Quite frankly, You people are a bunch of bullshit.

I seriously love all my friends, but come on. I thrive off of trying new things. That’s when my inspiration, motivation and overall mood are at their highest. So don’t try to shove me in a box I don’t even fit in.

That said, tomorrow I’m going to the Bellydance Interest meeting and am also trying to make it to the Swing Club more often. I’m thinking about minoring in dance. I’m trying to go to my school’s Hong Kong campus for at least a quarter. Eventually, I will find a way to play with minimal makeup and be a total diva whenever I feel like it and other days spend being a total bum.

I’m going to do what I want, and people are going to get off my case about it.

Thank you, that is all. Have a splendid morning, day, evening AND night.

Sooo…lately I’ve been trying to learn Contact Juggling. If you’re unfamiliar with what this is, go give the Labyrinth with David Bowie another watch.

Anyhoo…I’ve just been kind of on and off practicing and watching a lot of videos. I mostly just do it while I’m browsing the internet and listening to music, since I don’t want to get too into it indoors and break something really special and fragile.

Well, today I was practicing, kind of minding my own business off in my own little world while I listened to some old 80′s tracks (don’t judge!). I hit my brother…a few times with the ball, and eventually he got all mad. Not only at the fact that I was practicing inside, but also at the fact that I was even bothering to begin with.

*sigh* My brother’s been such a jerk lately. I see no problem with learning new things and enjoying myself, even if he thinks otherwise. He seems to be under the impression that there’s no such thing as having fun. And if these were the dark ages, he’d likely be one of those men running around accusing anyone that was so much as smiling of being a witch and having them burned.

But! Unsupportive family problems aside, I decided I should go ahead and practice outside before I dropped the ball on one of the cats or it flew into the china cabinet or something. Made sense. Even if it’s made of rubber, it’s still got a good weight to it.

So there I was, outside…messin’ around and failing miserably at everything, ’cause…well..more than like ’cause I just downright suck, but I’ll blame it on the time (2:30 am anyone?). And I’m dropping it all over…it even rolled uphill!

And then…it happened. I finally dropped it, and couldn’t catch it before it rolled away.

Down the sidewalk.

Onto the street.

Under the cars.

Into the gutter.

I could really only stand there, and listen as it bounced it’s way down…and down…and roll…and further down….and then I heard a soft drop, and knew it was gone.

So…seeing as I have no money and I’ll likely get chewed out if I ask my dad for money to replace the ball (I can just hear him now. “Ya know, there are much more important things to be spending money on! What are you going to do when you have to pay your debts from college? You’re supposed to be spending money, not spending it on ever whim! Besides, your grades are more important, you should focus on schoolwork first before you go off and play”).

Yup. My own little nightmare, come to life. I lost the only ball I had and have no way to replace it. It.is.SO UPSETTING. I was having so much fun, too…

Okay. So. I am a bum. Total and complete bum. Bum bum bummy bum of bumminess. Except, of course, when opportunity offers me a way to make myself feel as horrible as possible.

By that I mean: I have THE WORST workout habits possible. I’ll forget to eat beforehand (honestly forget), decide I don’t need water, and push myself to new levels. …And the new levels bit is not always a good thing.

Take today, for example:

I woke up at 2. AM. No reason. But I was mad hungry. Yet I waited. Because my family would be waking up soon enough as well. 6 am rolls around and after spending hours looking at clothes and hair (no explanation needed, back off), I finally go downstairs and join the morning people in my family for some food. I grabbed yogurt and granola, and an english muffin with margarine and a couple glasses of Orange Juice. Pretty good so far.

Satisfied, I go back upstairs to my room and chill for a few hours, since now that I’ve risen and eaten I can’t go back to sleep. To get myself moving, since I’m overly aware of my bumminess (and decreasing muscle supply…), I push myself to get down and do a few pushups, some sit ups, and do a bunch of plies and releves (old ballet exercises whoooo).

