Wednesday, May 31, 2006

On friendship and priests

I can't quite recall if this was yesterday or today, but I was watching Despierta América on Univisión. I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that this was yesterday, because there's no way I'd watch Univisión voluntarily (and, as we all know, the channels they put in the TVs of doctors' offices usually sucks). Anyway, the topic was, can members of the opposite sex stay soley friends, or is it usually impossible?

Okay, let's take this apart piece by piece, shall we? First of all, I had no idea that I, as a member of the female sex, was supposed to be sexually and physically attracted to every single member of the male sex. I mean, I don't find pretty boys (pretty boys like Tidus, from FFX) attractive, or jocks (again, Tidus), or overly metrosexual men (well hello again Tidus). Does this mean something's wrong with me? No, it just means that not everyone of the male gender is attractive in my eyes, just like I'm not attractive in all guys' eyes. Though this might be due to the fact that not all guys are straight (geeze, using you as an example is getting old, Tidus). I am attracted to this guy...but then again, I'm also dating this guy. Hmm, whaddya know.

Next, I also had no idea that maintaining a friendship with a guy was supposed to be difficult. I guess I've been under the impression that I'm supposed to jump on every guy who strikes conversations with me, or that I'm supposed to fall madly in love with every guy I have casual sex with. Maybe that's what's wrong. I'm not supposed to see guys as people, I'm supposed to see them as potential husbands/boyfriends/sex toys, silly me. I guess I'll just have to stick with girls for friends and vibrators for pleasure. Or would that make me lesbian? Cue Strange Girl, courtesy of DC Comics. Piece of advice: having friends of the opposite sex is sometimes a lot better, because they give you insight that you don't get with your same sex friends. Just a thought.

Then again, maybe I speak from my own experience. Ever since I was about four, I've had plenty of friends who were guys. My first best friend was a guy. And guys in general were a lot cooler. They had better toys, better cartoons, and they liked to play fun games. Girls were too...ngh, in my eyes. I suppose this is the advantage to being a tomboy. And this is also the advantage of not being a girl who falls for every damn guy that comes my way. Because I can see guys as people, like we're supposed to. Guys, just like us girls, like to be treated as people. If they don't, then they're not worth the time.

Also, I'm not saying that there shouldn't be slight attraction with your opposite sex friends. If you're straight, it's only natural. There's a reason you have them as friends in the first place. This might be because they're funny, intelligent, good in bed, anything. Remember this guy from up there? I think it'd be around this month that we've known each other for two years, and also more or less around this month that we started being good friends. We actually hated each other at first, but that's because he's an egotistical jerk and he thought I was stupid. Then I figured out not to take him seriously, and he figured out I had a brain in my skull. And we also had quite a bit in common. So, even though he was one of my best friends, we found each other attractive, until we finally stopped beating around the bush and decided to date. Even if we break up though, we'll still be friends, because we took the time to get to know each other. Plus, he's pretty awesome when he's not being a manipulative fuck.

Moral of the story: members of the opposite sex can make awesome friends with benefits. If, after some time, you find them attractive enough to fuck date, then go for it, what do you have to lose? A friend? If anything, dating them might just make your friendship stronger, even if at the end it doesn't work out romantically.

On a sidenote, my oldest cousin on mom's side (cousin cousin, not second or third cousin or anything) was thrown out of his seminary in Dominican Republic, meaning that he's no longer going to become a priest. And the whole family's in an uproar. There hasn't been this much commotion since my uncle (mom's older brother) left my aunt for a younger woman. Y'know, I don't want to mention this, because mom's been on edge lately, but I'm getting the feeling that he got caught having sex with another guy over at the seminary, thus the real reason he was thrown out.

...I'm going to burn in hell for writing that, aren't I?

Anyway, enjoy this picture of a cat. Techincally, she belongs to my family, but she's actually the neighbors'.

