euphemism of the day
"this car's got a lot of heart" -my brother's friend jason, on climbing into the front seat of my car :^)

mmm. sitting here with a new book!- which is a very new sensation. when i was younger books would just appear; out of wrapping paper or on bookshelves (the life of the egyptians. ezra pound's cantos. and also, most of the babysitters' club series up to like #70 or something. just to be truthful :^P). so it's actually very rare, since high school, that i read a book i haven't read already - just because i have this hesitance at the potential for 1) disappointment (if i already have some expectations for it) or 2) just disappointment (at my bad judgment of the cover, title, author, first and last words...). so this is why i don't read for pleasure anymore, because books don't fall from the sky. and also because i don't want to jinx reading. i mean, will there ever be books as good as those that have already been read? pored over? memorized? the curse of being an "early reader" :^) a fast reader.

books are just ONE of the many symptoms of...this, my premature withdrawal from the world. [ahem]. i'm not kidding! but i AM not laughing at things i should laugh at. and am being less enthusiastic about less things. okay. the last things i was enthusiastic about were: this book i'm sitting in front of, a furry bear we saw at michael's, my mom's youthful love of apples. yupgi yupgi yupgi...rimmel mascara (only obtainable at walmart in the US). the 3 consecutive arrow shooting trick by legolas. muffins. okay this is a lot of stuff! but [scratching head] diesel? sorbet? academic success? haha...nothing i remember anymore. because i'm not looking to be enthused anymore. whatever falls from the sky, i can allow myself to be enthusiastic about. but not...obsessive. something is gone that allowed me to seek out obsession. still - "the past is beautiful, because one never realises an emotion at the time. it expands later, and thus we don't have complete emotions about the present, only about the past." (already a good quote from this book! how promising!)

some statements:
1. my mom: "that's okay, if you live alone" (re: my attitude towards school)
2. me: "i know i don't live in a box (re: my attitude towards school, and a few years ago, my bardsocialpsych attitude towards EVERYTHING)
3. jd salinger: "grunt" (teeheehee, clearly not my hero but a paragon of all of this)
4. me: "i really don't like listening to people talk about what they like" (re: christmas presents for boys)
5. me: "unless it's also what i like..." (")
6. anand: "when i realized she had really bad taste" (re: who else. if you know anand)

and, as a result of the 4th statement above, i REALLY don't like talking to people about what i like. i'll only do it in the most flippant of ways. and as a result of this happy resultant, i don't like...to like things anymore. see 3rd statement. but, i have this book...and i have my jesus.

meanwhile, though! happy holidays, and diners, and city on friday, my earning no money, my failing my classes, trying to stay afloat. "free and easy...to disappear completely"

this entry is completely incomprehensible, so whatever. it's always better in person. :^D like, i'm perfectly happy...and that's where the guilt comes from.

goodbye school. next semester i'll be mature enough to handle you properly. i will. i realize tonight how every night i spend alert and talking is not a night i agonize, falling prey to sleep and struggling to learn things i can never believe (in) or really intuit. is that okay? i don't think, or everyone tells me, that it doesn't matter whether it's okay or not. true, it shouldn't be okay. but i shouldn't be failing either. my arm hurts from squeezing d's during fellowship (of the ring) and strange invisible splinter in left index finger. mouth sour stripped, lips chapped, heart/brain at the beginning of a two-week amortization :^P tomorrow i will say goodbye school. but not for long...

i keep it to myself.

examcon 2001
life cracking slowly like so much ice on a spring-thawing pond STOP
soon to melt into the usual lassitude of winter break STOP
ignore all paradoxes and contradictions therein :^P STOP
i realized STOP
you've made me feel like a laggard since i was seven STOP
but apologized at the median STOP
do i have something to fight for now STOP
haha, not as much as elle on legally blonde GO!

ning at fisher fine arts: "solitude is the key to success." arre ya~!
oh and re: professor fader
i might be stupid, yes. but shit, i hate fucking flippancy, i hate self-sufficience, i hate pedantry and white guy blindness. well forget that. but he makes me so mad!

