| (no subject) |
[Aug. 29th, 2006|04:28 pm] |
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Japanese club met today. Words cannot describe. I sleep now. Used a lot of happy. Out of fuel. Sleep. Good night. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 24th, 2006|09:48 pm] |
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I want to lay down and die. Let's see, friends... friends... Who's left? No one. Oh well. I'm leaving in December anyway. I don't even know what I did wrong. Maybe I'm screwed up afterall. |
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| Yahoo, freshman |
[Aug. 22nd, 2006|04:53 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  where'd my pants window go? | ] |
| [ | music |
| | "Boots" by Noe Venable | ] |
First day of school today. Only thing I was worried about was being prepared for English and finding all my classes. Turns out I was overly prepared for English all along. I had finished an entire semester's worth of the literature unit over the summer. And I was overly anxious about finding my classes. Everyone I asked was very helpful, and none of them were too hard to get to in five minutes.
I was late twice, once to French after lunch because the hallway was jammed, and to algebra because I didn't know the class was in a seperate building (the Math building, duh). That and the constant limping I had to do because of the white-hot pain in my heels. I was planning to wear hose for my new shoes (they're a lil' fancy), but I forgot to. I have approximately six blisters all around my feet, most of them the size of dimes. I'm wearing sneakers until these heal.
At least they let the tardies slide for the first day. Their reactions really bugged me, though. Like they were appalled that I couldn't locate a class on a completely different side of the campus, on my first time ever seeing anything but the auditorium, in five minutes. I just had to be late for my least favorite teachers... the French mumbler. The irritable pregnant math teacher was okay, but she came across as a neat freak. All the rest of my teachers are twenty-year-old sticks, except my male fifty-year-old Drivers ED instructor. They're nice and all, but I wonder if they'll last. Physically and emotionally.
The choir director is wonderful. Incompassionate, dry, and a trained ear. Everything I love most about human beings combined into someone who isn't even a native European. Therefore I can understand everything she's saying. I've died and gone to heaven. Oh, you can definitely tell it's a women's choir, though. She's certainly not afraid to say "boobs," which I suppose is both refreshing and irritating.
I forced myself when I got home today. I forced myself to start my homework, and I forced myself to drink an entire V8 in front of the kitchen sink, which to me tastes like tomato paste combined with my own bile.
Jami called just now and reminded me that I may be leaving in December, and I let her know that Andy may have found a job here in St. Louis, at Boeing. She didn't seem too happy, so I asked her, "Isn't that a good thing?"
And she said, "Sure, you're rarely optimistic."
That hurt me. I'm very well known for my optimism. I honestly don't know what she's talking about. Sometimes I wonder if she knows anything about me at all. |
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| Dream meeting |
[Aug. 18th, 2006|10:44 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  indescribable | ] |
| [ | music |
| | "Prettiness" by Noe Venable | ] |
I met Mr. Martin in a dream. The dream-plasma air embodiment of Mr. Martin... not a figment that resembled him and called me names. All his mannerisms, all his glowing happiness. He was at his best. It was like he was twenty-five again, working as the pizza man during the summer and wearing old t-shirts to school. We were somewhere, together. Somewhere he had invited me. I don't know where.
We belonged there. I understood why, in the dream. We took a swim together. He kept bumping into me, bumping into me and laughing, causing me grief and laughing. It was the most wonderful feeling imaginable, because I knew I must mean something if he invited me to take part in this. I actually thanked God in my dream, something I've never done before. He mentioned that there was satellite TV... wherever we were. He sure loves TV. Sprawled out on a living room sofa, holding a blanket close to my face. He's at the other end of the sofa, still grinning. I watch him, praying he doesn't decide to leave too soon. I want to glue him down so he won't leave. I don't remember half the conversation we had, unfortunately, but he let me spill my guts. I said whatever came to my mind.
He mentioned something about white water rafting. Apparently he was going on a trip somewhere. He asked me if I thought something might happen to him. It was his first time. I said, "No, I don't think so, because stuff like that just doesn't happen." I was rambling. "You know when you think no harm will ever come your way, and everyone else might get hurt but you're untouchable? I think it really is that way."