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

On doctor's offices and self-esteem

So, I was at my endocrinologist's today. Now, before I can get into that properly, let me clarify something about Puerto Rico's wonderful (that's sarcasm) doctors. See, your appointment's at, say, 10am. No, don't be there an hour early. Or two hours early. No, you have to be there at 4-fucking-am most of the time, and even then, you'll be out of the damn cubicle space by 3 in the afternoon (but only if you're lucky or if you know the doctor). Because, see, doctors here don't care about patients and their damn health. They'll take forty...fourty...well, however it's spelled, they'll take a ton of patients every single day, they'll come in the office at midday, and the last patient leaves at 10pm. All they care about is filling their pockets with more cash than they can carry, just to be able to pay off that mansion and that Lincoln Navigator they bought. Oh, and any student loans too.

But see, the whole waiting process in the office is an entire subculture on its own. First, it's this scramble to get there before anyone else is there, so you can camp out in the car beforehand. Then, if you're not in the first five, you gotta stand outside the office, watching those smug faces, and make idle chatter about politics and the weather. Mostly politics. Well, this is if you're below the age of 45. If not, you'll be talking with the other old people. And this is the funny part, because from here on out, it's all an elaborate competition to see who's health is more fucked. In fact, let's put out an example here:

Old lady #1: Well, I'm here because my thyroids are as swollen as my husband's balls used to be and they might explode.

Old lady #2: Oh, that's terrible. I dunno, I've been this close to getting a heart attack, and the doctor's doing all she can to make sure I can avoid it.

OL #1: Really? Goodness, I had two heart attacks last year. Family's always had a bad heart, see.

OL #3: Hey, well, I'm having a heart attack now, beat that.

Notice how all of this also plays out as though we're all stuck in jail and they're comparing who commited the worst crime (between, say, bombing an abortion clinic versus assassinating JFK). Ladies, get over it. You're all about to drop dead anyway, what's the deal in comparing who's health is worse? If you're going to waste your breath on that, why are you still even standing?

So, back to the main thing. Finally, at around 8am, the secretary arrives, and we all file in and we fill out any medical papers and whatnot. Note that the time a secretary arrives will vary slightly from office to office. And then, the waiting game starts. And of course, mad predictions about what time the doctor might come in. Thankfully, this endocrinologist is actually quite punctual, and comes in at 9:30am, and starts taking patients at 9:30am. This one eye doctor I went to years ago though...well, I was finally free at around 4pm.

And then, the kicker of it all: as patients are done with their appointment and pay and whatnot, as they're going out, they say "que salgan pronto", which translates to "hope you fuckers have a horrible time waiting longer, but I don't give a fuck 'cause I'm fucking out of here!" You know what? Don't tell me "que salgas pronto", because you don't fucking care. You're done. The doctor's done checking you up, she's done telling you that you have acute pancreatis and that your pancreas will explode tomorrow. The rest of us aren't done though. We still have to sit here and fucking wait.

Well, in retrospect, I got called in at...10am I think. I don't remember because I lose track of time when I haven't had enough time to sleep. So, I'd like to take a moment to compare my self-esteem to a sand castle. I spend all day at the beach building it up, part by part, layer over layer. I finish, I stand back, and I look at my masterpiece, like a proud parent. And then a wave comes in and washes it away. In other words, my self-esteem is a sand castle. Or sand, whichever. Well, I did decide last month that I'd start taking better care of myself, so it's not like there'd be immediate results in this appointment. But I gained thirteen fucking pounds. I'm fucking fat now.

Just a note guys: I'm not actually fat. I look pretty damn good actually. Here's a picture.

Anyway, I'm not quite done with superheroe pictures yet, so here's another!

jungle fetish anyone?

Click for larger image. Bat and Rob sure are going places, eh folks?

On one last note, it seems I have a slightly larger audience (from zero to maybe four). I hope I can keep on entertaining.

Monday, May 29, 2006

On Link and video games

You know that a game still has lasting appeal when, eight years after its initial release (has so much time gone by?), you're still willing to pick it up and play through the whole thing again. I don't usually feel that way about games. Actually, what I feel towards them is akin to what I feel towards ex-boyfriends: you dumped them, they dumped you, end of story, and no, I don't want to have casual sex with you, get out of my face. But it's not that way with the Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. No, Ocarina of Time is the game that keeps on giving. It's like that boy-next-door who's still waiting around for you, even though you've been out dating other guys. When the show's over, you go back to him, and he's still there waiting. Of course, he pisses you off on occasion, just like Peter Parker pissed off Mary Jane, and just like the Water Temple in Ocarina of Time is currently pissing me off. What developer on crack designed that dungeon? This is, like, the eight time I've played and I still get lost.

