Saturday, November 29, 2003

I've been thinking about it more and more lately, and I've decided I'm in love with a dolphin. The man at the dolphin shop told me I'd have better luck with a harlot, despite the fact that I'm dirt broke. He didn't know that, however.

This year's Thanksgiving was wonderful. We drove to the city in the morning for brunch. During the ride there, my parents and I had a conversation about former comedians on "Saturday Night Live". I was surprised they knew so much about the darn show, and we all agreed that it is simply horrible now. My parents and I honestly have a very similar sense of humor when it comes to things like that. I was glad that for the first time in a while, we were laughing as a family, instead of the "big quiet" that fogs our windows on long autumn drives. I won't bore you with the details of the rest of the day, except that coffee and pumpkin pie is exquisite for dessert. And I'm not a big coffee drinker.

Last night was plagued with disheartening presences. I've grown rather sick of the wealthy highbrows that come in to eat on weekends - after seven on Fridays and Saturdays and before six on Sundays. Just listening to conversations going around me made me want to hurl. Take this corpulent family for example. They were talking about sourdough bread for chrissakes. Who comes up with all these lousy conversation topics? I blame Grover Cleveland - the lousiest president of these United States. Or hell, I'd blame any prime minister of Canada. They're all quite lousy. And no, I'm not being jocular one bit. I mean all of this mindless dribble.

And then there's the random loner who comes in that recognizes me from school. This time it was the pale skinned girl who reads and plays video games in the hall during lunch. She gave me this look that was honestly quite scary, as if she wanted to bite me in the arm or something. If I were a musical composer, I would've written a song about it that very moment. It was that inspiring. By the way, I've decided I'm going to be a singer for a popular rock group. The name of the group still stands undecided. Maybe I'll call it, "the Grover Clevelands".

The one woman who irritated me the most was this woman who came in forty five minutes late. She told us that she was going to be there at 6:45 sharp with her party. The "sharp" supposedly seals the deal in affairs like these, but obviously not in this case. She just kept laughing and saying that it was okay when we didn't have a table for her. I wasn't really listening. All I could do was stare at the bags under her eyes, then staring at the bags under her mother's eyes and the bags under her daughter's eyes. It reminded me of when my father had colon cancer, and my entire family was telling me that I was going to get it when I'm older. Wonderful. I might as well wear a sweater wherever I go, so the SARS won't leak from my bloodstream.

I have been having unpleasant dreams that I have to piece together in the morning, because I'll forget them if I don't. They usually consist of a girl from school that I've thought about once or twice that day forming an intimate relationship with me, and making me become very depressed in the morning about it. I've been having these dreams more often than not. But I guess they're better than the dreams where I choke from all the smoking I've been doing, and having all my hair fall out. I don't know what I'm going to do when I start losing hair in my mid twenties.

I've grown quite fond of my hair actually. I don't know what I'd do without it. It's grown a little past my ear lobes. I'm loving it.

cya.

-george

Friday, November 21, 2003

It depressed me when Rene started to give me a lecture about smoking. She kept asking me why I smoked, and I always gave her the same answer. Stress Relief. I kept laughing when she asked me and looked at me with concerned eyes, but after a few minutes, she was starting to irritate the hell out of me. Boy, by the fourth or fifth time she asked me that same goddamn question I was starting to feel really sorry that I was giving her a ride home. After this entire affair, my sister said that she liked Rene because she had the courage to confront me about smoking. This normally would have made me laugh, but it upset me that my sister's voice got so unnecessarily high when Rene was in the car.

This morning was quite irritating as well. I've had this terrible cough for the past two days now, so I've been missing tryouts for Drama class. Coincidentally during my absence, these two girls named Kiley and Anusha both wanted to try out for MY part. You know, the part of the suave radiocaster named Walter who actually symbolizes Walter Winchell. At first I laughed at this because I felt that there was no way in hell that our teacher would give a girl the part of a flirtatious male. What really knocked me out was that they both tried out for the part at the same time. They alternated lines while acting like complete morons. I was glad that the entire class agreed with me that they were horrible and that I should have the part. People were telling them while I was sick that they needed to stop because I was the best candidate for the role, and that it wasn't fair because I was gone. Kiley replied, "Thanks for supporting your classmates." That line kills me.

And then off to a wonderful evening at work.

