this cat defies belief!

Can we talk about how the 'Phantom of the Opera' movie is so good and how much I hate movie critics who hate really well-made Andrew Lloyd Webber movies (aka this one and 'Evita?')

And can we talk about how a glaring problem is that the Phantom is so good-looking and how that's not really a problem at all?

http://phantomthemovie.warnerbros.com/_images/g_photo02.jpg

negative eight

I'm leaving on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again...

Oh wait. January 18th.

Tonight was fabulous. Perfect send-off. Here's to 2005.

got me in sleeper mode

My whole life sort of comes crashing down in these next two days. Everything is going to be compiled into Friday and Saturday . . . I thought I had time, but there is no time. You learn a new thing everyday and today I learned several new things - things that are not life-altering, no, that's too dramatic, but ... things to think about. I've got a long list already - winter break will be a time of introspection, I'm afraid.

This is sort of what it's been about - mom called, told me to call her back. She asked me if I had any ideas for presents for my auntie and uncle. NO! I said, I DIDN'T! I yelled, I HAVE TO STUDY, GET HIM A CHEESY SNOWGLOBE, HE LOVES THOSE! See, I've been through many mind-altering epiphanies in the last several weeks and I don't really know the perfect gift to get people who have everything. So I snapped at mom and told her I was tired and had to study. This may or may not be my winter break. I don't know. But that's what Thursday, December 16, 2004 was like.

Tomorrow I have a final. It will be over in a matter of no time and then I will be swept up into the celebration of another semester finished and be here, there, everywhere - make promsies I cannot keep, regret things I promised. And will I know what is the most important? Will I try to stretch myself too thin? I know winter break doesn't matter. I know that nothing really changes. But everytime I go, I lose time, I lose something, and I'm just going to keep on losing until I figure out what it is I need to save and grab it and keep it.

"finding is losing something else. i think about, perhaps even mourn, what i lost to find this." -richard brautigan

The truth is, year 2004 has been incredible. I've found, I've lost, my heart has been broken, it's been healed, I've won cribbage, I've lost it, I've lost it, I've written songs, I can play guitar, I can draw, I can paint, I have an idea of what to do with life (maybe, possibly?), I am happy, I have kittens, I met Chicago, I've played soccer, I ate obscene amounts of Thai food, I met Scotland, I made Top 5 lists with Mike, I had a great summer job with good people, I sang along to 'Les Miserables' in the car with Michelle, I drove on Pacific Coast Highway, I know I'm getting more specific and more wordy but that is my point. There is a lot of good to 2004.

I still want that little bit more.
The spring to my step.
The spring to your step when I am around.
The spring to anybody's step when I am around.
"I won't be afraid of how I spend my day.
I may go down in flames, but I shall not burn."
The spring that will come after a winter of warmth.
The spring that you just may be able to give me.
The spring when I look at Matisse paintings.
The spring when I go home and mom has made stir fry - rice, beef, and vegetables.
The spring when I see my nephew who is already too old.
The spring when I leave and you don't let me go.
The spring when I'm happy to see you everyday that I see you.
The spring that has the prettiest flowers and the slowest bees.
The spring that lends itself to picnics and swinging on the swings.

where have all the cowboys gone?

I love Green Day as much as the next Bay Area person - probably even more - BUT. Album of the Year? Who runs the Grammy's anyway? Who's in charge of this gig? I hate the Grammy's. A lot. More importantly, how did I not know about the Golden Globe nominees? I am so behind on life.

I'm so close to being done. Then I can proceed to go home and wax poetic about my life and what to do with it. Reacquaint myself with old friends and wonder how they've changed, how I've changed. I'm excited to trudge through the airport with the guitar strapped to my back - I'll pretend I'm a traveling musician. If people ask me to play a song, I will, and then I'll hold out my empty Diet Coke cup and ask them for tips. Then I can buy a pack of minty gum that I'll get addicted to. My jaws will get tired and my teeth will wear down. My judgemental orthodontist will shake his head and make fun of the way I pronounce my words again. Then I'll sock him one square in the face and he'll have to get braces. It will be poetic justice but I will have to do a lot of community service and pay a lot of money. During the community service, I will meet a former drug addict and fall in love with him. While we're cleaning the highway, I'll get hit by a big rig and while I'm dying, my former (or not so former) drug addict lover will kneel over me and cry. I will start singing "A Little Fall of Rain" because I always wanted to play Eponine in 'Les Miserables.' I will know, as I lay dying, that the former drug addict is my soulmate because he knows the words too. Unfortunately, he gets hit by an oncoming Ford Mustang driven by some obnoxious kid from my highschool. We both die and it's a real tragedy. They write about our story in the newspapers and a lot of people come to my funeral. Luckily, I can hide in the rafters and look and see who comes. I make sure they play all the songs that I want and make sure they serve really good chocolate cake. They will burn my body on a funeral pyre and then scatter my ashes on a hot air balloon trip around the world.