But playing this eight-year-old Zelda game has got me thinking about the video game industry on the whole. I am one of those people who thinks that the industry right now is both simultaneously sad and pathetic, but I'm not going to start prattling on and on about how awesome the "good ol' days" were. And that's because, looking back ten and fifteen years ago, nothing has changed. It's still the same gawd-awful propaganda designed to get people to buy their plastic boxes that're capable of playing certain games. You know what's even more sad and pathetic? The fact that what also hasn't changed, even after all this time, is the existence of fanboys. The ones that spend their time passionately defending their console because it pwns j00rz, when really, each and every console serves the exact same purpose: to entertain.

The industry isn't stupid though. They know that they've got these ready-made propagandists, who're willing to do the promoting for them, and what's even better is that the industry doesn't have to pay these fanboys a single dime, because they're doing it both willingly and for free. It's not like that Gamestop or EBGames employee, that they're paid to shove the Xbox 360 and a bunch of mediocre games into your face, simply because they can't get rid of the surplus of said games. It's a living, and they've gotta bring food on their tables somehow. Yet the fanboys, who worship their console/company/game as if it were Jesus resurrected himself, are willing to spend their time, and waste their breath and your time, promoting what they think is the best.

Reality check: that Playstation 2 you love? That Halo 2 online campaign you think is fucking rad? That Miyamoto or Kojima you think is smarter than Einstein? First, that PS2 is nothing but a bunch of technological parts screwed together under a cheap plastic cover. That Halo 2 game is nothing but a bunch of code designed to make two armored soldiers pop up and kill each other. And Miyamoto and Kojima, though smart as they might be, are just regular people looking to keep earning their pay checks by designing the games that will continued to be worshipped to no end. In other words, that whole "console war" shit and all those debates between fanboys is meaningless and a waste of time, because in the end, it's all about these companies making money. They care about your feelings to the extent of getting feedback to make their games better (and that only applies to some companies, because others just don't give a rat's ass). They don't care about anything except filling their tubs with more money.

So then, what should gaming be about? Oh, I don't know, how about entertainment? How about having an awesome time shooting your teammates to death on Halo 2 or that sense of pure accomplishment when you finally figure out (again) how to get through the Water Temple in Ocarina of Time? Just buy the console that happens to play the games you like most, and leave it at that. Because, unless someone asks for it, no one cares about what you think about PS3 vs. Xbox 360. Anyway, I'm sure I'll finish the Water Temple sometime tonight. I've been stuck in that godforsaken place for over two days now, and I'm about to break the game.

Anyway, I'd like to apologize to you all, but no fruit pictures today. Right after I get that "brilliant" idea yesterday, all fruit in the house mysteriously disappears. So instead, here's what I had for dinner:

mmm, food

It was quite tasty. Admire the effort put into it to make the finest dinner this side of a fast food restaurant.

And, to make amends for any disappointment caused by lack of fruit, here's some food for thought. Click to see larger image.

Bat and Rob pole dance for our pleasure

Make of this what you will, but it's solid proof that firemen have a thing for pole-dancing superheroes.

Sunday, May 28, 2006

On blogging (again) and Juggernaut

"I'm the Juggernaut bitch!"

I just had to get that out of the way folks, sorry about that.

Anyway, here's an excerpt from today's El Nuevo Día (the link of said newspaper's website being here):

Blogger ( es un buen comienzo. Este popluar servicio de Google nos lleva paso por paso, desde escoger un nombre para nuestro diario virtual, hasta varias herramientas que haran que nuestro blog sea visto y comentado por otras personas. Si se nos va la mente en blanco, fácil!, podemos dar una miradita a lo que otras personas han hecho. Trata de ser original, ya que es algo que buscan los blogentusiastas.

Por José Hernández Falcón

And the translation:

Blogger ( is a good start. This popular service from Google takes us step by step, from choosing a name for our virtual diary, to various tools so your blog can be seen and commented on by other people. If your mind goes blank, easy, just take a look at what other people have done. Try to be original, since this is something blog enthusiasts look for.

