September-- In return

In return, both Nick and Zach grew to accept Mike's sarcasm and black humor, though both still worried when their friend occasionally relapsed into depression. On these occasions Nick would do whatever he could to try to cheer Mike, sometimes with backfiring consequences since optimism and depression were not very compatible together, and had a tendency to combust when mixed. Zach did what he could, knowing himself to be far too logical and therefore not overly bright at comforting people. He always backed off when he sensed that his logic was going to provoke more temper than help. And Mike, having gotten used to handling his moods alone, at first tried to wander away by himself when he felt his temper slipping and discovered, much to his dismay, that his friends wouldn't let him. After a particularly exasperating session of "No-We're-Not-Leaving-You-Alone-Mike" Mike reflected, rather philosophically for him, that he should probably start getting himself used to it.

He did. It just took a while, that's all.

It took not very long before the three where habitually dropping in upon each other, and a even shorter amount of time passed before the Nick and Zach decided to drop in on Mike over the weekends. Mike's great aunt was absolutely THRILLED to be meeting her Mikey-boy's friends...and consequently was fearfully (term used loosely) disappointed the first time around when she discovered she already had an appointment at the time of their arrival and wouldn't see them till the next time.

Needless to say, Mike was very, very, VERY much relieved. He lead his two friends down the boulevards feeling almost optimistic, and his optimism experienced an pleasant surge when he opened the door and discovered the house to be empty.

"Just leave your stuff here," he called over his shoulder, dumping his backpack on the living room couch and sauntering into the kitchen. "What'd you guys want to eat?"

"Something that's edible and doesn't move by itself," said Zach, joining him in the kitchen. As it was Friday night and well-past dinnertime, neither boy was feeling particularly picky. "What time's it?"

"Seven, almost eight," answered Nick, who was staring the refrigerator magnets as if one fascinated. Mike's great aunt owned quite a collection of them. The front of her fridge would by the envy of any museum collector.

"Yeah, those are my great aunt's," said Mike, shoving Nick aside so he could look in the fridge. "There's a pretty big bowl of clam chowder left and plenty of bread. We can heat the chowder and make a quick salad."

"Sound's good," said Zach, glancing at Nick, who nodded.

They got down to work. Mike knew how to cook because his father almost never came home for lunch or dinner, and there was only so long before a person gets tired of fast food. Zach knew how to cook because his mother refused to let him go away to college without learning how. Nick jumped in, honestly eager to help, but after Mike watched him wielding the knife to hew the first chunk of bread, he was hauled out into the dining room and ordered to set the table.

Mike returned to the kitchen to find Zach looking at him with considerable amusement. "What?"

"A bit territorial, aren't we?" remarked Zach with a grin, and went back to slicing the tomato.

"How hard is it to cut bread?" demanded Mike, bluntly. He set about cutting the rest of the loaf.

"I know how to cut bread!" Nick protested indignantly, returning for the utensils and plates.

"You can take the salad over when you're done with the table," interjected Zach, before Mike could respond.

"Uh, a moment," said Nick. "Where're the spoons?"

Mike sighed and rattled the cupboards as he got out all the necessary kitchenware, and some besides, as a show of annoyance. Nick took what he needed back to the dining room with raised eyebrows.

"You're the only one who knows where all the stuff are, around here," pointed out Zach as he put all the bread on a plate.

"Yeah I know," grumbled Mike, "It's just...."

"Don't worry," said Zach, lightly. "It's Friday night, you're excused."

"Thanks," said Mike sarcastically as Zach disappeared into the dining room with the bread. He checked the chowder.

"Food's ready!" He yelled, and started ladling the stuff into the bowls. Nick and Zach came and carried the bowls back. Mike checked to see if the stoves were all turned off and then got soda and a bottle of water. Zach came and helped carry some napkins.

When Mike went into the dining room Nick was already seated but Zach was still wandering around the room. He noticed that he needed something for the salad and went to get that, and when he came back, Zach was still hovering about.

Mike's patience, never long in suffering, snapped. "Why aren't you sitting down?"

"Because you aren't," Zach answered, looking at the salad-tosser and wondering if it could be considered a lethal weapon. If Mike was holding it-probably. "I'm just seeing if you need any help...your wandering around getting things is making me feel guilty."

"Well sit down," returned Mike. "Because YOUR wandering around is make ME feel guilty!"

Zach made a noncommittal noise and remained where he was, out of the range of the salad-tosser. With an exasperated sigh, Mike slammed down the utensil, grabbed Zach by the shoulders, spun him around, and pushed him into the nearest dining room chair.

"Sit!" He told him curtly.

Zach stared up at him, wide-eyed, and grinned. "Woof!" he said.

Mike stared then grinned in return. "Good dog, stay!"

"That works too," murmured Zachary, exchanging an amused smile with Nick. Against all else, this was a good day.

"Are you guys laughing at me?" asked Mike suspiciously.

"Not yet," answered Zach, who was beginning to feel an inclination to, as it generally went in these cases.

"Why would we laugh at you?" asked Nick with an innocence that did not belong on his face, and looked it. He tried to maintain a straight face. Tried, being the operative word.

"Nick," Mike said with dignified sarcasm, though not without some bit of exasperated amusement. "Sometimes you're about as subtle as an elephant in a parlor."

"I know," responded Nick, accepting the statement as if it was the highest of compliments. "That's why I'm such a great guy, right? Right?"

Zach nearly choked and hastily took a gulp of water.

Mike rolled his eyes. "Riiiiiight."

