Yes, I know. I haven't updated in ages, but if I can learn to deal with the fact that I suck at blogging, you can too. I can't believe I just said blogging! So since the last time I posted an entry, a few interesting things have happened. Now it isn't as exciting as Jamie Lynn's pregnancy or the fact that the other Spears is finally admitted into the loony bin (sort of), but it was the fact that the new year has come and guess what? The writer's strike is still on. Now, I can't stress how much this effects me. Yes, I'm absolutely enveloped with the world wide media that is television. But how I'm I supposed to survive my days when the knowledge that my shows aren't being filmed exists? For those who know me, I'm not exactly the most patient person in the world, but bloody hell. If I have to endure more waiting in the next few weeks (or until I hear that the strike is over), I think I'm going to cark it.
So, I went looking for pictures of a couple of celebrities for a project I'm working on, and I noticed that every time I typed in the name of a female celebrity the same exact link keeps popping up. The website is called Askmen.com. Me being me, I let my curiosity get the best of me. I clicked on the link and expected to be forwarded to some website that if I were at work (insert "had a job" before the latter) would be aware of my surroundings and not let anyone see what I was looking at. To my surprise, the site actually looks alright. No adverts with half naked women on them; good. No "Who is this blonde baby? Click to win a purse!"; good. So I'm just browsing the site and I see that their feature article is Top 10: Ways To Be The Man Women Want. So I thought, "I'm a woman, let's see how accurate this is." Some of the following isn't exactly me saying if the their "tips" are correct or not, but just me nit-picking a few random and bizarre things that only Reilynn would notice.
Tip Number 9, get "unstuck" and grow up: "What happens when a man reaches a certain age, but doesn’t mature past a certain point in life?" A point on your body? "Or worse, what if some vital part of the maturation process that’s usually present in the external world isn’t there at a critical point in a man’s development..." Oh yeah, definitely something physical....
Tip Number 8, it's OK to be a man: "You must accept yourself, embrace the fact that you’re a man and have a man’s nature, then learn to observe all that happens -- from sexual impulses to killer instincts -- and harness the power from all of it. This is among the most important ways to be the man women want." Is it just me? Or does this seem like a great paraphrase of that tip: "Get out there! Be a lurker! Observe the women in their natural habitat.*Wink, wink* Peep! Rape is okay, killing is alright too. You are one powerful, mighty God. Women love to be abused!"
Tip Number 7, never follow the woman: Um, no. Always follow the woman! Sorry, but if I'm in a relationship, I wear the pants. Well, most of the time.
Tip Number 4, "man up" about your insecurities: "Practice making cocky jokes about them [insecurities] when you first meet a woman and are flirting. Say something like, “This is never going to work out; you’re not good at arguing and I overcompensate for being short by acting arrogant... so we’d always argue, and I’d always win.” ...being short? Where?
Tip Number 1, grow yourself: "...you see there’s another higher level on the horizon. Sadly, most guys never get started on this journey to true adulthood. They remain little boys trapped inside a man’s body." Can I get an "AMEN"!?
Taken from Askmen.com
Maybe I just take it too lasciviously... I'm a Scorpio, leave me alone!
I hope that everyone have a great new year and let me just take a moment to pimp a couple of my new hostees: Crisell, Lauren, Malous and Talia.
November 22, 2007
Hey there! Sorry for the long, abrupt hiatus. I've been a little preoccupied with several things but now I'm back. Well, sort of. I know, I know! I seriously need a new layout. I just have no inspiration for a new one. Soon, maybe soon. Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate it!