staring at fields of excel spreadshot numbers again. there's some kind of smell in my room which is making me crazy nauseous, and it really is the smell, and not the 20 chicken nuggets in 15 minutes from 12 hours ago. i hope. it seems almost dangerous to eat that much MDM in a short period of time, but then all those sauces were SO. so i hope it's just some smell. i think it's the smell. and the numbers.

today i heard miss fat booty twice! once was this cute remix on wkdu and then as i was walking back from houston hall, the straight version on power 99. i like it because it makes me walk like a bitch. whenever i study, it feels like fun. what a shame that i'm only beginning to exploit the novelty of studying. what a shame. failing finance. what a shame. what a shame. [groan].

and since yesterday i have made quite a few beaded necklaces and one beaded bracelet. yesterday being veronica's birthday, haste was required on my long overdue masterbeading plan. and voila! in the hours immediately following v's birthday day dave serenaded and i beaded/helped serenade her to sleep (after a long rtl study session it seems...the life of BBB.)

lately also feeling built to spill. fly around my pretty little miss! back to the weibull-gamma, aka, "don't mind if i do!"
i planned my school supplies pretty well. because now all i have left is most of my kogepan pens and bmps (bic mechanical pencils). again, "don't mind if i do!"

whimsically interviewing myself while showering before the finance exam i was later to fail badly
-radiance? i've stopped. or i never really started, really, did i? i used to talk about my henry james fixation a lot. and stickers. but i don't have to prove anything to myself. not even radiance. stupidly. like, i'm so obsessed...and i think lots of kids are obsessed...or convinced...that having potential is enough. i'm sure there is one mass-produced classroom banner which dazedly proclaims that "what's inside is more important than what's on the outside". uh, bad example. something which implies that having the potential for greatness = greatness.
-which isn't true?
-i wouldn't like to think so. having the potential for greatness. it's like a call option on greatness, let's say. if your hunger for it is great enough you'll capitalize on it. but it's worth a lot less than the greatness itself. for me it was my mom with the unconditional love more than anything else. that didn't spur me to greatness, except through guilt at first, and then...eventually maybe i'll become a real person, with a sense of what can be desired and then accomplished, in realtime. thinking that i was the chosen one or a princess for so long, i didn't feel that much responsibility to actually share the proof with anyone else. to perform. high school was the achievement of multiple gambits. much easier to measure or create your self-worth back then, according to numbers on paper. but then, everything averages out. and hence, dilettantism, exhibitionism, laziness, and finally the complete silence. no radiance. sometimes lately it's enough just to listen. it's sick, it's so chronic and so widespread.
-so is this how you love irony?
-how much? what? irony?
-i'm not really sure. i mean. there's a charm to girls who read magazines, and there's also something about girls who don't read magazines. you can let things go both ways...every way possible. stop forcing it. can you see it?
-yes. that's pretty inane. but okay.

Summer in winter
Winter in springtime
You heard the birds sing
Everything will be fine

I spent the summer wasting
The time was passed so easily
But if the summer's wasted
How come that I could feel so free
I spent the summer wasting
The sky was blue beyond compare
A photograph of myself
Is all I have to show for

Seven weeks of river walkways
Seven weeks of staying up all night

I spent the summer wasting
The time was passed so pleasantly
Say cheerio to books now
The only things I'll read are faces
1 spent the summer wasting
Under a canopy of

Seven weeks of reading papers
Seven weeks of river walkways
Seven weeks of feeling guilty
Seven weeks of staying up all night

Summer in winter
Winter is springtime
You heard the bird say
Everything will be fine

yo, eat it cuoco.

real quick now-
memes are spreading of vegetables, student-person/anger dichotomy, sense of urgency, muffins

boys' hair smells like macaroni and cheese in the hours and days after not being washed, and that's very nice. it's true but not widely known because boys don't want to smell other boys' hair and most girls don't want to smell more than one boy's hair. maybe? but it doesn't really matter.