"What do you mean?"
"I just..." I laughed. "Just don't do anything stupid."
"No, I... Right." He got up and went off to get a drink or something. I felt a little silly. Sleepy, drunk, whatever I felt, I wasn't sorry I said it. I guess by then I had realized I was only dreaming.
I most vividly remember when he walked off and I started nodding off a little with my head under the blanket. There was a cartoon on. I glanced at it from beneath the blanket every few seconds. Some cow thing trying to keep people from getting blown away by the wind, after it discovered gravity had been turned off. He came back and sat down.
"Did the older one trip the cow?"
"Oh?" I lifted the blanket off my head and sat back up. "Uh, yeah, I think so."
He smiled, wide. "Hysterical."
I stared at him and sort of half smiled, an accusing smile. He kept grinning.
"In real life!"
"Of course."
"Just think about it."
"I understand. You don't have to be ashamed of watching cartoons. You know me, watching anime. 'whatchoo watchin' Japanese cartoons yoo crezzi....'" He actually laughed. Pretty hard.
"Look, we've got a (something something something supposedly the name of a movie channel) here."
"Awesome."
"Do you like The Simpsons?"
"I'd love to watch it if you'd like to."
"I haven't in several years, actually (I have no idea if this is true, or if the cartoon statement is true)."
"Oh, well, my step dad had never watched an episode of The Simpsons before until recently. He always watched South Park. And so he's got a pretty different sense of humor, just like me, I guess. We watched an episode of The Simpsons together, and he laughed so hard... he laughed so hard...." I didn't know what to say. I felt him losing interest, like my naval was a bathtub drain drinking in my fantasy. "He laughed so hard that he made me jump. I was in the kitchen." The dream was over. I woke up. I will never forget this experience. This dream meeting. |
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| : | |
[Aug. 17th, 2006|11:39 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  me good sometimes | ] |
Another masterful Genkai. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 17th, 2006|01:16 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  booleggeh! | ] |
I need flesh-colored markers. I'm tired of filling stuff in with PSP. There are always gaps. It's too complicated. Anyway, this is the cover of a doujinshi that's based on the only fanfiction I've ever written, a comedy/cross-over/alternate dimension-type mix between Yu Yu Hakusho and the infamous Yu-Gi-Oh. It got really weird after the first two chapters, but my fans ate it up. I made it through about forty chapters before I gave up my account on Mediaminer.
Unfortunately, I've lost every chapter except the revised chapters one and two. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 16th, 2006|09:52 pm] |
Once again, all blog-viewers are strongly advised to visit my DA gallery.
http://lua-te-dua.deviantart.com
I'm lacking in the comments department and I'm lonely. D : Nobody ever has anything to say about my poetry. |
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| Hello bloomsdale... |
[Aug. 16th, 2006|01:05 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | the cat's chasing himself | ] |
| [ | music |
| | "I'm Sad Too" by Noe Venable | ] |
http://noevenable.com/music/NoeVenable.com--Down_Easy--Im_Sad_Too_128.mp3
any fool will tell ya
not to look at toby mills
on a day you got a twinkle in your eye
he got hands like chew toys
from his work on the machines
and he waters them like roses when he cries
so I guess you got a secret
it gets bigger every day
as the subaru is filling up with rain
and the road is going nowhere
though the arrow says New York
and the hour says it's time to say it plain
chorus:
I'm sad too
me and you we got to
stick stick stick together
I'm sad too
me and you we got to
stick stick stick together
the twilight says, "I'm outta here"
the evening says, "I know"
the kids are clowning up to hit the cars
I always thought you'd wind up
like the ghosts on my TV
and they'd shine you up and hang you in the stars
sometimes I get afraid but
these dreams they die so brave
they just flip their fins and whistle as they?re drowned
and I drunk up all my money
so I'd best forget to pay
and you haven't finished dealing
and they're wheeling you away
and the bus comes round to fill 'er up
the same time every day
but it's looking like we better stick around
chorus
the new year is a stillborn
we are running through the streets
setting all the Christmas trees on fire
rooted down and clutching
at the sheet metal sky
like a bird electrocuting on the wire
doo doo doo doo do doo
and I drunk up all my money
so I'd best forget to pay
and you haven't finished dealing
and they're wheeling you away
and the bus comes round to fill 'er up
the same time every day
but it's looking like we better stick around
chorus
I love singing this. The lyrics are great. |
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| "Different" |
[Aug. 16th, 2006|12:47 am] |
How many irons can you find in this picture?