A few more hours go by, and I think I may be starting to feel hungry again. But I’ve been eating unnecessarily for a while, so I hold off and get myself ready to go down to the basement for a bit of working out. I promise myself it won’t be too much, I just need to get back into moving.

So what do I do? I hit the “Competition Program” button on the Elliptical, just like the first time I used it. Except the difference between then and now is that I was definitely in better shape then. I push myself through, listening to my ipod, and enjoy that feeling of a thorough workout.

…but I kept going.

……..and going.

………and I was starting to feel sore…..but I kept going.

And then all hell broke loose in my abdomen and with 19 minutes left on the clock for a 45 min workout, I forced myself to stop and then experienced cramps far worse than my usual menstrual cramps. I then proceeded to attempt to stretch, roll over onto my stomach, and die. Right there, drenched in sweaty grossness on the carpet. I swear I could feel every cat hair shed rubbing into my face…and I did not care at all. Because I was in serious pain.

About 10 minutes later, I forced myself up, grabbed a clean towel for showering, and then went straight to the kitchen for a banana. That banana….oh my lordy. It worked better than pain killers would have. And it was tasty. Very, very tasty. Then I grabbed a water bottle, and made myself a PB&J sandwich. Yum. Then shower.

…And that was my experience. NEW LEVELS OF PAIN. Whoopie. I’m glad I forced myself to stop. If I’d kept going, I’m sure I’d have gone beyond pain right into sickness and just passing out. Ugh.

Yes. My workout habits need SERIOUS work. I try. But somehow a normal workout never feels like enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

IN OTHER NEWS!

Umm…there isn’t really any news. Besides that I no longer care at all about my phone. It just sits around now, only on because my dad will get seriously peeved if I leave it off and he need to contact me for some reason (usually something stupid like, “Just checking in! How are you? …oh by the way….[insert nagging here]” It’s not like I actually use it. No one calls me, so I never call anyone. And..ya. Phones are pointless.

And I really need a haircut. I hateeee my hair. To the point where I’m prone to random outbursts of “I SHOULD JUST SHAVE IT ALL OFF! I’LL BE BALD! MWAHAHAHAHA!”

That is all. Goodbye.

Trash duty. So….yay! Been a good day I guess. Just felt kind of sick.

But somehow, the added stress never seems to make me work harder. Or…it does. But it doesn’t break my habits of procrastination. And I KNOW I’m not alone in that.

Why?

Because nobody wants to sit down and read a boring book about how Plato portrayed Socrates and then write a 15 page paper on it. Nobody really wants to sit down and draw themselves 50 times before getting started on the final self portrait (50 times? Who are they kidding? Why 50? What the heck. So unnecessary). Nobody wants to wake up 3 hours earlier than usual in order to make it to a test that’s scheduled two hours before the class time.

So what do we do? We rebel. For as long as we can before we’re finally broken and realize that it would take a miracle to get all this work done. And somehow, we manage to push ourselves through it, staying up all night through whatever means possible (frequent midnight snacks, cups of black tea, energy drinks, caffeinated soda, loud music, force of will) and make the miracle happen. The projects somehow get finished, the essays printed out.

Of course, then there’s the stress of getting it to school. Every semester, I find that getting my papers written is only half the battle. I always get a paper jam, run out of paper, lose my stapler, find there are no staples, forgot to type in my name and no pens are working, and then hit every red light on the way to school. Yes. This is every semester. This morning, I got my project finished (finally), and then spent about 5 minutes finding clothes to wear, and then hit every red light possible on the way to school and ended up behind every driver on the road that decided today was a good day to drive 10 miles under the speed limit (and where I’m from, that alone would piss off anybody).

