The Motel

was moderately entertaining. Very disappointing ending. Exactly what Mr. Powers said: I grew to feel for the characters, and BOOM. The end. Guy leaves, girl leaves, which leaves the main boy and his mother. But what happens to the boy? Very frustrating.

I am reminded of someone. A someone that was very friendly to me the other day. A someone that I wish I could get to know better. Well, my move. But that was really kind. Thank you. I feel like a douche comparatively.

Recorded Keila's song. But now Jamie, Chantelle, and Ben are all expecting similar favors. I am willing, because of the positive reviews. Now I understand how talentless people make it in the music industry.

Went looking for a paying position. Found nothing. 

Doctor tomorrow. I think I've got the Bronchitis. This is no fun. 

Oh well, guess I'll just keep hoping the teacher doesn't fuck everything up. Not a big deal, I suppose.

Or I'll just open a motel.

Reverse

Origins and Sources put me in a danged good mood. Got three pages of my comp book done. Mr. Powers is very entertaining, and it is unfortunate that this is my first and last semester with him.

I felt awesome when I woke up today. My folks decided to give me money, and after my shower I was ready to drive; except that I became stupid. I needed to back the station wagon out of the driveway in order to get my car out of the garage, and instead of following the traditional act of putting the auto into "drive" once on the street, I thought it'd be fun to see how fast I could go in reverse. I'm glad that the guy who was backing that SUV out of his driveway was kind enough to brake and not hit me.

Going to formal is an off-putting idea. Several friends are not attending, which makes me feel better about skipping it, along with the obvious (to me).

I need work. It's not about wanting money anymore; I can't pay for anything. I have 150 bucks stuffed inside a James Bond book, and that's it. I've been promising myself that I'd save it for a fun day, but I can't mooch off my parents forever. Then there's the credit card debt, because pretending that the bill won't arrive is actually quite stressful.

Bike ride. Was talking to the brother about one of those. I miss them. When making a decision about which method of transportation to partake in, my shiny new Honda is always the obvious choice, as opposed to my dusty, spider web-covered four-year-old Trek. But riding a bike is somewhat more rewarding than driving, so I may give it a shot today. A bike cruise to 2nd Street for a nice cup of joe is a pleasant idea.

Today:

-school

-bike ride

-movie

Tomorrow:

-friend?

-write

-start book

-???

Stand Up

Comedy will be one of the best school-related experiences I've ever had. Keanu Reeves, + everyone else that I like is in enrolled. + Mr. Wood. 

I never thought that I'd become one of those soccer moms that go to Starbucks every day with their disgustingly complicated, overly pre-prepared orders. "Lyke, okay, so, if you order a grande iced vanilla nonfat latte and tell them to put it in a venti cup, you totally get more coffee, but they charge you for a grande!" It's sad, but I know all of the Starbucks tricks and shortcuts, along with all the syrups, secret menu items, and lingo. What makes the situation all the more depressing is this: I did not consciously learn all of it. When I think of all the things in the world that I could know everything about, I realize that Starbucks should not be one of them.

This week has been superb. Conservatory works. Finals worked. Everything is working. The reason I'm so desperate to leave school is because things were not working. I'm glad that my last semester of public education will work for once.

Today:

-school

-find a job (still)

-first Powers class

Tomorrow:

-Friday

On the Corner

If my eyes ever glaze over as a result of a love-induced stupor, would you slap my face? Be a pal.

I'm so God damned terrible at learning lessons. We know how it ends anyway, might as well leave early and find something more fun to do. I shouldn't linger so. I should at least keep all that salt away from my wounds. 

Monday was Mythical Creatures. Too bad everyone decided to bombard the spot that Keanu Reeves and I reserved for ourselves. Yesterday was Lyrics as Lit, which would be a nightmare if it wasn't for Katie, Keanu, and Lina, who all sit in my row. Otherwise I'd be stuck listening to what should be a picture next to the word "unbearable" in the dictionary. 

But today?

Stand Up. Fuck yes. Mr. Wood. It's been two semesters since.

Saw Hamlet 2 and Grosse Pointe Blank. Both were enjoyable, but Hamlet 2 was more fun. "Jesus is sexy to you, which leads us into the musical interlude 'Rock Me Sexy Jesus'."