HUH? HOW MANY?
>: | |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 14th, 2006|08:02 pm] |
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Stomach flu, yesterday. On my birthday. Still getting over it. Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwww...... |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 10th, 2006|05:21 pm] |
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I need a break. Conflict is weighing down on me. It's like waiting for death. I'm going to buy some clothes online. Maybe I'll like myself a little more if I indulge myself. Why do I care so much about myself all of a sudden? Is there anything wrong with me or am I just imagining it? |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 6th, 2006|06:39 pm] |
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My friends can be some of the most unsympathetic people alive. They give me absolutely no emotional stimulation. If anything, they make me depressed. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 4th, 2006|09:11 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  ahhhhhh Octoberrr | ] |
| [ | music |
| | "Shikkari TRY La La Lai" from Azumanga Daioh | ] |
IT'S A GIRL!!!!!
ALMOST!!!!!
Wife-san is due some time in October. They're going to name her Sophia Lee (snort). We're going to buy them some sort of gift and then I'll send him that drawing with it. Lu-sama gave Sensei our email address, and he's supposed to email us... eventually. Or something.
OMG I'M A CONTACT. >o< IT'S LIKE I'M HAVING THE BABY. Oh wicked imagination, why do you make every situation I'm in that much more exciting?? |
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| The Rich House Concept |
[Aug. 3rd, 2006|08:33 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  poet power! | ] |
| [ | music |
| | "Lilies" by Noe Venable | ] |
Last night's dream opened with static
Opening and closing the proverbial attic
The faucet drips and there's nothing I can do
I want to stop the dripping but there's nothing I can do
Heaven help me, I can't bring myself to move!
The ghosts begin their ghostly strum
Rythmic mist spouts with every low hum
The creature soaked in color, I can't stop it
I want to end its prowling but I cannot stop it
I cannot bring myself to end it.
Spin, spin, spin
We're focused within
A dancing figurine with broken limbs
She dances anyway
There's ceramic everywhere
She sinks into a chair
Her hair falls to the floor
She cannot feel it anymore.
And the dirt she's made of, the dirt she's composed of
It sinks into the floorboards of the house she's bound to
Staring at the ceiling is her only entertainment
Day after day... and she's sick of it. |
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| Restoration |
[Aug. 1st, 2006|03:12 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  hats off! | ] |
My prayers were answered again. My mother and I settled our differences. I let her know what was going on in my head and she fixed whatever was going on in hers. She's been stressed out about the wedding and she's been nagging me about how I sit around and do nothing while she's at work. And we haven't been able to communicate lately because she's been so distant. She promised never to push me or ignore me again.
And then I got the opportunity to redeem myself. My grandpa, a widower, can't really take care of his own house. It's a disaster because of his energetic German shepherd, Yukina (I named her). He picked me up two hours ago and had me scrub his living room floor, and then mop up his kitchen floor. It was harder than it sounds. Took me at least an hour and a half. He paid me $20 because I worked longer than we agreed I would. I put my all into those floors, and I have never seen them so clean. : D |
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| The Dream 01 |
[Jul. 30th, 2006|09:23 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  sad | ] |
Jami and I were heading for some sort of meeting. In the hallway, I met Sensei. I was ecstatic, and he seemed pretty happy to see me too, probably because he was carrying a case of pens. He gave a load to me and then gave me specific instructions on what to do with them, but I wasn't listening. I was staring at his chin. I didn't realize I had oopsied until he walked away and I was carrying a bundle of ballpoint pens. So I walked to Miss Hogan, who had been standing nearby, and asked her what I should do with the pens, assuming she had some part in whatever I was doing. She said, "No, sorry, and I don't think you should be doing that."
