A key sign that my lifestyle has changed radically is that I actually get bored when left to nothing but the computer for entertainment. I only spend about 1 hour online every day, and so my online hobbies are limited. My daily online regime consists of obsessively checking Gmail, catching up to Joystiq, and then, if I am not with my other half, looking up a good lolcat to send my other half in the morning. Tyler and I will also fly online periodically to check Rotten Tomato movie scores, which movies are being released at the theatres, and which are being released onto DVD. We also torrent new episodes of Dexter, sometimes Heroes, or other things to watch.

The last anime I watched was Paprika with Tyler and his brother Logan (who also likes anime), but it was quite a disappointment. I don't know if it was the fact that it was New Year's Eve and I had gotten up at 7am to catch a train at 8am to get to Oceanside at 10am OR if it was the fact that Paprika was so artsy, it was difficult to follow and was basically like Akira. And my brain was not powerful enough to comprehend something like Akira at the time.

I am going to blame our missing the countdown by one minute on the anime which put Tyler and I to sleep and left Logan to remind us it was a new year at 12:01am.

So, my New Year's. New Year's Eve, I took a train to Oceanside, Tyler picked me up, and then his mom Bernadette and sister Hannah whisked me away to go to Walmart for Hannah-going-to-study-abroad-in-Brazil shopping and then a fancy spa pedicure thing (with REAL massage chairs and bubblies!) with Hannah. Then Tyler took me to see Juno, which is actually a very good couple's movie to see on top of being awesomely possumly. Logan got a pizza stone and pizza-put-on-stone-and-then-retrieve-it board, so we all made pizza for dinner. I had Tyler form my dough since I was clueless, so I wound up with a misshapen heart thing with olives and pineapples and mozzarella and parmesan. It was delicious. Then commenced the anime watching which turned out to be a disaster.

On New Year's Day, Tyler took me to the beach and we walked along it for a while before catching Sweeney Todd with his whole family and sneaking delicious Subway into the theatre. After some scuttling about after the movie, Tyler drove me home and we had J&S and I bought him a Starbucks.

:( It is funny that I used to be in a relationship in which I had steeled myself enough to go without seeing the other person for a month or more, but when Tyler and I part for more than a day it becomes hard to bear.

I am usually around Tyler 90% of my time at Berkeley (or more), and there is this really special moment for me that comes and goes randomly throughout our time together. It is the moment that I realize he is an entire entity completely separate from myself. Like, another person. It is totally surreal and cool-feeling. We are together so much that it is kind of like when you wear a ring or bracelet or necklace for a while and you stop feeling it on your body, so when you do suddenly realize again that it is there, you get this unique feeling.

I was really good at counting the anniversary months but it is like since it passed the one-year mark, I keep losing track. I think our 1.25 anniversary is coming up this month. In Europe we will share our 1.75 anniversary. :) Time pretty much flies when you practically live with the person, I guess.

If I had my Wii right now, I would probably not be as bored. In fact, I'd be completely entertained if only Tyler's 360 were here and I could play Mass Effect or Assassin's Creed. What I would most like is play FFVIII, though, but apparently my Playsation 1 games and console are in a storage place somewhere.

Anyway. It seems prime time to call my g-parents now about seeing a movie today.

I wish I had never tried to find out who the kageyabari on my buddylist was.

Life is pretty good.

So his name will not be forever smeared, I'll have you know that Tyler got me flowers for our 1.08333333333 year anniversary.

And I'm going to Italy this summer with my family.

And then Tyler is flying in to Europe to meet me.

And we are going to explore it together, just us.

And it's official because the tickets are BOUGHT.

Italy, Switzerland, Germany, Austria, Czech Republic, Netherlands, here I come!

Oh, and I'm in love. :)

The reason people only seem to post negative things in their journals, diaries, whatever, is because they write when they need to, and when they need to, it is because things aren't 100% great. That is, unless they are using an online media like a journal to actually interact with other people. Then they post mindless memes and nothing that really represents who they are.

