, right?
By the way...my schedule for the fall quarter:
If you guys find the table helpful copy and pasting works here (I think), and then just replace what's here with your own stuff. Or you can just type it up and organize it somehow.
*IST= integrated science program thing that I'm in. Taking "History of the end of the world", fun?
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
August- Mike's father
Mike's father was neither a good man nor a bad man. He was a businessman which, perhaps, labeled him much more accurately than the ambiguous terms of "good" and "bad" ever could. He was single and, for better or for worse, the parent of a teenage son. Many things have been said about single parents with teenager(s)-there are even TV series about it. In most cases it could be agreed that the circumstances were more likely to tip the scale toward "evil" than "good"...and that's with proper sympathies, too.
Mike's father also traveled a lot and was engaged in a long term relationship, meaning that he had a girlfriend, meaning that, given his current circumstances (or rather, circumstance, in the form of one son), things could sometimes get pretty complicated.
Which was why he kept sending the emails.
Which was part of the reason why Mike had multiple email accounts. Besides the fact that having multiple accounts allowed him to sign up for multiple divisions of activities online without any conflict, of course. Not that he ever did anything illegal. Er.
Nicolas was wondering why he was getting strange looks from people. It couldn't be what he said, mostly because he hadn't said anything to anyone yet. Maybe it was his manners. Maybe it was something he did. Maybe he did something rude unconsciously.
He was completely oblivious to the fact that 1.) people who know themselves to be strangers to a place subconsciously moved differently from other people, so that in the eyes of the others more familiar with their locations, they have the psychological equivalent of "I AM NEW HERE!" painted on their foreheads. In bright, neon-colored letters. 2.) He was walking with a direction; it's a well-known fact that most college students walked either in a meandering fashion or they are not walking at all (i.e. staggering, sprinting, falling, not walking). To walk at a walking pace, with a direction, is generally regarded as strange. And 3.) He was dressed in a manner that drew attention, since most college freshmen do not wander around in dress shirt and slacks.
The fact the Nick was slightly worried about the strange looks is a good example of a case where ignorance is not quite a blessing.
Zach had been staring at the newspaper stand for a good thirty seconds and seemed likely to continue to do so for another thirty seconds. He couldn't make up his mind whether or not to get the paper. Reading the paper inevitably left him depressed, but not reading it meant having no clue about the current going-ons and, if a bomb was going to explode over head tomorrow, Zach would still prefer having some inkling of why it was there in the first place.
Ignorance is bliss. Knowledge is power. Ergo, power must not lead to bliss.
He would get the paper, Zach decided, and then he would get something cheerful to read to counter-point the black mood he'd be left in. That took Edgar Allan Poe off of the to-read list.
Nick's family dutifully sent him an email every other day, and Nick, who loved receiving emails in general, was very happy about those emails, as could be said in an understatement. His sister, on the account of having an older brother in the U.S. had decided to stop learning Spanish and start learning English. English words, since then, have began to make their way into her emails in odd, mangled forms. Nick would then patiently, if sternly, correct her word usage.
In truth, he was touched to the marrow by his seven-year old sister's efforts. Not that he would tell her so.
Mike's father also traveled a lot and was engaged in a long term relationship, meaning that he had a girlfriend, meaning that, given his current circumstances (or rather, circumstance, in the form of one son), things could sometimes get pretty complicated.
Which was why he kept sending the emails.
Which was part of the reason why Mike had multiple email accounts. Besides the fact that having multiple accounts allowed him to sign up for multiple divisions of activities online without any conflict, of course. Not that he ever did anything illegal. Er.
Nicolas was wondering why he was getting strange looks from people. It couldn't be what he said, mostly because he hadn't said anything to anyone yet. Maybe it was his manners. Maybe it was something he did. Maybe he did something rude unconsciously.
He was completely oblivious to the fact that 1.) people who know themselves to be strangers to a place subconsciously moved differently from other people, so that in the eyes of the others more familiar with their locations, they have the psychological equivalent of "I AM NEW HERE!" painted on their foreheads. In bright, neon-colored letters. 2.) He was walking with a direction; it's a well-known fact that most college students walked either in a meandering fashion or they are not walking at all (i.e. staggering, sprinting, falling, not walking). To walk at a walking pace, with a direction, is generally regarded as strange. And 3.) He was dressed in a manner that drew attention, since most college freshmen do not wander around in dress shirt and slacks.