"Why not?"
"I think he's setting some sort of trap. He's been setting traps a lot lately because he's almost thirty."
"What in the world could that mean?"
"You can never know for sure."
And so, a little wiser than I was before, I continued to ask people nearby if they had somehow overheard my instructions and could repeat them to me, to no avail. Finally, after about an hour, I headed down to the music room dungeons (through the secret entrance, of course) and walked into Sensei's tiny, cramped new office. And I asked him, "What am I supposed to do with these?"
His expression made me sad. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 24th, 2006|11:26 pm] |
Introversion, death to you
There's something I wanted to say
To make me known throughout
This wild circumference
If I must open an artery
If I must reveal how I was made
If that's what it takes
Then I will not be afraid
Once, Once, Twice
Thrice
And it's all available
Once again
Take a glance,
A once in a lifetime
Chance
To see the contents of a maid
Cowardice, death to you
I am outspoken and natural
In order to be known by
Someone in particular
If I must empty into the empty
If I must expose muscle and vein
If that's what it takes
Then I will not be afraid |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 23rd, 2006|01:42 pm] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | H-O-M-E. | ] |
| [ | mood |
| | thankful | ] |
Recap again. What a pain. Didn't finish the mission impact week. Too much happening all at once. Bad storm. Some people say it was one of the worst damaging storms in history. Power was out until last night. Stayed in an apartment thanks to Aunt Neno, who works at Camden Living. Wednesday night... night of the storm... looked out the window in the back, sky was a REALLY bad color, afraid of tornadoes, looked out the front, turns out it was just the sun. The sun was still out during the storm. Lightning streaking all ACROSS the sky, like tree branches. One of the most spectacular and frightening things I've ever seen. Power went out.
Got a call from grandpa just then. Said he had a nosebleed that wouldn't stop. Rushed to his house right away. He was in terrible shape. Aunt Nancy came. She called Uncle David, and he came too, and Uncle David called Uncle Peter. We took grandpa to St. Anthony's after he coughed up a giant blood clot... it was the size of a golf ball. I cried. I was scared.
St. Anthony's wouldn't take him. Too crowded. As we were leaving, Uncle David called the place a "butcher shop" and advised the patients in the waiting room to leave, saying they "killed more people than saved them." Grandpa was bleeding all over the floor. Took him to Baptist. Met Uncle Pete there. They took him in and stopped the bleeding. Turns out he'd taken too much aspirin. It thinned out his blood. They kept him until midnight, and then Uncle Pete took him to his house because he still had power. Mum and I slept in the basement that night. It was too hot upstairs without air conditioning.
We went to the apartment. Stayed there with grandpa. I spent the next day with him. We watched the news and sat around on the couch until Mum came back. Neno took grandpa to her house when she got power. Andy arrived. Mum brought him to the apartment. Went to a drawing class at the art museum on Saturday. At first I thought it was another amateur class... all basic information and no real learning... I was the best one in the class, once again... until I was sketching a picture of a giant Mayan head statue, and the instructor gave me some excellent advice about perspective, and complimented my shading technique. I was flattered and very pleased with his criticism. Came back home this morning. I miss the apartment. It was cleaner. I missed Pearl, though... |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 19th, 2006|05:49 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | I did good! | ] |
| [ | music |
| | "Aurora" by Björk | ] |
I can't believe I used a computer only five days ago. It looks so alien to me. Some of you may know... I was gone all of Monday and half of Tuesday on a sort of mission trip. I registered through my church, Central Presbyterian. I hardly know where to start, so I'll recap the first three days and I'll continue from there at the end of the week. I wish I'd had time to keep a journal.
Monday
I left at 10:30 AM with my grandpa. He took me to Steak & Shake, where I filled myself to the brim with steakburgers and fries, preparing to fast for thirty hours once I made it to the church (Chesterfield Presbyterian). Made it to the church at around 11:45, about half an hour early. I think there was only one other student who had already made it, and all the rest were group leaders.