Now, I'm sure Mr. Hernández is a very fine, very respectable journalist of high calibur. But well, I just have to wonder now, about this line:

"Try to be original, since this is something blog enthusiasts look for."

So, looking at my three previous posts, I've finally figured it out, why no one's commented on my wonderful pieces of high-calibur writing. It's because I haven't been original enough. Jesus, this must be the millionth and one blog that deals with rants and music, of course! Silly me! I should've sat down and decided to take the road less taken. Why, my blog should be a photoblog...a photoblog of...fruits! That's it!

Alright now, this is now a photoblog about fruits.

I think the image speaks for itself. Admire the fruit. Become the fruit. The watermelon compels you to comment on its succulent flavor and its rosy complection the same way Jennifer Lopez would if you had her in a room to yourself.

Please. That's worse than a blog about rants and music.

Speaking of music, I think I'll waste some more space here listing my top ten bands.

1. The Flaming Lips
2. Bright Eyes
3. Bad Religion
4. The Ramones
5. Saosin
6. The Dresden Dolls
7. Nirvana
8. The Clash
9. New York Dolls
10. Green Day

It's an odd list, I think. I mean, look at my #1 and compare it to my #10. Then again, no one touches The Flaming Lips and their awesomeness. I'm dead serious, they are one of the best biker pirates you'll ever meet in this lifetime, mostly because there won't be any biker pirates in the next life. The biker pirate species will be extinct and dead and there won't be anyone around ready to wage war against the boring and the mundane. The same thing could be applied to The Dresden Dolls. I fully believe they've sparked a new movement, and it's called punk cabaret. But thirty years from now, it'll be just like the punk movement all over again, with some variation of Hot Topic selling punk cabaret merchandise at insane prices. Well, at least they still sell The Ramones T-Shirts.

So, you all expected a review on X-men 3, right? Too bad, but hey, I'm sure there are plenty of unoriginal blogs floating around that've already done the exact same thing.

Saturday, May 27, 2006

On Murphy's Law and Latina mothers

Mom: Well hell, Hugh Jackman can scratch me with his claws any day.

Me: ...

Mom: Did-did I say that out loud?

Me: ... (moves a few seats away)

Mom: Oh come on, he's a hot art teacher. [This being a reference to X-men 2.]

So, what was the point of me presenting this small tidbit to you all? Well, I just wanted to use an exhibit for the creatures known as Latina mothers, because they really are a breed all on their own. Latina mothers present a host of different behaviors and qualities, but I think it's safe to say that said qualities can be roughly divided into two categories. The first category would be the side I just displayed: the funny, loving, sometimes quirky yet always amiable side. For more examples on this side, please see Absolutely Fabulous. This side is the one that makes these mothers act more like they're in their early 20's than anything else. Brad Pitt and Hugh Jackman are their idols. They don't want to do the cooking and cleaning, they don't want to be responsible mothers, and they sure as hell don't want to be seen as (gasp) older than their own children. It's all about having fun, making jokes, and making their families wish that the earth would swallow them alive.

The other category, however, is the vindictive, moody, I-am-the-queen-so-stfu side. Example:

Mom: Are those clothes clean or what?

Me: Some are, some aren't. I'll put the dirty stuff to wash tomorrow.

Mom: But why didn't you put them to wash today?

Me: It's 10pm Mom, I think it can wait.

Mom: Jesus Christ, what am I going to do with you? You've got a bed full of dirty clothes and you waited till now to tell me!

Me: Uh, all that's there are two shirts, jeans and socks. And I just got home. And you were the one who walked in here asking.

Mom: (starts going on and on about how irresponsible her children are, all the while ignoring the ironing that's been past expiration date for several months now)

Yes folks, this is the feared side. This is the side that lashes out at the slightest provocation. This is the side that flares up because there's a sock on the floor that just fell down there a few seconds ago. This is the side that is stubborn and that declares itself center of the universe. I think this could also apply for Caucasian mothers, only for them it's known as PMS. For Latina mothers, this is present half the time (since the other half of the time we have the teenager in a middle-aged woman's body). Everything's too much for her, her family doesn't care about her or pay attention to her, and absolutely no one except the dogs respects her. In truth, she's probably sitting on the couch watching Lifetime all day, while her husband's at work and while her son and daughter are out getting college degrees.

