| (no subject) |
[Jun. 22nd, 2005|10:54 pm] |
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KIM! Add my new journal!!! |
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| And then I woke up and it was all a bad dream |
[Jun. 17th, 2005|11:26 pm] |
Since middle school, my deviation on that cop-out was this:
"And then the cameras and (name of TV host) came out from behind the bushes and told me, 'Don't worry! You're just another contestant on FOX's new reality show, (name of FOX's new reality show)!'"
It worked like a charm every time. Man I would get my characters into some crazy shit before pulling the plug and snorting dorkily as I typed in my (then seemingly witty) ending. "Ho ho, Beth. Good one."
I cried yesterday because of all the stress of having three tests consecutively one after the other starting at 8 AM. Japanese, Chemistry, and Macbeth. It didn't help that I was hacking and oozing phlegm. Anyways, long story short, after my three exams I literally did wake up from my vile dream. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 16th, 2005|02:22 pm] |
So, I wrote two finals today with a nasty cold and allergies.
I have two more tomorrow.
I got a certificate for being a member of the Environmental Club, which I have skipped for the last two weeks. The teacher who runs the club gave it to me sounding disgruntled and resentful. I felt even more disgusting and kind of sad because she probably will never vote for me again.
Today during English I used the Macbeth debate as the vehicle of choice for some major catharsis. I argued a few decibels louder than necessary and cornered the opposition on the definition of "evil". Dictionary.com is not a credible resource, you imbeciles!
Okay, so every other team used it. But hey, whatever happened to opening a book nowadays? Literally.
I'm going to go sit at my desk, drink some warm milk and ponder my existence. Just kidding. I felt like a douche even typing that. |
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| In no particular order |
[Jun. 13th, 2005|08:53 pm] |
1. Lonelily- Damien Rice
2. The High Party- Ted Leo and the Pharmacists
3. Red Right Ankle- The Decemberists
4. Secret Heart- Ron Sexsmith
5. Speak Slow- Tegan and Sara
6. Needle in the Hay- Elliot Smith
Artist number four is my concert devirginator. Oh yes.
Now for the lucky 75% of my friends list that gets to do this.
you you you you you and you (yes you) |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 12th, 2005|11:59 pm] |
I just want this week to be over already.
We'll see how this goes. |
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| Hey it's a celebration |
[Jun. 11th, 2005|06:50 pm] |
I just got back.
My mom and I went out for some coffee at this little café next to the library and shared the biggest freaking cup of caramel moccalattobbq I have ever seen. This cup was almost the size of a full grown cow's udders. I was thinking about that the whole time I spooned up the delicious, foamy whipped topping.
Oh, and my mom also took pictures of me drinking it because I needed to use up the rest of the film in the camera to get it developed. So she just kept taking pictures of me drinking the coffee, mock reading the business section in the newspaper lying nearby, and outside standing next to a large potted plant. The kids waiting in front of the library stared at us, awed by the injustice of it all. Why weren't they cool enough to have THEIR pictures taken in front of the library by their mothers? Life sucks (for them!)
Then we went to the mall, walked around aimlessly and I got my ears pierced. I chose the "simultaneous" piercing option, which supposedly reduced the pain because you get two ears done at once. I am glad I will only have to go through that once, because there was this terrible moment with the two salon-spa ladies standing beside me on each side, with piercing guns at my ears. My mother stood facing me, with no words of condolence to spare. And everything went silent as the lady on my right said, "Are you ready, Karen?"
I wasn't, but Karen was. Ah, the pain was momentary. Isn't that like everything, though? The worst part is the antici....pation.
(And the best part is the Time Warp!) |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 11th, 2005|08:10 am] |
I won the Citizenship Award for my grade at my school's award ceremony two nights ago.
Two other people won because the teachers thought we all deserved it. So, they went onto the stage to hold the trophy and had pictures taken with the principal, vice principal, teachers, janitors, etc. AND I WASN'T THERE.