Well, this is what is happening with me right now. Absolutely no one is going to read this so this is completely to myself, for myself, whatever.

I am bothered by a few things.

Of course, school is stressful. That isn't new for anyone who's ever experienced school. I have a few midterms rolling up.

My job is only 10 hours a week but still causes my schedule to be roughly 9am-5pm roughly every weekday. I am tired.

Tyler and my 1st year anniversary was last Sunday and we did absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. This is due to several reasons. Firstly, I had put a little count-down thing in my iGoogle (customized Google homepage) about a month or two before the date. I was very excited about our anniversary (a person who knows me would know that I get very excited about reasons to celebrate, especially if it is romantic), so I would announce the days left and talk about gifts and ask Tyler what he wanted to do. This stressed out Tyler and he did not like to talk about that day. I complained to Lauren and she told me that though I see the day as an exciting time for us as a couple to celebrate, Tyler probably views it as a very big "test" in which he must prove himself somehow. And Tyler gets very nervous about those sort of things.

As it neared our anniversary (about 2 weeks away), I became anxious. I was really hoping for a thoughtful present, preferably something I could wear to always be reminded about him. A present similar to the one I gave him for Valentine's Day, a sterling silver guitar pick with "Te adoro" stamped on the front and "Stephanie (heart) Tyler 10.14" stamped on the back. He wears it on a necklace. My favorite necklace has broken, I have lost my ring from London and my ring from Ireland and I stopped wearing the antique band from my grandma. My favorite anklet also broke. Basically, I am barren of jewelry and I dropped hints (if you call "This would be a good gift and I would really like THIS" a hint) about what I would like.

Tyler, unfortunately, has a problem with procrastination. It isn't a huge problem, but it happens with some of his assignments. And he basically procrastinated about the anniversary. I knew he had not even tried looking for a gift or anything and by the time it was getting so close to our anniversary, I knew it would be impossible for him to find something thoughtful.

I love to buy customized or thoughtful gifts, and I know it takes at least a month to plan. So I knew he hadn't made it by the time it was 9 days away. Meanwhile, I had been designing a shirt to be printed for both of us, with drawings of stuff representing important things or memories over the year.

After talking to Lauren, I felt bad for pressuring him and I decided that I would rather him not be miserable about the day, so I told Tyler that he was off the hook. We would do nothing for our anniversary, and would exchange no gifts. I wound up hating my design so I trashed it anyway.

So we did nothing. And, unfortunately, though I said I was not expecting anything, I guess I did. I was hoping for some flowers. He didn't buy any. I was pouty most of the day and basically it was not enjoyable. Tyler also got pouty and our anniversary was kind of shit.

But when I confronted him about it that night, he just broke down and felt really guilty. And broke down on Monday and didn't go to class. I tried everything to cheer him up, and now he feels better.

But I am bothered because, the selfish person I am, I wish, when he made a mistake, he would just try to fix it instead of curling up into a ball and crying about it. I wish I could be mad at him. It is hard to stay angry at a person who is crying because they feel so bad.

And I wish he would just grow balls and get me some damn flowers to make up for it. I wish he didn't just think his window of opportunity has flown, so he can do nothing about anything.

- - - - -


And then there is Erik.

Well, we were both bad friends.

I was bad because I was the girl that he obsessed with for a manner of years and let him do it, selfishly keeping him by my side as my best friend, taking advantage of his obsession, etc. He was bad because he could never be a real best friend to me as long as he felt the way he did.

And I feel tricked. Because I really thought, I really did believe, that we were truly friends underneath it all.

But, you know, we weren't. My doubts were well-founded, as, since he has lost romantic interest in me, he has lost all interest in me as a person, and as a friend.

Guys will always be there for you if they are interested in getting in your pants.

I am very bothered by this lately.

But, we were also bad friends for each other towards the end anyway.

I grew cold and distant and disliked his newfound interests. I disapproved, or whatever. I could no longer understand him. I thought we had left forums and the fake online life back in middle school, maybe high school. But he was back in them again. Like a junky or something.