The fact the Nick was slightly worried about the strange looks is a good example of a case where ignorance is not quite a blessing.
Zach had been staring at the newspaper stand for a good thirty seconds and seemed likely to continue to do so for another thirty seconds. He couldn't make up his mind whether or not to get the paper. Reading the paper inevitably left him depressed, but not reading it meant having no clue about the current going-ons and, if a bomb was going to explode over head tomorrow, Zach would still prefer having some inkling of why it was there in the first place.
Ignorance is bliss. Knowledge is power. Ergo, power must not lead to bliss.
He would get the paper, Zach decided, and then he would get something cheerful to read to counter-point the black mood he'd be left in. That took Edgar Allan Poe off of the to-read list.
Nick's family dutifully sent him an email every other day, and Nick, who loved receiving emails in general, was very happy about those emails, as could be said in an understatement. His sister, on the account of having an older brother in the U.S. had decided to stop learning Spanish and start learning English. English words, since then, have began to make their way into her emails in odd, mangled forms. Nick would then patiently, if sternly, correct her word usage.
In truth, he was touched to the marrow by his seven-year old sister's efforts. Not that he would tell her so.
Monday, August 22, 2005
August- By the time
By the time it was eight thirty in the morning, Zach had already showed, had breakfast, and explored the school's library. The top floor, as always, was eerily empty (perhaps because it was eight thirty in the morning, or that it was the top floor, or possibly a combination of the two) and in dire need of modernization. The air conditioning, for example, sounded like Darth Vader with bronchopneumonia.
Zach found a book he liked and took it to the lower levels with him (although some people may compare library to hell, Zach wasn't one of them. At least, not normally. Over crowding during finals season was another story). He found it difficult to concentrate with what sounded like an entire horde of Darth Vaders breathing down his neck.
And if his taste in books was a little odd...well, people very rarely accused Zach of being normal, which was just as well because Zachary sometimes found it invariably tiring to try to keep up with the current culture, which accelerates roughly at the same speed as Newton's apple on a free-fall.
Zach found a book he liked and took it to the lower levels with him (although some people may compare library to hell, Zach wasn't one of them. At least, not normally. Over crowding during finals season was another story). He found it difficult to concentrate with what sounded like an entire horde of Darth Vaders breathing down his neck.
And if his taste in books was a little odd...well, people very rarely accused Zach of being normal, which was just as well because Zachary sometimes found it invariably tiring to try to keep up with the current culture, which accelerates roughly at the same speed as Newton's apple on a free-fall.
Friday, August 19, 2005
August-"A wonderful fact"
"A wonderful fact to reflect upon," wrote Charles Dickens, "that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other."
Nicolas was mystified by his aunt's family. That constituted mystery number one. However, mystery number One was constituted of three separate, though by no means small* mysteries, all of whom were quite capable of independent thoughts and movement, which sometimes leads to surprising results.
For instance, one day Nick woke up to the fact that he had something furry pressed against his face, partially suffocating him, and something else furry pressed against his foot. The furry thing that was pressed against his foot was warm and vibrating. The furry thing that was pressed against his face was not.
Identifying the two said articles as mystery number Five and Six, Nick opened his eyes to find a pair of beady black eyes staring into his own, with the beak of the same creature pressed against his nose. He yelled and sat up. Immediately the mystery that was located at his feet protested with a loud yowling noise and shot out the door.
Nick suddenly found himself dealing not with mystery Five and Six, but mystery number Four, or his little cousin, who was grinning and holding her stuffed penguin. Both the eyes and the beak and the furriness belonged to the penguin who looked, now that Nick's heart rate was slowing to normal, very, very innocent.
"Ahhhuugghh," groaned Nick, rubbing his face with both hands. "How did you get in?" He was not accustomed to getting up before eight in the morning, even without the jet-lag, and his current disposition could be described with the following four words:
Groggy, groggy, annoyed, and groggy.
Therefore his usual painstaking politeness was a little lacking.
The mademoiselle did not notice that her older cousin was in the danger of yawning himself to death and smiled very innocently. "Through the door."
