And I hope you read this and know that it is you.
Yes, it is you.
And no, I don’t need a good reason.
“She likes clothes she can’t fit into.
I think you’re a waste of money.
You have no talent.”
Photoshop is amazing.
And okay, fine. Photography is fucking hard if you don’t understand all the buttons - which I don’t despite taking a class last semester all based on the technicalities of photography. I should have paid more attention, but at least I still have the slides I need to go over again. And I definitely need to do that because I got into a constructive crticism, hands-on photography class that I applied for. I am super excited about that class, I mean out of 80 people they picked 16..So it’d better be good!
The only thing I have to say about the class was that it was crammed with the typical weird, artist people. Or artist wannabes, anyways. They were all like this guy I knew in AP Studio Art in high school - DDM. I thought it was ridiculous how they acted completely knowledgeable and enveloped by art with tattoos, piercings, multiple gauges, and expensive indie/hipster clothes when many of these people can’t actually draw. They go out of their way to be purposely crazy and erratic to stand out, when they are probably normal, down-to-earth people. When half of them don’t understand what “aesthetics” mean and how technical art can really be. It’s even more hilarious because I was dressed as a prep; I think I envy them a little though. I wish I could have the guts to dress like that and not worry about my future - like getting jobs and such.
And who knows? Maybe half of them can draw. Again, I only value people who are honest with themselves. And being a fake artist isn’t very appealing. Then again, I am so biased towards traditional art. I still think that it is more legit.
Word of advice: Don’t go into photography if you don’t have the time & money for it. It’s a waste of money. It’s a waste of equipment. Don’t use it as a point-and-shoot, that’s just retarded.
I’m not used to digital art, but anytime I do it, it is freaking tedious. While taking a photograph is a fraction of the time to drawing it - getting the picture to look the way you want and photoshopping it perfectly - is ridiculously frustrating and sometimes impossible. I can’t even imagine just have raw pictures look great; I always end up touching up the photographs.
I like it though. Photography, I mean. It’s another form of art I can learn and it pairs nicely with my traditional art and digital tablet.
I want to live the life of an artist.
(via figuremeout)
Immature.
Yeah, okay. I am immature. I am a rebel. I don’t listen to logic. I never listen to reason. I don’t care what people think. I don’t care what the rules are. I’m a little kid. I’m a little baby. But you know what? I don’t fucking care. Because I’m on a shitload of hormones and my period is this week, so you are just unlucky that I am deciding to be immature with you. Hell, I’m so angry I’ve ranted 3 times already.
I’d like to think of myself as calm and cool. But I’m not. I am really just the opposite. Calm and cool is my best friend. If you know us, I am almost always the exact opposite. I am emotional and hot-headed. Erratic and insane. Explosive and extreme. I cry at action movies. I am extremely happy at a single ray of sunshine. I get so angry I kill.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not stuck in this high school adolescence by any means. I’ve grown up, I know I have. People say your childhood ends the day your family breaks up. Mine broke up a decade ago. And guess what? Despite my anger streak and my irrational fits, I am more mature than you. I have grown up more than you. Because I know my flaws. My insecurities. My terrible traits. And I don’t hide them. I know who I am, I never try to be anything else. I never try to be fake.
But, I can’t say the same for you.
You’re not only fake, you refuse to accept your ridiculous jealousy and change. Hate to admit it, but I’m probably more jealous than anybody I know. I know that, but I’m trying to fix it. I don’t know about you, but it sounds like you’re insecure out of your mind. Insecure I was first. Insecure I am that person he always wanted, but never got? You must wonder what would happen if I wanted to home wreck. Not confident you’d win? Then how is that my fault. Those are your flaws staring you in the face and you blame me.
Of course, I don’t actually know what you’re thinking because you won’t confront me yourself. You pretend to play nice. You pretend to be innocent. You’re the hurt lamb and I’m the deadly lion. I have no problem with you. Scratch that. I had no problem with you, only you had a problem with me. You hate me? You could have hid it better and not force me out of my good friend’s life. Now, I don’t like you. And my approval is not something you can ever win back - if you even had it at all.
You wanted to be the lamb. So I’ll be that lion. I’ll be the bitch.
You’re fat and fucking ugly. You have a fake ass personality and lie through your teeth. You look like a monkey. You’re unproportional and dull. You’re probably bad in bed, but he’ll never know that. You’re not sweet. And you’re not cute. You’re not smart and you’re not athletic. You lack talent. You lack face. You lack so much, you’re like a different race.
So it’s no wonder you’re insecure.
Go fuck yourself.
(via kimkuang)
That’s a St. Cecilia’s Rose.to be honest, it is usually pretty ugly, but it looks much better here. Kim, stop posting so effing much in one day. Holy shit, you’re spamming my dashboard and I can’t actually read anything! Why do you only post pictures?!
