In the desert once again...

Every Thursday night I go to SJSU's Tsunami Anime club. There, we watch six different series, one episode each in chronological order with two intermissions in-between. I normally just stay for the first hour, because the meeting hall is all the way across campus; the reason being why I leave so early is that I don't want to get raped or shanked or jacked or killed on my way back to my dorm room. However, every time I get to anime club, and watch an episode of Canaan, I die a little inside.

I die two ways.

One way - the cuteness overwhelms me to the point of unshed tears. No lie. When Maria and Canaan have their cute little best-friend moments I inwardly squeal with such joy that my night gets made right there on the spot. Who doesn't like seeing such a pure friendship? Who doesn't get instantly happy when you see two people happy and in the moment of such a sanctified friendship? It just kills me so much that I have to blink a bunch of times to get the tears out of my eyes (call me a sap if you want, IDGF.)

The second way - the best-friend moments overwhelm me with such unbearable sadness I have to look away for a moment. I'm sure it was episode 3 where Canaan feels the "rejection" color from Maria after saving her. Rejection hurts. Seeing others getting rejected hurts. Especially when one performs an action perfectly, believing that they were doing the right thing and then get shot down by the person they were trying to please because of a misunderstanding. Or, even the lack of seeing a person for their truly pure intentions while you're there sitting and afraid of your friend who had already done so much for you - and you're caught in the act of selfishness and forget about them. And so the night that was made was instantly ruined because pain injects itself into my big, useless heart.

I'm in the desert again, walking towards nothing but mountains of sand. My hope is as long as the trail of footprints behind me, getting blown away by the wind.

Man of the House.

Soooooooo. As it seems, I am the "man of the house" at my dorm. Which, in all reality, is pretty damn funny. Mostly because my roommates are your typical loud-ass "girly-girls", who are afraid of small spiders and hairballs (which, consequentially, are their own). But, in their defense, the mosquito I just saved them from was HUGE. It was about four inches long, and for someone as small as me, I'd suppose that's pretty big. No...it was really big. After stepping on it, the length of it squished was about half of my slipper! I didn't want to kill it, but I knew that if I didn't, my roommates would die of those frightful thoughts of "If you let it live once, it will come back for yeewwwww!!!"

Even the tallest roommate I have - who is about 6 feet, I'd say - was up on a chair screaming with the others. And to think I just thought they were screwing around, like normal...

Who said the city wasn't a jungle? Amongst the concrete and skyscrapers, there are still diverse types of "wildlife".

OH YEAHHHHHHHH.

Of Leaving and Saying Goodbye.

"It's always a depressing thing when you lose a friend - it's even worse when you get to the point of willingly giving them up."

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I should have a compilation novel of one-pagers that I have written. They'd be tear-jerkers, I'm sure.

Spontaneous, 'knaamean?

(Spontaneous, "you know what I mean?")

For the four day break of Labor Day weekend, a handful of friends and I planned to visit two of our other friends up in Sonoma State. They - their names being Karina and Zach - drove up from our hometown to pick me up in San Jose, and then the plan was to drive to Sonoma, visit, and then stay the night and somewhat create friendships among each other's roomies. But in all reality, when do plans, specifically ours, stick to the agenda?

We made it to Sonoma, don't get me wrong. We got to visit Ari and John (and their roommates, whom are pretty cool). We made it in one piece. Only thing is, we didn't stay in Sonoma. We decided to randomly, spontaneously, drive up to Oregon.

Yeah, Oregon. The state. With all of the prettyful trees.

The drive wasn't specifically hazardous...it was just going 70-105mph on the freeway, and having someone who didn't have their license, or even a permit, drive. Oh yeah, and performing drive-bys with mini donuts, slandering peanut butter jars with a "V" (for "Victory", or course), and telling each other to shut the eff up and go to sleep.

My God, it was probably one of the best experiences of my life. It was also, as sheltered as I may sound, the first time I went to another state. And I'm not gonna lie, Oregon is amazing. No tax, and the dudes at the gas stations had to pump gas for us (the reasoning/law for that was a rumor that the mayor's daughter caught on fire, but that's just from one party...I'll have to consult Google later if I'm not passed out by then). Ari has a brother who lives in Ashland, and so we decided that we'd go visit him along the way (coincidentally, it was his birthday, so even though we're all haphazard, things still work out fine). We're some lucky mofos, I'll tell ya what.

A bunch of crazy things happened along and during the way...

Besides Karina and Zach getting lost before they picked me up - CalTrans is fixing the freeways, and apparently took down the "SJSU" exit sign - in chronological order, I: traveled to Oregon and witnessed a new state, saw Crater Lake, got into a snowball fight at Crater Lake, got my foot ran over by a car, had to jump into the same moving car while getting hit, got half a water bottle spilt on me (AGAIN >.>), spilt hot coffee on my leg while I was driving at 4am,  got bitched at by a scraggly, freako biyatch chick in a van, and then witnessed Karina set John's dorm's fire alarm off while she was making toast. Oh, and I think I got checked out by one of his roommate's friends (who is very, very cute and has beautiful blue eyes).