I've never really given thanks on Thanksgiving. But here's a try,
I am thankful for: art, music, Rent, Pepsi, books and the authors who write them, napkins, hand sanitizer, Maroon 5, Boy Meets World, dye, Frank Sinatra, Elvis, Mr. Bennett, Marvin Gaye, Monopoly, The Sims, television themesongs, Lost, Heroes, House MD, Friends, Batman, elevators, Adam Pascal, Adam Levine, 3 Musketeers candy bar, Coke, marshmallows, watermelons, cherries, strawberries, and all the fruits that start with the letter "P" except pineapple, U2, Bon Jovi, Aimee Mann, Damien Rice, Coldplay, the Internet, alarm clocks, the moon, the sun and all the planets because they look pretty in pictures, fashion, shampoo, musicals, Broadway, Jonathan Rhys Meyers, New York, water bottles, movies, naming all my pets Annie because it was the only name I could remember when I was four, instant messaging, dancing, lists, post-its, calendars, Google, calculators, Ocean's 11, mirrors, MP3 players, windows, trees, the sky and the grass, Michael Bublé, The Carpenters, Josh Groban, Rosin Murphy, Christmas carols, air, friends who actually remember my birthday, compact discs, cameras, lights, moisturizer and chapstick, beds, clothes, cotton, toothpaste, hash browns, Jack in the Box, slippers, magazines, bathrobes, hotels, cars, airbags, air conditioner, the block and invisible feature on AIM, Law and Order: SVU, CSI, medical studies, George Clooney, Johnny Depp, Ewan McGregor and Gerard Butler, autumn, highlighters, Sharpies, Scotch tape, ribbons, rulers, lotion, body spray, underwear, pajamas, and scarves, staplers, Big Fish, The Breakfast Club, Interview with the Vampire, Les Choristes, and Pirates of the Caribbean, headbands, Advil, spell check, American Idol auditions, sushi, dark chocolate and coffee, Old Navy, H&M, Hugh Laurie, Lucille Ball, ravens, Van Gogh, Barnes and Nobles (and how it's so much better than Borders), Target, chopsticks, bowls, plastic, astrology, calla lilies, pens, Ugly Betty, never breaking a bone in my body, Gmail, bobby pins, anti-bacterial soap, razors, cell phones, Emerson, nail polish remover, band-aids, hair brushes, Anthony Rapp, KT Tunstall, Youtube, money and the happiness they bring me, vintage jewelry, Emily Blunt, Natalie Portman, and Audrey Hepburn, Mozilla Firefox, video streaming, Taco Bell, letters, East of Eden, Lolita and Without You, Edward Norton, Cillian Murphy, Joaquin Phoenix and Mark Wahlberg, Biore pore strips, sunscreen, pretzels, ice, cards, bookmarks, Ms. Yi, instant noodles, America's Next Top Model, Chuck Bass/Ed Westwick, elastics, jump ropes, stickers, stamps, stars, the Grimm brothers, photosynthesis, Gain, colored pencils, shopping bags, curly fries, toilet paper, hangers, keys, ONTD, movie trailers, sanitary napkins, scissors, Da Vinci, Alexander Graham Bell, nail clippers, water, Leonardo DiCaprio, framed art, jumpers, key chains, Legos, Clue, Fight Club, ornaments, volleyball, bathing suits, cupcakes, chocolate chip, Hugh Jackman, Josh Lucas, and Matthew McConaughey, musical instruments, Tetris, rattail combs, computers, Shrek, karaoke, Spoon, pearl drinks, frappachinos, potatoes, ranch dressing, chicken, glue, Takeshi Kaneshiro, cherry blossoms, relationships, The Nanny Diaries, Catch Me If You Can, The Italian Job and The Big Hit, microwaves, HTML, pilots, folders, HappySlip, text messaging, book light, making lists of what I'm thankful for, my mom, dad, brother, friends and lots of other things.
Sorry, after a while I got really into it...
May 30, 2007
I remember when I had to participate in the whole Lent thing. It never worked for me. I guess I'm not the type of person that can easily give things up. I tried giving up Pepsi, sushi, hand sanitizer, movies, Friends, the Internet...the longest any of them lasted was two days, maybe three. I have so much respect for people who actually last the entire forty days and forty nights of the Lent period. Then again, there are some advantages to participating in Lent. For one, it's a good time to diet for those people who find it hard to resist the heaven that is good food, and I guess you do get the feeling and knowledge of how "the man" suffered while he was in that desert for forty days and forty nights. Still, I'm so glad that I don't engage in that loverly activity anymore because now that I'm eighteen, I would have to endure much harsher suffering than I did years ago. Unless I'm one of those masochist that find some sort of pleasure in making myself suffer, which I'm pretty sure I'm not, then it's a good thing that I have fallen from grace. While we're on the subject of Lent, I never understood why Easter is associated with bunnies, chicks and pastel colored eggs. Maybe it's because rabbits represent lust, and when people are in lust they produce children, which sort of explains the eggs... I'm starting to stray again. I should really get back to those poor, French village people in the movie Chocolat. If someone was to dangle a Friends reunion DVD in front of my face when I'm supposed to be giving it up, I would massacre the whole town. But then that would be a sin, and things would be so much worst then they already are, were, would be. The thing is, she just wanted to please those people with the fondness for sweets, which is good on her part, yet the "Lenting people" disapprove of it because they can't have it. It is so difficult to please everyone at the same time. That is why people should only try to please themselves. But then that would be greed, which is another sin... You know what? You win some, you lose some. I've never been so proud of losing my religion.