I didn't bother showing up because I wasn't expecting it. The last time I won anything remotely significant was Top Student for Humanities in grade 9, and it was, well...grade 9. Also, the previous years taught me that on award night I would probably be rewarded half way through with a lovely certificate indiciating my honour roll status and subject excellence in English. But NO, the one year I decide not to come I win not only honour roll and subject excellence (in AP English, of course), I also get the most prestigious award. So, while I missed my few minutes of glory on that stage, I still got to call my mom the next morning after I found out (she didn't know what I was talking about for the first 5 minutes) and got to take pictures holding it in the cramped school office with a huge silly grin on my face and a stupid Ronald McDonald shirt. Thank goodness I didn't forget my black hoodie that morning. My mom couldn't stop gushing to the vice principal about how wonderful I was I excused myself and went to the back to stroke the trophy before putting it back in the box. I think the secretary saw me, but hey, I don't care. I don't win many things.
So next year, I'm going to make sure I show up for things that I don't think are worth the time. Because they might turn out to be worth too much to miss. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 6th, 2005|10:09 pm] |
A FH
h98
D
ZZZZ
;G
S*//
A
32^
T
XA/
8
CTRLALTDLT
A073 = `~
S
This is the pat ter n of my
Tearz as they
Fall from my eyez
On to
the
K e Y B oA Rd
By Hagatha Dorfman, age 14 |
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| Hmm. |
[Jun. 5th, 2005|02:19 pm] |
For the past three weeks my English class has studied Macbeth, with groups of four people reciting each scene. So technically, no one really has to read and analyze any other part of the play except the one they are assigned.
I have no idea what happens between Act II Scene 3 and Act IV Scene 2 because I fell asleep.
However, I would like to imagine the youngest witch goes to California and prophesizes to Michael Jackson that it's not looking so good in the jury room in richly allusive, iambic pentameter. You can't prose through that sort of devastating news. You just can't. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 2nd, 2005|07:05 pm] |
I did not get the job.
Secretly I'm overjoyed because you know what I'm going to do this summer?
BCUME LIETERATE AGEN |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 28th, 2005|11:48 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | creeped out | ] |
| [ | music |
| | grasshoppers | ] |
I just spent 2 hours of my Saturday night walking around to supermarket stores and handing out sponsorship letters to managers. Well, I was with two other girls, so I guess it wasn't completely rock bottom. Life at the bottom of the barrel is not so bad when you've got company.
Oh, and on our way back a granny in the passenger seat of a car opened her door in the middle of a green light and called to us for directions, so being the idiot that I am I went across to her. It turned out she wanted to go to the mall...which was closed because it was 10 PM and also happened to be right across the street, in plain view. It was even creepier when the two girls I was with chided me about trusting anyone (even old ladies) in cars asking for help, since there was that normal looking couple who a few years ago kidnapped, raped and murdered a whole batch of young girls. And now the woman is released from prison and some people want to make a movie about her sordid affairs with Donna from "That 70's Show" acting as her.
I am so creeped out by that old lady. Maybe I should stop being so hard on myself for having really muscular legs, because they would sure come in handy sometime. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 23rd, 2005|07:13 am] |
Okay, the only truthful part of that last post was the new cowboy boots. They are so awesome I made up a whole lurid action movie sequence to accompany it.
I cannot believe school is out in less than a month. My mom will be gone for four months after July 1st because she's going to a remote town in Southern BC, uncomfortably close to Bountiful, the self proclaimed "Polygamy capital of North America." I wonder if they ever visit to hiss at the heathen townfolk and gloat about their ticket to heaven (8+ wives, all under 16 years of age).
But! I applied for a job! It is the sexiest job of all time. Can you guess what it is...?
Note the adjective I used. |
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| Self defence 101 |
[May. 22nd, 2005|02:54 pm] |
Last night was hardcore. I had to jam a red hot metal fire poker into the side of a diseased prostitute in a back alley downtown because her liver was going to explode with bile if I didn't do it, and quick.
With a guttural moan she hunched over, clutching one of her 12-inch stilletto heels, and vomited. Then she died.
So I came home by Skytrain, after playing Skytrain tag with her pimp for 3 1/2 hours. Except he had a SEMI AUTOMATIC.
Anyways, I just woke up. I think I'm going to make myself some tea and clean all this mud, blood, and bile from my new cowboy boots. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 8th, 2005|10:30 pm] |
Speaking of nostalgia, I just saw the new Backstreet Boys video. All that sand beating, drowning in the ocean, and gas station burning in the middle of the desert drama is making me feel ten years old again.
