The act of writing calms me. That is the reason why I write. I don't write to entertain, or I want to preach to a bigger audience, I write so I stay sane. Since talking to real people is unlikely, writing to myself is a better way of therapy. No excess emotional garbage to dump on some innocent ones, and the words are chosen much more deliberately than I can ever be when I speak.

Me, me, me, I, I, I.

If not here then where?

The biggest justification for the self-obsession, I beg you to forgive.

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Which matters more, the subject matter or the writing style?

Just thought of this today, regarding writing and reading. Mostly from a reader's point of view, it's a toss-up for me. I like to read things that may be mundane, but if it's written in a interesting style, then I'd still be captivated. On the other hand, if the subject matter at hand is already interesting, then no further embellishment is needed for me to stay interested. From a writer's point of view, however, it's probably easier to write about something that is interesting in the first place, than to spend time on polishing something dull into a fun-to-read work.

Speaking of interesting (note the transition here), something I saw on 24 today yaleshmale. What people would do to grab your attention, sigh.

Nothing against Dubya, you know, but he does leave himself pretty vulnerable to attacks, not unlike Mr. Chen of Taiwan. Then again, the alleged fact that his family is taking bribes, it doesn't necessary have anything to do with his leadership and presidency, then why the big fuss over impeaching him? Rashomon I say, it's all a big rashomon, and not at all like Clinton's bjay.

For the definition of rashomon please click here.

I have got to stop starting my blog entries with the phrase "The other day." There's two in a row, and I feel so uncreative.

(Wait, is that even a word?! Shame.)

Today I will touch on the subject of "my favorite things." It's a tool that we all use to get to know somebody. Ever since my first day at Japanese class, we learned how to say, "I like (blank)," or "My favorite (blank) is (blank)." It is a crucial component of one's definition of "self", what one likes. Or what one hates, depending on the mood. Even I have used this tool to come up with conversation topics with new partners, such as "What's your favorite movie?", "What kind of music do you listen to?", as if these answers can actually bring us to a better understanding of each other. But I digress.

My favorite flower is hibiscus. I like it so much that that will be my choice tattoo. If I ever get a tattoo, it'll be a hibiscus flower. I like it for sentimental reasons. When I was in Japan, it was summer, everywhere you see there are these stylized hibiscus flower designs, on sticker pictures, what have you. I've grown to associate it with Japan=summer=happiness.

My favorite band is Glay, of all time. It's the first band I've ever paid attention to, followed them with a zeal, and though I never learned all their lyrics, I do have their concert videos and dvds. The kind of rock/pop will forever be my genre. I don't know why I fell in love with them in the first place, perhaps for their androgynous make-up they had at the time and their over-the-top makeup and costumes. The music is good too.

My favorite book is Little Prince. It still is. Again, I read it while I was in Japan, and it touched me immensely. I was obsessed with that book. So simple, so fragile. I can't read it now, I'm much too calloused for it.

My favorite Japanese drama is Long Vacation. Sigh, KimuTaku when he was youthful and scrawny, and he played the piano. What's not to love?

This is precisely why I can never carry on a conversation regarding these topics with people at work. Try telling the peach that my favorite Japanese drama is Long Vacation, there is so many riddles with that sentence I don't think the peach will get it. You must be of a certain culture and a certain age to understand what I'm talking about. And that is why I lie when it comes to these things. Well, maybe not about the flower, that part is easy enough. But the parts like favorite music, (rock), I never elaborated. A little secret, I only started listening to Nirvana after Glay revealed in an interview that their choice album of the year (2000 I think?) was a compilation of Nirvana's greatest hits. I'm so easily influenced.

Yet another installment of total pointless blog. I just feel like I gotta write something, you know, albeit all garbage.

The other day I was talking to an angel, and we were talking about how outside of work, neither one of us are the outgoing type. She said she is extremely shy, I thought that was not possible, because she would chat to customers and generally make everyone around her very comfortable. She thought I was outgoing, because I would tell stories about my get-togethers with people from Aberdeen. I usually say yes if people from work invited me to something, because those people know how to have a good time, it's easier to go along with them. Whereas if it's with my own friends (count them, 3, three people), I can turn them down with stupid reasons like, "I'm watching TV."