So then I wonder, why the duality? Why do Latina mothers have to be so bipolar? I don't know about the sons of Latina mothers because I'm not a boy, but when it comes to girls, there are these standards that we must fulfill in order to be perfect in our mother's eyes. We have to finish high school and get a bachellor and master's degree at college. Then we have to launch a successful career (preferably in medicine or business, because more money is earned). Then, we should be married by our late 20s, start a family, have a house, and then, with all the money we earn, we then have to take care of our poor old mothers until they drop dead on the ground. But don't forget, just because we're now liberal enough to have well-paying jobs and be at the top of the world, we have to get married and have families. We're absolutely not allowed to flirt, to stay out late because of rapists, to drink or smoke or have fun, or anything else our male siblings indulge in, because we're still women. Woe be me if I bring home a boyfriend, but my brother goes through four girlfriends in three months, it's perfectly alright.

I think the duality, then, just comes from the fact that we absolutely must surpass the previous generation and earn tons of money to support the entire family, because anything less would be complete and total failure. I suppose that's why I'm the family's deadbeat, since I drink, smoke, party late at night, and I'm studying theater to become an actress (not a doctor or a business woman). Sure, I'm doing what makes me happy, but it's not what makes Mom or the family happy, ergo I am a legitimate failure.

But, then again, I suppose that's alright, because what goes around comes around, just like today. My mother and I were sitting in the theater, ready to watch the third X-men film, and bam, the electricity goes out. And so, while my mother is probably condemned to never have her Hugh Jackman claw scratching fantasies fulfilled, I on the other hand will be back at the movie theater later tonight, ready to watch the movie with a bunch of equally good-for-nothing friends and buddies.

Oh Murphy, what a cruel person you must've been, but thank you for ruling in my favor today.

Friday, May 26, 2006

On blogging and a town once known as Dresden

So, first, let's get this out of the way. I'm not new to blogging. I've had and still have many different blogs over the internet, and they all vary on subject matter. My LiveJournal is my primary blog, and, being mostly a diary of my life and my thoughts, it's only open to those on my friends list. But, I also have a blog on GaiaOnline, on MySpace, on GreatestJournal, on MSN Spaces and even on It's not to say I'm some kind of blogging whore, come and get your blog sex for a decent price, but all these blogs center on something different.

Then what's this blog for? I think, on the whole, it'll be a blog about ranting about whatever the hell I feel like, and I might take a leaf out of my blog and also write about music. So, with the introduction post on who I am out of the way, this next entry will be part nonsensical ranting, part I-am-a-music-whore.

But y'know, funny thing about blogs. See, the other day, I was over at Borders in Mayaguez (it's my semi-eternal hangout), and they sell some books on blogging. Sorta like, what is a blog, where do you sign up to make a blog, what should you write about, what's good and what's bad blogging, examples of blogs, ect ect. I can see why they'd write and sell these kind of books in the first place. I mean, blogging is supposed to be this new phenomenon in literature and writing as a whole. Who doesn't like the idea of their ideas being available for all to see, read and comment on? It's also kind of like being a one-man show, in which you have to entertain a veritable audience once your blog is popular enough for [insert reason here]. So, stepping into this blogging business does seem kind of awkard and weird, like a thirteen year old boy trying to figure out the right way to masturbate.

There is something I didn't like about these books I flipped through though. And that something is what makes a good and bad blog, and what is good and bad blogging. I can't remember everything these books said, but among these things were: don't make a lot of posts; don't get caught up in a persona; don't leave your blog un-updated for months at a time; ect. The grand majority of all these suggestions ranged from common sense to just plain stupid. I mean, okay, a blog, in the first place, is part personal journal, part 'this is what I think of the world, up yours', right? Therefore, with the part personal journal part, it means that there is no right or wrong to your blog. Who cares if you make ten posts a day about how the cat keeps trying to eat your socks? It's your blog. You're the one maintaining it, and you're the one who decides what should and shouldn't be posted.