And it was sunny yesterday.
Just a little sunny.
kai chan slept over yesterday.
Unfortunately, I didn’t vacuum on time I have to say, I wish I stayed up longer. We talked about everything. So much, I don’t even remember everything we talked about, but that makes me really happy and content. I miss kai chan. I wish I had a bigger bed for him to sleep on though, but then again we fall asleep on floors.
There’s this summer I can’t forget.
The one after freshmen year in high school where my dog and I stayed over my best friend’s house. It was a couple of days, but his mama made him give me his bed and my dog slept with me. In the morning, we competed to see who woke up first so we could make fun of the other in their sleep. Food was so good everyday, mama is still a fabulous cook. We did homework..okay, not really because I always ended up falling asleep on the floor because of the heat. I think we even went running a couple of times, but i might be mixing memories from all those summer we killed ourselves to shave off three seconds. There was one really hot day when we called up a friend who had a pool and lived all the way at the top of the hill. We walked and walked and walked. After three blocks, my dog got tired and laid down. Then at the pool, the rocks were too hot so she would flinch when stepping on them because she wanted to be with us. She was adorable. She still is adorable and I miss her. Swimming was awesome, it was cool under the hot sun and we played this ridiculous game where we protected water balloon babies while killing the others. Morbid, I know. Those were fun times…
I loved that summer.
I want one more.
And I hope you read this and know that it is you.
Yes, it is you.
And no, I don’t need a good reason.
“He was a small, ratty-faced man with gray teeth. his eyes were dark and quick and clever, like rat’s eyes, and his ears were slightly pointed at the top. He had a cloth cap on his head and he was wearing a grayish-colored jacket with enormous pockets. The gray jacket, together with the quick eyes and pointed ears, made him look more than anything like some sort of a huge human rat.”
- The Hitchhiker, Roald Dahl.
In my opinion, this is good writing. It not only has excellent imagery and visual details that appeal to the younger audience, his syntax includes simple and easily understood words. Roald Dahl has a clear, story-telling voice that purposely welcomes kids into his tales.
(It’s funny because I actually spelled it “dissapointments” in my first post.)
I hate friends that don’t matter.
They take up precious space.
I was let down completely this past weekend. Not only was I ridiculously sick and unhappy, I got my toe rammed on by cleats and am now at the mercy of a disgustingly hideous “crutch” shoe.
The sun was shining, the sky was warm, the air was clean. There was so much space in this school, I couldn’t be happier playing anywhere else. I even thought of transferring to this cow-infested land. It was supposed to be great, having that frisbee tournament where all of my friends went to school - UC Davis. But it didn’t turn out that way, did it?
Although I made a miracle one day recovery from my headache, I didn’t see any of my friends. No. Not once. Why? Because they expected me to go find them. They expected me to make the effort to travel around Davis with no car, no bike, no directions, and on Sunday, no foot. They were too busy shopping for houses and hanging out with their boyfriends to cross the street of their dorm.
Well, maybe I shouldn’t be so annoyed.
I mean yeah, I got invited to dinner…and then uninvited in the same ten minutes because it was someone’s birthday. Great. Because that person traveled a hundred miles to eat dinner with you.
What the hell?
It’s funny because I should expect this. Who ever did make an effort to come watch me compete in the five years I have done sports? Who ever did asked about how I felt after fainting and losing my chance at everything? Who ever did care?
I can honestly only think of three people. The people I call my best friends. The people that were there to make an effort to see what I was passionate about, or even, share my passion with me. And now I know why. Because the rest just don’t care about me as much, I guess I don’t care about them either. Because the rest just don’t matter.
But maybe I’m just annoyed.
Last chance.
“I am terribly, terribly sick. I think I could just die.”
this was for my english class, no lie. :)
“The going on” was written much differently from “the setting out”. While “the setting out” was mainly about the Kiowa’s history and old stories of creation, “the going on” focused more on the tribe’s outlook on life and how one should live it. To be honest, “the going on” really kind of pissed me off. I mean, maybe it was because I am a girl or because I am not a big fan of conniving plots and sneaky schemes, but the morals of the Kiowa did not please me at all (if they can even be called morals). From the beginning of the twelfth story to the eighteenth, there was one moral that resounded throughout the chapter - wit and cunning.
XII. This first story talked about a couple who were suspicious of all the meat their child was bringing outside. When the “enemy” walked in, he admitted to originally planning to kill them, but the food kept him and the others from murder. The “enemy” asked for food for all of them and would show mercy in return. The couple, however, did not agree. They smartly planned an escape and ended up watching their enemies burn to death.