We also talked about friends, or in my case, a lack of friends. She asked me what do I do if I felt frustrated or anything, just basically need to let out some steam. My answer was, just bottle it up, bottle it all up. How unhealthy, non? But that's what I'm used to. The logic behind it is that, it's so selfish to be talking about one's feelings, and dumping the emotional garbage on another person. I find it utterly unnecessary, and accomplishes nothing. That is why I don't talk about my feelings AT ALL with any other person.

What do I do then, if I reach my limit? First of all, I have no limit, I have a very high tolerance for emotional garbage. Secondly, I write blogs, like I do now. Which is probably why I really don't mind if no one comes to see my blog, because I know it's garbage anyway. Why would anyone want to read garbage is beyond me. Pity.

The other day I had a review with my manager. Under "maintain a calm exterior during periods of high volume" she gave me a 2 (middle mark). Her reason was, while I do remain extremely calm during busy periods, but sometimes I am TOO calm, and not showing that sense of urgency.

For example, we'd be out of coffee for brewing. She would inform me of that, and my reaction would be, "Oh, okay. In that case we can either grind up some whole beans, or we can start calling other stores." Upon seeing that reaction (or a lack thereof), my manager would often wonder, "Does she understand the urgency of these things?" -- is what she said to me.

Well of COURSE I understand the urgency, I just don't see why I got to panic at every little thing. And often times when these things happen, someone would ALREADY be panicking, I tend to be even calmer when someone panics. These things always blow through, I don't sweat things like that ... besides it's not like I don't get things done or solved, they do get done/solved. So I really didn't understand what exactly am I supposed to be like when busy periods hits or we have "situations". It's hard to say.

Going down the list, when it came to "providing legendary service to customers," I put down a 2 for myself. I said my service was adequate but it wasn't legendary. My manager asked what could I have done to make it legendary. I thought about it and I said, perhaps I could talk to them even more than I already do... (sigh) In case you don't know, I really don't like to talk, especially to strangers. I am really a very dull person, and I run out of topics easily; plus I don't find silences unbearable. My manager thought that's true, I could talk to the customers more, get to know them. Act more excited, more enthusiastic. I said that's not in my nature, I don't act excited. She then asked me, when was the last time you were excited, you were passionate about something? I cannot recall. I just don't. So we let that pass, very awkward. My manager said that she thought she was mellow, but she is nothing, compared to me.

Mellow, sure, okay. Whatever. I just think of myself as emotionless, and very reactionary. But if you want to call that mellow, fine by me.

Natalie Portman appeared in SNL doing a skit called Jamba Juice. I think this is what my manager meant by "enthusiastic". Since I don't know how to put video clips in my blog, not even knowing if it's allowed, I courteously ask you to click on the link, and scroll down to the one called "SNL_Jamba_Juice.wmv " It's really funny.

I am afraid that I am soon to become one with the rock stars, getting addicted to pain killers.

Some people may know, and certainly my family, I often get excruciating pain in my eyes. It starts as a numbing pain, like someone applying pressure from the inside of my head outwards squeezing my eyeballs, then it escalates into migraines, and all hell breaks lose from there. If I am lucky, I will be able to eat a little, and puke it all up. Not pleasant at all.

During those periods, I can't focus on anything but the pain. I can't use my eyes at all, which means no reading, computer, and TV. And my life is basically over at that point. If I can't do any of the above, there is nothing I can do except sleep and hope to get better when the morning comes.

It used to occur once in a while, and I'll be good as new the next day. But lately I am getting it more and more often. Almost everyday, my eyes would bother me a little; and if I don't do anything about it (rest, put hot towel over my eyes), it'll get worse. Finally I couldn't take it anymore, I got myself some Advil liquid-gels. I took one yesterday, took one just now, and I think I'll grow dependent on it. And that's not good. I am very inclined to become addicted to drugs I have discovered, and kicking the habit will be hard. However if it means to keep me sane and normal most of the time, then it's worth it.

