30 November, 2006, 949 pm
Filed under: Music

An intensely close friend of mine was arrested.  I don’t know why.  I’m confused.  I’m maybe a little scared, not of him, but for him, definitely.  I’m worried and…stressed would be a good word.  The most frightening thing is being left in the dark about it all.  I don’t even know what happened, but I know he’s a good kid, so it must be a mistake, or maybe something situational.  Wrong place, wrong time.  And he must be terrified and more insecure than ever.  I feel bad for not knowing anything, and maybe for not being the one he confided in.  I was the one he confided in, but more of a psychiatrist than anything, I think.  I just want to talk to him, not for my satisfaction, but maybe to calm him down because I know that’s what he needs.

I can’t dwell on this, though, even though I am, and my stomach churns every time I think about it.  I had a good day.  Lots of history participation, shortened playing in band, nothing to do in chem, and an oral quiz in French, which went surprisingly well.

Oh, by the way, I want to sex the Arcade Fire.  I’ve decided that they kick Andrew Bird out of the tied three favourite bands spot.  I’ve always been in love with them; they are irreplacable.  French (actually Canadian, but they sing some French), indie, and a sort of 1930s-reminiscent nostalgic sound (even though you weren’t there, you feel like you were supposed to be) would describe them.  Whenever I’m listening to one of their songs (minus Haiti), I feel like I’m supposed to be under the stars at night at a small bonfire, just looking up, and there are no lights except the fire and the stars, and everyone’s getting ready to go to sleep.  Yes, we will sleep outside.  Yes, Win Butler and his beloved Regine will protect us from monsters, bears, and rapists.  And cannibalism.  Listening to one Arcade Fire song prompts another.  When you’ve listened to them all in that marvelous chain reaction that is an album, you can go back and listen to another, because they’re that symphonic, emotional, and amazing.  It’s okay to listen to the same song twice or five times in a row because it brings back a different emotion within a huge umbrella of like emotions each time.

Those who will protect us at our bonfire.

A lot of people, upon hearing my music, tell me that the song starts out sounding epic, and then a voice comes in and it’s kind of frightening because the voices aren’t those you’d typically consider being cut out for singing.  Jenny Lewis (Chandra and Leigh Watson), Matt Costa, and Ben Gibbard are the only singers that are “cut out” for that.  Otherwise, I like scratchy, imperfect, eerie voices that crack and waver.  Especially the drunk-like tones of Wolf Parade.  I love it.  They don’t give a shit if they sound like shit, but they know they don’t.  And I don’t give a shit if people think my music sounds like shit because I like it.

30 November, 2006, 549 am
Filed under: School

Let’s talk politics, okay? I’ve been in a political mindset lately; I can decide my stance on issues in a heartbeat, or, okay, a few minutes. This year, history is enjoyable because we have debates, and good old Dunavant (he’s not really old) encourages us to think and to have opinions. I’ve always had opinons, but nobody asked, so I didn’t share. He asks, though, and expects us to care, so I get to share. I can’t understand the people who have no stances on anything, or no social causes that they’re advocates of. This is how much becoming vegetarian has changed my life–I’m more politically aware and involved, and certainly more passionate towards people and for debates. I have that one cause that I would go to the end of the world to argue for. Because of the research papers and people’s indecisiveness, I’m starting to realize how much meaning my life has opposed to theirs, and how unaware my peers are. I’m not talking freshmen or sophomores–I’m talking kids who should start applying for scholarships soon. Kids who are going to start taking SATs in the spring and applying to colleges shortly thereafter. Juniors. Juniors who are not passionate about anything.

My English class also annoys me a lot as a whole. Not everyone. Just some individuals. There’s one kid who seems to have a better sense of the world and more of a knack for politics and current events (and maybe history, too), and most everyone has to go and rain on his parade of opinons and the exposure of the truth.

I’d always assumed that teenagers were more rebellious and liberal; most of my friends approve of gay rights, animal rights, et cetera–or they have up until this year. There are some who still don’t know about factory farming, and that’s probably in part because I shelter them–I don’t want them to be hurt by the government that’s already hurting them by placing a thin veil over everything that is factory farming, as well as a bunch of other conspiracies infringing on our rights. I know it would mess up their whole style of thinking, and they’d likely be defensive and angry at first, although after considering the concept, there is nothing to defend unless you’re heartless or economically blinded. Animal rights is one of those causes that is best left up to those who will stumble upon the answers on their own.

Well, it turns out most kids these days aren’t as liberal as me, and I’m not even an extremist. I just want equality, mostly. A lot of kids in these parts are surprisingly conservative. They don’t use “gay/ghey” as a play-around word meaning lame (which they shouldn’t do anyway); they use it as a derogatory word and actually go out of their way to poke fun at gay people. They don’t want to go veg because there’s “no harm” in meat because it’s so socially acceptable. They are okay with war because they don’t know the implications of it–there’s little impact on everyday American citizens, so obviously it’s not as bad as, say, WWII. There aren’t casualties–but war is brutal; you’re killing people, even if it is for a “cause.”

For the words “population control” to touch their pristine ears is blasphemy. Why would someone want to limit the number of children individuals are allowed to have? I mean, the population is only at 7 billion (and rising). It’s not like there are more babies born every day. That’s so…communist (even though, in reality, there are tons of children waiting to be adopted around the world–including here in America). And people are paranoid of communism, even today. It’s condemned, even though we’re entitled to think and speak and write as we want. McCarthy much?