Dinner ended with them cleaning up or, in other words, dumping all the dishes into the sink. Zach started washing them because of his over active sense of conscience and Mike, after a moment of contemplation, helped dry and put them away since he was the only one who knew where everything goes. While this was happening he also did his uttermost to keep Nick out of the kitchen.

"Go watch TV," suggested an exasperated Mike. "It's in the living room and the remote's somewhere on the couch."

"We're almost done," Zach added in helpfully.

"Where's the remote?" asked Nick from the living room, a moment later.

"Couch!" answered Mike from the kitchen.

"I can't find it!" said Nick. "It's too dark!"

Mike grumbled a bit before answering. "There's a floor lamp. Use it. And don't touch the switch on the wall."

"Okay," said Nick. In another moment the kitchen lights went off.

"Buenas noches," said Zach in the darkness. "What happened?"

"Didn't I tell you not to touch the switch?!" growled Mike, stomping out of kitchen and into living room. "What did I tell you!?"

The kitchen light went back on.

"Let there be light!" said Zach.

"But I-" began Nick, then paused, possibly making note of Mike's expression in the light of the now-turned-on floor lamp. "Geez, fine." He muttered. "This is the remote control, right?"

From the kitchen Zach heard a very pronounced "AUGH!" followed by a muttered "For cryin' out loud...!" coming, presumably, from Mike. Shortly thereafter the television was turned on, despite of the many detours which occurred along the way. The TV as the witness.

"What do you want to watch?" Mike asked Zach as he entered the living room.

"I don't know any programs," admitted Zach, a little shame-faced. "I don't usually watch the TV...aside from occasional evening news."

"Go figure," muttered Mike, browsing what was on the TV. "Boring. Boring. Horrible. Boring. Horribly boring." He pronounced as he glanced at the content of each channel. "Should we try news? Nah. To depressing. Football. Ugh."

"You don't like American football either?" said Zach. "Me too."

"Me three!" added Nick.

"Go us," was Mike's sardonic comment as he returned to browsing. "Boring. Boring. Freaks. Boring. Weird guy with a moustache."

"What do you have against moustaches?" asked Nick, who sported a small one on his upper lip.

"They look weird," answered Mike without ever taking his eyes off of the TV screen.

"I do not look weird!" exclaimed Nick. "Do I?" He asked Zach.

"Do you really want me to answer that?" asked Zach, who had a habit of hitting the unpleasant truth bluntly and therefore, out of courtesy of others, always warned people ahead of time when the answers might be otherwise than what was desired.

"You do too look weird," said Mike, who had taken his eyes off of the TV and was now regarding Nick with a wicked expression on his face. "A bit like a demented assassin."

"Hey!" said Nick indignantly. "DEMENTED?!"

"Or Hitler gone Mexican," suggested Zach.

"Or gone French," said Mike, contemplating Nick's face.

"Or French," agreed Zach, contemplating his friend's face in turn.

"Well FINE," huffed Nick, "if it bothers you that much I'll just shave it off the next time!"

"Would you do that, really?" asked Mike, giving Nick a sidelong glance.

"What, you do not believe me?" Inquired Nick, who, by now, seemed to have collected enough indignation to fill several swimming pools. Mike was enjoying himself immensely.

"I'll hold you up on it," offered Zach, straight-faced.

"You do that," Nick told him.

"When are you leaving?" Mike asked Zach, catching him checking the time.

"About now, I think," said Zach slowly. "I should get back by ten."

"Aw, stay a bit longer," pleaded Mike, who did not want to spend the rest of the night watching TV by himself, though that was what he frequently did. Or perhaps he didn't want it because it was what he frequently did. "What, did your parents set you a curfew or something?"

Zach mumbled something inaudible.

"I guess I'll go too, then," said Nick.

"Why the hell are you leaving too?" asked Mike, almost politely. Almost.

"Because he might not be able to find the way back by himself," teased Zach. Nicolas was notorious for his sense of direction...at least, among the three of them.

"I can TOO find my way back!" protested Nick, sounding a little sulky. "You just go out the door, turn right, reach the end of the block and turn left!"

"Nick, you turn right at the end of the block if you're planning to go to the campus," corrected Zach. He exchanged a look of harried amusement with Mike. "See, a tour guide's necessary."

Mike snorted. "Of course. Well, have fun then."

"We will," said Nick.

"Don't worry, we won't get lost," said Zach, grinning, as they stepped out the door. "At least, physically we won't."
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nothing seems to establish character better than situation and dialogue.er.

Yearbook

I'm working on a mini-yearbook project for LUNATICS...and I'm bringing it up because well, being yearbook, I can't include anything if I don't have pictures. Anyway, it's heaps of fun. Here's a screenshot:


Submit your pictures! *grin* Better yet, Lusine, if you don't mind doing me a favor, could you collect pictures for me?

September- Another point

Another point was Zach's quietness made him a somewhat awkward person to talk to on the phone and so when Mike developed the habit of ranting to Zach on the phone, after discovering that he now had a friend who could understand his rants, he was slightly put off by the silence at the other end of the line.

Preoccupied with trying to make sense to both himself and his audience, it would usually take Mike a few minutes to realize that the other end of the line was silent for longer than usual. He would then consider the topic of his current impromptu performance and conclude that one of three things must've happened: that Zach had died from boredom, that his listener had gotten completely lost trying to follow his train of thought and was now hopeless banging around in the metaphorical darkness, or that his friend had, on the remotest possibility, been kidnapped by aliens. Neither of the possibilities seemed inviting.

"Zach?"

"Hmm?" would come the quiet answer.