I swear. The internet will kill you. And it is not a person. It will not be there for you when you need it. It cannot hold your hand or wipe away your tears. It is just a big hole some people retreat into, with some vague social world swirling inside. But the people of the internet, unless they become people of your actual, real life, will never mean anything. They won't be at your funeral or your wedding or when you break down. They will be online and you will be chatting with them while you cry somewhere but they won't be there. And someday they will be gone. Because they will wake up and start dealing with real life and stop posting in forums and stop going online. Because they begin relationships that are real-time. Begin jobs. Begin their lives.

Which is what I guess I did.

But the problem here is that I thought we were people who told each other everything. And I thought he knew I would be here to listen.

But Erik doesn't say anything about his problems. Ever. He never did. And I guess somehow I thought I had been a healing power in his life or something meaningful because I was willing to listen to him about anything. But there had never BEEN anything. I just thought he had told me things. But they were just about loving me and not himself. He actually told me nothing.

And continued to tell me nothing.

Until I get another one of those vicious messages from his sister to stop talking to him because I am ruining his life. I found it strange because Erik and I hadn't really been talking at the time. So I figured something bad happened. So I called his mom. And she said he was about to drop out of school and maybe join community college and basically was not doing well.

Which is weird. Because I thought we told each other important things. And yet, when we did talk, the only bones he threw me were Youtube links to really stupid videos I couldn't find funny. Or maybe a snippet about him being a "vampire" or "zombie" online and playing these "games" with people. Which is great, except that I am not a vampire or zombie and I am not part of those games. And I don't give a fuck about them. Yes, I'm jealous. And it is understandable, because people and person are taking away someone important to me. And even if he can replace me with some nerdy person with other inside jokes, I will never be able to replace him.

Well, I digress. Basically, there are a lot of things bothering me right now. And I feel alone again. But, REALLY alone. Like, there is no Erik, which means there are no other friends. And it is one of those angry, immature alones that make me want to die in a violent way to get peoples' attention. Except not really because dying is scary.

Romance is a lot easier for me to bury than friendships I felt invested in.

- - - - -

I try to be positive all the time but sometimes I fail.

But, life is good otherwise. I go to a great school, have a loving boyfriend, and a growing friendship with my roommate Lauren.

It is just hard for me to be happy about all of it right now.

I don't think I've ever had a friendship that wasn't a lie.

I guess I deserve whatever I am getting.

You know, it's been a while since I've been artistic and listened to music that made me feel like the world is extraordinary and huge and wonderful and that the people in it are like little pieces of confetti that get stuck to each other and stuck to the mud or fly apart and swirl up and up and up like little paper stars.

Looking on Myspace makes me want things for people. I feel so good seeing those people breaking apart and swirling up and treating their lives like canvases and I feel so sad seeing those people sticking together with pieces of mud that weigh them down and treating their lives like canvases to be painted by other people. I feel so good for someone like Norah who I think is finally being herself and not compromising her canvas in order to earn approval from not-worth-it muddy friends.

I know the two juxtapositioned metaphors are confusing, but just run with me. Confetti and canvases.

We need to purge our lives of fake people and fake friends and be a little more selective.

But my selectiveness and refusal to be anything but me has also caused me to be mostly alone. So sometimes I regret it and I wish I knew how to act properly like the average person, who tolerates a little falseness to gain a friend.

But I know that true happiness is self-happiness, and it is attainable only by being yourself and that means knowing how to make yourself happy without anyone else. It is one thing to be happy with others and another to possess the specific ability to independently make yourself happy.

And that's what I want for everyone. I want everyone to make sure they can make themselves happy without anyone else. In case, someday, they need to do just that. Because there is no one else to fall back on or lean on or rely on or cry on. Because their "self" becomes unacceptable. Or just because everyone else is doing something else.

Independence. It sure is better than insisting on getting muddied up with someone just because it less scary than flying out on your own.

"you know i like receiving texts from you during all hours of the day. even the hours that dont exist. like 26:elephant o'clock"

---

Other than that, today sucked major balls.