Not that I agree with communism, per se. I don’t think American-born diehards who have never been out of the country can really even begin to appreciate what it has to offer. The most appreciative are likely those who have immigrated here from less free countries. That’s why I want to travel the world, partially. I feel bad sometimes for not being appreciative, or for not having real reason to appreciate home.

I want to see Fast Food Nation with whoever’s willing.

27 November, 2006, 532 am
Filed under: Barrels of Fun, School

Miss Misery

God says I should read this book, pronto.  I read a few pages at Barnes & Noble today, and he mentioned Rilo Kiley on the first page.  I learned that “The Good That Won’t Come Out” is creative constipation.  I’m in love.

As for real life, I’m so confused, it hurts.  I wish I had a reset button.  I want good hair and good clothes and good self esteem so I can figure things out.  Today, I laughed too much.  I talked too much.  I felt like a donkey.  I felt…awkward.

But tomorrow, it’s back to school and back to not talking and sitting in new seats in Math Analysis, not next to the asians.  I think the kid I currently sit next to will at least be slightly sympathetic.  I know his music.  I wear Chucks.  That’s two things in common.  Cool.

25 November, 2006, 614 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

There’s another one

Once upon a time there were four girls. Young women, you might even say. And though their lives traveled in different directions, they loved each other very much.
Once upon a time before that, these same girls found a pair of pants, wise and magical, and named them the Traveling Pants.

The Pants had the magic of teaching these girls how to be apart. They taught them how to be four people instead of one person. How to be together no matter where they were. How to love themselves as much as they loved each other. And on a practical level, the Pants had the magic of fitting all four of them, which is hard to believe but true, especially considering only one of them (the blonde) was built like a supermodel.

Okay. Full disclosure. I am one of these girls. I wear these Pants. I have these friends. I know this magic.

I am in fact the blonde, though I was kidding about the supermodel part.
But anyway, as it happens with most kinds of magic, these Pants did their job a little too well. And the girls, being extraordinary girls (if you don’t mind my saying so), learned their lesson a little too well.

And so when the girls’ lives changed that final summer, the Pants, being wise, had to change too.

And that is how this tale of sisterhood began, but did not end.

Yes, I read the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants series.  I’m a girl.  People may refer to me as a manly girl (although I’d hardly call myself manly…I’m short, weak, and I shave my legs and armpits), but there are some things that define being a girl, and one of them is reading lovely sappy books.  For some girls, that would be shoju manga (heheh).  For others, that would be Mitch Albom books (heheh).  There are even some who read the Princess Diaries or Bridget Jones (heheheheh).  And then there’s the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, an essential series for girls this day and age.  Oh, and there are some people who have read all of the above.  Can’t forget about them.

Just, there are books that are interesting that make you learn something new about pop culture or the world or maybe even yourself, and then there are the books that relay the familiar and make you feel so good inside that when it’s over, there’s a burning nostalgia left that you can’t compensate for.  And the best thing about these books is that there are four very different girls…so different that you can relate to each of them in some way, but everyone has her favourite, and there isn’t just one utterly outstanding character.  For me, my favourite is Tibby.  I guess it’s because I can relate, a lot, minus her escapades in the last book.

Divya and I should throw a party for this book.  This entry, by the way, was curtosey of Divya.

23 November, 2006, 426 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Sympathy comments are prohibited. I will not allow them. I keep a blog not so that people can weep for/with me about how I’m failing Math Analysis. I keep a blog to let people know what’s going on and about music I’m listening to.

I appreciate comments in the form of anecdotes, opinons, expanding thoughts, additions, and corrections. Although I don’t really want to hear about your fantasies of sucking Andy Dick’s toes, you can leave off-topic comments as much as you want. Inside jokes are fine, too.

Again, I will not tolerate sympathy comments henceforth. If you didn’t read this blog, you get one chance, after which I will delete every sympathetic comment you leave. I’m sorry, but I don’t have enough hair left to keep reading these pity words.

This is not directed at anyone in particular.

Thank you.

P.S. I’m not really balding. It’s called hyperbole. Or just exaggeration.

22 November, 2006, 339 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

Note to self:  Never let Rachael have even an inkling of who I like if it’s someone she knows.  Especially if she talks to him.

Haha, fuck.

Wow, Paul Dano.  Um, go here.  Ahh, I want to see it.

20 November, 2006, 136 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

My dad has been working for almost 24 hours. He went to work from 8-8 yesterday (8 pm to 8 am), which turned into 8-1230, then came home and got right on the phone for a conference call. He’s been on that since 1, I guess (it took him time to get home from work), and now it’s 430 almost 5. That is 21 hours, mister. He pretty much looks half-dead.

This is stunting, because my madre is not home, and so I was unable to do anything all weekend. I would have ridden my bike to the mall today, but Rachael didn’t feel like going there. So. Fuck that.

I would also call people and just talk, but my dad’s on the phone. The cellular is under Rachael’s care. Rachael’s actually getting dressed up for youth group.

I’m a Confirmation drop-out. How Catholic of me. It’s because I couldn’t get a sponsor who would come down three times a year to get me confirmed. Shit.

I watched some shit show on the History channel about USOs. It was…creepy. They speculated on some craft that was shaped like a lightbulb. For a while, I thought they were just really frustrated and said, “crap,” a lot. Then I realized, “Oh. Craft.”

God, this weekend was le suck. I wish I’d gone to Pennsylvania and not to the playoffs. We didn’t even get third quarter break. Eff.