May 23, 2007
I will never forgive anyone who did something extremely horrible to me. Well, actually, I would forgive someone, but I will never, ever, ever, ever forget what they did to me. I can really hold a grudge against someone who did me wrong but why waste the effort on hating someone when you can just forgive them but still remember what they did to you? Well, that was kind of weird to say since I do hate a lot of people, but that is beside the point. It's a hard learned lesson for yourself and the sinners and you can always use what they did to you against them. Why is it when I blog that I sound like the most evil person in the world? Now I understand why people blog. You express your true self through blogging don't you? I can't believe "blog" is an actual word. You know I have that Mozilla add-on where they underline all the words I spell wrong, and I was so surprised that "blog" and "blogging" was never underlined. So I looked online and found out that the word was added to the dictionary in 2006. Okay, I'm starting to babble again. But anyhow, why would anyone forget anyway? The only thing I would ever forget is regret because that's seriously stupid. I mean the Jews never forgot Hitler for his murderous streak, Rachel never forgot Ross' stupid excuse: "We were on a break!" and I never forgot the summer where the dandelions neglected to give me the pony I wanted. You learn a lot of things for not forgetting. All these "for"s and "et"s are starting to confuse me. But hopefully in the jumble of words prior to this sentence you got some sense of enlightenment and sanity, or maybe just another one of Reilynn's bizarre opinions that she'll soon brainwash the entire world with once she becomes a successful dictator. Until then, this is just another random blog entry. Don't take it too seriously.
May 22, 2007
So I'm reading a book and in the story a girl contemplates on whether or not she should leave her significant other after an accident leaves him paralyzed.
Leave him. Yeah, that's what I would do. Why linger onto a relationship with someone you know you won't really have a happy future with? You know when you're with your friends and someone suddenly ask one of those weird scenario questions? "Would you marry a guy who's handicapped?" or "What if you married a guy, and he becomes paralyzed?". I'm usually the one in my group of friends that says, "I wouldn't", "I'll leave him". Call it being morally wrong or selfish, but seriously, I won't be happy. And I like to be happy. Who doesn't? I know I'll always have that feeling of being trapped in a box with limited oxygen that I can never escape from. So I might as well leave the box before all the air runs out. Besides, I would think that the person would feel absolutely horrible having someone clinging onto the relationship because of their disability. So in a way, I'm not really being selfish am I? I'm giving them the opportunity to keep their massive ego, to not have some poor girl linger around to be their 24/7 caretaker. Okay, so that doesn't even come close to me abandoning a guy because he suddenly becomes handicapped but really; it's life, people just have to learn how to deal. I don't like burdens. I hate being one and I hate having one. It just puts too many limitations on you and I don't like limitations either. I don't like a lot of things. I am so evil. But I'm also honest. Leave him Carrie, leave him!
May 15, 2007
I'm one of those people who hate to work under someone else. Yeah, I can never make it in the real world. I've only had a few working experiences and let's just say I'm not a "give me orders and I will follow you" type of person (or dog). I don't like having to chase a kid around the store while his mother is in the fitting room. I don't like letting someone walk out of the store with a pair of stolen earrings in their bag and not say anything about it. (Retail guidelines. Stupid I know.) And I absolutely despise price checks and bosses. But I guess one has to work their way up the ladder, don't they? I can't just move to New York City and live as a starving artist until I am miraculously discovered sitting in front of someone else's porch. And then there's the whole "journey" thing. It's true that you have to live through the journey to gain knowledge and experiences but with those unlucky circumstances, it is so tempting to skip that part of the venture. I'm I wrong? Who would want to go through such hellish ordeals as part of their journey to success? If only there was a forward button. Only then can we pass by all the unnecessary and agonizing moments in life. Unfortunately, in reality, forwarding is hazardous. There will be conflicting schedules, jet lag and just a bunch of pissed off people who wonders what happened to the last ten years of their lives. Time is such a pain. It's probably because it's uncontrollable. I hate not being in control. I hate time.
May 9, 2007
I hate family reunions. Usually when such horrid events occur, I'd hide out in my room and only emerge outside of my cave when I have to leave the house or get something to eat. Sad, I know. But why go out there and greet millions of fake-smiling faces in which I have no idea who they are, what they do or how they are related to me? It is pointless getting to know them. Oh, and the kids. Those devilish little creatures for whom I despise. I just love hearing them run to their parents in a series of whimpering noises after I slam the door in their faces. Unlike some people, I don't parade around the relatives to make them notice me. I don't interact with them period. All they do is talk about business, who's pregnant, who's not (worse), all the while making sneaky indirect insults at each other. The most used phrase however, is: "Who's kid is that again?" Yeah, the family tree is stemmed with a million branches. A random person can just walk into the house and no one would even know if they're even part of the family (and this is just my mom's side of the family). I don't think I will miss too much excitement staying in my room with the music blasted at a high volume so that people wouldn't mistake it as a bathroom and disrupt me by knocking on the door.