"Just checking if you're still there, 'cause you're not saying anything." Mike would then explain, feeling awkward.

"Oh I'm here," Zach would answer, sounding amused, and explain in return. "I just don't say anything when I'm thinking. I'm always here unless I tell you I won't be."

Another silence would drift in, after which Mike would ask, again. "Still there?"

"Yep," Zach would cheerfully confirm. "Both physically and mentally."

It took Mike few more rants before he finally got used to it.

And about a week had passed when Mike brought up the issue of Nick's clothing.

"Why're you always dressed like that?" demanded Mike, upon the occasion.

"What's wrong with the way I dress?" asked Nick, looking down at his snowy shirt and dark slacks, then up at Mike with evident bewilderment.

Zach looked like he might laugh soon, but he maintained a respectful silence.

Sighing with exasperation, Mike eyed Nick's outfit with some consternation. "It's just so...so... ... ..." He searched for an appropriate word and had a bit of trouble finding one.

"Breath-taking?" suggest Zach with an impish grin, promptly stepping out of the range when Mike made a threatening gesture at him.

"Don't you own anything that's more...normal?" Asked Mike. "Never mind," he added, when Nick gave him a puzzled look.

"In case if you haven't noticed, Mike," said Zach, sounding as if he was straining something to keep his laughter in check. "Normality isn't a trait that people'd normally associate with us, so why should it be associated with our belongings?"

"Hey I dress normal!" protest Mike.

Zach studied his friend's baggy clothes in their customary shades of gray, black, and blue. "No comment."

"What's that's suppose to mean?" demanded Mike.

"What do you think it means?" returned Zach, raising an eyebrow.

Mike paused. "Well, you're weird too!"

"Beyond saving," agreed Zach, happily.

"Point!" sighed Mike, because there was no getting around that point.

"Point?" repeated Nick, who had been trying to follow the exchange of the left-and-backward-side of the English language. He raised his arm and pointed in a random direction.

"Never mind," Mike sighed again, rubbing his face with his hands. Some times talking could be so...infuriatingly exhausting. Mentally. "Just...get some other clothes, will ya?"
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Okay I've edited the PE thing (in my files) though...
do we really need Mike with karate? *wince* Oh well.

He can do threatening things with any tools, and now he can do threatening things with just himself. Let's hope Nick's better student at it, shall we? =p

September- Nick soon dropped by

Okay, Lucy, do you mind looking up what they call PE in college (if you can access the course catelog or something)? Otherwise just ...keep reminding me I guess...
__________________________________

Nick soon dropped by regularly for math, along with Mike, who came for the conversation. It could be said that not much work got done between the two of them but everyone's happy so nobody really minded. It didn't take that long for the three to develop a friendship and the following soon became established facts:

That Mike was Not A Geek, the most pop-cultured in-tuned of the three, and also the crankiest save for the odd moments when Zach, seized in one of his black moods, would rival him for cynicism.

That Zach was the quietest and the most logical, with enough of the perseveringly present reasonableness that could drive his friend up the walls (and have, on various occasions), and had a sense of curiosity only second to Nick.

That Nick was, beyond reason, the most optimistic and most people-friendly of the three, not to be trusted around buttons and switches of any sort, and shared with Mike a distinct lack of patience that usually made Zach laugh and groan at the same time.

And all three of them had their own various streaks in their nature that made them a bit stranger than the rest of the college population. Or, as Mike would say, made them "special. Special ed."

Aside from that, there were various other, somewhat more minor factors that was sorted out as the three got to know each other better.

For instance, Zach and Nick took it upon themselves to try to persuade Mike that sleep-deprivation at the level that he was going at was not healthy... with mixed results. Sometimes Mike would go to sleep slightly earlier, sometimes he just vented at them and stayed up even later than usual. Either way he would have to be fed up with them to carry out his action.

Nick and Zach took their chances because, as the two agreed, fifty percent was still a better chance than what you'd normally get on multiple-choice tests. However, they were always careful not to talk about Mike's Sleeping Habits and Mike's Eating Habits (because there were some issues about that, too) on the same day.
_____________________________________
I really should give it up as a lost cost, huh? :-p
Your opinion, Lucy?

September- It's

It is a frequently observed phenomenon that you might live within thirty meters of a stranger and spent time in the same area everyday and never see that person, but once you become acquainted with the said person, you see them EVERYWHERE.

Such was the case with Zach and Mike who, after their wayward introduction (having no other words to describe it), discovered with some amazement that they would see each other very frequently on campus. Mike developed the habit of dropping in when Zach's in his room, or in the usual spots where he normally went, study group or no. Zach, being the usual creature of habit that he was, stuck to his habit and welcomed Mike to become a part of it and have, in the course of events, had many long and drawn-out discussions about life, the universe and everything, including but not limited to the book and movie production that bears the name.

Thus Mike dropped in one day while Zach was with his math study group. As that they were not in the same math classes, Mike usually hung about and talked with the not-studying half (well, more like three forth, observing the laws of the college students) of the group. That day Nick, who was in the same math class as Zach, decided to drop by and had stayed to moan over the utter inability of the math professor to deliver an even mildly-intelligent lecture.

Both Nick and Zach were relatively mistake-tolerant when it comes to people, but they agreed that someone who repeatedly made mistakes at the 2 x 3 = 8 level does not deserve to become a college math professor.

"It's sad how we get along further when we don't listen to the teacher," observed Zach with a sigh. At this point, they were the only two left in the group of eight who were still attempting to make any headway with math.