I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore. It's a dreary day, the day before my parents' birthday. My sister and I planned to go out and treat them a nice meal, but lack of planning led to no dinner at all, and tomorrow (their actual birthday), my sister and I will be going to the Phantom... and not be with them. Extreme guilt and eye pains, not a good day at all.

I have never stressed the fact that I'm weird. I AM weird, but I am not special. There is a difference. I think everyone have their little quirks, and that may make them weird in certain ways. To say that someone is special, is denoting a certain significance to that person, and I am anything but significant, to myself or to others. I am so dispensible, you see, that to say I am special is almost blasphemous to other "special" ones.

But then again, who made the connection between being weird and being special? Me. That is very conceited of me, I'll admit.

My weirdness comes through my taste in the opposite sex. I like them weird, like me, what can I say? A guy can be all tall and dark and handsome, but if we don't have anything in common, it's not gonna happen. It's not like I am picky, because is it really asking too much for a guy to share the same interests as I do? I don't think so. I am sure there are many average-looking guys who like Nirvana, Queen, Haruki Murakami, Takashi Kishimoto, Takeshi Obata (last two are mangakas, shonen comic mangakas... I am really not asking for much here). And television, I love television, my guy has to like tv too. But yeah, I have yet to find that one person who likes tv... sigh.

What's going on in this world?????? Don't we love tv anymore? Especially cheesy programs like America's Next Top Model and American Idol????? Sigh.

Looks-wise I'm normal. I like them hot. I like them with sexy lips and broad shoulders. And a nice butt too. But you see those guys you would expect them to have a girlfriend who has long hair and sexy lips and c-cups, and sadly I am none of the above. Whew. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I had c-cups. Haha.

My summer read: Lord of the Ring. Right now into the middle of The Two Towers. I'd say it's the darker of the three, but you get to read about Eomer, the hot guy on a horse, so it is alright. It's a great book. It is essentially one book, not so much a trilogy as many had made it out to be. I find it extremely gripping, especially the description of the Elves, it's very nice.

Every time I read books, there are certain phrases that catch my eye. For 1984 it was "something, amusement" ... I don't remember what the previous word is, but I'll look it up. This time it's "wise fool", when Gandalf was talking about Saruman. Wise fool. So many people are just fools.

Which leads to one of my ultimate pet peeves: stupid people who try to be bad. For example, my brother. You want to skip class? Sure, just as long as no one finds out. Like it's hard to do? Come on, I skipped tons of times, and I have yet to suffer the consequences. Every single time, the school calls and says, "Steven was not in class today, blah blah blah." He'd come home and we'd question him, and his answer is invariably, "I was late, the teacher did not take my attendance, blah blah blah." Give me a break, fine if you want to be bad, as long as you put some thought into it. It's like the big scandal with President Chen's in-laws' accepting briberies, if you want money, fine, be smart about it. Don't be stupid about it and let people find out, just because you know that no prosecutor will be able prosecute you, at least not in Taiwan's current circumstances. (The way I see it, there is no such thing as true justice in Taiwan, prosecutors will probably cite insufficient evidence and let him off easy, even if all people of Taiwan are absolutely certain that he has taken the money).

It is so sad, that it has come to this. Somehow it corresponds with the storyline of Lord of the Ring. But not really, because Mordor is not some faroff land, it's within all of us.

I remember expressing similar sentiments regarding V for Vendetta. Something along the lines of, sure it seems scary, the society that is portrayed in the movie, but if you think about it, we are already living in it. Isn't that funny?

*Two minutes later: it was "tolerant amusement", when Julia was eyeing a clock, with numbers 1 to 12 on it. Apparently in 1984, time is told by the 24-hour system, ie. 1900 hour.