IX-XXII-MMVI

A lot of people like to seem interesting and ask, “Have you ever felt so alone even though you were surrounded by people?” The ultimate way to thwart their planned diatribe of melodrama would be to reply, “I went to an invitational sober.”

I was the only sober passenger on a bus packed with screamers squirming amongst themselves with an intense energy of hormones, sex, and alcohol. Before arriving at the party, setting foot on the bus, before even leaving their rooms, these individuals were smashed. Alcohol at the event isn’t as accessible as at home, where you don’t need red paper wristbands and ID. During the entire ride, people passed their Dasanis, Nesteas, and Arrowheads containing all manners of home-brewed jungle juice, soda mixes, or just straight hard liquor.

Being sober amidst a mass of unruly drunks is as interested as it is isolating, however. When drunk, you can only really relate to others in the same state of mind as you are. Thus, while I could observe with the sharpest mind subjects interacting in a most intriguing state of behavior, I was always looking in from outside blue plastic Dasani rum.

I have been drunk before. Not as drunk as these, though. When you’re drunk, you don’t realize that the sober person you plop down and babble next to cannot relate to you. Or that you are as stupid as that other person being stupid. For some reason, drunk people never really think they are wasted until they explode vomit into their own shirt, lap, or clasped hands, as one girl on the ride did. Despite the convenient plastic bags thoughtfully placed on the aisle seats, no one ever seems to make it the two feet it takes.

A very nice drunk Matt Jones sat in the empty seat next to me on the ride over. He claimed to realize that he and the others make no sense to me, and that he was prepared to babble. He apologized about the fact and questioned my sobriety. He didn’t force or pressure me at all to drink that night, just merely affirmed with drunken sincerity that I’d have a lot more fun if I was drunk with everyone else. Mostly for the same reason I had been feeling---alienation from this sweaty world of drinks. He’d been to invitationals sober before. Alcohol wasn’t necessary for having fun, just a catalyst and enhancer. After finishing half a water bottle of rum, he left to plunder the many seats of screaming girls in scraps of clothing. I thought I wouldn’t see him the rest of the night.

His drunk friend and frat brother replaced him. Max Murphy. He took the same stance as Matt. I would have more fun drunk. No bottle in his hand or offer, though. Just another sincere opinion. He asked me with incredulous eyes if I was really having a good time. I told him I like bus rides; the honest truth. I had been watching the San Francisco skyline emerge as we grew closer on the by bridge, a pack of glitter in a rare clear city night. He agreed it was amazing and asked me about myself. I thought he would forget who I was, but I found a Facebook friend request waiting for me in the morning.

Another curious thing was the organization of chaos. Sober or at least not-as-smashed club staff, security, bus drivers herded the college kids around, they being suddenly reduced to a pack of 7th graders, dissenting in the mildest forms if at all, for the most immature reasons. We were directed into a relatively small art gallery club and bar. On the way through the door, fat black Sharpie Xs were scrawled on top of hands without booze bands. SXE. Not tonight, kids. Though it didn’t stop them from licking, smearing, rubbing off their age-indicators all night. The place was sprinkled with these moderately sober uniforms of different sorts---guards, employees, babysitters. They crawled aimlessly about, tended with minor attention to the broken glass crashes, drunken scuffles, and X-handed Vodka Sunrises. I wanted to speak to these sober-seeming people to know what it was like to actually be hired to care for drunken middle schoolers. They seemed to be in my position, but out of paid obligation. I wonder if it was fun or just another chore. Drunken people are only interesting the first couple of sober times.

- - - - - - -

I was wondering about something all night. So many beautiful girls were all gathered at one place. How do guys choose? Is it really what they look like or is it the degree of easiness they seek out? Why, in a room of hot, available girls, would a guy bother to choose me for the entire night? Act protective, even, when another guy encroaches upon his newly found Thursday night territory? I am never fishing for compliments when I ask this. I just truly wonder how they choose. Did I give off a vibe that I wouldn’t reject a drunken kiss, even though I was completely sober? Is there an easy vibe? I guess I could be considered easy in some respects. If you catch me at the right time. If I feel like it. Good luck.

