You leave for a few days and a bomb goes off...

Oro.
Sessha has been absent from here for long, she has.

But I finally has an idea for my little sister's fantastical, magical, meaningful story! Whoo!
And I'm on vacation! So I have time to write. Sweetness.

I have a frog purse.
Tomorrow I go to the counselor lady.
I hate being sick.

Finals coming up.
I am so dead.
I'm not worried about English or Japanese so much, but if by some miracle I survive my math, well. It will be a miracle. The final for it is on the 13th of December, but I refuse to do any last-minute cramming. I have started studying already, doing review questions from each chapter.
Friday I am going to the counselor lady.
I have to start registering for next semester. I want to take a history class, and a business class and a science. I'm thinking Chemistry.
I want to take more classes so I won't have so much time to mope around and look depressed, as this is what got me into the counseling thing in the first place. Leann noticed I didn't look "fine" when I said I was, and it kind of snowballed from there until finally I'm looking at an appointment with a personal counselor.
Nice, eh?

For [Mister Saint]-sama. And hell, even I agree with some of this stuff!

"Because I’m a film critic, between now and the end of the year I have something like 200 movies I have to see. Okay lie. It’s more like 50. But still, 50 movies is a lot. And I’m not here to complain about seeing movies for a living. I’m excited about some of them.
...
Enough of the boy wizard
But “Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire” is not what I’m about at this particular moment. And here’s why: I’m beat-down by all the mandatory wizardry. It’s been five years of this very special magic boy and his magic friends and their fantastical Hogwartsing and Quidditching and wand-stroking and muggle-whatevering. It’s been five years of seeing them all on the cover of Vanity Fair and Time and Entertainment Weekly and witnessing armored trucks delivering loads of each new book and watching people ripping into the boxes of them like they’re Wonka Bars with a golden ticket inside.

I’ve had to deal with friends who are freaked out that I just sort of gave up on the third book and didn’t bother to read the fourth one or the fifth one or the sixth one, hearing them go on and on about this particular series but never hearing them get that wound up about any other book or film. I’ve seen grown-ups in Gryffindor sweatshirts and had the disturbing awareness of the existence of Harry Potter slash fiction (any kids reading this, you don’t need to know what slash fic is —just forget I mentioned it). I’ve seen the billboards in the air and the busses on the ground covered in giant bus-sized eye-level billboards and TV commercials and tie-in candies that taste like dirt and vomit and Christmas tree ornaments. I’ve watched Daniel Radcliffe go through puberty with Oprah and Conan and Regis and Total Request Live and the sheer existence-crushing cultural pressure to conform and like it all. And I’m done.

Here was the last straw. I just heard last week, from an “industry” pal who must remain nameless, a story about how many zits (what they’d call “spots” at Hogwarts) had to be digitally erased from the new movie. It’s not true, of course. Or what if it is? They’re all 16 years old or thereabouts. Kids get zits. And these kids are megastars, each probably equipped with their own personal dermatologist on 24-hour standby. But it was Hollywood Gossip and therefore actual important information I needed to know. And the craziest feature of this bit of fake-out complexion reportage was its delivery to me in super-secret-double-probation hushed tones, as though these kids had been discovered with track marks on their arms or nabbed by paparazzi hanging out with Kate Moss. There is someone out there, more than one someone, in fact, who can’t get enough of breaking news like this, fabricated or un. But it was the last crack in my I-can-endure-any-amount-of-showbiz-silliness-because-it’s-my-job armor. I was officially and formally Harry Potter-Fatigued. "

Rejoice! Today is the most glorious day of [Mister Saint]-sama's Birthday!

I still remember the day I met you, Big Brother. I was role playing with you, and you were making a very long edit. I think I commented something like "Is Moorn writing a novel or something?" We had a few little spats after that, including one in which I refused to be called "-chan" by you. What a pointless argument. I will forever be your little Augi-chan, your little sister, your Nooch, your squirrel.
I am forever blessed with your friendship, and I wish for you to be very very very happy on this most wonderful day.
Here I send you a thousand hugs and a sprinkling of stars.

Happy Birthday, Big Brother!

I am Squirrel Avocado, master of cookies!

I went to Albertson's today and bought cookie mix, then made about two dozen cookies and went around offering them to random people. No one could resist!!

Bow to me!!!

It is I, she who spreads happiness and chocolate!