I was just checking out this thing I heard on the radio, their WTF Blog. WTF, for those uninformed, stands for What The F&ck. Basically just people ranting, some of it good, some of it plain boring. However, that's the way life goes, many wtf things may occur in a day, but not all of it interesting.

For me, most of the times when the words wtf comes out of my mouth, is when I'm driving. Like people driving 30km/h on a 50km/h street, obviously looking for directions. You know what? Drive the normal speed limit, and when you found you have passed it, turn around! Or another thing would be people standing super close to you when you are in line. Literally, breathing down your neck close. Get away from me, you are in my personal space. I think cody wrote a blog to that extent. I don't think it's just the Asians, because I have had a few incidents when creepy white guys standing behind me as well. And a creepy Asian woman, that was a big wtf, because she literally pushed me aside when I was trying to pay for my coffee. Bitch.

Lesson of the day is, respect other people's personal space, or else they bitch about you on their blogs.

Here is how you know you have spent too much time online reading people's blogs and not enough time talking to your real life friends: you begin to see people from online in real life.

Which happened to me today, at the local ICBC office. I was waiting in line with my Dad to renew his licence, when I saw the little kid in front of me. He looked EXACTLY like justcrystal's son Marc, I kid you not. Little, chubby, and a ball of energy, the kid turned around and gave me a smile, I almost melted. I often don't care much for kids, because they often don't care much for me, but the little boy, sigh, was so adorable. Later I saw the mom had a baby girl in her arms. Did not look like little Nina, but cute in her own way all the same.

See what I mean? I am so obsessed with people online that I'm actually refering to them as if they were real life acquaintances. Sigh.

Aren't I pathetic?

Wait, don't answer that. I don't think I can bear the truth. I'd like to think myself as having a life, as delusional as it may be.

On a separate note, I finally got my hair cut today. It was brutal. My stylist stressed how DRY my hair was, and recommended strongly to get some much-needed treatment for my hair, all in Japanese. One big shocker of the day. Second shocker of the day, my Japanese conversation has grown so poorly. It wasn't good to begin with, but still! Third shocker of the day, my phone interviewer from a week ago, finally calls, and said that they have decided to move two other candidates to the next interview, meaning that I have failed at getting my foot in the door for greater things in the bucks. Since I was busy doing my crossword puzzle when the call came in, all I said was, "Thank you for calling, have a nice day." It wasn't until later that the message was getting through my thick skull, and I finally felt, oh, I didn't get the job, what a loser I am.

I'm slow I tell ya. Feelings, emotions, ideas, etc, etc, all come into my brain via the network that's as slow as a brontosaurus's.

Recent guilty obsession (well, not so much an obsession), Gene Simmons' Family Jewels. Starring Gene Simmons, the bassist from KISS, his girlfriend of 23 years, Shannon Tweed, and their two kids, Nick (17) and Sophie (14). It's like The Osbournes, without the wackiness and the overdose. You can actually understand Gene Simmons when he talks, and the people are much more pleasing to the eye.

Case in point, Nick Simmons, the 17-year-old son. I don't have a picture of him, but he is absolutely darling in my eyes. And here is where the guilt comes in, I'm 23, he is 17. I feel like such a perv, thinking that a 17-year-old is hot. For goodness sakes, he's only a year older than my brother. My sister called me a cougar, I prefer the term pervert. Anyhow, google him or something, because he is REALLY good looking.

Since I never watched The Osbournes, I really can't compare the two. However, Family Jewels is very script-y. You can tell. The family members enter the scene going, "So, I'm going to the movies," or something to that extent. However, it's the little side notes that are interesting. Like when Gene and Shannon were sitting on the couch, facing the camera, and Shannon told him to hold his hands out as if he was driving, and do a shoulder check. His whole body turns, thereby causing the car to swerve whenever he drive, thus illustrating her point that, Gene Simmons is a terrible driver. So cute, so funny.

I was kind of reluctant at the beginning, because I've watched Gene Simmons' Rock School. His failure to inspire those British private school kids was disappointing. Nothing like Jack Black's School of Rock. Sure it was make believe, but it was good. You just gotta cast better, that's all.