I just smiled when he told me he was so happy he met that night. I was hot, beautiful, pretty, cute---different adjectives throughout the night. Hot when dancing, beautiful when standing, pretty when smiling, cute when on the bus. I wonder if he really thought I was buying his crap. Or if it was crap. I don’t blame him at all, and I bear no resentment. I merely realize that it’s part of the game, if you know how to play, to compliment your prize. It might mean more gain. Girls like compliments.

But I went home. No more gain. No frat-visiting. It was 2am and I had a test at 8am. Matt insisted I wear his jersey since it was so cold outside the steamy bus. It covered my legs to my knees, arms to my wrists. 6'4" Matt. I stole away after Chelsea and Mike, a big blue flag flapping down the street. Made it to the room. Shed the flag. Slept.

- - - - - - -

Something interesting happens the next day. You Facebook the person you incidentally made out with last night. You wake up to a giant, $70 blue Peppers jersey enveloping your computer chair and for the first time, see a clear picture of your Matt Jones without the jersey, stunna shades, As cap, dark must, and sweat. You find out he has eyes, blue-green ones, and is actually attractive. That’s good. You discover that you actually “scored,” according to your roommate, friend, wingman.

Or you find out that the hot moist beauty on the dance floor is actually an ogre lagoon creature who needs the makeup and alcohol and slutty shreds. Please. The makeup. Wait, let me drink a little first. God, what was I thinking?

It is amazing that it is completely possible to go from sighting a vaguely male or female figure to full-on cock-bumping, ass-grinding dancing, to crazy tongue to falling asleep together on the bus. Sometimes sex. And it isn’t until the day after that you find out what they really look like. Oh, what, s/he has eyes? I didn’t look at the face, sorry.

I guess it’s hit or miss whether you hook up with someone un-regrettable. You don’t need to be drunk to make a huge mistake with the accepted social sex handshake.

- - - - - - -

Parties are another dimension. You are in your most embarrassingly limbic or carnal state, thrashing and grinding about, or vomiting about, or blacking out. And, always during these moments, you recognize many people from your classes. All here by different causes, but for the same reason. That girl’s in my Asian American Studies class. The other’s from Philosophy. You never talk to them in class or even at the party, but for a second you are both confronted by that textbook or lecture waiting for you after the ride ends. The next day, everyone is in reasonable clothing again and taking notes. The funny thing about Berkeley is often how hard people party is in direct proportion to how hard they study. Faded Xs remain on the hands, proof that it wasn’t a hallucination. And that they were there, too. I think that’s why I didn’t wash mine completely off. An assurance that I had experienced a different world if only for a night.

There was something in the clickity-clacks of plastic hangers bearing $79.99 shreds of red, pink, green, gold, brown, blue big beauty brands. Sale price. I left.

Sometimes I really think about images. Not just the usual self-conscious mirror-checking, but the actual subject-thinking. I come into a classroom and sit next to a girl that wants to scream Dior at me with her shaded eyes and 2-hour tousled gold hair. Wants to scream that she's desirable, single or not, that she knows what it is to be what she's striving for. And I just smile. That smile and these plastic earrings and bright clothes probably scream a million undesirables, a post-break-up, atheist, happy-go-lucky, life's a slice of cake. Too far for nerd, too short for Dior.

Are humans that capable of instant, accurate judgment? Are there actual "vibes" we can sense in other people? How do I decide cocky, arrogant, sarcastic Ning is attractive? Is there really an archetype? Or are these people emitting things that appeal to some carnal set of sensory?

Why can't I desire the beauty of a tanned blond athlete boy with a tight college shirt and textured shorts? I acknowledge. Maybe smile. Maybe tolerate dialogue if I am screaming "single desirable" that day. But the attraction? Recognizing beauty is not desiring it. I don't want to feel those arms or kiss that skin or listen to the childhood stories. Unless the stories are good. And then the person is good.

Why are the words more important than the shell?