Umm I'm not gonna say anything more because...yeah. You know. |
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| Waxing nostalgic. Indulge me. |
[May. 7th, 2005|10:22 pm] |
A while ago my computer experimented with a wildly promiscuous lifestyle, catching viruses at every turn. This meant I had to reformat the hard drive because I suck at reading instructions (as evidenced here) and I'd rather pound my head against a monstrous ball of solidified lard (at room temperature) than try to "save system settings" or whatever.
Anyways.
This also meant I had to save all of my precious pictures, because they documented basically the highlights of my year. I used to take a lot of pictures, if you recall. During a frenzy of furniture moving today, I discovered in the depths of my computer desk drawer a disc that contained all my saved memories. I had completely forgotten I even made it, but there it was. It had everything. EVERYTHING. Even the stuff my old host server deleted, the memories I thought were obselete. Birthday parties, walks to the park, downtown forays, Rocky Horror night, Operation Emo Fag. Kim, if you're reading this, remember that we knew about emo before every eighth grader mentally developed enough to assemble coherent sentences started wearing chucks and girls' jeans from the Gap.
Lonsdale Quay, April 21st 2004 |
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| Back in my day, they were called sodomites. |
[May. 4th, 2005|08:04 pm] |
Thoughts?
My English class may do a debate on this. I figure this is a good way to see what other people think...although I get the feeling 90% of the replies are going to be gay jokes. That is ok. I actually want to hear your gay jokes because I am sick of doing trig ratios.
SINE THETA COSINE SQUARED HOMO |
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| Under pain of humiliation, death, rape, AIDS and irreversible acne scarring... |
[May. 2nd, 2005|04:42 pm] |
I wrote a three hour English AP Language and Composition test today! If I say anything about it right now an AP test integrity SWAT team is going to bust through my bedroom window and assassinate me on the spot. Such is the severity of not waiting the prescribed 48 hours!
I mean, not that I'd care to discuss it. Like, what's there to say? It's not like I didn't know I sucked at writing timed essays before (HA HA HA).
My predicted score? I'm praying for a three. |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 30th, 2005|10:21 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  amused | ] |
Oh my God!
My best friend has a Xanga. She writes 10 000x better than I do because she spends 10 000+ more hours reading good books and listening to awesome music. She needs to get her little butt onto el jay. You would all adore her, forget about me, and as a result I will make sure your pet rabbit gets cooked in the T Fal pot.
Don't tell me it was a mistake! We share a CHILD now!
Anyways, I met up with her at the skytrain station today, and at Rogers Video we debated whether to rent "The Barbarian Invasions" or "Maria Full of Grace". We decided on the former, because for once a Canadian film was actually the less depressing choice.
The film was alright, but the old people gleefully gabbing about blowjobs I could've done without. Oh, those loose French Canadians. Kim wanted to know how a heroin addict could have such good skin; I second this question. She also claims this is the first French language film she has seen without Gerard Depardieu in it, though I doubt her claim. He was probably an extra.
Hey, I put on makeup for the first time today. Some girl gushed about how nice I looked, as if before my face looked like a manure pile run over by a tractor. Or maybe I am being negative and self depricating.
Pictures? Maaaaaybe. |
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| "Well we've tried hard to make Beth feel just like a normal child." |
[Apr. 26th, 2005|10:34 pm] |
I came in 15 minutes early at lunch to write my practice AP exam. The whole time I was a nervous wreck, thanks to the coffee I drank earlier with 5 tablespoons of sugar (mocha my ass, it tasted like the shitty MJB at my house).
I also skimmed through Professor Strunk and White's (revised) Elements of Style, making notes on how to use a hypen and a dash properly (yes, I admit I never really learned how). I learned more about composition in that one hour free block skimming through this guidebook than I did the whole semester...which was probably why by the time lunch rolled along my flaccid knees could just barely carry me downstairs.
When I first got the paper I started immediately. I had two hours; I was determined to make this one good. By the end I managed to scratch out a bare bones, occasionally illegible essay, and my teacher was already telling me that my mom was waiting outside to pick me up. I smiled, nodded confidently to indicate that Yes I have Finished the AP Essay and Yes I Wrote Four Pages.