Also, Swar told me that he got an 'A' on the paper I edited for him! I was so very happy to hear this. Because you see, yesterday I decided that I am on a spiratual journey of my soul. I have been very miserable as of late, and I was only truely happy cleaning mountains of dishes in preperation for the I-House pancake breakfast. I felt so ALIVE!!
I am happiest when:
-dancing
-helping people
-making people laugh

It is now my goal to continuously help people and make them happy. It makes me happy. And when I'm busy bakign cookies for people or helping them make the wording in their essays flow better or making them laugh, I have no time to be miserable. I have no time to look in the mirror and marvel at how ugly I am.
In fact, I feel so beautiful when I'm happy.

Sure, there were some really low points today as I walked to the store. But I shook it off, thinking of the cookies I was going to bake.

Everyone loved the cookies. And seeing them smile as I offered them one... what a happiness!

I'm on the down part of the roller coaster again. Heading down, down, down. But I have my big brother to cheer me up, and I have a brownie. Earlier I had one of those "who am I?" moments, but it passed.

My life is a constant roller coaster. Two days ago, I was plunging down into a wicked spiral. Today I am climbing to the top again.

So.

I asked Kumiko, out of the blue: "If you could be any instrument, which one would you be and why?" Then I proceeded to ask this question of everyone I was talking to online.
This morning, I wrote a poem about my answer. I encourage anyone who wants to think about their answer and write about it in some form.

If I could be any instrument...

I'd be a drum set in the corner of some kid's room.
A little battered, but loved.
With a pair of sticks crossed over my snare
And a sock dangling over my cymbal,
I'd sit in the corner of that room.
Then the kid would come home
Throw his books on the bed,
Kick off his shoes,
And sit on the chair that squeaks when it swivels.
And then, the music.
A great ruckus of organized chaos
As he pounds out his emotion,
Venting
Celebrating.

This came to me while I was cleaning the kitchen. I happened to have a pen stuck in my hairtie, but no paper. So I had to scribble it down on a napkin. See if you get it.

Untitled

Oh cruel, bitter paranoia!
This from which I suffer...
Non!
This is no habit of mine...
Which of my enemies has told you this?
I am perfectly aware of my surroundings...

And I know there are things going on behind my back!

I hate hurting people. Now, I may be a self-centered brat sometimes, but I care about the people close to me.
I have a best friend who I love very much. I can talk to her about anything and everything.
I have another friend whose opinions I deeply respect. I love her, too.
Then I have another friend who I can talk to about little things. I always feel better after talking to her.
And I have a big brother who sometimes makes me mad, but I love him anyway.

***

Xnat tlu biu mal'ai!

I was supposed to be studying Japanese, but I ended up writing another poem. Funny how that works.

Xnat tlu biu mal'ai...

I hate word problems. I really do. I hate the logic. Strange, since I fear most of my dreams and they have no logic at all. At least not after I wake up.

Xnat tlu biu mal'ai

Usstan brorn vel'bol deis orn doer ulu uns'aa dal l' wussrun'wa orbb nindel lays ilta eggs wun ussta haren. Sila uns'aa nau myar omens. Sila uns'aa v'dri.

Strange... I'm getting into poetry all of a sudden.

I'll be leaving tomorrow. Back by Sunday.

Here's a list of things I'm happy about.

1. RP with my friends
2. dark chocolate
3. going home this weekend
3. Michael
4. winamp
5. the San Jose Basilica
6. having Kumiko for a roommate
7. comics!
8. over 7000 hits on my fanfic Two Birds With One Stone
9. apple-scented room spray
10. Japanese class

Some days I'd take the nightmares over the best dreams with you in them.

There's a few people out there who understand me when I say that one of my RP characters has been bothering me lately.
Usually, when I'm not playing with them, I imagine them floating freely through the internet, sleeping.
But Skye, like me, hates sleep. Even before it started giving me trouble, he saw it as a waste of time. I sort of ended his story just as he was ready to start living for himself and not the curse of bearing that sword and running from his brother. I thought he had something to look forward to. I let him give up the sword, free himself of his brother, and go where he wanted to go.
I really want to play with him again, but I don't know how to start again.

I really hate sleep.

Hell. Yes, I've contemplated it. It makes perfect sense. And no. The answer is always no.

Just woke up from a nap. I hate naps. While I sleep the government zaps away thoughts that could one day turn me into a terrorist. At least that's my theory.

Whenever I wake up, I'm in a bad mood. As of late, I mean. This didn't used to happen. Maybe it started over the summer. No. It happens whenever I'm in love.

Because I wake up to the reality of my life without that person because I'm too much of a coward to tell him that I care.

What a fool I am.

Fool. Coward. Idiot. Human.