"Yeah," agreed Nick, who was picking up the more relaxed form of American speech. "It takes her an hour to do a problem.... Have you finished problem five yet? What did you get?"

"You're in my PE class," said Mike to Nick, having wandered over a few minutes earlier.

"I am?" asked Nick with some surprise, accepting the paper that Zach gave him, along with the muttered "it might be wrong."

"Tuesday and Thursday morning at ten, right?" prompted Mike, and proceeded to give a quick, if slightly cynical, description of the teacher and their classmates.

"Nick, what'd you get for problem four?" asked Zach. He'd been listening in with some interest but felt obligated to continue his struggle with his math homework, against the ineptness of his math teacher.

"Probably the wrong answer," said Nick cheerfully, handing over both of their papers. "I must be in your class then." He told Mike.

"You're French," concluded Mike.

"I am," returned Nick, eyeing Mike with some curiosity. "You speak French?"

"Oui, monsieur!" Replied Mike with a wicked grin. "Suffered through four years in high school and I'm insane enough to be taking it now."

Nick looked delighted. He promptly launched into a rapid-fire speech in his native tongue and Mike, after listening for a moment, responded likewise. Zach glanced at the two for a moment and, satisfied that if math's not being done at least the two have found something to occupy themselves with, handed Nick back his paper and launched back into his homework.
______________________________________
Hm. I picked 'Fowler' and 'Calais' for different reasons, of course, but it's good to know that I'm getting the right kind (as in they-name-college-buildings-after kind) of names.

Two chapter's good enough for introduction, right? Er. Introducing characters and setting, I mean.

no, no, don't make me go there! =O

GradSchool is Hell by Matt Groening (click)

September- Mike glanced outside

Mike glanced outside. "I get off the stop after yours. Great aunt's. She expects me 'home' eeeevery weekend." He rolled his eyes.

"Does she fuss and pet and call you her 'dahling'?" asked Zach, trying to lighten the mood.

"Just about," confirmed Mike, "but she's the same to everyone, even my dad."

"And how old is your dad?" asked Zach with a smile.

"Thirty-something," said Mike, after a moment of thought. "He doesn't come here often though...usually's with his girlfriend somewhere back home or on business trips."

"You're not from around here?" asked Zach, who was becoming increasingly fascinated by the sort of information he was receiving. Morbidly fascinated.

"No, I'm from Minnesota. Came here for college. Great aunt decided to be nice and take me in." Came back the answer.

"Is it nice there? Minnesota, I mean," continued Zach, figuring that he'd better leave the potentially depressing questions and leave Mike to volunteer the information when he's ready.

"I guess so," replied Mike. "I miss Fluffy."

"..." said Zach, who was trying to make a connection between Minnesota, Fluffy, and the person known as 'Mike'. "Is Fluffy your dog?"

"Yeah," said Mike, smiling for the first time, "rottweiler puppy."

"Sounds cute," commented Zach, who didn't really know anything about dogs, but felt like it was the appropriate thing to say. You can't go wrong using the word "cute" with a name like "Fluffy," right?

"It is." Agreed Mike, pulling on the signal cord. "Your stop's next."

"I know, thank you," said Zach, who was marveling at the sorts of conclusion he was reaching regarding Mike's personality.

"Freshman, right? I'm in Fowler's," Mike offered.

"Calais Hall," returned Zach cautiously, as the bus pulled into his stop. "Guess I'll see you around then."

"Later, Zach."

"Bye."

Zach got off. Mike slouched back to his original position.
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On a note about the name "Fluffy", I thought I should mention it's the name of Hagrid's three-headed dog that nearly took Snape's leg off. :-p
Cute, isn't it?

September- When they became friends

When they became friends it was nothing especially special. It happened, as things happen in life, by chance. Coincidence and fate may or may not have had a hand in it. It was hard to tell since they were not on speaking terms with each other, but this was how it happened:


Mike was tiredly waiting for the bus that would take him to his great aunt's and, having already satisfied the considerable appetite of his gloomy predictions in his imagination, he turned his attention to the art of being bored-until he spotted someone he thought he knew.

"Hey Jonathan!" He called, prodding the boy who had just arrived and was leaning against the bus sign.

Zach briefly ran through the list of names he'd been called through his life and turned up a blank for the name "Jonathan." However, the hand that poked him definitely belonged to the same owner as the voice. Therefore the name was definitely being applied to him.

"I'm sorry?" said Zach, looking up at Mike with considerable bewilderment. It might be said of the moment that as far as first impressions went, Mike, in his permanently present dark sweater and rugged jeans, didn't seem the type that Zach would normally associate himself with. Hence the bewilderment.

"Sorry," explained Mike, "you looked like Jonathan."

"Oh," said Zach. There wasn't a whole lot that you could say when someone told you you looked like someone else.

There was an awkward pause.

"Anyway," said Mike, gingerly stepping into the silence with as many misgivings as Zach had about him, though he didn't know it. He looked at the book that Zach was holding, then looked at Zach. "You a college freshman?" It was definitely a college-leveled textbook, even if the person holding it looked like he should still be in high school.

"Ye-es..." said Zach, who was wondering why someone like Mike was still talking to him. He had no illusions about himself, and knew that he was a nerd, and looked it.

"Cool," said Mike, a bit desperately. He was exhausted after his week and knew that he had no hopes of resting for a few more hours, at least, and he felt like he ought to do something after calling a boy he'd never talked with before in his life "Jonathan." "Me too. I'm Mike."

"Zach." Said Zach, and left it at that.

There was another pause. Mike sat down on the curb. Zach leaned back against the pole and contemplated the direction where the bus was suppose to come from.