AND THEN
As my eyes scan the room I notice that people have flipped the page over. This is when I notice, in italics, the instruction at the top.
Suggested time: 40 minutes
So. There were two more pages. Two more passages, two more essays. I basically spent the whole two hours on one essay when I should've written three.
AND NOW
Mild nausea, lightheadness, the overwhelming urge to project a bestial noise that would make a flock of white doves fly out of a tall tree (preferably near a cathedral) and the new Pope to jolt upright in bed embracing his rosary. So this is dyslexia.
FTW. |
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| Oh no! I suck! |
[Apr. 25th, 2005|09:46 pm] |
Who's taken the AP English Language and Composition Exam?
I was reading over short stories that I wrote when I was 13, and realized that my literacy and creative writing skills have regressed into the size of a small walnut, not unlike the multiple thrombii building up in the major arteries of Kirstie Alley's heart!
Now I am going to go to school tomorrow, write a sample AP essay and get roasted by the teacher. My walnut sized talent roasted over an open fire. Oh, what a fitting ending for a terrible, fire breathing man-beast such as I.
I am going to breathe fire and drink milk straight out of the carton now. And cry. |
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| Walls walls walls walls |
[Apr. 10th, 2005|09:17 pm] |
Garrison mentality.
That's my theme for a "Canadiana" project in English AP. It was one of 20 themes that were compiled neatly on a two sided photocopy based on the expert, up-to-date critiques by Margaret Atwood and Northrop Frye. And by up-to-date I mean the mid 1970s. This is all the insight the photocopy would give me:
"Early settlers built forts for defense from all sides. The resulting feeling is that all strangers are enemies; we must build strong 'individual' walls."
Thus, garrison mentality is "walls".
You have no idea how banal it is to flip through the entire contents of the Canadian Anthology of Literature in English looking for the word "walls". Someone with more time on their hands would delve deeper, but well, that someone is not sitting here whining about it when there are so many better things to do. Oh, and this someone would be a lot more intelligent to do this, because the good marks will probably go to the essay that discusses all the insinuations and nuances and inferences and allusions for the same freaking word: WALLS.
This is like the time I woke up the morning of my logarithms test and the first word that blared into my brain was "LOGS".
LOGS, WALLS, and soon enough, a big B on my math and chemistry midterms if I don't get back on track to studying!
P.S. Nyaaaah. |
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| hover the mouse |
[Apr. 2nd, 2005|10:50 pm] |
( picture entry )
And that was just in case you forgot what I looked like, without a McDonald's bib on. |
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| Regret the day you added this journal. |
[Jul. 10th, 2004|04:40 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | I am speechless at myself. | ] |
During my lifetime I have packed up and moved enough times to make me acutely aware of how socially incompatible I am with my peers. But that's not really news, I just wanted a good opening line. Useless fact: If I got $1.50 for every school I've attended since kindergarten, I'd have enough money to buy a 3 inch Kangaroo scrotum pouch. For the larger ones I'd have to get $3.12 every time, excluding the shipping and handling. But now I've digressed; I'll come back to my birthday wishlist later on.
Despite those forgettable years filled with insignificant aquaintances, I still remember one friend that I can't ever forget. Nigger please, you're saying. This is probably one of those sentimental, BFF entries reminiscing boring shit. Actually, I've tried really hard to repress my memories of this friend, but she's inflicted the kind of long-lasting trauma that needs to find an outlet. I call this outlet: LIVEJOURNAL.
( I'll buy you a kangaroo scrotum pouch for reading this, I promise. ) |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 5th, 2004|07:28 pm] |
Believe it or not, I was more or less oblivious to the sheer number of disgusting teenage livejournals when I first got my account. I was just browsing through ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif?v=88.8) random_review today, and it occured to me that people are overwhelmingly justified in crucifying this journal without even reading a single entry, just from knowing that I'm a 15 year old livejournal user. Yes, brush your incredulity aside. I was very much illusioned with livejournal, stemming from the (stunning) literacy of everyone on my friends list, which created a tighly enclosed, well protected view of the "real" livejournal scene.
So what is the relevance of this discovery? Well, for starters, I've become more self conscious of all my entries. I can almost see the random browser's lip curling in a sneer that grows larger with each grammatical/sentence structure error that they pick up.