There is a certain aspect about work that crushes my spirit entirely. Perhaps it's the fact that the kids who are employed there have to deal with my father. It's quite embarassing and depressing at times to see so many people glare at him, giving him a look that says, "I certainly hope someone claws your eyes out." Maybe it's because of the woman who says, "Men forget everything," when the man at the table forgets to leave a tip, and on their way out the woman forgets their leftovers, melting away on the table.

I certainly do not like to be bothered at work, especially after I realized I would have to quit smoking sooner or later. I can feel my lungs choking sometimes. The noisy nonstop ring of the telephones, the bony pale white girl, and the woman slowly counting out change from her coinpurse don't help either.

And of course, I get to stare down at the happy couple whose names are "Kent" and "Ashley" - Kent with his broad shoulders and handsome smile, and Ashley with her glossy lipstick and her strawberry bleached hair. A couple like this is very unsettling to watch when you can feel your mind exploding. Even worse to watch is the Bible study group who gathers in a restaurant to do their goddamn worship. Jesus Christ.

cya.

-george

Monday, November 17, 2003

I am fucking tired of being so bored all the time.

I can't write elegant sentences. I can't write elegant sentences. I am doomed to repeat everything in my life. I'm sick of being so emotional. My body won't let me stop smoking. My lungs are dying. My eyes have dried up.

Teresa sent me a package in the mail. Included was a postcard with a "lipstick kiss" on it. She said that it was only put on for humourous purposes. The package consisted of two mix CD's, entitled "Quiet" and "Loud". The artwork was completely done by her. I was very impressed.

I've been reading people's journals lately, and I realized that people are exactly like me. Emotionally unstable, sick of horrible people around them, and constantly looking for something to do.

I seriously hope this entry didn't make one fucking bit of sense. I had a dream that a Canadian girl was in love with me and kissed me on the cheek and wrapped her arm around mine. Fucking world we live in. It wasn't even Teresa either. Goddamn it.

cya.

-george

Tuesday, November 11, 2003

I just got home from the most amazing concert I have ever been to in my life.

Mars Volta. If you don't know who they are, please listen to their album. It is wonderful.

The evening started off with me picking up Blaise. Blaise is a good friend of mine who currently lives in Southern California for college. I always seem to have a good time when I'm with him, so I decided I would invite him to go to the concert, since he's one of the few people who enjoy Mar's music. So I picked him up, and we ended up being kind of quiet in the car until we got to the San Francisco.

After we parked in the parking garage (Thank god it wasn't full) we stood in line for about fifteen minutes. After we discovered it wasn't a line, and that people were just standing around for no reason, we went inside. My favorite part is getting searched by the pretty skinny girl with black hair before they let you in. I got the old lady, however. It was nice though, because Blaise knew who she was. Blaise knows who everyone is.

The band that opened for Mars was pretty awful. We decided that they were so awful, that we would go upstairs and have a couple of cokes. I ended up buying a coke that cost $2.75, while Blaise bought nothing. He rarely has any spending money. I bought the ticket for him, actually. Anyway, so we were sitting upstairs, and we ended up talking about all these different bands that have played at the Fillmore before. We were in a room filled with artsy posters from previous shows. It was nice.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Mars started to play. The second they picked up their instruments, I knew that the concert was going to be simply amazing. Mars Volta has the best stage presence and energy out of any band I have ever seen in my life. Just amazing. The second Cedric (the lead singer of the band) started singing, he just started dancing and twirling his microphone stand around, and the crowd loved it. Never throughout the entire set did he lose one ounce of energy. Omar (the guitarist, and probably one of the most talented guitarists in the world) also had an amazing stage presence. Never have I seen anyone mimic Jimi Hendrix's style so much. His guitar, his style, and his rhythm were all just terrific.

Aside from Cedric and Omar, the band didn't really have a set line of members. They recorded with different musicians, and they tour with different musicians. However, the entire set of musicians that played was incredible. From the keyboardist to the drummer, everyone had the same level of intensity and energy that Cedric and Omar had. I was just stuck in a trance throughout the whole set. Blaise and I just stood there with our mouths open and how awesome the entire thing was. They even started to improvise their songs, and ended up creating a whole new song entirely out of nowhere. I just remember closing my eyes and dancing throughout the entire set, just drifting through paradise, not caring that time was slipping through my fingers.

The encore was superb. Unlike many other bands, the band just left, with the exception of the bassist. The bassist had this ten minute solo, which was amazing. After seeing that the crowd hadn't left in appreciation for them, the band came back and did a half an hour encore. Intensity is too light of a word to describe it. The music, the rhythm, the style, the stage presence, the unity of the crowd - it was all wonderful.

