Archive for March, 2002
March 21, 2002 at 1:21 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
writing shouldn’t be a heart-wrenching gut churning affair. writing here shouldn’t make me nervous, shouldn’t make me feel afraid of who might read it. i shouldn’t feel scared that people will judge me — they’ll do it anyway. these feelings are unwarrented . . .
but they’re still here.
—
It’s a constant struggle day to day, not to feel upset, not to be depressed, not to dwell on how loser-ish I feel. No matter how much I accomplish, how cocky I act, my insecurities come back to bite me in the ass. I hate this shit.
I feel the need to explain myself more:
The last few days I’ve just been constantly filled with these feelings of self-doubt, self-hate, and mad insecurities. The weirdest part is that I don’t even know why I’m being plagued with these feelings. It’s not like anything worse is happening around me than it ever has before… it’s not like good things aren’t happening.
I have a wonderful boyfriend. I got an A- in the class that I was expecting to do really badly in. (The class i was stressing out about the most). I have friends. I have my car keys again, after losing them for an entire week. I’m not lacking anything….
and yet there’s still this nagging feeling… Maybe I should mark this as the beginning of a period of abstinence from illegal substances.
Or maybe I should seek out some more. 
March 19, 2002 at 3:04 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
I need to get away from this place somehow. Drive around or something. Too bad I’m afraid to drive on the highway still. After months of living in Southern California you wouldn’t think that I’d be afraid of anything. I need to feel separated from school I think.
After I finish my laundry, I swear.
March 19, 2002 at 1:51 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
Pink – Don’t Let Me Get Me lyrics
Everyday I fight a war against the mirror
I can’t take the person starin’ back at me
I’m a hazard to myself
Don’t let me get me
I’m my own worst enemy
Its bad when you annoy yourself
So irritating
Don’t wanna be my friend no more
I wanna be somebody else
I wanna be somebody else, yeah
March 18, 2002 at 2:30 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
i can’t say life’s been unfair, because it’s really not. i can’t say i don’t deserve it because i really do. i can’t say people didn’t tell me so, because they did. but i still screwed myself over in the end. i don’t feel sad, really, just kind of bothered that i seem to have lost my motivation this last quarter.
ah. finals week.
March 15, 2002 at 5:45 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
though I had a pending homework assignment due relatively early this morning, when asked if i would like to accompany Dave, Aileen and James to a gay club in Los Angeles, I pretty much immediately agreed to go — even though I was in the midst of finishing my homework.
it’s been a long time since I’ve attended any homosexual community activities and the first time I’ve attended one in southern california. It was almost strange, not seeing the same faces again, but that thought was only fleeting in my head.
one of the interesting things about going to unpublicized teen to mid-twenty age group gay events [as opposed to publicized ones like the gay pride parade or the gay pride festival… etc] is the amount of good-looking people present. it was amazing how many clean-cut, perfectly pristine and trendy looking males were squished into that dance hall. there were actually very few drag queens for the amount of people present, most of them being performers for the night. Those who were dressed up were even more beautiful than most girls I’ve seen at clubs. Everyone looked so happy, and people are so outwardly friendly. (excluding the catty bunch that was in front of us in line) All night long I kept thinking “damn you beautiful people and your perfect hair and perfectly sculpted body face and eyebrows living this beautiful life…”
—
maybe i’m strange, or perhaps desensitized from my highschool years of being around gay people and the gay community and whatnot, but seeing two guys hold each other or kiss each other to me seems just about the same as any other type of couple, be it male female, female female, transgender male, etc… one of the people who came was extremely uncomfortable with the scene and it made me wonder: is this behavior truly that deviant of sociatal rules? or is my friend is just a tiny bit homophobic? :shrug:
perhaps it’s both. it’s not really my job to judge that.
March 10, 2002 at 12:51 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
Emotions and highs and intensities are all so relative in different people. Just looking at my own friends, looking at the people I’ve been in contact with, people that I’ve confided to I realize how strangely equal we all are in our pain, suffering and sense of joy.
It’s all relative.
For example, the child who gets the balloon she’s been asking her mom about the whole day. To the child, this simple thing can cause heights of happiness none of us can seem to reach anymore — thus making us wish to be like a child again with those very same emotions. What happens, though, when the balloon pops? or breaks away from the child’s clumsy grip? — disaster. Her emotions are thrown down into an emotional turmoil and she cries. For someone older, it would just seem like another balloon, but to that child it’s the world — and losing that balloon means the crashing of that beautiful world.