How did I get so behind on life? I feel like a log thrower, where my feet get WAY ahead of my body, which is straining to carry the tree trunk, and the feet get further and further and FINALLY I might straighten my body but then it's uneven and the tree trunk goes FLYING. It's a mess and I lose. It's the last time they'll ever send me to the world games in log throwing. I try to represent China for the log throwing portion, but they don't care about bein represented. I don't even try to represent Norway because they've got great log throwers. If Ole Gunnar Solskjaer wasn't a fabulous footie player, he'd be a log thrower. No joke.

Oh, so close yet no cigar.

But I was only 19...

The things I have to do before I get to go home:

- revise art paper
- French presentation tomorrow morning
- study for art history test
- study for French test
- beat Matt at cribbage

Okay. I guess that's it. HELLS YEAH.

In exactly 7 days, next Sunday at this time, I will have probably just finished watching either 'Pee-Wee's Playhouse Christmas Special' or 'A Christmas Story' or the Christmas episode of Mr. Bean with my nerdy little brother who I love so much. Life will be good.

Hell, it's not so bad now, is it?

when i feel the unknown, you feel like home

Paranoid Android

Tomorrow my plan is to get smashing drunk.

I ordered 'Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix' on CD from the library so I can listen to it on my trip down to LA on the 21st. I also ordered David Sedaris reading 'Holidays on Ice' and "The Best Non-Required American Reading 2003," edited by none other than DAVE EGGERS.

It should be an abnormal Christmas season. Not only will my dad and brother be gone, I will be in Disneyland a couple days leading up towards Christmas and then I will be in Southern California - doing what? I don't know. I hope we can stay with my brother and my nephew baby, but odds are they are going to San Diego with his wife's family - it would only make sense. I don't know what mom wanted to do. Maybe we will drive back home on Christmas Eve and sit down and drink mimosas, sparkling apple cider, and watch Christmas specials on television. On Christmas, I will go to the movie theater and watch a good movie. I will be lonely. I will be fulfilled. I will be alone and be okay with that. It's hard to be alone here and be okay with that. At home, I expect it. Highschool was loneliness. So, hey, going back there isn't so out of the ordinary...

I don't know what I'm saying. It's strange - winter break seems to be a vacuum into which you get sucked in and then it's over and you fly out, right back out from where you came. It's a period of time that you spend completely in limbo - except real time actually does pass. Nothing is going to change when I'm at home. There is no reason to make new friends, to look for attractive people, to really make any change in your life except to plan the future. And I can do bullet lists and time charts alright, but not much else.

I will visit the MOMA. I will visit my friend at UC Davis. Maybe I will get down to UC San Diego. Maybe I will visit Laguna Beach with Michelle, eat chicken ceasar wraps and smoothies, and start a bonfire on the beach. We'll bring a portable boombox and dance around the fire, while our marshmallows burn and we get upset, but it doesn't really matter...

i've got reservations about so many things, but not about you

*Today I got told the umpteenth time this semester that I look like the lead singer from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. I mean, that's pretty sweet.

ZETUS LEPETUS!

I'm not exactly sure how you spell it. Do you think the writers of the Disney Channel Original Movie scripts worry about how you would spell something like 'ZEE-tus luh-PEET-us,' a slang term used by a 15-year-old girl who lives in a space station? I'm sure they take their jobs really seriously. They've gotta. You've gotta.

I'm going into architecture school. Next year. The year after. Or the year after. This involves taking calculus. It goes U + ME = US.

I mean it, bubs. You 'n me and a bucket of chow mein. Oh, it's the season for mistletoe, isn't it? I've never kissed anybody under the mistletoe. That would be delightful.

A survey asked me to quote the song lyric that sums up 2004. Well, that's just silly. But I chose this one: Life is still sweet, just forget what I said last week, life is still sweet.