When we were leaving, they were handing out posters which was very cool. Blaise made a comment about how horrible the poster looked compared to the other posters hanging around that room, but we both agreed that we didn't care. It was just cool, that only the people that went to the show got this poster, because it had the date and the location on it. I wish every concert gave out posters.

While we were standing in line to pay for the parking garage ticket, Blaise came up with this idea to smoke in the garage even though there was a "No Smoking" sign on the wall. I thought it was pretty clever. I only bring this up because I like smoking with Blaise, and it reminds me of how much I hate smoking alone. I'm going to stop smoking by myself. It's just too depressing.

On the way home, we just had a wonderful time. We were blasting ridiculously loud disco music with the windows down all the way back. It brought back some old memories of how we used to do that in the summer. In the middle of all this, Blaise turned down the music and said, "George, you know what? I think we're the coolest people we know," and turned up the music. We just started laughing.

When we were nearing home, we got this craving for food, so we figured we'd go to Nation's. Nation's is this burger place that usually opens really late, but since it was a weekday, they closed at midnight. When we were standing at the counter, this man named Harold started talking to us. Blaise told him, "We really love this establishment, Harold, we really do," and Harold replied out of nowhere, "Most people don't. You end up becoming a fat fuck after ten years!" We all just laughed, because it was funny that this man that worked at Nation's said "fuck". Ha. We ended up getting two slices of pie, which were really ridiculously large. About two slices equaled half a pie. No kidding. Lemon Meringue and Apple Pie. I humoured Blaise by eating some of the Lemon Meringue since he liked it so much, but I was only really trying to eat the Apple. Then while we were sitting on the curb eating our pie, we got this other crazy idea to go to Denny's for some Spicy Buffalo chicken strips. So we did. I ended up not having much money, and I needed gas money to send Blaise home and then get myself home, so we scrounged up all the money we had to put gas in my tank. It totaled about $3.74 in gas money. The funny thing was that when we got back in the car, I reached in my pocket and found three more dollars. We just looked at each other and laughed, knowing that we could have saved so much effort.

The most unsettling part of the entire night is when people were smoking pot during the concert. Right when the music started playing, you could smell all of this marijuana smoke in the air. It kind of smelled nice. That and the fact that you could tell Cedric and Omar were on Heroin.

Friday, November 07, 2003

I feel happy.

There's a certain thing about bad endings to wonderful days that can ruin your mood. Take yesterday for instance.

The day started out beautifully. In Badminton (my first period) I was talking to this kid Mike Eng who's on my improv team just about random happenings. Then in second period I performed a Shakespearean scene from A Midsummer Night's Dream and got a 90/100 on it. Mrs. Stadelhoffer said I am the best in the class at having a great sense of comedy. The two kids that were evaluating me gave me perfect scores and said there wasn't anything I could improve (although I knew I could, which is why I was kind of disappointed when Mrs. Stad didn't really critique me). Then this girl Caila said that the scene brought out all of my sides. My comedic side, my angry side, and my "sexy" side. I laughed. We also choreographed a wonderful sword fight.

The day was rolling around nicely until sixth period. I was staring out the window like I always do, and Trish kept on looking at me, and I kept on looking back, and finally she said, "Stop looking at me!" in a really harsh tone. I thought she was pissed at me for no reason, because we had been really cool just the day before. I honestly had no idea what was going on, and all of yesternight I was walking around sad. Then I went on this huge tantrum on how girls are crazy. Notice I added yesternight, because it's an actual word, and I think it's funny.

Today however, was great. Well yesterday was too, besides that one bad incident. I put on my Modest Mouse shirt and my Home Depot hat and I was ready to go. Sixth period rolled by and Trish was happy to see me again, and I didn't bother to question about yesterday. This girl Rene who is in the other drama class asked me to give her a ride home, so I did. Our conversation was very nice. It was a great way to end a day. I failed my Trig and English vocab tests by the way. I didn't really want to include that, because this entry seems very happy, but I don't care too much anymore. I have a four day weekend, and I can always catch up on grades later. Plus I have an Improv Show on Wednesday that I'm really excited about. I hope this weekend will be terrific.

cya.

-george

Thursday, November 06, 2003

I'm awake right now. I know I'm awake. I can't feel my hands. I don't feel alive.