It seems unfair, doesn’t it, that what’s the world to one person is so different than the world to another person. Those who have seen a lot of loss in their life couldn’t even imagine what it’d be like to cry to something seemingly petty like a balloon. — But the question is how hard would that same person cry if they again lost something that brought them joy as the balloon did for the child? That same intense happiness and that same feeling that nothing else is wrong in the world?
What if in one instant it all disappeared? –I’m sure that person would cry too.
Or at least plummet into the depths of despair.
It’s like Tom Hanks in the movie Castaway. At first he wails because of a tiny papercut, but after being stranded on the island for even just a few days we see how drastically his sense of pain and suffering has changed. Where before the scenario with the papercut was pure hell for him — it becomes a position he would probably rather be in a thousand times over. — However, this doesn’t mean that he didn’t feel any pain during the time of the papercut itself. It was excruciating to him at that moment, probably one of the worst pains he’d ever had.
Even though comparitively the papercut seems petty, at the same time in that moment that pain was the worst that he knew in that moment, so in a way, it was almost equal to any other worst pains he subsequently has.
That’s why I feel sorry for jaded people. It’ll be harder for those people to find the things that make them excruciatingly happy and at the same time they’ll suffer the same pains of loss. Where the simple child can just get another balloon and have the world back in her hands, the jaded people may never again find something that can brighten their lives.
March 6, 2002 at 1:53 am · Filed under Rigamarole
last weekend i received news that someone from my highschool class had died. a motorcycle accident. just like that, the file in my head with memories related to him darkened with the thought “gone”. It was like a light had gone out in a certain part of my mind.
i think that’s what saddens me the most. it was a matter of seconds in which all this changedin my head. years worth of fuzzy memories, wilted somehow by the news of his death, yet at the same time coming to the surface more clearly than they had before.
i’ll admit — we were never close. but he’s one of those people that I can sincerely say I never had anything really bad to say about. he was one of those people that smiles a lot says hi to peope in the halls and makes you laugh just because.
news like this isn’t supposed to come until we’re older — until we’ve parted for long enough so that the memories are no longer fresh, so that apathy can sink in, that good old “well, I don’t even remember him anyway”. it’s not supposed to happen to people our age, to people that we know.
March 2, 2002 at 2:26 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
I guess most people wouldn’t know this, since I never post about it, but recently I’ve become really interested in a dance form called tutting. It originated from popping and is considered a type of popping. So anyhow, a few weeks back I got bored and created a video of me tutting as a progress report for my master. I thought some people might actually be interested in seeing what I do in my day-to-day life. So here it is. 
Click Here To See Me in Action!
March 2, 2002 at 1:51 pm · Filed under Rigamarole
Is this what ‘normal’ life is? Having things come and go as expected, doing the same things day to day with small alterations, but as a whole with a universe that goes on undisturbed? I used to make fun of those people whose day to day lives consisted of talking about what they had for dinner and what they watched on TV — and yet sometimes I find myself doing the exact same thing for lack of anything better to think about.
—
Take yesterday for example : the most abnormal part of my day came when I was taking a shit! Alright, so I’m taking a shit, basking in my disgusting stink, and minding my own business when someone comes in on the stall next to me. I hear a great releasing of liquid and I’m like “oh fuck. Brace yourself, Kim. That person has diarrhea and it’s gonna smell even worse in here. But it never came. I then realized this person was BARFING! Oh gag.
I have this really bad reaction to seeing/hearing/thinking about barf — I automatically start gagging myself, usually. Like the time Tim Chang (Division 12 West LTG) barfed on me on the way to CNH Key Club convention and I had a chain-barf reaction during which I barfed on the person directly in front of me. Yes. That was quite bad.
So I’m sitting there on the stool and listening to this person barf when suddenly I’m attacked by a case of gagging. I don’t know about you, but that’s a first for me. I’ve never even heard of anyone shitting and barfing at once, ever.
—
But that’s beside the point. My point is that my life has gotten so boring, that the fact that I shit and barf stays long enough in my memory for me to recount the tale multiple times.