Nick stared at the door, which remained blissfully ignorant of his wrath. This is usually the only time when "ignorance is bliss" works out, and that is when you're dealing with inanimate objects.
The door stood, wide-open and innocent. All the innocence around him have slowly penetrated the fog in Nick's head. Nick could not be expected to be eloquent with his brains frying and sputtering in his head (even thought it wasn't five) in the morning, so he groaned again.
"Bonjour!" said his cousin, who was enjoying practicing her Français a little too much than what was good for her.
"Et tu..." mumbled Nick, who was going almost cross-eyed with his effort to figure out what time it was and how much sleep-deprivation was occurring. Needless to say, he was not up to his cousin's wittism. Also obvious was that being in America, for the time being at least, was not at all what he thought it would be.
For the time being at most Nicolas would like to know if this manner of waking up was going to be a frequent occurrence.
_________________________________________________________
thank you, Lucy :-)
funny, I always thought Anna was the Lady of the Lake. lol
Nicolas was mystified by his aunt's family. That constituted mystery number one. However, mystery number One was constituted of three separate, though by no means small* mysteries, all of whom were quite capable of independent thoughts and movement, which sometimes leads to surprising results.
For instance, one day Nick woke up to the fact that he had something furry pressed against his face, partially suffocating him, and something else furry pressed against his foot. The furry thing that was pressed against his foot was warm and vibrating. The furry thing that was pressed against his face was not.
Identifying the two said articles as mystery number Five and Six, Nick opened his eyes to find a pair of beady black eyes staring into his own, with the beak of the same creature pressed against his nose. He yelled and sat up. Immediately the mystery that was located at his feet protested with a loud yowling noise and shot out the door.
Nick suddenly found himself dealing not with mystery Five and Six, but mystery number Four, or his little cousin, who was grinning and holding her stuffed penguin. Both the eyes and the beak and the furriness belonged to the penguin who looked, now that Nick's heart rate was slowing to normal, very, very innocent.
"Ahhhuugghh," groaned Nick, rubbing his face with both hands. "How did you get in?" He was not accustomed to getting up before eight in the morning, even without the jet-lag, and his current disposition could be described with the following four words:
Groggy, groggy, annoyed, and groggy.
Therefore his usual painstaking politeness was a little lacking.
The mademoiselle did not notice that her older cousin was in the danger of yawning himself to death and smiled very innocently. "Through the door."
Nick stared at the door, which remained blissfully ignorant of his wrath. This is usually the only time when "ignorance is bliss" works out, and that is when you're dealing with inanimate objects.
The door stood, wide-open and innocent. All the innocence around him have slowly penetrated the fog in Nick's head. Nick could not be expected to be eloquent with his brains frying and sputtering in his head (even thought it wasn't five) in the morning, so he groaned again.
"Bonjour!" said his cousin, who was enjoying practicing her Français a little too much than what was good for her.
"Et tu..." mumbled Nick, who was going almost cross-eyed with his effort to figure out what time it was and how much sleep-deprivation was occurring. Needless to say, he was not up to his cousin's wittism. Also obvious was that being in America, for the time being at least, was not at all what he thought it would be.
For the time being at most Nicolas would like to know if this manner of waking up was going to be a frequent occurrence.
_________________________________________________________
thank you, Lucy :-)
funny, I always thought Anna was the Lady of the Lake. lol
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
thank you, Anna!
For the blog post and the CD of pics/videos you gave me! =D
Anna is my knight in shining armor.
No wait-
Anna is a pretend knight in my cousin's fakely shining armor.
...
...
Truth IS overrated.
p.s. Susan, I'm loving the story :D
Anna is my knight in shining armor.
No wait-
Anna is a pretend knight in my cousin's fakely shining armor.
...
...
Truth IS overrated.
p.s. Susan, I'm loving the story :D
August- "..."
"..." said Mike, when he first confronted a cockroach in the kitchen.
"..." said the cockroach, who was happily minding its own business, which involved scurrying around and getting on people's nerves. It was rather good at its job.
Mike's home was no where near spotlessly clean since his father, spending the majority of his time either at work, traveling for business, or dating his current girlfriend, had by default left Mike in charge of the well-being of all the domestic matters. Mike wasn't inept, but there were certain things to be said about putting a boy in charge of taking care of a house, and most of them involved the quirking of a few eyebrows.