I had a horrible day. I went to sleep around 7, because I was so bored with my life, and I stopped doing homework a long time ago. I just woke up a few minutes ago. I thought it was 5 in the morning. I don't feel like having to wake up again. I feel like drinking a soda or something. I feel like not having to deal with people anymore.

I started feeling horrible around 3rd period, when all these people in my old German class wouldn't shut up. They're these Christians who listen to Five Iron Frenzy. By the way, at the Five Iron concert I wouldn't tell you about, I realized I gave up Christianity a long time ago. Anyway, these kids, they wouldn't shut up. I don't even remember what they were talking about, but I just kept staring at this very ugly couple. I'm shallow. I hate them. I want to scratch their eyes out. It's too late to write this.

Okay, the only bad thing that happened yesterday was during 6th period. I had to write these four songs with my friend Kevin, but we ended up not doing them until the day of, so they weren't as good as I had hoped. Actually, I hoped they would be wonderful. I wrote htis parody to "Ice, Ice, Baby" by Vanilla Ice, in hopes that Trish and Jenna and the teacher would all have a wonderful time laughing their heads off. Kevin sang the first chorus, and got a lot of laughs. I didn't get so many laughs. I just kept choking on my phlegm. I started to feel very light headed and not wanting to be up there. Usually I'd do something like that without a problem. When I sat down, I just started to feel so horrible. I mean physically. Well mentally too. So I drank a few sips of water, and I ended up choking, and coughing up water all over myself. And everyone just kinda stared at me. I think I'll laugh about this tomorrow morning. I really want some strawberry flavoured juice. Do they even have that?

I can't believe I asked Teresa if I could call her last night. Was I really feeling that awful? Cigarettes have stopped me from being able to cry, so I don't know if I'm depressed or not anymore. Maybe that's a good thing. I hate myself right now. Why the fuck am I awake? Why can't I just fall asleep and forget about this bullshit ni the morning? I'm not even angry. I don't know what I am. Maybe I'm PMSing. Ha. I was just making a joke in reference to Teresa saying the same damn thing. I feel like scratching my own eyes out right now.

And at Improv Team practice, all I did was make very unfunny racist and offensive jokes. And we ended up kicking this kid Phil Martin out of the team because everyone agreed he wasn't funny and that he was too much of a druggie to stay on the team. Poor guy. Greg (the captain) said that Phil was probably going to cry. When we were playing this game "Whose line?" (which is a game where four people act out a scene, but are given slips of paper with random sayings on them like "This isn't a lemon, it's an apple!", and in the middle of the scene they have to say something to the nature of, "Hey, that reminds me of when my grandmother said this!" and read what was on the slip of paper, except that they can't read it until they're just about to say it), I wrote on one of the slips, "My name is Phil and I'm not on the improv team anymore!". Ha. I felt like a jerk, but I couldn't stop laughing.

I think I'm going to ask Trish about the whole water and rap tragedy. It was a fucking MASSACRE is what it was. Me hands feel cold. I feel lonely. Cigarettes have destroyed my will. I don't want to stop smoking. I'm addicted. My throat hurts. I haven't cried for a long time. My eyes are blurry. Blaise is coming to visit on Monday. Grace is a bitch, and I don't miss her at all. She's probably getting drunk right now because she doesn't have school in the morning. I wish I didn't mention her. I feel effete. I'm in a constant state of ennui. This is what my life has become.

I ended up wearing duct tape wrapped around my body the whole day because this girl Tanya wanted to wrap me in it. And I said okay.

cya.

-george

Tuesday, November 04, 2003

I'm proud; I finished an essay for English, and I really tried on it. And I don't use italics very goddamn often.

I've noticed that all I do is talk about other people, so I was considering naming this journal the "diary of other people". I'll change the name of it later. I want to talk about the British people now.

Last night I was at work and I was noticing this British family. There was a mother, and her two daughters, just sitting their eating, with their handkerchiefs stuffed in their shirts. It was quite spectacular setting. And the way they ate, it was just marvelous. They would push all of the food to a certain corner of the plate with their knife, and they would press the bottom of the fork on the food, and of high social class, they would slide this bottom-fork food into their mouths. I had this big smile on my face the whole time. This big, goofy smile.

And for some reason, the mother left to do something, so her two girls were sitting on the bench waiting, and one of them pulled out some headphones. I immediately thought that they were for a CD player or something, but what she pulled out next was just fantastic. It was an electronic math game that sort of resembled a flashlight tube. And all she said was, "Hey Anna, would you like to play subtraction with me?". And Anna nodded. So those two goddamn British girls sat there playing subtraction waiting for their mother, with me just laughing. I wish they still had their handkerchiefs stuffed in their shirts at this point in time, because it would have just sealed the deal.