I think there may be more things that happened, but I'm tired and can't really remember that well. But, yeah.

Crater Lake was one of the most beautiful natural landscapes I have ever seen (it ties with Yosemite, I'd say). Oregon in general is just really, really pretty. So many trees! The air was so blue, and there weren't really any clouds in sight until later on in the day. There was something about it that made me feel that "I could live out here for a few years and work on that one novel that could make thousands, or even millions". There were even patches of snow in random places along the mountain, so Karina, Zach, Ari and I climbed the small grade up, and then went crazy. It was sort of horrible because we were in jeans, shorts, and tank-tops, but the numbness of our, feet, hands, and ass hardly compared to the immense fun we had throwing ice at each other. Zach tried to make a snowman but it kind of failed...I ended up throwing it at Karina anyway.

Link to a full view of one side of the lake.
Link to the left side.
Link to the right side.
Link to the snow.

The snow looks dirty because that's when we played in it like little children. It was awesome.

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After our outing at the snow/mountain/forest, we drove back down the Interstate-5 and eventually found a Wendy's fast food joint. I don't like it that much, but I ate it anyway. AND SO, when we all finished I had to use the restroom, and knowingly, the rest of them took my stuff, put it into the car, and drove away. Cool beans, right? I walked out of the restaurant, looked over, put my hair up, and took my fighter's stance.

I had to play "chicken" with Karina's car. I won (kinda), but hit my leg kicking her car's back door, and my right foot (or, rather, three toes) run over after doing some 007 shit and hopping inside the moving vehicle. It was pretty damn fun, I'm not going to lie. Who can honestly say they had to swing into a car while it was moving?

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While we were driving late, we got gas, and Zach bought two water bottles. Karina and I were sleep deprived and really tired, so we kind of got into a water fight inside of her car, and we both got water spilt on us. It was cold, and I was wearing only a tank-top. The cold made us all a "bit nipply". A few hours later, we stop to get AM/PM coffee, and as I drive to give Karina some rest, the cup somehow happens to fall over and get all over my knee/the car seat. IT HURT LIKE A MOTHERF*****. But was really, really funny, only because we were sleep-high.

Ari, who took her turn at driving for a while, slowed down at a green light because she wanted to turn (or didn't know where to turn), and then so this blonde lady driving this ghetto-ass van starts honking the horn at us. We decide to go straight instead, just because the lady started to freak us out, and then she SPEEDS UP TO THE PASSENGER WINDOW, ROLLS DOWN HER WINDOW, AND STARTS YELLING AT US. Karina, who was sleeping in the passenger seat and was awoken quite rudely, looked at the lady, and then FLIPPED HER OFF. And so Ari, who's freaked out since this is her first driving dispute, turns at the nearest light, and we realize that the lady started to follow us. She did for quite some time until she finally turned, and we were free from the tyranny of bitchy midnight drivers.

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As the time elapsed, we eventually made it back to Sonoma. Dropping off Ari, we all took showers to freshen up, and went to go see John for the last time before leaving (he didn't go on the adventure since he's not that kind of person). His roommate's friends were over, and since they're a group of boys, they didn't really make breakfast. So, Karina started making buttered toast from a pan, since they didn't have a microwave.

She burnt a piece, it started to smoke a little, and the fire alarm went off. You could hear it from every building next to them, and even a few blocks away on the campus. It was bad. But luckily, they didn't have ceiling sprinklers, so nothing got ruined.

Except for that piece of toast, which she THREW ON THE GROUND OUTSIDE THEIR FRONT DOOR AFTER SHE RAN AWAY WITH ZACH TO THE CAR. I stayed with John and the others to help diffuse the alarm, which took like 15 minutes.

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Well, that was basically the gist of it. I literally got back about an hour from uploading this post. I may edit this for more detail or not, because I left some things out. But hey, you all kind of get the overall-ness of this adventure we had, right?

A Time.

It's that alone feeling, yet this time it is subtly drenched in a vague nostalgic veil. In this place, looking down into the courtyard protected by beige buildings, I feel a longing for my childhood back. The parts of childhood where I forgot about the abuse my father inflicted upon my mother, where I forgot how broken my family really was outside of the 80 degree paradise that was the small, small town of Bradley. Most of my memories were made at that dilapidated house, renovated like new by the time I was ten years of age. The dirt hill that eventually formed its way into a garage, or the farm with Freckles the pig, those two peacocks, or that damned rooster that almost killed my cousin. Looking down into the courtyard I can feel those shadows of isolation hovering over the green palms, the cement cooling fast as the sun says goodbye to the day. I remember riding my green bike (naturally, it would be green, wouldn't it?) along the train tracks as Jordan and I feverishly searched in vain for the flattened pennies we set on the steel - or, are train tracks even made of steel? It all didn't matter, as long as I found more of them than he did.

