Archive for December, 2001
December 6, 2001 at 10:13 am · Filed under Rigamarole
So I was thinking about it, and I realize that I actually have a personal rating system. Similar to the fuali tests, I, too test people and put them into categories. Heh. 99% Kim compatible.
The weird thing is, I really don’t like people who are like me. Overly loud, obnoxious, pretensious, angry people. I remember way back in the day, I made a list of what each of my rankings meant.. A lot of it has changed now, though… So let me give you the run-down.
Fuckability factor:
+3 if you have a talent
+1 if you have a blog / webcam
+1 if you smell good
-5 for low intelligence
-10 if you don’t shower
1. Ugly / Fugly / Ew : Not with a 10 foot pole. Fuckability factor = 0.
2. Eh. : Nothing special. Fuckability factor = 0
3. Hmmm : Something catches my eye. Maybe nice hair. Maybe cute face. Maybe a really nice body. Maybe is really smart. Fuckability factor = 2
4. MmMm : Someone who makes me think “Yum”. Fuckability factor = 4
5. HO DAYuM : Fuuuck, somebody hold me down! He’s so fucking hot! Fuckability factor= 5
Incidentally, I started a Wishlist. :P.
P.S. 10 would be what this whole scale is out of… in case you didnt figre it out yet. HohOhO.
December 5, 2001 at 4:24 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
For one of the first times in my life I truly understand and appreciate the idea of taking a vacation and taking a break from things and taking things slowly and quietly. The stream of events called college has seemingly zapped the life out of me. This week at least. i feel as if I’ve lived breathed and eaten college in the last week. I guess I am — I’m getting cabin fever. 
Winter vacation : What’s going to be held in store for me?
James called me today and told me some sad bad news. Skin isn’t healing correctly over his tendons and he’s going to need to get a skin graph or synthetic skin surgery to be able to heal correctly. It hurts just thinking about it, and I can’t imagine how much he must be going through. I was looking forward to seeing him next week — that’s when he was supposed to come back to Irvine…
I hate knowing that friends are in pain.
—-
It doesn’t feel like winter. It’s December and I can’t feel any of the old cheer. I don’t see red stockings and don’t feel very merry at all. The balcony across from my dorm window has chritsmas lights but somehow they don’t remind me of christmas.
I haven’t finished buying all my presents yet. For some people, I don’t even know how to start.
Right now, all I can think about is how blissful sleep sounds. Too bad my hyperactive insomniacally inclined mind won’t allow me to do that.
December 5, 2001 at 2:17 am · Filed under Rigamarole
Contemplatively, I lay. I try to grasp sleep but my eyes keep snapping open. I try to let my heavy lids rest, but I keep interrupting them with my thoughts. With my childish musings. I can’t sleep.
The thing that keeps me awake is not really the contemplations, but the questions that lead to the contemplations. Why?… Why. The countless questions that flow through a never-ending stream of consciousness.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m manic depressive. Of course, if I can wonder that, I’m probably not. Which is a good thing.
December 4, 2001 at 5:23 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
“Hey Kim! There’s going to be streaking tonight! Wanna come see? Wanna come see?” asked a suitemate of mine last night.
“Streaking?! For finals? I want to streak!”
“Oh my god, girl! You gotta be kidding me!”
And that’s when it all began. Wrote PUENTE up and down my arms and my back and paced back and forth, wondering whether or not I really should. I couldn’t believe it! I was nervous.
Finally I braved it and walked over to Cumbre — the place in which the streaking course would begin and took off all my clothes. A girl offered me a towel and I excitedly showed off the word “Puente” (my dorm name) written down the sides of my arms and my back.
One of the funniest sights I have ever seen is the backside of twenty-some-odd guys taking off their various amonts of clothing and running buck naked through a huge crowd of people.
“WOOoOooOooo!!!!!” I yelled as I got on my bike, clothed in nothing more than my bra and my underwears.
I heard a few “AHHA! ITS KIM!!!!” “Go KIIIM!!” and a “WHAT THE HELL?!?!” as I went through the crowd myself. Later on, I figured out why the “What the hell” sounded so familiar. It was none other than Okay Nicknack from the Okay Crew. What the hell?!?! What was everybody doing there? Crazy ish.
My plans for next quarter : full toplessness.
December 3, 2001 at 9:32 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
Thoughts from the library jotted down in my notes notebook as I studied:
Words were once so precious. To write the length of a tome it took years of work and learning and many resources of the privilidged and more learned. These days, in the age of technology, the written word has become less precious.
No longer are only the learned and more prosperous and more intelligent able to pen their words. Those of enough knowledge to sound out words from the arabic letter and use a computer can type their stream of consciousness and share it with the world.
Words upon words thoughts upon thoughts piling on top of each other making the written word more and more insignificant as we plod on. No longer is it impressive to have pages and pages of observations on life, no longer held sacred the ability to write.