Now that I think about it, I don't think I'm ever coming back on the holidays to visit anyone but my mom when I go away for college. Thank goodness she doesn't live with us, otherwise I'd run into the entire family every time. And I already know what they would attempt to ask me if I was to come back. So I won't even take that risk.
They say family are the only ones that truly love you. Lies.
April 25, 2007
I wonder what I would do if I was suddenly blinded and can never see again. Sight is important, but of the five senses, it isn't the most important sense to me. The most important for me is probably the sense of hearing. I've asked many people which sense they would want if they could only have one, and most if not all said the sense of sight. Maybe hearing is more important to me because I'm more of an auditorial person? I do learn better by listening to lectures than watching something on an overhead projector. Maybe that's why I hate math...or bad at math. Then again, maybe I care less about sight because I'm already partially blind. Enough said.
It's understandable why Mark is so devastated about losing his sight. His job is his life; how can he do his job without being able to see? Sad. It's like not being able to live. Now before I get all "emo" on my beloved audience (which consists of what, five people?), let's change the subject. Mark thinks its better to have no goals and expectations. I'd have to agree with him. It just adds more disappointment in your life than there already is when your goals come falling down like a pile of timber. That's why I have an alternative to goals.
My technique of "kind of, sort of having semi/quasi-goals" in which you will never be disappointed:
1. Don't have goals.
2. Wait for a drastic, magnificent event/miracle/triumph in which your actions give you at least forty-nine percent of contentment (or less if your happy-meter is that low).
3. Tell yourself: "That was probably one of my unconscious goals, and now it has been fulfilled. I am a happy person."
4. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the feeling or if you're a "myspacer" (bless your soul, you have been infected) go and tell your 237,857,384 friends on myspace.com of your success.
Seems doubtful I know. But it works for me.
April 24, 2007
I never considered myself to be a materialistic and/or superficial person until a couple of days ago when my friend and I was crossing the student parking lot and a car almost ran us over. But this wasn't just any car. It was a deeply unattractive, rusty blue Toyota with one window being covered by saran wrap (or some similar material) because it's obviously missing a glass window and the side-view mirror was hanging on to dear life as it clings cripplingly next to the door by a couple of black wires. The car sped into the lot at about fifty miles per hour as my friend and I stare at each other in horror (okay, a little dramatic, I know). The first thing that came out of my mouth? "Oh my gosh, we're going to get run over by that cheap, ugly car!" I mean, I didn't even attempt to run off to a safe zone or stand there in silence with bewilderment on my face like those stupid "damsels in distress" movie characters waiting for Spider-Man to swing by and sweep me off the street. I bitterly stood there as the car went into a screeching halt and was more surprised about what just came out of my mouth than my near death experience. It's weird that it takes a life threatening event to make me realize that I'm materialistic to that extent. As my friend and I walked off, I jokingly told her, "If I ever get run over by a car and die, it better be a Mustang or a Mercedes. Can you imagine what my gravestone will say?" But now that I think about it, I'm not that materialistic if you break everything down to a grain of salt. I don't have to possess the most expensive car as long as it operates functionally (and eco-friendly). I don't have to own the most expensive new MP3 player as long as my current one is still in working order. And you know what else? I would never steal a Coach briefcase from a homeless man because I know I'd have more use for it than he would. Maybe I just have a thing about dying in an illustrious way.
April 16, 2007
You know the whole fuss about work and love are totally understandable. I remember when I used to read for fun instead of reading to answer comprehension worksheets because honestly, I don't hate reading. I actually like reading, maybe even love it. I just realized that I only dislike reading when I'm required to read. No one reads sitting on a desk. Reading is supposed to be enjoyable. I can't enjoy reading when I'm propped on a desk, surrounded by other students being forced to read (or pretending to read). It is not normal, it is not natural. Well, for me at least. The same goes with acting. I love acting, I love singing and performing. But a recent video project made me realize that I hate it when it's required. I am not as enthusiastic about acting for a grade as I am acting simply because I love acting. While we were editing the video I watched myself on the screen and I realized I looked extremely annoyed and serious. Aside from the sudden bursts of laughter when one of us messes up a line.
Sometimes I wish that my mom hadn't moved me and my brother to California. I didn't mind staying in Boston or New York. If I was still in NYC I would probably be performing at the New York Theatre Workshop. Sad I know, I gave up that for sunny California. I don't even like the sun. There's a huge difference between the sun and the spotlight. I prefer the spotlight. I remember when I first saw Anthony Rapp perform on Broadway in Rent. Even though I was about six or seven at the time, it was really memorable. Sure I didn't really know what some of the lyrics meant but I loved listening to it. How often do you hear a six or seven year old singing about marijuana and sodomy? Yeah, I obviously had no idea what I was singing along to. But the thing is, I didn't need to. I can enjoy the music without knowing what every single lyric meant. I can enjoy a book without knowing every single detail about every single character. What's my point? Enjoy what you love without dwelling too deep into it, otherwise you'll only end up hating it.