( k1nd 0f lYk3 D1s5!! )
On evaluation, my journal is a jumble of run ons, fragments, misuse of punctuation, and more recently- incessant complaining about why life sucks the big one.
So really, why am I on your friends list? Probably because deep down, you know that I am capable of female rape. |
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| I could read forever and ever. Amen. |
[May. 23rd, 2004|07:21 pm] |
Two really great books I read recently:
100 Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
This book is amazing. The prose flows like poetry and when I finished it I wanted to read it over again. It's one of those books that I'll read years from now and discover hidden meanings and subtle nuances I didn't pick up before. Excellent.
The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz by Mordecai Richler
Shit, this is why I have an unhealthy obsession with the Jewish. They are the funniest people alive. Some lines from this book made me burst out laughing, which no author has done since David Sedaris. Oh yes, and the epilepsy magazine made me roll on the floor.
Mordecai Richler is officially the Canadian David Sedaris. Except he totally has his own style and the fact that he is Jewish kicks so much ass.
Okay, now that I'm done soiling these wonderful books, you can proceed to head on over to the library (or to your local bookstore, if you're rich) and obtain these for your reading pleasure. OKAY THANK YOU GOODBYE. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 17th, 2004|10:28 pm] |
I started writing a paper diary yesterday. I've already written in it five times. It's mostly angry, hysterical shit I wrote during a semi-breakdown. The first three entries are on loose leaf paper and when I look at what I wrote just the day before all I can think of is how messy my writing looks. That's something else, but not irony.
I bought a proper notebook for my journal today, though. When I was stapling my first three entries to it at the public library, my sister walked in and saw me. And obviously the notebook. I just told her flat out, "This is my diary." Stupid bitch would find out about it eventually, anyway. I'm not in the mood for suspense and intrigue.
It's now inside my school binder, of all places. I simply cannot think of where else to put it. My sister is alarmingly dexterous at finding hidden things.
So, despite my scribbled writing and sore shoulder muscles (I tense up when writing so fast), I am finding that this paper journal allows me to express my emotions far better than anything else I have ever tried. I can't say that I'm depressed, because I haven't had overpowering and chronic insomnia, suicidal thoughts or lack of appetite. And people who say they are depressed when they aren't should get AIDS and die. Seriously.
I am, however, losing confidence. In everything. Sometimes during science class I find myself muddling through slowly, and I fear grade 11 like the bubonic plague. I am convinced that I am not smart enough to go to the university of my choice, and that I will have to disappoint. Well, at least I won't be on a league of my own.
Everything is so hard to explain, and I write these jumbled thoughts and grade 6 phrases to "Dear Diary".
My friends page is the only thing that made me smile in the past week. |
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| I am becoming a robot |
[May. 16th, 2004|10:42 am] |
| [ | music |
| | The Smiths- Asleep | ] |
I've decided to take Math 11 during summer school. That means a lot less stress come next September. Fie, I miss the summer of 2003.
I volunteered at this cultural diversity fair my club organized yesterday. There was cultural food served every half hour, with performances from various local groups. There was this one Korean teenage boy band that was incredibly loud and not very good. The really hilarious part was this one cafeteria table of teenaged Korean girls that screamed every 3 minutes, while holding up signs. Just think of the "Hey Ya" video, except all the girls in the audience are Korean, and there is only about 10 of them. The white people looked very bored.
I am scared. People think that somehow, I have the organizational abilities to run the club next year. Well, technically I can't run it, since a grade 12 does that job. But basically if I become vice president next year, it means I'll be president in grade 12. I was already stressed out to the maximum, given two weeks to find four restaurants who could donate to our event. Leadership and responsibility is best left to people unlike me.
I was talking to Kim last night on the phone, and somehow Kevin Bacon came up. Now, along with Pulp Fiction and The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Six Degrees of Seperation has been added to our movie list for that elusive all nighter we plan to spend sometime in the future. I will quote it forever and ever. |
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| Dead leaves finally raked. |
[May. 5th, 2004|11:08 pm] |
I just found out that my formerly hosted blog has been erased, permanently. Frankly, I am not too heartbroken. Although it would've been nice to preserve some of my terrible boring archives (for the sheer novelty), I'm afraid I am now forced to find a new host (bigdisgustingphlegmcoughhack) in order for this sad parade to resume.