I would like to date someone universally attractive. But my attraction is based on vibes, the words, words, words coming from that mouth. Whether they are heavy, clunking, and full of rich gold, ripping through the thin paper sacks...Or tinkling bits of foil, fluttering about, captured in a beautiful jar.

"Weird taste?" Maybe.

I still need to try tin foil. That jar is pretty nice.

High school makes me sad in the ways that faded paperbacks out of print and pictures you're in by accident can only make you feel. I guess we all have regrets about some things, and I just wish it had meant more to me. I guess it was too late to enter into anyone's circle, and too loud, quiet, isolating, whispering, weird, defiant, laughing, screaming to try. College is new, with new people and new things, novels in print and people who don't know people and people who don't have a circle and people all just trying to be too loud, quiet, isolating, whispering, weird, defiant, laughing, and screaming.

I guess I still have those issues.

I miss...everyone.

Why are you so hard? What is wrong with me?

My mom's gift can kick your gift's ass. Kthx.

Basically busy with school, Ginga, and anime blogging. Take care, folks.

Random Miyavi videos on YouTube.

Because he is the

most

beautiful

man

in

the

universe.

There is no way I'm passing this thing. I feel like giving up and sleeping during the 3 or 4 hours. I am serious.

I get about 10% (or less) of the sample exam problems. I can't remember some concepts for the life of me and even I can, I cannot apply the concepts to these bizarre problems. They are so foreign! I feel like I am required to think in a way totally different from that which we have been taught all year. Though Mr. Cheung says we'll be fine doing any problems as long as we know the concept, I am having the hardest time. Every problem seems so radical and different.

Studying and realizing this even more makes me want to cry.

I hate calculus.

How the hell am I getting a fucking A in the class if I'm going to fail the AP?

Both Erik and Ginga (as well as most of the other people I talk to) don't understand the concept of "not getting math" since math is their forte. Please, guys, don't tell me I'm going to do fine. That the test is easy. The test is freaking hard for people like me, and I am not going to do fine.

I am not being modest about the situation. I am being serious. Me passing the AP Calc exam is even more of a stretch than me passing the AP Euro exam was. In math, there are no essays to save my grade/score. I have about a 5% chance of success.

Ahhh, the futility that is life sometimes!

I seriously wonder if it's the weather that makes me this way. I want to sleep forever and stop living.

---

I miss him SO much, too much, too much. These last two mornings have been the worse. There is this peculiar feeling I get when I think about him in general. It is a very deep feeling, and it makes me feel sad but not completely. I can't explain it. I don't know if I like it.

---

I need to sleep more. I need to sleep. I really want to talk to him and I will wait all day but I need to sleep.

---

I wish I had better work ethic. I wish I was more inspired to write about cold feet melting into warm rainbow sandals and sticky lemon stained lips. I didn't want to miss the deadline.

It's not something that matters, though.

---

I want to be a better person and a better girlfriend and a better friend.

But I also want other people to be better people and better partners and better friends. To me.

I try to think less about myself and more about others and I try not to care or need. I try so hard.

---

Why can't I trust people?

Why do I hate people? I want to love everyone. I want to just overflow with love for the world and everyone.

I want to be normal and happy with normal needs and normal ways of fulfilling them.

---

God, I miss him. Seeing him again just reminds me how much I love him. I feel even more feeling every time. I love him, I love him, I love him.

---

Emptiness. I think that's the weird feeling. Emptiness. That is what I feel.

About him, and about friends. About life.

But the deep feeling is emptiness. I want more more more. I must not ask for it, must not ask for it.

---

What can I do right now? About all of this? Should I just keep studying? Focus, focus, focus. Ignore the emptiness, pain, whatever emo crap there is. Reduce the needs. Learn 40 Chinese characters. Study for physics.

---

I am tired of this. Ginga, please show me how to be you.

---

Another study block wasted...

:(

Michael says:
dont be depressed

Michael says:
depression is for nubs

Michael says:
unless it fuels your art

God, these are all lies.

I am lying to you.

I don't feel good.

I actually feel very alone.

I wish I was strong enough not to say anything about it. At all.