April 12, 2007
I've read books and watched movies of people dying from cancer or similar illnesses and I always wondered what I would do if I knew that someone I cared about was going to die. Sudden death is one thing, but knowing death will occur beforehand is another. I probably wouldn't cry; I don't cry. I never cry. Personally, I don't take death too seriously. It happens. It's supposed to happen. Of course, I wouldn't want to walk out into the street right now blindfolded so that I would get run over by a car and die. But death is one of those things that happens because well, it's supposed to happen; it's inevitable. It's just another bullet on those long lists that people complain about or hate. It can be considered terrible, like homework. Or sad, like romance novels. Or painful, like when a toddler falls off his or her tricycle. Death is overrated, and so is living. So what would someone who thinks death is overrated do if she found out her mother was going to die in a couple of months from cancer? I probably wouldn't do anything that I wouldn't do now. I would go to school, come home, call my mom and see how her life is going. What I'm I supposed to do or say? "Oh, you're going to die soon. Let's spend some time together?" Is that insane? I'm I insane? If I did do that, wouldn't I be admitting that I take her for granted? "Yeah, I only want to spend time with you now because you're going to die. Otherwise, goodbye, see you next month!" No, not going to happen.
It might be hard for some people to believe, especially with what I just stated about death in addition to all my cynicism and complaints, but I try to live everyday to its fullest. I rarely think about the future. People around me are currently contemplating about where they want to go for college. I'm asked, "Rei, where are you going?", "I thought you were going here.", "I thought you were going there." I would answer, "I don't know. We'll see." Maybe that's my problem. Maybe I do need to think about the future. Would that make me appreciate life more? No, probably not.
March 28, 2007
I don't understand why people question whether or not God exists. We're never going to find out (I don't think), so why waste our time discussing, debating and publishing books about it? Maybe I'm being too skeptical or extremely keen in promoting my agnostic faith, but unless God actually appears in front of me and prove to me that his existence is not just some prank pulled by a bunch of dead philosophers and religious scholars which began many a years ago, then let's just say, I'll believe it when I see it. What type of logic is this:
"If there is no heaven, then all the tears, and cries of the dying children go unanswered." - Letters from a Skeptic by G. and E. Boyd
Guess what? All the tears and cries of everyone are always unanswered by other forces. People solve their own problems, we don't need heaven to guild us, whatever or wherever that may be. We make all our choices and decisions for our own advantage, even if we are being influenced by other people, it is us who makes the final decision after all. God doesn't aid you through pain; he simply puts you through it. If you believe that God gave you your existence then shouldn't you blame every terrible thing that happens to you on him? So Mr. Boyd, if you ever happen to come across this blog entry (which I doubt will ever happen), then let me ask, what is up with all the referencing of God being a holy, heavenly figure who only loves and forgives? Have you ever met God? How do you know why he created people and why he puts his creation through misery and pain? How do you know God isn't just some bored puppeteer using us as marionettes for his own personal amusement? You don't. I am not saying that God does not exist, only stating that the existence of God can never be known. Don't waste your time preaching something that is not known for certain. Did God create people or did people create God? If anyone can answer this question with evidential proof then all the minds of future Christian children will not be clouded before they reach 73.
Congrats to converting your father to Christianity at the eve of his 73rd birthday; what a wondrous gift you gave him.
So I'd like to close with some words by a fellow Atheist, Woody Allen, "If there really was a God, the best worst thing you can say about him, is that he's an underachiever." I kind of paraphrased that, but yeah.
March 27, 2007
I'd have to say hearing Anna and my English teacher discuss about the ridiculous characters in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet inspired me to write this blog entry. The best character, or shall we say, the only character who isn't an absolute goon (and we should feel sorry for) in the play is not Paris (the pompous and smug wannabe suitor), it is definitely not Romeo (the sensitive, wimpy, quick change of heart and pathetic testosterone driven male) and it can't possibly be Juliet (the lovesick, "I want to rebel", back-turning confidante). Had not anyone think of the hilarious and witty Mercutio? I mean monuments should be erected in his honor. He is the only one in the play with intelligence and exhibits logical and reasonable thinking - the only one whose death is not deserved. If Romeo had listened to him, his life probably wouldn't have ended in tragedy.