So, as I’m typing, I’m avoiding reading said book about Plato’s portrayal of Socrates. Not that I don’t like Socrates and all. Not that I don’t like Plato’s dialogues (they actually turned out to be interesting, once I got around to reading them). I just hate this book. It reads worse than a text book. And I have to write 15 pages on it, identifying 3 arguments and describing them without my opinion. Of course I’m avoiding it. And then I’ll look at the clock in a little bit, think “OH HOLY @#($#(@)$*#@)($*@!!!!!” and get to work. And I’ll force myself to be up all night while feeling slightly feverish, and I’ll probably be working up until I have to turn it in at 12:30 tomorrow (if it were due at 8, I’d probably be working by now). And then I have to work on my german workbook, which isn’t really that bad, but if I feel as sick as I think I will tomorrow, I am not going to be happy at all.

Oh and forget that extra credit I was gonna do for this class. I put that off so now it’s not happening. I know it isn’t.

-Vitamins: flintstones shaped tablets really does make a difference

-Eating toaster pancakes…….without the syrup

-Getting hugs

-Sushi

-Seafood in general (though I still refuse to eat anything with little fishies staring back up at me)

-Latin Dancing: as in the shake-your-booty-like-there’s-no-tomorrow kind. I’ve always wanted to learn Flamenco, though.

-Dressing up: ..okay. I used to love dressing up. But it somehow lost it’s appeal when I got older. Perhaps I secretly like it…>.>

-Getting no sleep

-Getting too much sleep

-Having people do random nice things for me: as much as I reject offers, it’s kinda nice when people do it anyway…XD

-Green Beans

-Vegetables in general

-Rap: still dislike a lot…but it’s not SO bad. It’s not the rap itself I don’t like….I just don’t like a lot of the content, which is the same content I refuse to listen to in any genre.

-Cooking and Cleaning: something about being away from my parents that makes me a much more responsible person

-Soymilk

-Wine

-Going out, making friends, and being a bit more open about myself. =]

Read Story Here!

Yup. Taking the concept of Guitar Hero and combining it with Chopin’s music, these people are creating a game known as “Music Master: Chopin.” This includes taking Chopin’s music, and remixing it to support vocals and rock arrangements (most likely meaning guitar and drum).

So, imagine pressing buttons  to the time of a rock arrangement of:

Hmm…I’m not so sure about that.

And then, of course, there’s this lovely cartoon that I recall hanging on the office door of the Orchestra room.

Really, guys. It was only a joke. You didn’t need to take them seriously.

Of course, I haven’t actually seen the game yet. But so far, I’m sensing that something meant to honor Chopin is going to backfire and make a great joke of him. I have nothing wrong with his usage in video games. I love Eternal Sonata. I like running around, completing pieces of the story and other quests in search of a few more measures of music and getting to listen to another piece while I learn a little more about the person behind it. What I’m on the edge about is turning his music into something it was never meant to be.

I’m not really sure where I fall in those groups. What I remember of my childhood is mostly good, or masked over with good emotions, because I simply chose to not pay any attention to all the times I was bullied. Actually, I have a huge chunk of my childhood memories just missing. And I know, people say that memories fade over time, and I get that. But when my memories are still pretty good from when I was four, and I can’t remember much of anything after that until I moved here when I was 8…and even then only some until Robinson…. it gets frustrating. I mean, I don’t expect to remember every day of my life from the time I was born. But I’d like to know that I did more than watch Sailor Moon and go to school and do homework. Hell, I recently learned that me and my brother were huge anime kids. Neither of us have ANY recollection of it besides the one or two shows we were mad-obsessed with (for example Sailor Moon, which I watched every day up until it was canceled on Toonami).

I guess it just makes me wonder what my childhood must have really been like, for me to entirely forget portions of it. Especially portions that existed on a weekly basis, and possibly more often than that. I never even remember my parents having issues until the fight in Alabama. So, I mean…that’s kind of a big deal, right?

So…ya. I guess that’s just what’s on my mind right now. Lack of memories. Kinda depressing, I know. But on a more upbeat note, my mom seems to remember the names of a number of anime we watched (oddly enough, the shows my friends all seem to have watched and I was like “…I never got that as a kid, ’cause my dad hated the stuff”…by the way, not even listening to a plot description rang a bell…=/ ). Soooo, I’ve been on youtube a bit.