In other news, I think I am becoming a beatnik. Earlier this evening, while rifling around in my sister's closet, I found a close fitting black turtleneck (à la Audrey Hepburn in Funny Face) and tried it on. At this moment I am still wearing it, and enjoying it immensely.
Now all I need to do is get a job so that I can pay for all my overpriced lattés and handheld drum set. |
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| I'm Asian, it makes no difference |
[May. 4th, 2004|09:18 pm] |
My mom likes to tell me often that when I was a baby, I slept so well and was so mild mannered, she assumed I was mentally retarded. Well, two things haven't changed since then: people still assume I'm mentally retarded, and sleeping is still my number one activity. The latter is increasingly bothersome to me, because my body simply cannot function unless I have an adequate amount of sleep from the night before. This equates to me slumbering off in my 8 AM and long block afternoon classes, in full view of my teachers. I just can't help it- my motor skills literally shut themselves down...and before I know it, I have fallen asleep for 15 minutes until my partner elbows me sharply as the teacher walks by. Note to self: I must seriously invest in some dark coloured paper to camaflouge the pools of drool.
I am not a regular coffee drinker, as I have a strange phobia of becoming (for lack of a better term) "immune" to it. My theory is, if I drink too much of it on a regular basis starting now, my body will adapt to the caffiene. And then university will come swinging around the corner, and I will have to turn to heroin or an abusive relationship to keep myself awake during lectures.
I tried drinking tea tonight, and it actually made me drowsy. So really, I had no choice. I brewed myself a dark cup of coffee and drank it all down, jolting myself wide awake and alert enough to write this stupid entry.
Oh, screw this. I'm tired of being a coffee hag. My growth stunt begins TODAY. |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 30th, 2004|11:25 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | vaguely disappointed | ] |
When my dad left for Korea last summer, he left us (of all things) a sewing machine. No child support cheques, no phone call from the airport. None of that. He left a fucking sewing machine that cost him $300. And he was barely making rent.
Since then, I haven't heard from him. My guess is, he's never coming back. Good luck, whatever you're doing ("dad").
It was only tonight that I actually consummated my longstanding, vague plans to do something with that sewng machine. So I dusted it off and brought it up from the basement into my room, figuring I'd finally be able to master the elusive perfect stitch that still haunted me from Grade 8 home economics class. Unfortunately, fitting the bobbin into the sewing machine consumed an excruciating 25 minutes, involving countless curse words and copious amounts of thread gone to waste. I was dizzy with delight when my mongoloid brain finally disovered the solution. It was much like the feeling I got after solving a particularly trying math problem, although the euphoria is only momentary in both cases.
Worn down plenty by my wrestling with the bobbin, I thought about quitting. And then I rebuked those thoughts. I quit too easily, too soon. I never have the motivation to go further or try as soon as an obstacle comes in my way. This is why I procastinate sometimes- my low tolerance for frustration. I hate myself for having such a deplorable trait, my propensity for mediocrity, even in a petty situation such as this.
And, it reminds me a lot of someone. Someone who left last summer, out of impatience and unmotivation. Someone who failed at everything in life. A constant disappointment. A quitter.
So I guess I can sort of thank my dad for helping me realize some things about myself. It's probably the most he's ever done. |
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| Toodles, freedom. |
[Apr. 25th, 2004|04:20 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | ADD children screaming outside | ] |
I'm feeling really crappy today. My disgusting cold symptons persisted once again this morning, just when I thought they were gone for good. As a result, I had to be driven to the clinic and read a 6 month old issue of People magazine for 20 minutes while I waited. After, when I was waiting for my mom to come pick me up, these two little brothers were horsing around and giggling, with the older one swinging his younger brother's arms and making funny noises. It was so touching and loving that I smiled enough to wipe the scowl off my face. These kids ought to be put on a poster to fight stereotypes against children being horribly rude and violent little fuckers. Anyways, my point is, if my kid turns out to have ADD or shit, I'm giving that little hellion up for adoption.
And in other news.
It's totally not fair that while it looks like this ( outside ), I have to stay in and do ( this ).