Grosse Pointe Blank has Dan Aykroyd. 'Nuff said.

Today:

-Mr. Wood

Tomorrow:

-?

Bloody

Bloody awkward sitting in the car.

Bloody irony.

Bloody not being careful what one wishes for. 

Bloody fuck up.

MY BLOODY VALENTINE IN 3D

Bloody bad decision.

I'm wrong for others. Just how it is. Won't be that way for infinity, one can hope. I can hope. 

Or maybe I am right, from the other view. Then I'll feel like a selfish pig. I will be a selfish pig.

As I was explaining myself last night, I opened my own eyes. This is why. And it's true. My life isn't melodramatic in the least. I just learned to forget. Now I can't stop remembering.

MY BLOODY VALENTINE IN 3D. Most comedic movie of the year. There's nothing quite like having a bloody jaw from some poor chap thrown in your face. But it was impossible not to laugh; we could not contain ourselves. How could a naked chick screaming "fuck you" to a masked miner with a pickaxe not make you laugh?

Got my hairs cut way too short. Now my head looks like a bulb fitted onto a chubby lamp post. But I had a nice chat with the lady who cuts my hair, so I suppose having it cut short was worth the few extra minutes of conversation it bought.

Tomorrow:

-school, except better.

-write

-more music

Slumdog

Millionaire: perfect form, perfect form. The ending didn't seem cheesy, even though it felt like it should have. Who doesn't love a nice dance sequence during the credits of a drama? 

Ernesto and I exchanged many a look as the man behind behind us ejaculated loud American-sounding comments at every preview. "Who's gonna see a fuckin' cartoon anyways?; Har-har, verrrrry funny. Not.; What the shit was that?" And so on. At least he kept his gob shut during the film, except for the occasional "Ohhhhh, he's gonna get it!"

Very glad that I've finally seen one important film on my list. 

Were my final grades good? You bet they were. It was great to give that answer when my folks asked. Instead of being a deer in the headlights, I'm the one driving the vehicle.

You aren't online much. That's a little strange. Did I say something off-putting? Nah, I'm probably not important enough to be a reason for anything related to you. Prolly. 

Today:

-Cineplex, maybe?

-Movie, maybe?

-Maybe, maybe?

Tomorrow:

-Know

-Find a paying position, again

-Or find money

Balls!

Balls! Where have you got yoselves to? Come back! Please!

I hate not having balls. That was a total chance. Chances don't present themselves too often. 

Those damned finals are finished. Surprisingly good marks on my Mythology one. Eros, I'm going to blame you.

Cough has significantly worsened. My throat has an awful feeling that reminds me of those dreaded doctor visits that involve a tongue depressor being shoved as far down as that muhfucka will go. Fortunately I'm the son of a tea connoisseur. Helps somewhat. 

Overall shitness. I look a lot, but nothing. Zip. 

I am pointless.

Tomorrow:

-ernesto

-get better

-write/talk

Bash bash

bash it out. Good enough, almost finished, sufficient, as is, half-baked, it's fine.

Absolutely. Regret comes more easily than drive. Which is ironic, because drive erases regret. 

Peace. Indifference. Sweet relaxation. Mutual appreciation. Please?

Today in class, as I stared blankly at a test question regarding the Taft-Hartley Act, I pictured a cliff overlooking the ocean. About 20 feet behind it was a vast cluster of pine trees, and right on the edge, there was a bench. I was resting on it. Everything was green, fresh, unspoiled. I wanted so desperately to be there. The calm rush the image brought is indescribable. Unfortunately, the Taft-Hartley Act still needed to be defined, and the rush soon ceased. I won't picture peaceful settings again. Why tantalize myself? 

Yay America! You are awesome. Today is a grand day for you. On my next trip to Europe, I'll be able to show my passport without feeling guilty.

Scared shitless post-photo. But that's okay, I'm sure everything is fine. 

One final exam finished. That leaves only two. + I have today and tomorrow to study.

Tomorrow:

-is tomorrow

-vaguely important you

Right

Well, obviously. I knew. I have a notorious habit of wanting those I can't have. 