And just for some convenience, some of the shows my mom named:

Record of Lodoss Wars (what I’m watching now. Major D&D likeness)

Ranma 1/2

Ah! My Goddess

Gundam

Ghost in the Shell

Sailor Moon

Magic Knight Rayearth

….and I’m sure a bunch more from some of the stuff I’ve seen on our video tapes…XD

Too bad the weather’s gotten cold again. I can’t wait ’till Friday. Weather’s supposed to get a bit warmer. I had a slight fever, too, for a couple days. It was just a never-ending shiver and was highly irritating. So I gave in and checked my temperature to make sure..and..ya. Whatever. I think it’s passed now.

And…Spring is NEW BEGINNINGS! And Change! And such. Which I think I need. I need major changes in myself. And hopefully my friends can help me out a bit. Mental breakdowns are totally uncalled for, in my opinion. I don’t want to feel like that again. And I’m glad Neka was able to call me out on my inner-consciousness’s B.S. So…thank you dearly and I loves you! And I know I probably hurt a lot of people…and…it’s just stupid. I don’t know why I act up like that. ….wait. It’s ’cause I lose all sense of reasoning. Right. Got it.

So, ya. As another friend pointed out. Change needs to happen. And she’s right. So….if you don’t see me changing my bad habits, feel free to walk up to me and punch me in the face. =D

I haven’t read this book in years, but it’s already had a much longer lasting impression on me than any other book I’ve read. I had to read it for my 10th grade English class, and I’ll admit that I did not originally want to read it. The description we were given basically said that Mitch Albom was a sports journalist and Morrie was his mentor. And..well…that didn’t sound very interesting at all to someone who was as little involved with sports as she could be (minus Tae Kwon Do, which unfortunately gets a bit overlooked as a sport). So, ya. I had handed in my choices with everyone else for what books to read…and this book was maybe my second to last choice. So when I was told that I had to read this book, I was kinda like “Wtf?”

But I’m glad I did.

Tuesdays with Morrie is a beautiful book about life and death. Mitch meets up with his old college professor, Morrie Schwartz, who has been diagnosed with ALS (Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis), which is a disease that causes gradual paralyzing of someone’s entire body until they either die from being unable to breathe or from the paralyzing of their brain. And while I doubt this is a disease anyone would ever want and embrace with joy, Morrie still seemed to keep himself in higher spirits. The book is filled with Mitch’s conversations with Morrie and speculations about them, leaving you to speculate about them as well. After all, Morrie speaks nothing but truths about life. Even if you wouldn’t have found them yourself, you know they’re true.

All in all, this book as much life changing as it was for the author. I actually really want to re-read it, but it seems to have disappeared since I lent it to my dad and stepsister to read, who caught an interest in it as I was reading it. I would, of course, really like it back, seeing as it also has my old annotations from English class in it. It’s possibly the first book I could just think of without looking at my bookshelf (seeing as it’s missing anyhow) that I knew I wanted to take with me when I leave.

So, yes. Read this book! It’s beautiful! And I’d love to read some of Mitch Albom’s other books. Especially The Five People You Meet In Heaven, since I only saw the movie a few years ago and I’d much rather read the book before rewatching it. And if you go to his site, you’ll see on the front his newest book titled Have a Little Faith. I think I may look into that as well.

So, I leave for now on a bit of rediscovering some of Morrie’s life lessons (with the internet to guide me since my book is missing…and I’ll say it again for good measure…MY BOOK IS MISSING AND IT IS HIGHLY UPSETTING). In the mean time, I feel particularly daring and may tempt fate myself with a little dose of feigning my own death. Except…not really. Just my words of choice for saying I’m disappearing for a while from contact.

So…ADE! Auf Weiderschauen! Bis Bald! Salut! And….so on and so forth!