Then again, I guess it all depends on the reader doesn't it? People tend to glorify and sympathize for characters similar to themselves or do things similar to what they would do in certain scenarios. Does this mean I see myself as a "hilarious and witty" individual and that "monuments should be erected in my honor" - although, I didn't get slain by some narcissistic Capulet? Well... yes. I know. I have no modesty. If my so-called theory about the relationship between readers and the characters they're reading about is true, then I guess the perky, Barnes and Nobles representative that recommended this atrocious book to me is absolutely depressing and sad. Perky contrary to depressing and sad, ironic right? I seriously hope she doesn't end up like Lindsay, which is a terrible wreck. It is a good thing I have a habit of reading the endings of books before I dwell too deep into the text. The first 129 pages was a waste of time; even if I did speed read.
March 13, 2007
I had no idea that Thoreau was from Massachusetts, but I did know that Emerson was from Boston. I used to live in Boston before I came to the dull city of San Jose. Yeah, Reilynn used to be an East side person. Maybe that's why I'm so evil, my excuse: I got my tough exterior from being exposed to such harsh and dog-eat-dog environment when I was growing up. If I were to compare Boston, Brooklyn and NYC (cities I've lived in) to San Jose, it would be like painting a white canvas black. From what I remember: neighbors would rob you, gang fights replaces street hockey, the same car would get stolen three times a day and people are just more hostile. It's interesting how one's environment influences the person they become. Sometimes people look at me and say, "You're Californian? You don't seem like it." Right, like Californians are supposed to be extremely nice or something; not! I am a natural-born Californian, I just happened to move around a lot to some extreme places. Not to mention, my German gene doesn't exactly aid me in being nice. I visited my German relatives last summer in Berlin, and let's just say Germans are not nice people; at least from my personal observation. (And this is me, Reilynn, saying that people are mean, that has to signify something right?) They are rude, loud, arrogant and obnoxious (now I sound like I'm describing myself) and I'd have to say a little anti-American. "If it's not the German way, it's not the right way." It should be their motto. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong about being German, it's kind of helpful since I get to enter in all these scholarships for students of German descent. I don't really know why the majority of Germans are vicious, but I can always blame them when it comes to my own evilness. Come to think of it, maybe it's just their blunt nature which may come off as arrogance and rudeness, who knows?
I do think that where you come from makes you who you are. It is called nature and nurture. I love psychology, and Ms. Yi. This reminds me, I have to go e-mail Ms. Yi now, I wonder if the weather is as hot in London as it is here. I bid thee bloggers adieu.
March 12, 2007
Perfect. I seriously hate the word "perfect". I spend a large amount of my time doing insignificant little things in order to make my environment seem perfect. What a waste of time. Maybe I want everything to be perfect because there are so many things that annoy me or throw me off the edge. I hate it when things fall down, when people are too nice, when people are too modest, when people lie, when people make promises they don't keep, enclosed spaces, waiting in line (and the cashier is chit chatting away with the customer or with a neighboring cashier), when I'm at a restaurant and one of the employees is sweeping under my seat or refilling the napkins, when I run out of mayo, when the phone rings, when people talk on their cell phones in public (annoyingly, loud and cussing), when people act fake, when people greet me with a hug even if I just saw them yesterday, when people are nosy, Asian drivers, the way guys talk around their friends or when they read out loud in class or with the opposite sex (mumbling, using expressions like, "I don't know...." or "Yeah, whatever...." or "OK." There's more to the English language you idiots!), when the red light finally turns green and then the car in front of you moves extremely slow that you end up waiting in front of the red light again, when people talk or write too much slang, people who say they like Sponge Bob even though they never watched a single episode because everyone of all ages suddenly thinks Sponge Bob is God, when people stand on cracks, the existence of people under the age of ten.....
Where do I come up with such insane, ridiculous hates, rules and behavior? Maybe it's the fact that I'm a control freak or easily annoyed or maybe.....I'm out of excuses. The world is not perfect, I'm not perfect. The world will never be perfect, I will never be perfect. Then why do I spend so much of my time trying to make everything perfect? I have no idea. I guess it's the thought that counts.