The hour-long speed race down the 405 to San Clemente (during which I was nearly squashed by a Hummer) was made up for by Nigel's sterling host performance and some delicious food. The group showed up after me. They're always great fun. Especially when shrieking from the back of the Wilson family's golf cart as it plummets downhill. And surprisingly, I understand Econ a little better. Another study sesh in the future? As long as Thai food and golf carts are involved, count me in.

Blanketed. Actually, plastic bagged. I feel bad. I thought maybe, maybe. But after seeing that, I'm pretty sure I was incorrect. I guess I would have done something similar, so there may be hope. I'm most likely in way over my head. 

Tomorrow:

-Mom's birthday

-study

-hope

-get excited over a typical act of kindness

Oh

I've had this feeling before. And what happened? Nothing, which is a lot worse than at least knowing. Perhaps I'll just abandon it before my soul explodes. Or this time, make something happen. Not knowing is pure torture, especially when the opportunity to find out speeds through a puddle and disappears, leaving me soaking wet and standing by the road, thumb still outstretched. The smaller those taillights get, the more miniscule I become.

You're a nice person. You really are. People who seem unaware of their positive traits are attractive. I want to be aware of them for you. Because appreciating someone is an ecstatic feeling. Especially if it's mutual. 

I thought up a story that I may convert into a script. It's been a while since I've written one of those.

Can someone teach me how to fiddle? Fiddling is intense. And so impressive. 

Banjo would be a great thing to know, as well.

Tomorrow:

-San Clemente for study sesh

Know:

-fiddling

-banjo

-how i-VTEC works

-holga film

-you

A Jew

walks into a bar. And then drunkenly stumbles into a 7-Eleven. 

Omens? No. Warnings? Yes. Simply depends on how they're viewed. Just keepin' it kosher. 

I am similar to retired old ladies that plan bake sales: occasionally, what I do isn't important in the least; somehow, though, these particular actions infect my existence. Because if the chocolate chip cookies are next to the scones, who will buy the scones? 

Best/future career: food photographer. There are tricks to the trade, however. I hear they use vaseline to make turkeys look more appetizing, and whipped cream? That will melt. Plaster is a much better idea. So no eating most of the time, which is a bummer. But photographing food and making it look as tasty as possible? Still the best paying position I can think of.

Meanwhile, as the drunk Jew looks for some kosher ramen, the middle-aged Latina behind the counter of the 7-eleven swears at the lack of baked goods in the plastic case, reaches into her apron pocket, and places an unidentifiable object on one of the shelves.

Make love. In a bowl. Wear oven mitts. Heat up. Stir. Simmer. Let cool. 

Today:

-songwriting

-maybe?

-find a paying position

Or You'll Hurt Yourself

Be careful what you wish for. You may not get one morsel. Begging and pleading is useless, it's the level of vivacity that makes a difference; precious little in this ugly world comes easily. And that, my friend, is a fact.

Makeshift everything.

Menopause. Why is it happening already? I thought that was more of a middle-age thing. More of a middle-age woman thing. 

Saw Maja and Adriana. That was nice. And again, reassuring. Same case: not missing high school. Because sometimes I have myself slightly convinced I might.

Browatching next Thursday? Yeah, bro. They love my hometown. It's a mecca for bros. Long Beach Town Center, better known as LBTC, is the bro hangspot. It has a Tilly's, an Active, a Pac Sun, a Lids, a Chick-fil-A, and a movie theater. I mean, if you were a bro, where could you go to beat that?

Tomorrow:

-last day of Songwriting 

-clean out head

-do

Non-Chemical Reactions

Chemistry grade is steadily going skyward. Nice, summer-like weather. Lovely photography outing. Today synthesized. 

Play with fire and you get burned. Like me; burnt to a crisp and still smoking out the ears. Maybe this time I'll know. Knowing is so great; it's the only thing worth giving a damn about, because it can be applied to everything. I know what to say and do. But I can still think and dream like I don't know. That's the beautiful part.

I am insoluble, something semi-charmed. 

I really like Banksy. Can't stop image searching his work. I want to go on a Banksy tour.

To Call Up On the Weekend

Reminiscing is great fun. And now I have to see The Princess and the Goblin again. Get Lily and Keanu Reeves to enjoy it with me, perhaps. That shit has to be good on surround sound.

I need to bash a hole in my skull so that the foggy mirror in my mind can clear up, because I hate not seeing myself.