And with the whole persona thing. Avoiding developing a persona is, if you ask me, kind of inevitable. Why? Because a blog exists in the magical and sometimes horrifying (see Rule #34) realm known as cyberspace (or the Internet, or the World Wide Web). It's all free game what you decide to make truth, what you decide to make up, and everything in between. I mean, I'm presenting myself to you all as an eighteen year old Latina female with varied interests. But what if I'm not? I could be, say, a twelve year old boy from Fiji who smokes, drinks and watches American porn. Also, there is a growing trend of writing fictional blogs (as in, blogs that tell about the life of a fictional person). Point in case, if you're still reading this drawn-out entry, it's because you find it entertaining, and one of the many purposes of the Internet is to entertain, be it truthful entertainment or not.

Anyway, to end this quick, my point: there shouldn't be any standards to what is good blogging and bad blogging just yet. Blogging is still an untamed form of writing and expression, for better or for worse. When will I conform to standards? Easy, when blogging is officially ordained as a deity of literary classification (like novels, essays, and the like). Then it'll be like, "ohh, okay, so I'm not supposed to write about going to the supermarket ten minuted after writing about my obsession with catgirl pr0n". As it stands, blogging will continue to have many many good blogs, such as How to Write Screenplays. Badly. and many many bad blogs, such as the ones you can scope on LiveJournal's Latest Posts page.

Now then, about my music-whore-esque thing. I'm just going to comment quick on The Dresden Doll's latest album, Yes, Virginia. Compared to the first one (two if I count A is for Accident), it's less all over the place. I mean, it's still plays out like a stream of consciousness of a schizo, but it's more together. And that's actually a great thing, because these guys still haven't lost their punk cabaret touch. Though what I don't like is when people give their lyrics the tag of being on the emo plane. See, they're not emo at all. Amanda (the singer/pianist) just has a lot of issues, and isn't afraid to put 'em on paper. And hence, that is one thing I admire most about the album: the sometimes insane, sometimes controversial yet always honest lyrics. The other thing I admire: Brian (the drummer/vocalist/sometimes guitar player) and hs drum work. Seriously, I have no idea how he keeps up. He has an awful lot of talent in that area. And so, off this album, I will recommend the following:

Sex Changes, Modern Moonlight, Delilah, Dirty Business, Shores of California, Mandy Goes to Med School, and Sing.

So concludes this horrifically long entry. I'll leave you all with some sage words though:

"The best revenge uses a vagina."

-Mark Twain

Er, well, that's what he would have said if he had a drinking problem and grew up in the early 80s. And it's ripped from issue #20 of Filter.

Thursday, May 25, 2006

first post

So, I suppose I should have this sideline blog about me per se. I might use this to write rants in particular, since I have another blog on my life over at LiveJournal, over here. It's Friends-only anyway. Oh, what sort of rants? Not sure yet.

Anyway. Name's Di. Or that's my nickname. I've mentioned my full name in other entries I think, so if you missed it, better luck next time. I'm an 18 year old girl (I'll be ninteen in less than two months now), currently residing in Puerto Rico, for nearly nine years. Before that, I lived in various places in the US for ten years. Both of my parents are Puerto Rican, and I probably have some Italian on my dad's side. But, the latina in me is way stronger [/Star Wars], because when provoked, I do have a hell of a temper. Oh, and I've got an older brother, who's 23.

So, I was born in Colorado, which means someday I can run for US President and rule the world if elected. Then I lived in Panama for a couple of years. Then Kansas. I went to preschool there, and met my first best friend there, Sammy. But he moved (bitch). And then I moved to Conneticut, and spent most of elementary there, in two different Catholic schools. Then we moved here to Puerto Rico, and I spent 5th to 9th at the same public school. Basically, I hated my time there. 'Twas something of my emo stage I guess, but I never cut myself or anything. I was just severely depressed. Plus no friends. Yeah. It sucked.

Then I started high school, and decided to go to a private one. And I chose a kickass place. Best three years I could've hoped for. Not everything was perfect, but I met people that I liked and got into acting and started to write more. I graduated salutatorian. Yeah, I'm smart. I have to be anyway, because schoolwork has never given me motivation whatsoever. So I just basically did the projects that I had to, and aced most tests. I must be bragging. Sorry. But, at various points in life, I have been called a prodigy. I think it must be because of my talents in music, writing, drawing and acting, plus that I can do well in classes that I hate or am not good at. I just lack motivation. So anyway, I finished high school last year and started college at Sagrado, as a Theater major. Yeah, even my parents thought I should've studied something more useful (why else would mom always tell me to tell family that I'm studying Humanities?). Last semester was totally kickass too, I love college life.