The pause grew at a rate that would've impressed the bacteria cultures in any science lab. However, before it could become a monstrosity, the unmistakable shape of the local bus presented itself around the corners.

"The bus's coming," said Zach.

"Mm." said Mike, getting to his feet and moving out of the way as the bus pulled in with a screech. "Want to sit here?" He asked Zach as they staggered down the center isle in respect to the overzealous turns made by the bus driver.

"Uh, sure," said Zach, surprised. He studied Mike for a few more moments and decided to scrap his original impression and drew up a full analysis. For some reason, he felt like he should do one.

Mike got in to a seat, slouched over, and propped his head up against the glass.

Zach paused in his psychoanalysis. "...tired?" he ventured lamely. It was either that or saying "you look like you're going to drop dead," and Zach decided to go the more cheerful way. It seemed appropriate.

"Yeah," mumbled Mike. It was either keeping it very simple, or start talking and not knowing when or where he'd be able to stop himself.

"Lousy day?" prompted Zach, in an effort to be sociable. They had multi-stop bus ride in front of them.

"Lousy week. Heck, lousy year," Mike paused. "You know what? Life sucks!" He burst out suddenly.

An alarm bell begin to go off somewhere in the back of Zach's mind. Parts of this sounded awfully familiar. Déjà vu was overrated.

"How so?" Zach asked mildly, speeding up his analysis.

"Well," begin Mike, voice dripping with sarcasm. "There's the fact that our current government sucks, the fact that our school system sucks, the fact that people in general suck...they do stupid things, you know?"

"Uh-huh." Said Zach. Depression, general anxiety, withdrawal, thought Zach, somewhat amused at what his mind was coming up with, except not really.

"Earth sucks, that's why we don't float off into space," said Mike in a tone of mock philosophy.

Probably chronic, thought Zach. "I don't know," he said lightly, and made a show of peering outside the window. "I rather like where we live."

"No, I mean, I like it too, but it's the way the things are...." Said Mike, and sighed. "It really bothers me."

"The way WHAT things are?" prodded Zach.

"Everything," said Mike, in the tone of one who had lost all hopes in humanity for ever and beyond.

"Ah," said Zach. Then, as a silence settled in, "I get off in three stops...group project meeting...."
_______________________________________________________
lol...Lucy, be thankful your turn wasn't as awkward as this. Then again, you probably have better people skills....
Three steps into reality and then a leap out. Anyone keeping count for me?

What's a meme again?

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?]

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]

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). ;-)

blah

There are few things more depressing than going shopping with your pretty cousin who is a dress size 2.

That is all.

whoo!

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

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:

Fixed!

Right. I left explanation with the original post.

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?

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?

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.

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.

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

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

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?

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.

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.

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.

BYE LUSINE!! WE'LL MISS YOU!!!

Good luck in LA. Be sure to write, call, IM, or email us.....OR ELSE!! =)

bwahahaha

SIGN UP TODAY!
..we have lemon drops and raspberry jam.

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?

Yay! Susan's back!!!

I already posted this in my LJ, but since you were out of town before...


HAPPY belated BIRTHDAY, SUSAN!!

I just found out that I can't have the movie day on Monday after all, but I'm free on Wednesday. Is that okay with you guys? (If anyone still reads this)

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.

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!

Prologue part C

[Someone have the decency to check my French, please; it is not a language that I speak. I may be missing something horribly even if I'm using less than five words in that language.]

“Oui, mama, I’ll be careful.” Nicolas smiled and waved a goodbye to his family. "Au Revoir!"

He was miserable. He was happy. He was excited. He was hopeful. He was apprehensive. He felt a knot of dread in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t keep track of what he was feeling anymore because of the sheer variety and speed the emotions flashed by and decided, finally, that it would be useless for him to try to decide what he should be feeling.

Well, he was never that great at being decisive anyway and there was no reason for a sudden change now. Unless the physical change in his global location could somehow miraculously make him more decisive. It didn't seem likely. He was sure everyone could see how petrified he'd been when he'd said goodbye. At least the terrified feeling, like all his other current feelings, lasted no more than a split second.

He checked the contents of his backpack again, just because it gave him something to do while waiting in line besides thinking himself into a paranoid frenzy. Passport? Check. Wallet? Check. Papers about student visa? Check. A book for the long-and-tedious-over-the-Atlantic-flight? Che—

He stopped. Then flipped through his backpack again. He waited another five seconds before doing it again just in case he had somehow overlooked something the time before. The five-second delay was to give the book a chance to show up. The book didn't.

He forgot to bring a book to read.

Oops.

It was going to be a very long plane ride.

Misery took a detour and led the next procession of feelings through his head.

Nicolas tried to think about something else. He thought about his little sister, Adeline, and discovered with a pang that he was starting to feel homesick already. That wouldn't do. He tried to strum up some optimism, some excitement, something—anything—positive.

He was going to the USA! Les États-Unis d'Amérique!

"Mon Dieu," he muttered as the plane lift off.

Prologue part B

Ordered by age. Cheerios:

Getting ready to live somewhere else involved a rather lot of boxes.

It involved a lot of dragging and hauling and cleaning too, none of which Gabriel, known to friends as Zach, liked.

The idea was that all of his possessions were to be dragged out onto his floor and divided into three groups: the get-rid-ofs, the storages, and the bring-alongs. So far no three neat piles have materialized in the middle of his room. Instead there was what could be described as a wobbly, cardboard and plastic version of Manhattan—without the glitter and the lights.