Speaking of which, Jack Black is going to be hosting MTV Awards, looking forward to that. I won't watch it live or anything, of course. I still have a life, you know (uneasy heckle). But I'll probably catch a rerun or something. Jack Black is hilarious, hands down. Combining my two love, comedy and rock music, he can definitely pull it off.

Everyone is always so surprised when I said I like rock music. I do. I can't take R&B or hip hop anymore, just, too much. My adolescence is catching up, yay.

The other day, while I was driving, I saw the license plate of a van in front of me: GMD. I thought it looked so familiar, but I just couldn't place it. The abbreviation of TMD came to mind, but that was just not it. Finally I got it, after crossing a bridge. GMD stands for Gay Midget Dwarf, an affectionate nickname Lainey has for Mr. Tom Cruise, oh Mighty Spokesperson of the Great Scientology.

It's brilliant I tell you. Absolutely spiffing.

I thought it's hilarious, how looking at her articles day after day can imprint these three letters so vividly in my mind. That GMD will have no other meaning except for Gay Midget Dwarf for me from now on.

Poor guy in the van. Probably doesn't know what he's gotten himself into.

A little tribute to my love for gossip. After someone once told me, "I don't read those things, they trash your mind," I no longer share my love for Lainey's gossips with others. It's my guilty pleasure. Much like Miranda Hobbes. Good thing none of my friends merit the claws of trashy magazines, 'cause I wouldn't want to see a real-life Samantha doing it on my computer screen.

Ugh.

While on the subject of guilty pleasures, So You Think You Can Dance is one for this summer. Dance is not my thing, but I thoroughly enjoy the second season. Bloody marvelous. Hope Heidi wins.

Everyday drudgery of office life.

Must say, not a fan, not a fan at all. Then again, if I was to complain of the boredom, should I also take the role of devil's advocate, and point out that perhaps applying more of myself will result in a less-boring work environment?

That's a thinker.

But I'd rather not. It's easier to sit and complain, than to really turn around the way I think and apply more to this job.

How should I describe this job? When asked, I usually say, it's a data entry thing. Which it is, I enter data into the computer, and I don't do anything with it. I don't analyze it, put it together in a nice chart, and explain to people. Nope, not me, just putting the info in, that's all. Putting in the order, putting in the invoice. Day in, day out. Putting in the sales numbers. Other than getting a taste of office life, I don't know what I am learning from this job.

On a more interesting note... I just read my manager's blog, and she apparently wants to transfer! But her boss wouldn't let her, citing stability within district must be maintained. Meanshile, the memo comes out, and three managers of our district are transfering. Wellllll... just great. More things to enrage my manager even more. She can be quite temperamental, that one. The bucks isn't just that pretty-nicey workplace as I thought. Lovely.

May I remind you of my obsession for gossip?

So, another day.

To say "I just don't feel inspired" is just another bullshit excuse. One should abstain from making excuses in the proceedings of everyday life, it's not only uncool, but hugely irresponsible.

Then again, why bother being responsible at all?

Hey...

With the help of mindless chatters, I have made the following discovery: I, like many others, overuse words such as "like", "you know", "omigod", and "i dunno", in everyday conversations. They are like (see, "like") mindless fillers to gaps in conversations. For example, observe the following fictional conversation:

"It's so, like, hot today."

'I know, like, omigod, I am sweating like a dog.'

"I know, like, yeah. Makes you want to dive into a pool or something."

'No kidding. Hey, do you want to, like, go to the beach today or something?'

"I dunno, maybe, I dunno. We'll see."

And so on and so forth.

So I vow never to speak those words again. Like, omigod, seriously.

Ok, STOP.

You would think with all these atrocities going on in the world, ie. Lebanon, Afghanistan, Iraq, people would understand by now that warfare is overrated. But no. Which is why I propose we all stop letting a 5-year-old cowboy and his cronies (yes, Harper, I said it) run the world. The world is flat, and we are all going over the edges.