So today I skipped school again, because I forgot to write that essay last night. Ha! I bet you thought that it was due tomorrow. Well it wasn't. I was thinking about how my grades are pretty poor this semester, and how I just don't care, and I was wondering what I was going to be like during my college years. I was just thinking that I would run away to Canada and get free schooling there. I don't know. I think the taxes would just kill me. Plus, from what I hear, extracting milk from a bag seems too tricky a task for me. I'm just not that dexterous yet.

Around 3 in the afternoon, I had to go pick up my sister from school with my mom. We had this appointment in the city to go check up on our eyes, because our doctors said we both had terrible eyesight. Well the nurses said it anyway. So I ended up having 20/100 vision which is terrible, and the eye doctor kept saying how I shouldn't have gotten my license because the DMV eye testing standards were higher than what I could see. And I didn't really know what to say. All he did was go on and on, and he kept making me feel embarassed of how bad my eyesight seems to be now. I really do not want to go back on Wednesday to get my frames adjusted.

I think I want to start "Catcher in the Rye" again, but it's all the way upstairs, and it's getting terribly late, so I think I'll try and finish "Nine Stories".

cya.

-george

Saturday, November 01, 2003

God, this is a depressing Saturday.

My grandmother just walked in my room and handed me a bowl of grapes. She had this big smile on her face, and I kind of laughed and I said thank you and kissed her on the cheek, and she left and closed the door. And I looked at the bowl of grapes and I noticed that she tried to pluck all the grapes off of their stems, so it'd be easier for me. And I became very sad because I noticed that the grapes still had tiny stems in them, just not in a bunch anymore, and my grandmother had this big smile on her face when she didn't really do anything. And this morning she walked in my room and handed me a plate of strawberry pudding with whipped cream on it. And it honestly tasted horrible. And that made me very sad as well, because my grandmother used to be an awesome cook, and finally after so long I realize how old she really is now. And all of this wouldn't be so depressing if she didn't always have that big smile on her face when she handed me some food. And there's just that way of her asking me if I'm hungry every ten minutes that makes me nearly teary-eyed, as if she's waiting for death, and the only thing that she cares about is if I'm hungry or not. She loves me too much. I don't think I deserve it.

For Halloween yesterday, I didn't prepare a costume in advance, so I ended up wearing my dad's old clothes. My outfit consisted of a very husky sweatervest, a collared shirt, and dress pants. All way too big for me. I looked in the mirror and I just started laughing hysterically. When the kids at school asked me what I was, I told them I was the "stereotypical asian dad". And not many kids got the joke. But the kids that did get it laughed like maniacs. And I think it's funny that some people didn't want to ask me if the "dad clothes" were my halloween costume because they were afraid that I really dressed like that.

And there's this girl Trish who I've been talking to recently in my Chem and History class. She dressed up as a nurse for Halloween. It was very cute. I laughed when she pulled out her latex gloves after she was done with her Chem test. Which I failed, by the way.

And in History class, Trish always laughs at my jokes when we're working together on something, which hasn't been often, because I've only really started talking to her for a week or so. I think the first thing she said to me was that she ate at my dad's restaurant one time, and that I should tell my dad "thanks for a great dinner," which I didn't. I told her I did though, just to humour her. And yesterday she made me write a rap, so I wrote one about her, and I performed it for her a few other people. What's silly is that I don't listen to rap at all, I just find it hilarious.

The other day Trish was driving behind me when I was going home from school, and I was afraid she saw me smoking. She asked me who was smoking in the car at school the next day, and I told her it was my sister. And we both came to the conclusion that my sister was a jerk and that she smoked. I was laughing about it like a madman because I didn't know what to think. And later I discovered that Trish was the vice president of the Environmental club, which really knocked me out.

The reason I mention all of this is because she reminds me of Teresa in a lot of ways. Except that she's a brunette, and says "she'll fuck up the kid with the highest grade in the class". Maybe Teresa says that. All I know is that I'm supposed to be packing my kid's lunches.

I was going to talk about the Five Iron Frenzy concert I went to last night, but it was seriously just too depressing. Except when I was driving home and called people, pretending I was drunk. I think I've really gotten bored with life. Homework leaves me so unsatisfied now.

cya.

-george