And before I forget, I've officially signed off my soul.
( what have I done ) |
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| Solution. |
[Apr. 25th, 2004|08:13 am] |
Alright, after a night of peaceful sleep I've decided that I will get a new journal, which I will definitely NOT visit from school. Ever. Again. But I won't be deleting this journal, because I want to keep all my photologs intact.
So now I need some new journal name suggestions.
Something that says, "Betho" with a definite Jewish vibe. Or whatever you can think of that would best fit my kind of journal.
MAYBE I SHOULD JUST START POSTING QUIZ RESULTS ABOUT WHAT TYPE OF STD I AM. |
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| Paranoid. |
[Apr. 24th, 2004|11:04 pm] |
Okay. So I have a bit of a dilemma on my hands. I recently discovered a livejournal of someone who graduated from my school last year. Well, no big deal. But. As I clicked through links, I then accessed a livejournal of someone who is presently attending my school right now. Whoa. Let me just quote Jon Stewart here for a second.
"You have been sent here, to BLOW. MY. MIND."
Well, just ignore the "You have been sent here" part, and focus more on the blowing of the mind. When I first started this livejournal, I never knew how prevalent it was. As moronic as this sounds, I never imagined I would ever find a livejournal of someone that goes to my school. It was quite disorienting to read about this person's daily life, and even more so their fine selection of John Mayer favourites. In fact, I even saw a few names I recognized in an entry. This was when I realized how accessible my daily ramblings and thoughts were through this livejournal. Granted, I don't pour out my deep dark secrets in public entries (I rarely even do so in my friends-only ones), but I still find it disconterting to think that someone from my reality (i.e. school) may come across this. This also isn't simple paranoia, because I have a class in which I visit my livejournal frequently under a general account, meaning I (stupid idiot moron) made it pretty much open to anyone who types in the letter "l" on the address bar.
So, now I am considering my options.
1. Make this journal friends only. I probably won't do this because I'm way too goddamned lazy to bother constantly checking back. And plus, it always makes me cringe when I see friends only journals with like, two people who want in (ha ha, I'm guessing I'll have 0).
2. Make a new account, and make all entries here friends only. Unless there's a way I can transfer all my old entries into my new journal.
3. fill in the blank I ran out of what the hell to do. Can someone help?
It's hard to explain why I feel so paranoid. Mostly because I want to keep my realities seperate. This is my sanctuary, damn it. |
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| Just a phase, trust me. |
[Apr. 24th, 2004|02:41 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | snotty and disgusting | ] |
My head feels as if it's filled with soggy cotton balls. Yesterday I took a short nap and when I woke up my throat was parched and burning. And then it was all downhill from there.
You may want to know why I am posting so many pictures lately; it's simply because I have a lot of time on my hands at the moment, and I have recently rediscovered my love for taking stupid random pictures. But really, I'll stop all this nonsense soon and start writing some more thoughtful, relavent entries.
Oh but wait, this just in. This journal was never thoughtful or worth reading in the first place.
( omfg you can't be serious )
P.S. I got a new AIM name. Message me in my time of sickness and need. I actually feel like chatting, for once. |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 23rd, 2004|05:56 pm] |
Yesterday during science class I dropped my eraser on the floor, behind my chair. As I reached down to get it, I saw a flash of something unfamiliar on the lower backside of my seating partner, between her jeans and tee shirt. It was a thong, peeking out from the top of her jeans. Actually, now that I think about it, there was at least a good three quarters of an inch showing.
Now you must be wondering why I am relating this seemingly uninteresting event, and mentally readying yourself for some lame lesbian wisecrack (either from me, yourself or ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=88.8) jubileslie.) The thing is, my seating partner is an introverted Asian girl with glasses this thick (| |), who never wears anything other than jeans and a neck high tee shirt. So naturally my eyes widened to comical proporations when I saw her red thong with a cherry on the middle at the back. At this rate, I'll have nothing to hold to by the time I am finished with high school. We'll see, we'll see.
Alright, now you can insert lame lesbian wisecrack here. |
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| References not availiable upon request |
[Apr. 22nd, 2004|11:04 pm] |
Gah.