March 2, 2007
People tell me to pick a side: realist or romanticist. I serious don’t know what I am. Is it possible that I’m right in between the two? So what if I had an imaginary friend named Puck when I was younger and at the same time didn’t believe in the tooth fairy? I do however, admit to being an agnostic; let’s just put it at that. This is totally random, but I think I just felt an earthquake. Then again, let’s just bring earthquakes into this blog entry somehow. Earthquakes scare me, especially the small ones because you don’t really know if it was really an earthquake or you’re just feeling jumpy and weak, slightly tilting to one side all of a sudden. I remember asking my grandfather about earthquakes when I was younger, about where they come from and why they occur. His answer: “God is being angry! He’s throwing a tantrum so the entire Earth shakes!” My response then: I believed him. My realization now: I was stupid. I guess it’s more fun for the storyteller to tell an unbelievable and extraordinary story with excessive made-up details then for someone to listen to the nonsense because it’s very likely that the listener will believe everything the storyteller is telling them, especially when the listener is only five. This is probably why Edward Bloom thinks it’s amusing to tell stories of mermaids in lakes, cannibalistic giants and werewolf-like circus freaks. It is okay to be imaginative as long as you don’t mislead someone into believing something that is absolutely ridiculous like the world is flat. And then this naive person, who was the listener, would attempt to find the edge of the world to jump off of because she or he has nothing better to do.
It is better to give theories than to give false realities. Otherwise, the world would be like a Lewis Carroll fairytale.
March 1, 2007
“…judgment is not executed in this world; that the wicked are successful; and that the good are miserable; and then urged from reason and from Scripture a compensation to be made to both parties in the next life.” - R. W. Emerson
I’m guessing Emerson and my grandfather had the same philosophy about good and evil. It’s funny how people compensate for the things they don’t have or wish for people to see of them; which is why we always see the littlest man driving the huge Hummer or a clumsy kid making fun of himself after he tripped in front his entire 3rd grade class. Does having a gigantic truck really compensate for a person’s small build or humor for embarrassment? It probably only depends on the person and the situation. I do agree with Emerson that our strength grows out of our weaknesses. Isn’t it when we fail miserably that we become conscious of the fact that we want to strive for the best? Sure if I were given a million dollars I would take it, but when asked by someone where I got my money, do I really want to just say: “It was given to me freely.”? What’s the use of possessing something grand when you didn’t fight with all your might to obtain it yourself? Some people probably don’t care and completely disagree with the point I’m trying to make, but these people are probably spoiled little brats who were born with a silver spoon in their mouths. Enough said.
“A person who is spoiled by successes and advantages goes to sleep. When a person is pushed, tormented and defeated, he has a chance to learn something, he gains facts, learns his ignorance and real skill.” In other words, you wouldn’t want to die without any scars would you?
February 15, 2007
It's sad to believe that we are surrounded by various dangers and perils from the day we are born. People tend to wonder why I am so vicious, reserved, blunt and cynical all the time but why shouldn't I be? I can't be cordial and kind to everyone or treat them like they're royals hoping for the kindness of their hearts in return. Being nice is way too dangerous. The world is full of adversity and people with fabricated personas out to take advantage of you when they get the chance. I'd rather be safe and barricade myself than to lie on the floor and have people step on me. There are about one in one hundred people that are genuinely nice, maybe even less. People aren't nice to you unless they want something in return. This is probably why I never really use the words "please" or "may I", I simply say "give me paper" or "do you have paper?". All the "polite-ness" is superfluous; don't get me wrong, I'm not being rude (at least I don't think so), just genuine in the fact that I only need paper and not stress the importance of why I need it. I don't think people actually mean it when they say such things like "please" and "thank you" and "sorry". They're just saying it out of courtesy, but why say it when you don't mean it? It just annoys me more when I know people are being fake. Like those salespeople in the department stores, just serve me and leave me alone; don't ask me stupid questions like: "How was your day?", "Where did you get your shoes?" or "Your hair is so shiny! What conditioner do you use?". Maybe I am being too skeptical about trusting people and their motives but I can't help it. I'd rather be the predator than the prey.
Oh Sir Emerson, I would marry you if you weren't dead.
February 14, 2007
So I'm reading Long Day's Journey Into Night by O'Neill. After seeing the play last weekend, I'd have to admit that the play was much better in theatre than in the book. Mary Tyrone's character is even more psychotic and bipolar than I thought she was, not to mention the rest of the family. How can one family be so endlessly disappointing? There's the father who is so obnoxiously cheap that he wouldn't even hire a professional doctor to treat his son who's sick with tuberculosis, the mother who's in denial not admitting to her morphine addiction and the fact that her son can possibly die, the older brother who constantly drowns his worries away with alcohol and of course, his sick younger sibling who's such a "mommy's boy" that it makes me want to puke. It pains me when I see (or in this case, read) various things that can be done to solve a problem but the characters are too dumb or blind to attempt it. "There are two types of evil people: people who do evil things and people who see evil things being done and do nothing about it." Yes, I totally stole that from Mean Girls, but it absolutely makes sense. When you see a dog eating chocolate, you take it away. When you see a gentleman in the ladies room, you kick him out. It should be a rule to humanism. Your mom + loads and loads of morphine + the fact that one of you are dying = not good. Do the freaking math you ridiculous drunk on cigars, alcohol and whores, "I hate my life", "why can't I be rich?" useless men of the Tyrone household. How difficult is it to take the morphine away from your aging and pathetic mother? Mary Tyrone's character is one of which I read about often and absolutely hate. People need to admit that they have a problem and try to do something to change it. Stop being in denial, it only gives you a false pretense of the world. I guess it is a little difficult for her to not indulge herself in the poison since she lives with three men who are incredibly useless and neglects to change their horrendous way of life. They're all trapped inside the air-tight house with nowhere to go, just like poor Gregor. Denial and the refusal to change kills you.