But, since I couldn't pay what I had left over, I had to skip this semester, so I've been a deadbeat and a wannabe writer since January. And I'm now a directionless person, since I don't know anymore if I want to go back to college or if I just want to move out and do other things with my life. I know finishing college will improve my chances of jobs tenfold, but I dunno. I'm just not sure if it'll be worth it for me, especially if my parents can't afford it and if I can't pay for it. Well, I still have time to decide. And anyway, I can't move out just yet because I'm broke. So, send money this way. *cough* I kid I kid.

Now, my personality. Well, right off the bat, I have perhaps one of the most twisted personalities you'll ever see. I don't do things the normal way, I don't see things the normal way. I do everything backwards, I've got something of a cruel and sadistic streak, and I can be very thoughtless and aloof and my head's always in the clouds. I'm weird. But there are good things to my personality, I think. Most say I'm really kind and sweet, that I'm creative, and that I'm a lot of fun to be with. And that my sense of humor is kickass. There are other things to be sure, but I kinda don't remember at the moment. I'm a poor judge of the good things in my personality. Well, I wasn't always this twisted and fucked up, but ah well I guess.

Anyway, things I like. Er, anime, manga, video games. That's pretty obvious. But I'm not this whore that says everything is awesome. Especially anime, I'd say a good 80% of current anime sucks. But two of the best are FLCL and Cowboy Bebop. They totally rule. I like more manga though, since it's cheaper. Favorites: Fruits Basket, Tsubasa Resevoir Chronicles, Nana, Cardcaptor Sakura, Chobits, Magic Knight Rayearth, Naruto, One Piece, Fullmetal Alchemist, Bleach, DN Angel. And video games, I've been playing since I was three, there ain't no turning back. I have lots of favorites, but my top ones would be Super Mario Bros. 3, Final Fantasy VI, Super Metroid, The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, and Kingdom Hearts I and II. Oh, and Prince of Persia (the new ones, never played the old ones). I also love music. Indie rock, punk rock, alternative, and rock in general. Hell, here's a list of bands:

The Flaming Lips
Bright Eyes
Green Day
A Perfect Circle
Lacuna Coil
Xiu Xiu
Bad Religion
The Pillows
Unwritten Law
Jimmy Eat World
Broken Social Scene
The Postal Service
Modest Mouse
Bloc Party
The Cloud Room
The Arcade Fire
From First To Last
Queens of the Stone Age
Boxcar Racer
Sneaker Pimps
DJ Tiesto
Black Flag
The Appearance
Sex Pistols
The Ramones
Pearl Jam
The Dresden Dolls
The Strokes
Dropkick Murphys
The New York Dolls
La Secta
Audio Karate
Rise Against
Reggie and the Full Effect
The Clash
Social Distortion
Bouncing Souls
The Dead Milkmen
Mindless Self Indulgence
Dead Kennedys
Depeche Mode
The Velvet Underground
Violent Femmes
Iggy Pop
Suicidal Tendencies
Sonic Youth
The Pixies
ZZ Top
From Autumn To Ashes
Say Hi To Your Mom
World Leader Pretend
Angels & Airwaves
Calle 13
Alice in Chains

Yup. Asides music, I also love books and movies. Favorite book: 1984. Favorite movie: Quite possibly Kill Bill vols. 1 and 2.

Ah, what else about me...well, I've got a skeleton or five hiding in my closet. But I'm doing my best to face up to them, slowly and surely.

Oh yeah, love life. Up till Nowadays...well, I think most of you can guess. I don't feel like giving details. Ah what the hell. Well, if two years ago someone told me that I'd slowly fall for and start dating a certain Robert Fidler (who I call Sam, long story), I would've laughed in their faces. We hated each other, and the probability of us even being friends was slim to none. Er, well, I guess things change. He became one of my best friends, and one thing leads to another I guess. I gotta say, still can't figure out what I did. Whatever. Anyway, that's the gist basically. Happy?

I think that's it, I don't think I missed anything. So that's me in one entry. Now perhaps you may or may not understand stuff in entries. Oh, ice cream.