Zach wandered around among his miniature Manhattan, dispiritedly straightening a few of the buildings, waving around the vacuum cleaner, talking on the cell phone and at the same time keeping an wary eye on his computer, which he’d left on doing a self-diagnostic scan.

“Uh-huh,” he answered to the phone loudly (due to the vacuum cleaner), crossing carefully into what should be the equivalent of Times Square and attempting a smile at his mother, who was just passing by his door. His mother shook her head in mock despair and went into the living room. “Yes, I think so.”

The computer started beeping. Zach stifled a groan, leaned the vacuum cleaner against what might be called the World Trades Center, stepped over the East Side, and went to start the scanning for his storage disk D. “Yeah, I’ve seen it,” his voice slipped back into its native accent as it always did when he was distracted. “I guess so. It was blood—”

His mother cleared her throat loudly from the living room. Zach sighed. “I mean, it was pretty awesome.” All of his accents have departed with that reminder from his mother. “No, can’t make it, sorry. Hm? Oh, this weekend. Yeah. Right. Later!” He looked around and then tossed the phone into the only empty spot that could be found in his room.

“Gabriel! Don’t throw your phone!”

“Yes mother!” He turned around just in time to see the phone slipped from its spot on top of his computer and hit the table with a resounding ‘thwack.’

“GAB--!”

“That wasn’t me!” He shouted back, then added under his breath. “Directly, anyway.”

Just then the vacuum cleaner had proved itself too much for the cardboards and the World Trades Center was sent toppling. The box second from the top bounced off of his foot and spilt its contents all over the floor.

Zach hated packing.

Yes Anna, let us know when you're back. =p

to ANNA!

Hi, Anna! When (if) you see this, post or email or im or call or something to let me (us) know you're back! =) Hope you had fun in Italy!! See you on Saturday.

p.s. Yay Susan for starting the story!

Prologue part A

Since no one is using this blog right now...
Stop me if this bothers you.

Unusual for the time of the year, the day was a picture of gloomy misery--which was fine, just fine--it matched his mood anyway. The footrest was broken, his seat was right before the restroom, and the man on the seat in front of him was snoring.

This is such a pleasant trip, thought Michael sarcastically, it's a wonder why people don't travel by bus more often.

His CD player whirled as it reached the end of the CD, he simply hit "play" again. He'd been listening to the same CD over the plane ride and for the past two hours of the bus trip. The music throbbing through the earphones helped him relax. That was, if one could be said to relax at all under the conditions that one was currently under.

The old lady two seats to the left of him squirmed. Michael smirked. He knew that his music, or at least its tempo, could be heard from that distance. He also knew exactly how he came across with his oversized black sweater, beaten backpack, and earphones blasting loud music stuffed into his ears. He had a feeling that if he leaned over, widened his eyes, and said 'boo' the grandma-looking old lady might die from a heart attack. But he wasn't that sadistic. Instead he contented himself by slouching even more in his seat and pulling his hood over his head

Such a nice beginning to such a nice load of crap, though Michael, as the bus made a left turn and he was pressed against the window by the centrifuged inertia of a heavy bus going at eighty-something miles per hour. He liked how that felt and left his head leaning against the glass.

If he was very lucky his stuff would've arrived before he did, and if he was very, very, lucky all of his stuff would have arrived but, as that luck had never been a prime factor in his life, Michael could not very well see it taking a part now. In other words, his things were still being shipped from Minnesota, he wouldn't see them for another week at least, and some of the things that he'd packed he probably would never see again.

Great, thought Michael, just great.

Not.

An snippet of what you might be seeing. Consider it fair warning.

relationship problems

It makes me think of this story that I've heard my pre-calc year about this math professor who married a goat.

Lunatics and Goats

There's symbolism here, I just know it.

*sigh*

Let's see the result of role-call now:

Anna- occasional reads this
Malvina- at work
Ashley- forgot link/never made a post
Kateryna- forgot??
Soniya- ??
Lusine- checks, posts, but is getting bored with regular updating online journals now, correct?
Kate- checks, rants in her journal, too lazy to sign in here?
Christine- ??
Victoria- forgot?

Then there's me who's going to randomly stick things here and wait to see what happens.

hem

Ah, how nice

The blog has spoken.

Anyone else? *cough*

I read therefore I Blog.

Cheers.

And here we are, one step along further than where we were.
Upwards and onwards, right?

Should we try to make a list of our summer plans here so it can be easier to keep track of? (Especially if we try to organize any more events). On the second thought, perhaps we should check how many people still reads this.

If you still read this, either make a post or contact Lucy/me somehow and let us know. =p

Attendance!

'05

*glee*

Term Paper Term Paper Final Draft 147.9/148 99.9% A+

Ms. Janson and her decimal point grading ways =P

...Notice how I refrained from posting my final exam grades >.>

ha

i wonder what the comment "you're a true gentleman" would fall under.

*cough*

lol

This goes under the oddest compliments I've received:
(from a Yearbook signature):

.. I Hope to see you as the next CEO...