Steve wasn't there... He's the youth leader at Central Pres... But I *THINK* Eric was there. I don't really know who he is, but he's a great guy. Married with four adorable little girls. Then there was Sharon, who was... twenty-two? And Rebekah, who's 19 and a student at Mizzou. I met her first. Then there was Amanda, who's, um, at least old enough to drive. No clue about who else was there.
They were all stuffing themselves with sandwiches from Bread Co. We all sat together and threw out a few personal problems, then prayed about them. We started the fast at noon, when everybody else arrived. The reason I was so worried about this week is because I thought I wouldn't get along with the people I'd be with. But I was wrong. Not the typical yuppie-ish... we're-not-really-that-faithful-we're-just-doing-our-duty crowd. Sure, there were a few snobby twelve-year-olds who were forced to sign up by their parents, but I really connected with the group leaders, and... um... I don't even know how to describe this. I just felt so accepted and loved there, even though I'm a new believer, I'm horrible at praying, and I'm bad with words and... uh... human interaction in general.
I especially loved Rebekah and Sharon. Since I started the week not knowing how old they were (they both looked about sixteen!!), the barrier I establish automatically with those older than I wasn't there from the beginning. It was easy to forget that they were college students. They paid special attention to me, and cared for me almost like sisters. I enjoyed working with them... stuffing envelopes with Sharon and collecting canned food with Rebekah.
For a while we would gather in a circle and discuss Scripture.
"If you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if fellowship with the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, (2) then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose. (3) Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. (4) Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. (5) Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus" (Philippians 2:1-5).
I realized that my desire to do good was mostly for show. I wanted people to see that I was a productive member of society and stop criticizing me for being selfish or lazy. And I wanted myself to see it too. I wanted to stop believing that I was worthless. I guess my second reason is okay because I was looking out for my well-being instead of my image, but there should have been some motivation to do it for the Lord, and I can't lie and say that it was there. I guess you could say I wasn't a true believer until I was there for those first two days. But they didn't throw me out. They were there to help me understand why I had registered for this mission trip in the first place. What God intended for me. I think He wanted me to see how vain and selfish I am, and that something can be done about it. Or rather... that I was going about this the wrong way. I was supposed to be serving Him without taking the glory for myself. Yeah, I think that's a better way to put it.
A lot of my questions were answered. What does God hate? Those who listen to his word but do not act on it. Those who call themselves Christians for show or for profit. Deception, injustice, vanity, favoritism, hypocracy. I wish I could remember everything I felt when I was studying the Bible. I wish I could bring it all back so I could share it. I should have kept a journal. I should have taken notes. It was the most amazing feeling. I was guilty. I was being judged. And at the same time I was being cleansed and forgiven. It was like being told to look at a place on your body you've never thought to clean before, realizing how putrid and disgusting it is, and allowing the one who pointed it out to scrub it squeaky clean, and then listening to their instructions on how to keep it from getting dirty again. But there are so many places to care for that we can lose track and miss a day, or even a week, but that person is always there with a hose or something, and if you ask them to, they'll clean you completely and make up for every day you've missed and want nothing in return but your love, gratitude and obedience.
Well, back on track...
Sang a little. Suffered a little. Played kickball and soccer outside. Discussed Scripture and went around the church on our own to pray every once-and-a-while. Took a "prayer walk," which was a trail hike with seven breaks to pray for things like feeding the hungry, helping people to find Christ, giving people the spirit of love, acting on God's word, helping the homeless, acting justly, and healing sickness. Watched "End of the Spear," a movie about missionaries giving their lives to save an extremely violent tribe somewhere... um... somewhere far away. The movie didn't really specify. It wasn't a very good movie, but it was a true story. Incredible story. Heartbreaking and uplifting at the same time. I still remember the father's words to his son when he was asked to defend himself if the tribe attacked... "We can't kill them. They're not ready for heaven, but we are."