Yet… at the same time, these endless streams of consciousness render the true brilliance behind thoughtful and provoking literature. Finally the difference between the art of writing and mindless drivel can be appreciated. Talent, an ability to tell stories and the ability to express oneself clearly, concisely and cohesively is needed more than ever.
I look behind me and see rows and rows of books. Sheets filled with endless amount of words and I dream that one day some of those sheets will hold words of my own.
December 2, 2001 at 9:53 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
So many ideas run through my head as I attempt to concentrate on my studies. So many inspirations pop up as I write things down that are supposed to stick to my head like glue only to be filtered out by things that i want to say,things that i want to write and things that are unconsequential to me as a student.
My mind works in such perverse ways. As I call for inspiration and wish for it, my muse wanders far away, lost as if it will never return. The moment I need to turn away and concentrate on something, it comes back in full force, distracting me, almost tangibly there, right within my touch.
I feel like continuing my months-gone-by-and-untouched story. but to what will this lead me? unfinished studies and a longer version of my unfinished story. i should leave the story be and study.
but my urge is too great. it makes me think my muse must be a woman. only a woman would act like this.
December 2, 2001 at 5:06 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
Your Colorgenics Profile.
You have a vivid imagination and this is good. Great inventors, explorers all had inventive, imaginative minds. Your friends and acquaintances may consider you over-imaginative and given to fantasy or day-dreaming. So what ?… this is a part of your character and charm.
You seem to lack the energy of late to get up and go .. Your objectives appear to be unattainable and no one seems to care. You feel lost, neglected and need some W.T.C. (Warm tender care).
Circumstances are holding you back…forcing you to back off and to forgo all the pleasures, fun and games for the time being. But this is only a temporary situation…and before you even know it…the situation could change….
At this moment in time you feel as if you have lost the strength of will to contend with existing problems and difficulties which appear to you as deliberate opposition. You are trying to stand your ground, but the pressures are intolerable. You would like some co-operation from this around you – but it’s not forthcoming. So you feel that, in its absence, there is nothing you can do to improve the current situation. You would like nothing better than to “get away from it all” .
You would like to break with the present and move on, searching for new conditions and relationships. Your anxiety and stress are results of unfulfilled emotional, and perhaps physical needs. You feel that you are not really understood by your nearest and dearest and it is this that prompts you to move on … searching for that so illusive peace of mind.
December 2, 2001 at 3:51 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
I wonder how people remember thmselves as little kids. I remember myself as a pretty prissy little kid. I remeber i always had to have the newest fasions. I always had to have my hair done every morning by my mom. I chilled with both the rival cool groups at my school. I was cool. I was a brat.
When middle school came along things began to change. Suddenly I was in such a big environment. The school was so much bigger, there were so many new kids… And then suddenly this thing hit me — puberty. It made me feel giddy whenever I saw the boy I liked. It made it feel good whenever I touched myself there. I didn’t understand any of it. I was confused. I was scared. I thought I was a freak. I guess I was… too. I was voted WEIRDEST of my 8th grade class. In middle school, I was confused.
High school was much the same thing, though I didn’t want to admit that to myself. I was still confused.. but about other things. I began to wonder why I was so different from everyone else. Why I couldn’t assimilate into any cliques anymore the way I did when I was little. Why I wans’t cute and fasionable anymore. Why I was suddenly some kind of freak. I wondered why I had so much acne and I wondered why I was so ugly. I hated myself and I hated the way everyone treated me. I hated most of my so-called friends and I hated living.
How will I remember my college years? I’ll probably remember my freshman year as being really fun. The first time I truly partied with anybody in my life. The first time I was accepted as who I was, weirdness, quirkiness and all. The first time somebody real and tangible actually understood me. The first time I realized that most people are just as fucked up as I am, just in different ways.
Incidentally, I love nyquil.
December 1, 2001 at 9:33 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
DAVE gives a hilarious account of last night’s antics from his point of view. I love you, man.
December 1, 2001 at 12:05 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
I seem to have so much more fun when I’m completely sober… So what is this craving inside of me that makes me want to drink? Whenever I’m sad, whenever I’m upset, sometimes I get the craving. “Maybe,” I think “Maybe if I have a drink it’ll be okay.”
It isn’t okay, though. Drinking makes me become more contemplative near the end. It makes me feel even worse about whatever it is that I’m upset about. It makes me into the monster that is inside of me. But why do I get this feeling?
Alcoholism runs deep in my bloodstreams. My mother is an alcoholic, and I’m pretty sure my dad is an alcoholic. I’m probably pretty prone to alcoholism at this point. After making an idiot of myself not once, but twice [always around ms. horse girl for soem reason], I’ve been able to keep those nights in mind and keep myself in check.
What happens when the memories of those embarassments fade, though? Will I give into the craving? It scares me. A lot.
« Previous entries ·
Next entries »