Haha, because I'm a nice person, I guess. Still funny.

roger

Advanced Global Personality Test Results Extraversion || 10% Stability |||||||||||||| 56% Orderliness |||||||||||||||| 63% Empathy |||||||||||||||| 70% Interdependence |||||||||||||| 56% Intellectual |||||||||||||||| 70% Mystical |||||||||||| 50% Artistic |||||||||||||||| 63% Religious || 10% Hedonism || 10% Materialism || 10% Narcissism |||||||||| 36% Adventurousness |||||| 23% Work ethic |||||||||||||||| 70% Self absorbed |||||| 23% Conflict seeking |||||| 23% Need to dominate |||||||||||| 43% Romantic |||||||||| 36% Avoidant |||||||||||||||||||| 83% Anti-authority |||||| 30% Wealth |||||| 30% Dependency || 10% Change averse |||||||||||||| 56% Cautiousness |||||||||||||||||||| 83% Individuality |||||| 30% Sexuality || 10% Peter pan complex |||||||||||||||| 63% Physical security |||||||||||||||||||| 83% Food indulgent || 10% Histrionic || 10% Paranoia |||||||||||||||||| 76% Vanity |||||||||| 36% Hypersensitivity |||||||||||||||| 70% Female cliche || 10%

Take Free Advanced Global Personality Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

trait snapshot:
clean, secretive, does not make friends easily, observer, hates large parties, risk averse, perfectionist, reclusive, solitude loving, more practical than abstract, does not like to stand out, high self control, intellectual, mind over heart, very cautious, takes precautions, respects authority, irritable, emotionally sensitive

the thing from kate's journal

Advanced Global Personality Test Results Extraversion 30% Stability 43% Orderliness 30% Empathy 56% Interdependence 63% Intellectual 43% Mystical 63% Artistic 76% Religious 76% Hedonism 23% Materialism 63% Narcissism 50% Adventurousness 23% Work ethic 36% Self absorbed 56% Conflict seeking 16% Need to dominate 43% Romantic 56% Avoidant 50% Anti-authority 50% Wealth 50% Dependency 70% Change averse 76% Cautiousness 63% Individuality 56% Sexuality 16% Peter pan complex 76% Physical security 90% Food indulgent 83% Histrionic 50% Paranoia 43% Vanity 63% Hypersensitivity 83% Female cliche 50%

Take Free Advanced Global Personality Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

trait snapshot:
introverted, secretive, messy, depressed, does not like leadership, somewhat nihilistic, observer, does not make friends easily, unassertive, feels invisible, feels undesirable, hates large parties, does not like to stand out, leisurely, suspicious, submissive, abstract, unpredictable, intellectual, likes rain, likes the unknown, negative, weird, not a risk taker, unadventurous, avoidant, strange

Did I ever mention how much I hate formaldahyde?

At least it's going to be over soon...YAY!

LIEKOMG IT'S JUNE 1ST

Happy Summer =)

From Physio site

Friday 6/03 Last Day to Dissect!

...

YESYESYESyesyesyesyesYESYESYES!!!YES!!!111!!!11!!!!1

:DD


(and yes i am aware that means having to go after school to catch up but still :DDDD )

ah well

I'm not complaining. In cases like this, the lack of time on the teacher's part works to our advantage, if that's what it is. *grins*

Grad night party email sent today, check your inbox, everyone.

...

Pd. 3 PHYSIO
97.9% A+

- Category: Class/Homework (35%)
116.3% A+

Class/Homework Fast Food Nation Extra Credit 100.0% Extra Credit
----

Um.. we got 100% ec just for turning it in? Even if we didn't do all 10?...

whee

that layout has been around for a while and i'm thoroughly bored with it, so i switched it because, as lucy pointed out, not many peope use this blog anymore so it's not like there's going to be many protests.

blue and silver is now the official color of lunatics.

yes it isn't used much anymore, but is it still read?

time flies, we've quite a history with this thing. *pokes blog*

lol mr. a's great. admittedly watching your econ teacher preparing food in front of the class is a mite strange, but it's awesome too.

have fun at the prom everyone! remember--i demand pictures! :-)

Mr. A's description of what we did in econ today...

Friday March 13: Authentic assessment of consumption function, blending various factor inputs, to produce a homogenized product. Complementary goods were also in evidence. While not necessarily public goods, there was evidence of shared consumption in some form.


My Translation: FOOD! Gosh, I feel sooo tired though @_@ I don't think I can last the rest of the school year. And I don't feel like going to prom.

test time!

MC=MR MC=MR MC=MR MC=MR MC=MR

..Ok, I'm ready ;P

thank you thank you

stanford doesn't have lightbulbs because the sun is always shining on stanford anyway.

*applauds*

though...
for shame, lucy .

lol.

and so let's move away from the uc to other schools...
how many stanford students does it take to change a lightbulb?
;-)

*gigglesnort*

All three of them.

LOL!

and what does merced do?

how many UC merced students does it take to change a light bulb?

UCs and lightbulbs

This is circulating around xangas...

How many UC Santa Cruz students does it take to change a lightbulb?
Eleven: one to change the lightbulb and ten to share the "experience."

How many UC San Francisco students does it take to change a lightbulb?
Two: one to change the lightbulb and one to crack under the pressure.

How many UC Davis students does it take to change a lightbulb?
None: Davis doesn't have electricity.

How many UC Santa Barbara students does it take to change a light bulb?
Two: one to mix the margaritas and one to call the electrician.

How many UC Riverside students does it take to change a lightbulb?
None: Riverside looks better in the dark.

How many UC San Diego students does it take to change a lightbulb?
Only one, but he gets six credits for it.

How many UC Berkeley students does it take to change a lightbulb?
Seventy-six: one to change the lightbulb, fifty to protest the lightbulb's right not to change, and twenty-five to hold a counter-protest.

How many UC Irvine students does it take to change a lightbulb?
None: Irvine has engineered computers to do it all for them.

How many UCLA students does it take to change a lightbulb?
One: he just holds the bulb and lets the world revolve around him.

points for lucy =p

it's past 3 am

and that's enough of a reason to post.