Boy do I hate stupidity that causes pain.
Excuse the wrath behind this post; I was having a bad day.
February 13, 2007
I am so glad I would be dead if ever such technological advances like those described in the book Brave New World ever existed. Imagine going up to your father at age five and asking, “Daddy, where do babies come from?” and receive this as an answer: “Oh, I ordered you from that factory just beyond that other building where they created our maid Stella.” Although I do have to admit that it could be advantageous to create the perfect child and have him or her grow up to be a successful idol in the human species. But if our world ever turned out to be like the world in Huxley’s dream book, then we would all be deprived of life before we take our first breath. What’s the purpose in living when you are born as what you are and will never be anything else otherwise? This world is absolutely different from the world we live today. Even though we have laws and limits that keep us from doing certain things, being categorize before we’re even born is extremely appalling.
I should seriously start reading happier literature. All this suicidal mania is getting to me. Poor little black sheep, Shakespeare did him no good.
January 11, 2007
Shakespeare should have developed more compelling and innovative ways to kill off his characters. Although I am pro-tragedy, it’s tiring to see one character after another kill themselves because of some delayed realization. Shakespeare isn’t that big of a genius as everyone makes him to be. The man seriously has no originality when it comes to ending a tragedy. Why have I spent so much time reading all his plays for the last couple of years? Maybe it’s the whole sadist thing again. What’s worst about these deaths? It is mainly the women in these Shakespearean tragedies that end up killing themselves. If it wasn’t for Portia in the Merchant of Venice (an intelligent, female, Shakespeare character that didn’t end up killing herself), I would think he was an anti-feminist. Back to the suicide thing; killing oneself is just an easy way out of a dilemma. There is nothing brave and inspiring about drowning yourself in a river or stabbing yourself with a sword or downing a bottle of poison. People who kill or think about killing themselves are people who are weak; they are people who can’t endure pain. Ironic. Suicide is the worst of deaths.
A friend of mine told me she wanted to kill herself the other day because of some evil forensics teacher. She then thought about it and declared it was too expensive nowadays to kill oneself. Excuses are good; it is a superior first step.
January 10, 2007
I seriously hate happy endings. Who wants to read something that will end up with a typical Walt Disney: “happily ever after”? This reminds me of those poor celebrities who continually complain about how the tabloids, newspapers and magazines gossip/spread rumors/report every single detail/bash about all the horrible things that are currently happening to them. It’s true. We, the people, love to read about the faults in the lives of others. People find pleasure in seeing other people suffer from another failed “Vegas marriage” or random court cases of abused celebrity assistants or supposedly “good parenting gone wrong”. No one wants to read about how wonderful people’s lives are going. We are all sadists. We want pain, misery, horror and dirt, not talking rabbits, “I love yous”, sage green bridesmaid dresses and penguins warning us about global warming. There is no happily ever after. How ignorant we are to believe such things exist in life. What happens at the end of life? The answer: death. One cannot die happily no matter how many scenarios you can think of to contradict this. Death is not a good thing unless our sole purpose is to decrease the surface population of the Earth, which is kind of pointless since our non-existence will wipe away the human race and all that would be left are the monkeys, rabbits and penguins parading around like they do in Madagascar with absolutely no sense of sanity. Human tragedy is completely necessary, otherwise we would be like wild animals.
October 29, 2006
How miserable will it be if the most important decisions in your life are not made by you, but by those around you? Like most literary works, the rising action in a storyline is often determined by our unconscious selves or by those who see themselves fit to determine the future of others. Since I don’t have parents who enforce me to do anything I don’t want to do, I do have friends who are in the midst of deciding which college or university they want to attend and whether or not it is their decision or the decision of their parents. Most of who are considering colleges that fit their parents’ criteria rather than their own which are absolutely erroneous. Isn’t it better to be who you want to be rather than who you should be? Or in this case, do what you want to do rather than what you should do? On the other hand, it does not exactly work to your advantage if you don’t know what you want. Choosing your own path in life is what helps you build character and opens opportunities for new experiences rather than the typical, collective ways conservatives brainwashes us to think. In the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Do not go where the path my lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.”
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