today was the last day of classes, not that our 'reading days' (i think just like our dormitories and 'such', merely a cheap ripoff of legitimate schools' exam prep period, we might as well have called them like...resnet exploration festival) won't be more stress than all the classes put together. ook. frustrated at my dumbness and lack of incisive ability to do accounting homework or fin problem sets or find the perfect desktop wallpaper. or find enough quarters for fauxhandwash. oh this inertia!

oh and also, finely and deeply wounded/perplexed. because i know 2 people here outside of community hrn45. certain people i see here are so pleasingly like this: significantly ironic glances, leather jackets, greasy hair and glassy personalities. teehee in three words - "the strokes syndrome". so lovable somehow, though. and what i am tired of around me "culturally", i won't go into. certain playlists. certain shoutouts. certain shoe sizes. these years i think i will be more familiar with hi fives and flipflops, conditioned hair and the boring apparences of intimacy. and therefore perpetually stylistically disenfranchised. but i'm not complaining! "very happy these days". and i can roll wif dat. :^D

pcms recital wednesday at 8, do come!

that picnic blanket
rumpled from the sunny day
and warm to our heads

hanseul recently, strongly, about our gov't's mindblowing use of ignoble us wartime precedent to justify current antiterrorism plans. that they would do this. that most americans wouldn't be aware of it, and thereby that they are immune from any popular excoriation (not like it would matter?) that many americans could not be bothered to draw the parallels. that some americans would think this justified. i am neither jaded, nor tired, nor world-weary. and this is not what i expect of the 'world'. it's this dialectic between being a student and being a real person. i've talked so much with v about this. to be so shielded by the daily pennsylvanian. your senses of youthful outrages or piquancies subverted. 'such and such'. will our intellectual generation be facing in or out? (and while i'm at it, up, or down...left, or right. we've established that thought is a circle, though, no?) i don't feel a lot that much of the c p e can really touch us. though obviously it can, and obviously it's a mortifying belief when so many young people around me are trying to change or are thinking of the changes which touch those far afield. please god, don't let me blame wharton. someone out there, feeling very self-satisfied? but there isn't any blame inside of me.

mm, like, how stridently asian-american i was, like at cty and for a few years afterwards, maybe. flitting from ethnicities and generations. very crudely, now that i look back, dissecting the most obvious parts of the asian-american contra-asset. i don't even remember what else i might have fought for or burrowed into. or climbed out into, really. a voice. i could flatter/flatten myself into thinking that i am more of a grassroots person. to share chamber music. enjoin a sense of academic empowerment at this, the fake ivy? totally self-indulgent now. :^P i don't even smile enough, most days. and pcms is so grassroots, our cashbox is a plastic bag. and our president is a plastic bitch [pure venting]. when and where would i make the jump from fiction to nonfiction?

trying to think of what i can be accused of. first of all, maybe having decided to dispense with the cultural the political the environmental and concentrate solely on the personal. inevitable response is "yeah where personal equals YOU!" :^P :^P :^{ hmm. suddenly a great tiredness or longing to be in the dark. it's so hot. but happy to be alive and in love etc! how people act and smile and see around them, that is happy.

oy...recordkeeping. today we went to see maneesh's show, the fajita monologues, lisa and i fell hard (and wet :^P) for the group's musical director. it's cliche right to fixate on the sparkling star of a boys' a cappella group and groupie him and have him sign your chest. yeah cliche :^) and i handed in my marketing case today. it made me realize more than ever how reluctant i am ever to assume anything. what a little empiricist i imagine myself to be. not trusting anything or anyone that isn't somehow codified into stasis, which is another part of it. believing in infinite change and chaos far above sequentiality and cause and effect. is this just my wordbag definition of being extremely credulous? gullible? 'random' as it were? but yes. i can believe in anything. is that too much to ask?

okay, no idea what i just wrote there, really, but maybe it's time to sleep...oh yeah and retrieved cello from clutches of helmuth keller & sons. yeah!