At midnight, slept in a cardboard box out in the parking lot. I only fit halfway in mine. I slept on a blanket and travel pillow. Eric came up and said, "Aww, your box is cute!" It was the smallest one. I suffered.
Tuesday
Had to lay there with my feet throbbing from the hike for about seven hours. Didn't sleep. Sat up and looked around for another hour, and then I got up and went back inside to hang out with whoever was awake. Someone had been slightly doused by the sprinklers that night. They thought it was raining.
That morning we discussed more Scripture and made friendship bracelets with dear old Eric. Steve said he didn't have any friends but us, and now I kind of know why. He called him a "professional friend." We thought that was hilarious. Maybe it was the heat.
After that we started stuffing envelopes and sort of watched some movie about a British boxer. I didn't understand it at all because I was busy moving at lightning speed, stuffing letters, inserts, and return envelopes into bigger envelopes for Sharon to seal. I kept that up for about two hours non-stop, even while we were taking breaks. It was extremely satisfying, and my fingers were cut to ribbons. But soon it got really cold. The A/C was up too high. Rebekah asked me if I wanted to go door to door with her to collect canned food, and I joined her group. Mostly twelve-year-olds. They complained a lot. They got at least seven cans, though. Goody goody.
Final activity of the day was going to Schnucks with a group of three. We were to buy as many non-perishable items as we could with only five dollars. Our group went for the ramen and the canned vegetables. We went fifteen cents over, but nobody ended up winning that contest anyway. A nice cashier gave us the fifteen cents so we wouldn't have to wait for one of the group leaders to give us change.
We talked about our experiences and prayed for the last hour of the fast, and then ate pizza. I had one slice before I got picked up, and then I had a sandwich and a bowl of ramen. The movie "The Road Home" was waiting for me when I got back. Sweetest movie I have ever seen. I cried at least three times. The Chinese know that true romance is not all about hugging and kissing.
There's more to be said about my experiences. Maybe it will come to me later. Right now, everything I did feels like some sort of dream.
Wednesday
Arrived at Central Presbyterian at 8:00 AM. Waited for fifteen minutes. Steve and Rebekah showed up after a while, and when all the Centralites were there, we headed to Chesterfield Presbyterian.
That's when we discussed Philippians 2:1-5. And then we headed to a widow's house. Ms. Maxine. She had a lazy eye and a cloth wrapped around her head. A true old widow. I spent the first two hours or so scrubbing the walls of the bathroom until the paint was nearly gone, and then we took a break for pizza. After that I painted the ceiling in the main room, and I got up on a ladder and painted the top of the walls. I sweat buckets. The poor woman didn't have air conditioning. The house was barely liveable. We'll be going back tomorrow.
*Forrest Gump voice* 'N' that's all I haffta say about that. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 13th, 2006|02:03 pm] |
This is about where I start to regret registering to sleep in a box in the middle of a parking lot for God. Just because I'll have to talk to people. I love the idea of self-induced suffering for the good of mankind and to show appreciation to my deity, but I do not love the idea of being stuck with a bunch of yuppies from the church who will ask me countless questions about why I decided to volunteer. I will simply tell them that I am a masochist and then maybe they will leave me alone.
I have far too much to do. I have four years to put together a portfolio that will hopefully get me into an art school in Chicago. This may not sound challenging, but four years is about forty-eight hours in graphic novelist time. I still have two book reports to do for freshman year. Not too worried about those. I'll start later this month. Very determined to train my voice for upcoming vocal lessons. I'm so ashamed. I've had all this time and I haven't even memorized my music. I have to clean the house by four. It's past two.
My brother decided not to go to Peru and do something my mom doesn't approve of. He's coming to her wedding instead early this August. Wonderful, marvelous, but sleeping arrangements are going to be a problem. Let's see... Me, Andy, Mom, Naomi, Pete... And we have three beds. Okay, no problem. We have lots of couches.
I still need a dress for the wedding. I hate dresses. They make me look like a pear. What I need is a giant poofy dress that resembles a tree ornament.
Oh, Björk. You know me so well. |
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shenkan's journal