My first reaction to this story was that it was totally messed up - very different from all the fairy tales and stories I read as a child (okay, I still read them sometimes). Fairy tales usually went like this: A poor, revolting creature would ask a prince or princess for something. The prince or princess would of course be reluctant and refuse with a cold heart. The creature turns out to be magical and casts a curse on the prince or princess who learns their lesson and become kind, showing mercy to those who were in need of it. Long story short, kindness was rewarded. In this case, however, intelligence and suspicion was rewarded. The family’s reward for their genius plot? Hearing their enemies scream to their flaming deaths.
XIII. The story following wasn’t all that just either. Although the story starts out innocently with a background on the awesome arrow-making powers of the Kiowa, it quickly divulges into a man and his wife in a tipi. He catches something at the corner of his eye and tells his wife in their language to speak normally. He finishes the arrow and pretends to practice it, all the while asking if the enemy was a Kiowa and should respond now. When no response came, the man shot the arrow through the “enemy’s” heart.
Alright, so this story wasn’t as messed up as the first one of this chapter, but nonetheless totally cruel. First of all, it is assumed the person outside is an enemy. Second of all, he was killed without a word - what if he was a saint? A Samaritan? Or worse, ME?! I would have had no method of understanding them, protecting myself, or even begging for my life (which would end in an instant). My heart would bleed to death and that would be it. Again, the Kiowa only pride the smart man and his ingenious tactics. It’s not even about the stupid arrow anymore, it’s about the hunter and his brilliant instinct to kill.
So it really makes me question what was right or wrong in their society?
What is different about our society’s morals?
Does it make us right? And them wrong? Or the other way around?
Did we have a right to impose our “right” values onto their culture?
And don’t even get me started on how they treated the “evil” women…
~C.C.
p.s. I didn’t mean to offend anyone, if I did.
I can’t sleep until you’re next to me…
I know it’s five in the morning, but I wasn’t planning to get any sleep after I hung up the phone. I am the type of person that thinks and thinks and reflects off every deep conversation I have, those are the ones that help me grow.
This last phone call? It was serious. It was deep. It was also ridiculously frustrating and depressing. It made me realize I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what kind of person I want. I don’t know what love is. I don’t know anything.
I thought it was the best thing in the world, to be in a relationship. But I’m finding out the hard way that’s it’s not. Boyfriends and girlfriends can’t be kept with just physical attraction and sex. They’re delicate and a huge time committment. They require sacrifice and unconditional love. They ask and ask and ask. They bitch. They get angry. They put limits on your life.
But who said relationships were without fault? Hours and hours of time commitment to talking and figuring things out and blaming each other, is it worth it? Is it worth the love you so desperately claim to have?
I even googled how you know you’re in love. It’s unconditional. You sacrifice anything you hold dear to make another happy. You support them no matter what. You show your true selves to them. You give them the space they need to find themselves and their own dreams. It’s unconditional.
Nine Ways to Tell if Your Love Is Real
You feel good. A good relationship makes you feel good about yourself.
You look forward to spending time with your partner. You don’t need to be with other people or go to events to avoid being alone together. You enjoy spending quality time together even when it’s quiet.
You respect your partner. You hear yourself bragging about your partner. You say things like: “My husband is a really talented singer-songwriter.” If you find that you’re always talking about yourself, you’re not focused on your partner or the relationship.
You’re interested in what your partner thinks. You ask your partner’s opinion about issues that are important to you. It’s OK if he or she disagrees with you.
You accept your partner’s quirks. Everyone has them. Even you! If your partner’s quirks are endearing or tolerable, you’re in good shape. If they really bother you, you should look more closely at the relationship.
You’re able to work through your problems. It’s natural to have some bumps in the relationship road to true bliss. People in healthy relationships see disagreements as a chance to learn more about their partner. However, if you’re creating problems, or if you think every fight is the “big one” leading to a breakup, you should probably rethink your relationship.
You feel safe. You’re not afraid of losing your partner.
You can’t explain why you’re together. Many people coordinate their lives so that they have to be together. But ask yourself if you’re together because you truly want to be. If the answer is “yes,” then you’ll probably stay together. If it’s “no,” you’re bound to have problems — if you haven’t already.
You don’t compare your partner to others. There will always be someone more beautiful, smarter or more athletic than your partner, but you don’t care because you only want to be with him or her.
Am I in love? I don’t know anymore.
I am officially captivated by Jolie.
I wish life was pure.
I wish it was grand.
Like a cloud in the sky or a wisp from my dream, I wish life was as smooth as whipped cream.
I wish life was glorious.
I wish it was always fun.
When the storm rolls in or the trees fall dead, I wish life was as caressing as my bed.
I wish life was easy.
I wish it was filled with love.
So when I break, when I fall, when I quit, when I cry, I wish life would make my sorrows dry.
I wish life was pure.
And I wish it was grand.
I wish life could be as soft as white sand.
I wish life was glorious.
I wish it was always fun.
I wish I could fly through the skies and run and run and run.