Journalism? It's a thought. If Emerson is in the future, then fu'yeah.

On the weekend it may happen. Not a positive. Time factor. Work factor. Finals factor. Balls factor.

Tonight:

-know chemistry

-know mythology

-catch up on The Office

Tomorrow:

-tests 

-lit mag

-know more chemistry

Water Jar Boy

is my favorite myth. As the main girl is working on her pottery skillz, she gets pregnant from some clay she accidentally puts in her vagina. Then she gives birth to a jar. Except it has eyes and can talk. And somehow everyone knows it's a boy. While out hunting with his grandfather, the jar breaks on a rock and turns into a real boy. Despite his mother's constant explanations that he is from clay, he goes to find his father. Which he does. They argue for a bit, because originating from clay and inexplicably having a father is very confusing.  The father kills the mother, and dad/son live happily ever after.

Love those Tewas.

On another note. . .

What is it that I want? Beat-down blackout blankness. 

Hopefully something greater, grander, titanic.

Teen Drinking Tea

My coughing won't cease. It's absolutely disgusting. I feel like everyone wants me to shut up and crawl to somewhere in a galaxy far, far away. Maybe people are more sympathetic than I think. 

Tons of tea today. I'm on my 5th travel mug. Those things hold a lot of tea.

K. Reeves and I finished our song. It was mighty satisfying. Though I felt pretty idle: since my throat is so sore from all that hacking and completely coated with phlegm, when I attempted to sing, my voice took on the qualities of a pubescent boy's. Thank you, Keanu, for taking over. Bros have never been more understood.

Today Ms. Ngai asked if she would get in trouble if she tutored her own students, and when I answered, "I don't think so," she happily stomped on the ground and replied, "Are you fucking kidding me?" She effortlessly and instantaneously made the transition from high school teacher to high school girl, and it was great to watch.

Chem test: aced. 

Econ test: not aced. 

Tomorrow:

-sick

-study

-?

Clusterfuck

I got a message back. I knew I would. Just needed to be reassured. Pat on the shoulder. There there. Pure comfort, until I start reasoning.

Filmed a movie with Lily and Mason yesterday morning, which was very awesome. I got to show off my acting abilities by playing a shirtless drunk. And the car chase scene kept me on pins and needles. After that, I got to watch Velvet Goldmine. And then I saw Michael, which made me real happy. It was nice to chat with him, I missed doing that. He's so kind. 

Why do people lack the ability to take hints? I really want you to leave me alone now. Seriously. I don't want to resort to being cruel. What else is one to do?

I think three persons like me, which is kind of sad, because I'm not too good at liking back. Not this way. More like not in this position. 

I'm messing up everything. Embarrassing. Really embarrassing. Fuck. I hate the way I handle things sometimes. I wish I had guidance. A friend, a stranger, somebody. 

. . .

Today started off with Labyrinth. Great start to any day. Not a musical, so I tried to understand why David Bowie was singing. But then I understood that he is David Bowie.

Tonight:

-homework

-coughing

-please grow some balls

Tomorrow:

-test

-test

-song-making 

Remember

First observations of 2009:

Trusting with discretion is a good idea.

Leading is better than being lead, in most circumstances.

Leaving flavored tea drinks in a car that is sitting in the sun is incredibly idiotic. Especially if the car is fitted with cloth seats.

Yes, it's the new year. I feel very 2009ish. Changes have already taken place. Oh yeah, last year? That ol' thang? Toss it out with the used shoes.

Las Vegas last weekend. I really was looking to cigar it up. But Dad said no. Being eighteen changed nothing. No gambling, no drinkage. . . Well, I did enjoy a strawberry daiquiri, a pina colada, and a Kronenbourg beer. So some drinkage, but under parental supervision. As for gambling. . . I guess I could take some money and flush it down the toilet. It would probably be similar to using a slot machine. Just no cool lights. 

Las Vegas is an awful, awful place. But the people-watching opportunities and sheer mass and gaudiness of the structures lining the Strip are intriguing enough to make a trip there worthwhile.

Stress stress stress. Why this school year? 

Tonight:

-Lit Mag stuff

-script

-Myth work

-frantic rushing about

Tomorrow:

-more