I want to be nicer. I want to stop all my annoying sarcastic comments. There is a time for them and there is a time not for them. Actually, will I ever be able to stop? This is doubtful. It's ingrained in me. Whenever I say, 'I hate it when that happens,' it's really not my fault. It's my aunt's fault. She started it.

"sometimes in the morning i am petrified and can't move, awake i cannot open my eyes, and the weight is crushing down on my lungs i know i can't breathe, and hope someone will save me this time

your mother's still calling you insane and high, swearing it's different this time, and you tell her to give in to the demon's that posess her and that god never blessed her insides

then you hang up the phone and feel badly for upsetting things, crawl back into bed and dream of a time when your heart was open wide and you loved things just because, like the sick and the dying . . .

and sometimes when you're on, you're really fucking on, and your friends they sing along and they love you

but the lows are so extreme that the good seems fucking cheap, and it teases you for weeks in its absence

but you'll fight and you'll make it through, you'll fake it if you have to, and you'll show up to work with a smile

and you'll be better and you'll be smarter more grown up and a better daughter or son or a real good friend; you'll be awake you'll be alert, you'll be positive though it hurts, and you'll laugh and embrace all your friends and you'll be a real good listener, you'll be honest you'll be brave, you'll be handsome, you'll be beautiful

you'll be happy

your ship may be coming in, you're weak but not giving in to the cries and the wails of the valley below, your ship may be coming in, you're weak but not giving in and you'll fight it you'll go out fighting all of them...."

(Dashiell) has been sitting on my desk staring at the screen, tryingto figure out how the words are moving across the white. He looks back at my hands, bats at them, and is still quite confused. Now his paws are up by the screen and he's looking really really closely... and he sits down on the mouse.

Tomorrow night I'm going over to my aunt's to decorate her tree and listen to bad music and watch 'The Apprentice.' Maybe I will play some showtunes on the piano. Maybe some Disney tunes - I have the whole Disney songbook here and I haven't played it once.

I reflected back on the year 2004 today. It made me feel better that thinking about things that happened in January seem very long ago. It makes me feel as if life isn't going quite as fast as I thought it was. Still, I tend to think of years as beginning at summer, and going through the school year. It's absurd to me that spring semester was part of the inclusive 2004 year.

Rilo Kiley always knows where to stick it to me. This song has been a ridiculous aid to me this last year and a half in putting words to what I feel.

(you know that part in 101 Dalmations where the puppies are sitting in front of the TV commercial, their tails wagging, occasionally standing up to bat at the screen? That is what Dashiell is doing right now.)

(and i don't mind waiting if it takes a long long time.)

A note.

Sometimes little things make me happy. Let's face it, a lot of the time little things make me happy.

Yesterday my roomie gave me this note:

To: my roomie

As a gift to you, I'm not going to sleep with your mom tonight.

Love your roomie.

This note was on the back of a picture of 1920's fashion drawings. I love 1920's fashion drawings. In fact, I love most fashion drawings - I think it's a little disgusting how much I love fashion and fashion drawings.

Does it seem absurd to you that you are going home in two weeks or less? Do you have a high-pitched giggle? Will you give me something to giggle about? There are a lot of good people in this world named 'Joe.' There are lots of people I'm sure I could beat up if given the incentive and sometimes I think I have that incentive.

Anyway, it's not a good entry, and I doubt I'll ever write a good entry again, just so you know.

Here is a question I'll leave you with: what if I had grown up in Laguna Beach? Would you be able to creepily answer mundane questions about my life that you watched on television?

Also, if you owned a toaster that would toast a pattern onto your bread, what pattern would it be? For example, at Target I saw a Hello Kitty toaster that burns Hello Kitty's visage into your bread. I would probably choose a Mouskateer - one of the old school drawings from the club logo or something. There'd be a little girl and boy Mouskateer holding hands and holding Mickey Mouse head shaped balloons. That'd be my toast, and it would be awesome.

Remember when all I wanted was that purple parasol from New Orleans Square that you could get customized with the pictures that you wanted and personalized with your name in pretty lettering? Remember when my biggest problem was secretly wanting a princess hat with a long flowy piece and being too embarassed to ask for it?

Imagine how ridiculous it would be if those were my biggest problems today. Shit, I wanted that parasol, and damn, I want that princess hat.

Crushed to a bloody pulp like grape juice.

I wonder why games must be played and why we are all participants. I thought I was an unwilling participant but now I am willing. Such is life when you are growing up.