However, Mike's home didn't have cockroaches.
Mike's great aunt's house was big, with many bedrooms, each complete with its own bathroom, and happened to be the perfect haven for a number of six-footed critters. A certain very LARGE number.
"!" said the cockroach, when confronted by its friend on the kitchen counter in front of Mike.
"!" said its friend. Cockroaches were not noticeably friendly creatures, so after a few shakes of their feelers, the two roaches decided to depart and go their separate ways. They started to.
"...!!!" said Mike, grabbing a piece of paper towel and promptly sending the pair to roach heaven. If such a thing existed. If it did, would there also be a roach hell? This was an interesting thought. Had the roaches that Mike had just met ever sinned? The thought of angelic cockroaches, however, seemed to be too much for one's imagination to bear.
For the sake of whatever's remaining of the reader's sanity, we'll move on.
Mike threw away the paper towel, went to the restroom, and met his third roach in less than five minutes.
"......." went Mike.
"..." went the third roach, who was enjoying itself on the floor tiles.
"EEeeeeeeeeeeeee!" went Mike's great aunt, who had just popped in to see what her 'dear boy' (she'd already started calling him that in her head) was up to and had spotted the living organism touring her bathroom.
Mike was neither a humanitarian nor an animal rights activist, however, even if he were, he would've still petitioned for a bottle of pesticide. He had, after all, already killed something in his quest for food. Killing for food had taken on a new meaning since the days when our ape ancestors screeched over large sticks. Most people considered themselves too civilized to kill for food now, though most still do indirectly kill for food daily in some way. For Mike, living where he lived meaning that he had to kill for food, and, it seemed, sometimes for showers too.
You never thought that roaches could be such clean-freaks. Seriously. Showers?
"..." said the cockroach, who was happily minding its own business, which involved scurrying around and getting on people's nerves. It was rather good at its job.
Mike's home was no where near spotlessly clean since his father, spending the majority of his time either at work, traveling for business, or dating his current girlfriend, had by default left Mike in charge of the well-being of all the domestic matters. Mike wasn't inept, but there were certain things to be said about putting a boy in charge of taking care of a house, and most of them involved the quirking of a few eyebrows.
However, Mike's home didn't have cockroaches.
Mike's great aunt's house was big, with many bedrooms, each complete with its own bathroom, and happened to be the perfect haven for a number of six-footed critters. A certain very LARGE number.
"!" said the cockroach, when confronted by its friend on the kitchen counter in front of Mike.
"!" said its friend. Cockroaches were not noticeably friendly creatures, so after a few shakes of their feelers, the two roaches decided to depart and go their separate ways. They started to.
"...!!!" said Mike, grabbing a piece of paper towel and promptly sending the pair to roach heaven. If such a thing existed. If it did, would there also be a roach hell? This was an interesting thought. Had the roaches that Mike had just met ever sinned? The thought of angelic cockroaches, however, seemed to be too much for one's imagination to bear.
For the sake of whatever's remaining of the reader's sanity, we'll move on.
Mike threw away the paper towel, went to the restroom, and met his third roach in less than five minutes.
"......." went Mike.
"..." went the third roach, who was enjoying itself on the floor tiles.
"EEeeeeeeeeeeeee!" went Mike's great aunt, who had just popped in to see what her 'dear boy' (she'd already started calling him that in her head) was up to and had spotted the living organism touring her bathroom.
Mike was neither a humanitarian nor an animal rights activist, however, even if he were, he would've still petitioned for a bottle of pesticide. He had, after all, already killed something in his quest for food. Killing for food had taken on a new meaning since the days when our ape ancestors screeched over large sticks. Most people considered themselves too civilized to kill for food now, though most still do indirectly kill for food daily in some way. For Mike, living where he lived meaning that he had to kill for food, and, it seemed, sometimes for showers too.
You never thought that roaches could be such clean-freaks. Seriously. Showers?
Monday, August 15, 2005
August
Nick’s relatives were doing all the yelling for him. He only needed to smile and be confused, both of which he was doing very efficiently, especially the be confused part.
“Bonjour, Nicolas!” cried his uncle, who had just ran out from the backyard, grass clipping sticking to him like well-shredded green confetti. “Welcome to America!”