HEY, at least I do post.

behold!

Another movie day is upon us! Lets mark the day for future reference =P



Everything's taken care of, Susan (or at least I think so >.> ). Dunno about Chipotle, sorry.

It's funny cause today I was getting movies, and I got 2 and my Mom was like, "Wow, 2 movies? Will you guys be able to watch that much?" Hahahahahahaaaa. I just thought about how there'd be more movies, video games, and maybe television watching xD

MOVIE DAY

Movies:?

Chocolat
A Knight's Tale (sp?)

what else?

and how much do chipotle usually cost?

bonjour?

Your Inner European is French!

Smart and sophisticated. You have the best of everything - at least, *you* think so.

Who's Your Inner European?

a quiz+ fun stuff

Your Inner European is Italian!

Passionate and colorful. You show the world what culture really is.

Who's Your Inner European?

You Know You're Addicted to AIM When...

Three words: Carpal tunnel syndrome You no longer type with proper punctuation, capitalization, or complete sentences... You're pissed off your buddy list can only hold 200 screen names You begin to say hehehe instead of laughing You can now type over 70 wpm You type messages to people who are right next to you or on the phone with you. You won't work at a company that blocks AIM You sign on and immediately get 10 messages from other people You have a few screen names, some of them secret. You type in random screen names, just to see if anyone has them. Your screenname has the year 2002 or earlier in it. You know what %n means You don't break for the bathroom - even though you've got to go real bad - until you think of a witty away message. You check the away messages of your buddies, every day, to make sure they haven't changed. You have a few people on your buddy list just to spy on them. You've had a meaningful conversation with a bot. You learned Photoshop to make a super cool buddy icon You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends who are addicted to AIM.

Get Your Own Addicted Meme Here



More cool things for your blog at
Blogthings

You Know You're Addicted to Photoshop When...

You see the world with one eye and stock images with the other. When asked what the primary colors are, answer "RGB" You get the urge to 'fix' poor quality images. You start teaching your significant other to use this "evil" program and in the space of one afternoon convince them it's at least only quasi-evil in the face of PSP. You ramble about a breakthrough in the piece you're doing to people who have no idea in hell what you're talking about You ponder the meaning of existence without layers. You never leave the house without a digicam and notepad. You drop something and your brain tells you automatically "Ctrl-Z! Ctrl-Z!". When you realize it won't work, your brain tells you "Ctrl-Alt-Z! Ctrl-Alt-Z!" You're getting dressed for something important and you look in the mirror and realize you would look so much better if you could just tweak the levels a little and apply a slight gaussian blur. You stop on the street to rant about cheesey effects that should not be on professional posters. You scream out fonts as they appear on TV. You have dreams in "glowing edges" You're standing by the ocean and wondering who used Ocean Ripple. You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends who are addicted to Photoshop.

Get Your Own Addicted Meme Here



More cool things for your blog at
Blogthings

picture (just one)

Google is a work of art *nod*



April 15- Da Vinci's birthday I'm guessing.

arrr...my computer doesn't like picture surveys. can we have those wordy ones again? i'll fill one of those out. =p
slow internet speed. oh yes.

picture survey thing

So I've been seeing those surveys that ask you to Google your answer to the question and use the first picture that shows up as your answer. It's pretty cool, something new. So lets do it?
place you grew up: yerevan, armenia


place you would like to go: paris

(!@$# the second picture was actually that of paris hilton. dude.)

your name: lusine

Heh, Miss Armenia



favorite drink: lemonade




favorite smell: nutella




favorite color: purple




favorite cartoon character: spongebob




favorite book: little prince


favorite band/singer: bon jovi



favorite sport: ice-skating



favorite holiday: new year

Think of more questions if you want =)

Have fun in LA Lucy! ^^

almost lost all data on the computer today @_@

*HUGS COMPUTER AND EVERYONE ELSE*

On a totally unrelated note, here's what I'd look like with straight (or constantly wet and brushed) hair.
Pardon the flash, but I find my expression funny.



And, in case you didn't know, I'm going to LA and will be back Tuesday. I'll have my cell.

widgets! the mystery of econ's product solved.

widg·et ( P ) Pronunciation Key (wjt)n.
A small mechanical device or control; a gadget.
An unnamed or hypothetical manufactured article.

aww

It's a yellow Peter the Anteater!
..So, Banana Anteater? Heehee.

banana slugs and anteaters...
whatever's next?
it must be an interesting story that's behind the mascot. i'm just not sure if i want t know it, that's all.

lol. the stanford tree shall be our new joke now:

"where's victoria?"
"did you check under the tree?"

Don't forget UC Irvine
(Peter the Anteater)



Sorry I couldn't find a better picture.

omg mascots

THE BANANA SLUG! It looks like an ant though o.O


Silly Rain Girl (14:38:29): that
Silly Rain Girl (14:38:37): looks like an overweight yellow man
Silly Rain Girl (14:38:42): with antlers

Stanford (tree?!)
Next time we wonder where Victoria is.. we should check under the tree.



Tough I do admit: these are more interesting than a bear.

an excellent day for fred 'n george's birthday indeed.

lol...
or is it gred and forge?

my blog url has been "changed" FYI.

more postings from me! =D

First off, check this out x) http://www.veritaserum.com/site/af2005/

Second off, it's Fred and George's birthday! Lol, seriously. I guess it's a fitting day for them.

Third off, you guys going to the musicle, meet in front at 6:45?

Fourth off, I refuse to watch another Spongebob episode ever again.
....
....
just kidding. but noone fell for that anyway.
K, byes