I'm supposed to be writing my resumé right now, but I find myself at a loss for words. Literally. The only real volunteer experience I have ever had has been at that senior care home, where I am frequently late because I couldn't catch the bus. This resumé is really for a wildlife organization that is recruiting teens over the summer to do God knows what. My mom told me about it a few weeks ago, but I forgot all about it until today, when she demanded I write a resumé and apply. And to tell you the truth, I really do want a job, to fill up my gaping spare time and make some money to support my intravenous drug habits. But I am hardly the exceptional employee: limited experience, crippling inability to deal with children (and aren't animals and children the same damn thing), and that awful tendancy of mine to miss a bus or two. God, I don't even think I'd hire myself, if I were an employer.
However, I suppose I have some better points. Other than seniors, retards and kids I can pretty much socially interact as well as anyone else. I am also fifteen, and able to read and write the English language proficiently. Come on, that has GOT to count for something. Oh, and I can count too.
Well.
Selling yourself is harder than it looks, unless you're Rita MacNeil. And annoyingly enough, I am constantly thinking back to the time in grade 8 where we had to write our resumés for CAPP. Under extra curricular activities, all I wrote was "Origami club, grade six."
I am very, very tempted to do the same for this one. |
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| Five to ten |
[Apr. 22nd, 2004|12:45 am] |
| [ | Tags | | | downtown | ] |
| [ | mood |
| | fuck my neck hurts | ] |
I left the house at exactly five thirty five today, armed only with my trademark one megapixel, two hundred pound camera (which I have yet to name, suggestions welcome), and a backpack containing a Chuck Palahniuk (Paula-Nick) novel and my one month transit pass. It's been awhile since I had an adventure, and I mean a real adventure where you don't exactly know your destination, but you just say, "The hell with it" and go anyway. So I took the bus and headed Westbound (Downtown).
Here is everything I saw and felt and loved about this day.
( 49 ) |
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| it's been awhile |
[Apr. 20th, 2004|07:46 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  nostalgic | ] |
I had such a long, good chat online today. You know, one of those 2 1/2 hr ones that keeps on flowing. Anyway, Sara is the cat's pajamas. Check out her photos.
And and and, there was talk of my very first online meetup. This is really cool and I think everyone should come over to celebrate. Even the leper. |
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| Rocky Horror Night Recap |
[Apr. 15th, 2004|10:38 pm] |
Hello, hello. I have had quite the eventful day today, starting with the fact that after school, a female aquaintance came out as bisexual to my friend and I. I was slightly taken aback, since later on she told us she wasn't very comfortable sharing her sexual orientation with people, and she told me everything as if I were her best buddy or something. I suppose I might be able to infer from this that I seem to be a very reliable and trustworthy person, since she found it appropriate to tell me everything she normally doesn't tell others. Pfft, or maybe I'm getting way too much narcissistic pleasure out of this and I should stfu, kthx.
Anyway, as soon as I came back from school I got dressed in my most crazy outfit (it took me a lot of effort to look so hideous) and took the bus and skytrain straight to Kim's school, where she was holding the event. And here I am now, back from Rocky Horror Night, which satisfyingly kicked my butt.
Just a warning: a lot of the pictures I took turned out this way. OH WELL.
( Take a step to the left... ) |
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| Rocky Horror Night |
[Apr. 15th, 2004|08:49 am] |
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Man, I'm so excited for tonight. Kim has planned a Rocky Horror Night at her school with all her cronies, and I got invited (for free, nigger!). It's basically a screening of the film, except with some live action dancing (!!!) and interactive audience-type activities in between. I'm advised to come dressed as a character from the film, but since I don't own a wheelchair, I don't know how I'll successfully manage my ensemble as Dr. Everett Von Scott. Fiddlesticks, another chance to manifest one of my sexually perverted fantasies lost, due to my lack of infirmary equipment. |
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| No el jay cut for you motherfuckers |
[Apr. 13th, 2004|05:56 pm] |
HA HA HA HA HA.
Yeah, like I'd donate my spare change to a group of swarthy, illiterate Christian teens looking to get wasted in LAS ANGELES, USA.
This made my day. |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 13th, 2004|07:07 am] |
Yeah, because this journal is getting so fucking depressing.
Vancouver Art Gallery. I swear, I've never seen the front of it before.
( More. ) |
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