Nick smiled and was confused. Also horribly jet-lagged, but he didn’t think it would be polite to yawn, even if he knew how to yawn and smile at the same time, which he didn’t. So Nick smiled and tried to suppress his urges to yawn with all his might.
His four-year old cousin was tugging at his hand, laughing and yelling something about having to show his “cousin ‘ick” her penguin. Nick only hoped she meant a toy penguin as that he didn’t feel quite up to meeting a real penguin just yet, even if American families do normally keep penguin as pets.
No yawning, no yawning, NO yawning.
His aunt, or his uncle’s wife whom he called ‘aunt’ at her insistence, was laughing too. She shooed her daughter away and instructed her husband, monsieur the uncle, to take Nick to his room, where he’ll be staying for the next two days—“Can’t you see how overwhelmed the poor boy is?”
Nick couldn’t quite remember what ‘overwhelmed’ meant, but he certainly felt very poor. Or was it ‘poorly’? His urges to yawn were beginning to get the better of him. He noticed two pink flamingoes stuck on what he presumed was the front lawn and wondered what they were for. They looked scarily gauche. He—now being steered into the guest room—could see them from his window.
Finally left alone, Nick yawned so widely that he heard his jaw crack.
“Bonjour, Nicolas!” cried his uncle, who had just ran out from the backyard, grass clipping sticking to him like well-shredded green confetti. “Welcome to America!”
Nick smiled and was confused. Also horribly jet-lagged, but he didn’t think it would be polite to yawn, even if he knew how to yawn and smile at the same time, which he didn’t. So Nick smiled and tried to suppress his urges to yawn with all his might.
His four-year old cousin was tugging at his hand, laughing and yelling something about having to show his “cousin ‘ick” her penguin. Nick only hoped she meant a toy penguin as that he didn’t feel quite up to meeting a real penguin just yet, even if American families do normally keep penguin as pets.
No yawning, no yawning, NO yawning.
His aunt, or his uncle’s wife whom he called ‘aunt’ at her insistence, was laughing too. She shooed her daughter away and instructed her husband, monsieur the uncle, to take Nick to his room, where he’ll be staying for the next two days—“Can’t you see how overwhelmed the poor boy is?”
Nick couldn’t quite remember what ‘overwhelmed’ meant, but he certainly felt very poor. Or was it ‘poorly’? His urges to yawn were beginning to get the better of him. He noticed two pink flamingoes stuck on what he presumed was the front lawn and wondered what they were for. They looked scarily gauche. He—now being steered into the guest room—could see them from his window.
Finally left alone, Nick yawned so widely that he heard his jaw crack.
Sunday, August 14, 2005
August
Zach had already yelled, though it wasn’t intentional. Completely. He was sitting in a car that was going at a very high speed down a road when a squirrel inhabitant of this asylum suddenly turned suicidal and decided to make a mad dash across the road. The resulting abrupt acceleration in the other direction left him feeling just a little sick.
The squirrel flicked its tail innocently on the other side of the road. Zach glared at it and wondered why no joke was made about the squirrels crossing the road. Who cares about chickens? Suicidal squirrels were way more common now. And dangerous. Perhaps they were picking things up from the terrorist?
“Ugh,” said Zach’s mother, who had decided to sit in the backseat for this trip and was now suffering from a major problem in the form of boxes.
“You okay, Zachary?” his father asked, without ever taking his eyes off of the road.
“Are you?” asked Zach, twisting himself around to peer at his mother, who was now painstakingly restacking the boxes on the seat next to her.
She squeaked, mostly because Zach’s father had just swerved to avoid a squirrel that had taken a kamikaze plunge off of the curb earlier and didn't quite survive the encounter. The boxes tumbled down like dominoes. Zach’s mother re-stacked the boxes and deliberately closed her eyes.
Zach’s father was humming to himself.
Zachary wondered if he hadn’t better do the same and close his eyes too. After all, he wanted himself to be both physically and mentally ready when he moved into the dorms, and that was today, in less than two hours. He didn’t want to unpack thinking about suicidal squirrels while off-key notes of concerto number five was playing in his head.
He needed to stop thinking about squirrels. Except another one just crossed the road.