I wish life was easy.
I wish it was filled with love.
I wish it was as gentle as a darling white dove.
I wish life was pure.
As pure as pure can be.
So when my world is tainted, Life could help save me.
fuckyeahtokyo.
If I were asked where I would want to be for the rest of my life, I wouldn’t even hesitate when I say Tokyo. I love major cities since I get bored so easily and metropolitan areas really need cleaning up. I’ve been to Hong Kong. I’ve been to Taipei. I’ve been to Vancouver. I’ve been to New York. I’ve been to San Francisco. I’ve been to Los Angeles. And I still love Tokyo the best.
But that must make me sound like a Japanese wannabe, doesn’t it? What’s weird is that I am also Taiwanese, which most people criticize to be Japanese-wannabes. I don’t really want to be Japanese, though. I like being the way I am. I like how a majority of people don’t even know what kind of Asian I am. I don’t want to be Japanese, I just love them. Honestly, I just love their appreciation for cute things, good food, fun games, and hilarious comedies. I love being in Japan.
Small problem. I am slightly claustrophobic. Oh my.
Tokyo DisneySea at night
anniversary.
happy anniversary.
A cold one on the soho streets of new york, but definitely worth all the walk for wolfgang puck’s awesome steak.
eleven months, mack siu.
I like my school.
If ever so little.
I went to visit another today. Er, well yesterday. And though the drive was long and the city quite dull, my friends were loving and stayed awake throughout my tiring day. I even bowled terribly and it was okay because I had a lot of laughs.
I’m not the type to get attached or to mope over lost friends, but there was something about the people I cherish, that I have learned to never let go (if I even could). I adore my boy. And I adore my girl. It’s no wonder my life crashes without their help. If my most prized posessions were things, I would be so terribly wrong. They aren’t something you can buy or even hold.
I prize my relationships. I prize those close. I prize my best friends. So I have to say, though the school I visited today matched more of my high standards and fit appeals, I like my school. It taught me how to love. How to cherish.
I love you guys.
And I can never say it enough.
Why are they so cute?
To be honest. I am terribly, terribly shallow. Luckily for my own best friend, my own blair, she is fairly attractive. She is petite. She is pretty. She is independent and smart. She dresses well and holds her own against the world. She has a sense of fashion and a sense of taste. And thank god, she keeps up with me, my spoiled tantrums, and my terrible planning of last-minute trips around the country.
We are opposite - like black and white. Like night and day. Like Serena and Blair. I envy her and then I don’t. I love her and I hate her. But despite all the drama and all the fights and all the tears, she is like family.
Like a sister, I trust in her and her loyalty. And unlike many, I can truly say that she is important to me, that I love her, and would do anything for her if she really needed me to. Being a terribly rash and extreme person, I can also truly say that she is the only person in my life thus far that can balance my extremities and ridiculous antics. She is the only person I would throw everything else away for. She is the only person I find equality in.
I am comfortable. I am happy. I am free. I am proud that my best friend is so pretty. But it really makes me wonder…
What if your best friend is not pretty?!!
(via superachel)
One thousand.
Calories, that is. It took me so long - an hour and forty-five minutes to be exact - I think this work out deserved its own post! After a crazy day of climbing around the beach with Monica (which was beautiful, yet deadly by the way) I got to see kitty katt & cammi cakes at eggettes. Unfortunately we were next to retarded, pompous, think-they-are-cool-because-they-have-rice-rockets gangsters. Retards. Anyways, after thai, girls needed to go home.
Somewhat reluctant, I dropped them off at their car and headed towards 24 alone. But after starting the workout, feeling the rush, and getting that sweet taste of runner’s high? I knew I just have to train again. I mean, where else would all my competitive drive go? I’m straining relationships because of my idiotic use of my untouched stamina and restlessness. I mean, without competing in running I have all this leftover, crude adrenaline that I end up using in all the wrong places. Basically, I compete in everything from better phone to faster dinner.
And honestly, that’s just sad. Something has been missing in my life. And it’s the passion that has always stood by me and combated monstrous fat for me. I have fallen so far, blinded by the fake, numbered world of school. I don’t want to be like those people. I don’t only want to run to be on a team. I don’t only want friends that get me somewhere. I want to run to feel free. I want friends I love.
I got my best friends back.
Now, I just need to get my dreams back.
fuckyeahladygaga.
It’s really strange when you hear her actual voice, she is so normal. Although still in costume and completely out there, the real stephanie is very much down-to-earth and very much genuine. She does everything for her fans. Apparently, even her crazy costuming is to show her fans that you can be weird and you can be quirky, but you can still fit in.
I have to admit, I am a little weird. I am digging that pink hair. She makes me want to try it.
Just dance.
Gaga’s new photoshoot by Max Abadian; which is featured in the latest issue of 944 magazine.