The cool breeze outside my window reminds me greatly of the cool breeze as the hot weather would wane; interestingly enough, living here is a lot like living there. Cold mornings, yet dangerously hot days, followed by cold, cold nights. City life differs greatly from country life, yet in a full-circle sort of way it all comes together. What one side lacks, the other prospers, and so in essence and theory, they are both the same. Here the days are long, but that's greatly due to the fact that it's still technically summertime. But there, in that small town I'd call my childhood, days were everlasting. And, even though the nights would arrive after hours of pool-time, or lizard catching in the grape vines, we'd still have our fun. Listening to "oldies but goldies" with my grandparents and cousin, watching old black-and-white shows from the (g)olden days. Shows like Zorro, as well as the Mickey Mouse Club, I Love Lucy, Leave it to Beaver; and, to switch it up from black to color, Bewitched, The Brady Bunch, and Happy Days. Family time was always at the start of dinner, all the way until we had showered one-by-one taking our turns, until we stayed up late watching these shows, talking about our little lives, our big futures.

Thinking about it now, and even long ago, I feel that some parts of me were supposed to be for another generation. Some parts were just meant to stay.

And as the breeze travels from one green palm to another, up scaling the walls and ultimately getting hindered of its plight, that loneliness creeps back up my spine. Writers are true introverts, and thank God for them. Thank God for the expression of words, because body language can only do so much when you're one like me, who would rather be put in a crowd than front stage. Yet, what you want is always reversed from what you get, and so your expectations - both yours and the ones placed on you - change. Looking back continuously into that courtyard, with its checkered walkway, makes me want to curl up and hide to a time where there really were no worries except for if you really wanted to wear socks or not with your shoes. Thank God.

Back there we really never had the chance to see the sun set, only because we were surrounded by dry hills as large as mountains for one so small. Comfort was leisure, and leisure was the ability to walk around in the middle of the road without fear of a car because none passed through. You couldn't call it a ghost town because people lived there, but the area itself was a ghost, quiet and alone. Bittersweet.

Bradley was where I had my freedom, because when I was home I was locked up in an empty house; without a father, with a working mother and grandmother, I'd learned from an early age that it was menial, useless, to be afraid of the dark, and that even though your imagination is one of your most powerful means of self-expression, of self-preservation, you could tone it down, make it sleep - have it comfort you when no one else was there to hold you.

I could never say it was horrible, but only "different". Every child grows up differently. Different.

I feel so much indifference for the word "different" that I feel it has no meaning. My childhood was me, it was a golden time until I became smart and started noticing the people around me. Time takes it's toll, and I could see it in the sunken eyes of my family.

The courtyard in front of my dorm room only reminds me of my childhood when the sun starts to set, and when the overbearing shadows of the sun's guilt is revealed to the earth because he feels that he's abandoning the one true thing that is dependent of him. But when the moon rises, when she undermines the small lights of the stars, is when I feel old again. And I stay old until the sun returns with showers of warmth, hugging the earth, only to leave once more before the moon greets him. I like when the sun sets, it makes me freeze in motion, until I shiver at the cold night and wonder why I am sitting here, alone.

It's Official. It's Nerdy. It's Just Plain Gaga.

After watching the VMAs with my good friend Karina in my dorm lounge made me realize something - Lady Gaga would probably be the only woman I'd willingly want to kiss, if I had the chance to. I don't think I'd really care if she smelled like Jack Daniels, was dressed as a man, and tasted like cigs.

Like, honestly. Britney, you missed out on a great chance.

(Really, who can say they kissed Lady Gaga ((or shall I say "Lord Gogo"))? Though, Britney already did the "been there, done that" thing with Madonna so many years ago...but still).

Das link!

Lmfao I'm a sad soul. And such a Little Monster.

On a straighter note! My remedial math class sucks. Last class we were learning about fractions, today's class we were learning about absolute value and plugging in numbers in place of variables. I'm just like..."It's 3-6th grade all over again". It doesn't really help that my class starts at 8am, either. Because, the math is so easy and I'm so out of it that I think I'm doing the problem wrong, and then I second-guess myself, and actually get the problem wrong because of it. UEHH.

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Well, back to being totally sad - I bought two Captain America action figures. One was on clearance for six dollars at Target (man, after winning a mini fridge there I love that place), and another one came with a gun, so I couldn't help myself and bought both of them.

I'm a sad sad soul. But, I have fun that way.

Ya Know...

...I'm kind of happy that I stayed home last night in my dorm instead of attending my first college frat party. Like, honestly. I thought about it, but then figured, "Hey, I have the whole year for this...I need to settle down a little more before all of this party scheisse."

My roommate stepped on a big piece of glass while my suite mates were all buzzed and they had to take her to the hospital. Interesting night...

Though, I sort of do regret not going, there's still the fact that there will be undoubtably more parties. *sigh*

But! Two of my other suite mates are Little Monsters. That made me feel a whole lot better about the school year.

Yeah, so...I may get a ride back home over the weekend. It's pretty great because even though I moved up here without knowing anybody, I still manage to have connections. I pretty much have free rides anywhere, I can go to the mall pretty much any time I want to (which I did yesterday...my friend Melissa and I got lost...but I bought a sexy Captain America poster. I get to wake up to that and it's fantastic haha). SPEAKING OF CAPTAIN AMERICA! They have action figures at Target. I want one XD

Well, anyway...I guess that's it for now.