The squirrel flicked its tail innocently on the other side of the road. Zach glared at it and wondered why no joke was made about the squirrels crossing the road. Who cares about chickens? Suicidal squirrels were way more common now. And dangerous. Perhaps they were picking things up from the terrorist?
“Ugh,” said Zach’s mother, who had decided to sit in the backseat for this trip and was now suffering from a major problem in the form of boxes.
“You okay, Zachary?” his father asked, without ever taking his eyes off of the road.
“Are you?” asked Zach, twisting himself around to peer at his mother, who was now painstakingly restacking the boxes on the seat next to her.
She squeaked, mostly because Zach’s father had just swerved to avoid a squirrel that had taken a kamikaze plunge off of the curb earlier and didn't quite survive the encounter. The boxes tumbled down like dominoes. Zach’s mother re-stacked the boxes and deliberately closed her eyes.
Zach’s father was humming to himself.
Zachary wondered if he hadn’t better do the same and close his eyes too. After all, he wanted himself to be both physically and mentally ready when he moved into the dorms, and that was today, in less than two hours. He didn’t want to unpack thinking about suicidal squirrels while off-key notes of concerto number five was playing in his head.
He needed to stop thinking about squirrels. Except another one just crossed the road.
Friday, August 12, 2005
August
Mike hadn’t yelled…yet, but he was somewhat confused and very much embarrassed. He had just seen the people who were his great aunts and uncle. He hoped. Otherwise it was going to get even more embarrassing.
“Um,” said Mike, who had no memory of ever meeting these two supposed relatives before. This is often the case with many families. Certain events, such as that of a child going away to college for the first time, especially if the trustworthiness of the said child was in doubt by an adult who filled the equally dubious role as a single parent, usually leads to the discovery of previously unknown relatives in Far Away Places.
"Um," said Mike again. “Hi.”
“Mikey!” cried the elderly woman enthusiastically, engulfing the unfortunate boy in an equally (over) enthusiastic hug. “You must be Mikey. You look like Mikey. Your father have called and told us aaaalll about you,” she reached up and patted the boy on the cheek. “Right, dear?” She asked her husband, who grunted.
WTF? Thought Mike. Or Michael. Or anything but Mikey. Sure some Shakespeare guy from way back when had said that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet but Mike was no f-ing rose and his opinion of the Shakespeare guy, like his opinion of all other literature guys, were limited to four lettered expletives.
“It’s Mike,” corrected Mike stiffly, gathering himself to look down his nose at his great aunt, who was at least a full head shorter than him. She had hair like electrified carrot shavings. With gray streaks.
“Of course it is, Mikey,” said his great aunt with another squeeze. “You hear that, dear?” She added to her husband, who grunted.
Mike, being a relatively fast learner, decided against speaking again and devoted his energy to freeing himself from his great aunt’s awkward embrace. She displayed an amazing amount of tenacity for someone her age and size and released him only after giving him a wet smack on his face.
Whatever Mike, qua ‘Mikey’, expected from this meeting, it wasn’t this.
“Um,” said Mike, who had no memory of ever meeting these two supposed relatives before. This is often the case with many families. Certain events, such as that of a child going away to college for the first time, especially if the trustworthiness of the said child was in doubt by an adult who filled the equally dubious role as a single parent, usually leads to the discovery of previously unknown relatives in Far Away Places.
"Um," said Mike again. “Hi.”
“Mikey!” cried the elderly woman enthusiastically, engulfing the unfortunate boy in an equally (over) enthusiastic hug. “You must be Mikey. You look like Mikey. Your father have called and told us aaaalll about you,” she reached up and patted the boy on the cheek. “Right, dear?” She asked her husband, who grunted.
WTF? Thought Mike. Or Michael. Or anything but Mikey. Sure some Shakespeare guy from way back when had said that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet but Mike was no f-ing rose and his opinion of the Shakespeare guy, like his opinion of all other literature guys, were limited to four lettered expletives.
“It’s Mike,” corrected Mike stiffly, gathering himself to look down his nose at his great aunt, who was at least a full head shorter than him. She had hair like electrified carrot shavings. With gray streaks.
“Of course it is, Mikey,” said his great aunt with another squeeze. “You hear that, dear?” She added to her husband, who grunted.
Mike, being a relatively fast learner, decided against speaking again and devoted his energy to freeing himself from his great aunt’s awkward embrace. She displayed an amazing amount of tenacity for someone her age and size and released him only after giving him a wet smack on his face.
Whatever Mike, qua ‘Mikey’, expected from this meeting, it wasn’t this.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
August
Thank you Anna! :-)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Warning: rapidly deteriorating normality.
Dr. Johann Van Goethe once said that Earth is the mental asylum of the universe.
He was, of course, entirely wrong.
He was wrong in the sense that Earth is only the mental asylum of the Milky Way Galaxy. The numbers of lunatics in the universe had reached such an alarming level that Mother Nature had simply decided, if for the sake of distance-convenience only, to establish at least one mental asylum in every single galaxy. Yes, an asylum exists even for the amoebas because they have problems that we, as multi-cellular beings, can’t begin to comprehend.
But Earth is an insane asylum, and men have no need to look further for a mad house. In this van Goethe was entirely correct, as the amoebas will agree.
Many people have noticed, in fact, that they can be perfectly batty where they are. A few who didn’t notice went right ahead anyway and no body could tell the difference.
That’s because there’s almost an art to the complexities of insanity that no one had ever seriously studied, mostly because as soon as they started getting serious, they were labeled as incurable nutcases and locked up with the squirrels (the squirrels being very appreciative of the fact). However, three boys who started out as strangers in their first year of college were about to make an in depth study on the idea of madness. Together. Complete with field experience.
Of course, none of them knew anything about it at the time because they all lived in the aforementioned mental asylum, and that was how asylums operated.
In other words…you yell and scream and get confused…a lot.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Someone want to help me with grammar? Please?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Warning: rapidly deteriorating normality.
Dr. Johann Van Goethe once said that Earth is the mental asylum of the universe.
He was, of course, entirely wrong.
He was wrong in the sense that Earth is only the mental asylum of the Milky Way Galaxy. The numbers of lunatics in the universe had reached such an alarming level that Mother Nature had simply decided, if for the sake of distance-convenience only, to establish at least one mental asylum in every single galaxy. Yes, an asylum exists even for the amoebas because they have problems that we, as multi-cellular beings, can’t begin to comprehend.
But Earth is an insane asylum, and men have no need to look further for a mad house. In this van Goethe was entirely correct, as the amoebas will agree.
Many people have noticed, in fact, that they can be perfectly batty where they are. A few who didn’t notice went right ahead anyway and no body could tell the difference.
That’s because there’s almost an art to the complexities of insanity that no one had ever seriously studied, mostly because as soon as they started getting serious, they were labeled as incurable nutcases and locked up with the squirrels (the squirrels being very appreciative of the fact). However, three boys who started out as strangers in their first year of college were about to make an in depth study on the idea of madness. Together. Complete with field experience.
Of course, none of them knew anything about it at the time because they all lived in the aforementioned mental asylum, and that was how asylums operated.
In other words…you yell and scream and get confused…a lot.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Someone want to help me with grammar? Please?
Saturday, August 06, 2005
Friday, August 05, 2005
Who's up for a movie day on Monday? It can be the "Save Anna from Boredom" themed movie day. Let me know if you can come at around noon and stay till whenever. There will be lots of...um...Pringles...and...Spongebob. Well, you guys get to trash my house anyway. =) If not many people can come, I'll just change the date. I might send out an email sometime later.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
The lovable creep :D
So, this needs major updating before Susan comes back. >.>
I saw Victoria for the first time since graduation yesterday! There were also Christine, Kate and Anna who looked pretty all dressed-up and with her new haircut. We saw "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" Heee. "Everything in this room is eatable. In fact, I'm eatable. But that, my dear children, is called cannibalism and is in fact frowned upon in most societies."
And now for pictures of real people. Hooray. >.>
Kate is friendly as always.
But she did get to experience the GREATEST GUMBALL SHOW ON EARTH!
I saw Victoria for the first time since graduation yesterday! There were also Christine, Kate and Anna who looked pretty all dressed-up and with her new haircut. We saw "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" Heee. "Everything in this room is eatable. In fact, I'm eatable. But that, my dear children, is called cannibalism and is in fact frowned upon in most societies."
And now for pictures of real people. Hooray. >.>
Kate is friendly as always.
But she did get to experience the GREATEST GUMBALL SHOW ON EARTH!
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