GoldinUniverse

Thanks, Kim, for sending this to me.

Name: Wang
Date: 2/22/2009
Colorgenics Number: 70123465

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Everyone feels despondent at times and you are no exception. You are feeling so depressed because it seems that everything that could go wrong has gone wrong and you don't quite know which way to turn. So like the proverbial ostrich you are trying to bury your head in the sand. But that won't work - you have to face reality.

You are very self-sufficient and methodical. You presume to know where you are going but need to find a person who will recognise the way you are, not be too demanding and who is, as they say in Italy, 'Simpatico'.

Your confidence has been shattered. There are so many things that you would like to do with your life, so many dreams to be fulfilled - and you know that your hopes and dreams are not just figments of your imagination, they are real and you are looking for reassurance from someone. Basically your fears are such that you may be prevented in attaining your hopes and dreams. Even now you would like to broaden your fields of endeavour but in order to develop your 'inner- self' you need peace and solace. You are distressed by the fear that you may be prevented from attaining your goals. What you really need at this particular moment in time is quiet reassurance from someone close to you to restore your confidence.

For whatever the reason, you find it extremely difficult to sustain relationships - that is to sustain them in the manner that you would wish. You are a very gentle sort of person, full of feeling, sensitivity and susceptible to love and affection, looking and longing for a partner with whom you can enjoy 'All things bright and beautiful' - someone with whom you can seek out the more esoteric things of life. But up to now this person has only existed in your imagination. You are very choosy, appreciative, refined and extremely artistic in temperament and it is your hope to seek others who will allow you to form and express your own taste and judgement and who at the same time may assist you in your intellectual or artistic growth.

Perhaps in the distant past your trust and belief in your fellow man was misplaced and you can now no longer accept anything as it appears to be. You are untrusting and you insist that before you commit yourself to anything, you examine the pro's and con's with critical discrimination. The situation has now progressed to one where you are apt to disagree yet not make any form of constructive criticism to every suggestion that may be put to you. As a result you are in limbo. There is a saying that goes 'The past does not equal tomorrow'. Think about it - and let go.

It's kind of cool. (:



www.goldinuniverse.com

Parting with the concept of self-image...

Everyone says, "It's not what other people think about you, it's what you think of yourself."

Well, in a way, I think it's true. The way you see yourself affects the way you think other people perceive you. If you think you're fat, ugly, and stupid, you live life hounded by the constant fear that other people think you are fat, ugly, and stupid. If you think you're the hottest thing on the planet since Robert Downey Jr. (And let's face it. That thing simply has not arrived yet...or I would be all over it.), people can see that you're a pompous asshole and they treat you as such. What do you think of yourself? What do you think other people think of you?

There are those who are aware of how their own minds work. These people understand themselves to an extent where they can purposefully avoid getting hurt, but at the same time, run the risk of holding themselves back. Sadly, I am not one of these people. I understand myself just as well as I understand other people. I've lived with my family for sixteen years now, and I can honestly say that I don't know them at all. It's part of who I am, I guess. I don't really pay attention to these things. People are people are people. Yeah, they're animate objects, so what? Understanding people is complicated. Presenting yourself as something they will like is not.

It doesn't take much to figure out what people like and dislike. People hate liars, backstabbers, emo kids, drama queens, assholes, etc. People like to laugh, fool around, talk, etc. Socializing isn't a complicated science. But when you conform yourself to an image that you think other people will enjoy, the lines of your own reality begin to blur. Do I like that, or do people like that? Is that what's right? Or is that what other people tell me is right?

I guess that's what all the adults are warning us about. Identity crisis. "Oh don't worry. You're just going through that phase. Rebellious little thing, aren't you. You'll get over it." Rebellious. Yeah, I guess it fits. We want, so desperately, to choose our own colors for the portrait of our identity that we forget we are all cut from the same canvas. Colors can be painted over, but the canvas will always exist underneath all the layers. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I need to get back to that blank canvas. It's hard to chip off all the excess paint that I've stifled my original self with, but without those extra burdens - the drama, the confusion, the angst - life gets a lot easier. The weights have been lifted, so to speak. Doubtless, no matter how hard we scrub and scrape, some remnants of the old paint will remain. But I believe that these remnants of our past color who we are today and serve as souvenirs of our memories, our mistakes, and our various trials and tribulations.

I realized this weekend that carrying around all this extra crap is really...stupid. It's a waste of effort, time, and potential. I don't want to be constrained by the colors of my canvas. I want to be the blank canvas that demands to be made into a true work of art. The paints of this world are dull and limited, but the palette of the Creator is boundless and everlasting.

I've tried to get it right so many times, but nothing ever stays for long. What is deemed beautiful one day is thrown out the next. Instead, I have to surrender myself, a blank canvas, so that I may be rendered beautiful in His eyes, and serve as an example to others struggling to find themselves in this harsh society.

I am no longer content with being another page out of a novice sketchbook. I want to be classic. I want to be perfect. I want to be His Masterpiece.

School is a Infection

My life has been completely taken over by school. Consumed is a better word. Every last ounce of free time is squeezed from me and tainted by the overwhelming pressure of School, hanging over me, tied around my neck, binding my hands together. I can't escape it, and I wouldn't even if I could. It's my ticket out, it's my ticket up. Everyone says, if I want to succeed anywhere, at anything, I need School. I just need to survive this one last semester. One. More. Semester.

People say they envy my "free time". I'm afraid they're deceived. I haven't had free time since sophomore year began. Sure, I sleep early. But this means that every bit of homework is crammed into that little space where school ends and sleep begins. I don't go out. I don't socialize with people. My life is a endless itinerary of School, meetings, family, sleep. It's getting harder and harder to fall back into line. Every break, I step out and really experience the world again, and I don't want to go back into the box. After stretching my legs, finally taking the time to breathe properly, I find that my liberated limbs refuse to conform to the restrictions of that box any longer. I want to be free. I want to escape.

Mental Blockage.

Things that I can never do:

1.) Say the "c" word. I'm sorry, I can't even think it in my brain. It's so...dirty and degrading. But I can say everything else. Liberally.

2.) Beat Oregon Trail. I think I did it once, but I was the only one left in my wagon train. And it took be four hours. One time, everyone drowned at the first river. It was three feet deep. What were we doing? Lying down?

3.) Not go to Costco for a week. It's like trying to avoid a call to the Mother ship. Or ignoring the Dark Mark. "Oh, I'm sorry, Lord Voldemort, I'm just not feeling all that up to it today. Torture and pillaging tomorrow, same time?" NO. COSTCO CALLS TO MY BLOOD.

4.) Procrastinate. I get the shakes, literally. Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night, convinced that I've forgotten something and I literally toss and turn for the rest of the night because I can't remember what it is. I usually realize the next morning when I'm already at school. Expletive, expletive. I'm anal, obsessive compulsive, nerdy, all in one bulky package. Deal with it. (LOVE ME, PLEASE!!!) But deal with it.

5.) Hold grudges. I try. I honestly do. Remember that one time when the lady from Bambu gave my mother and me attitude and I swore I would never return? Well...the jello called to me...and who am I to resist the demands of dessert? I never forget. I just don't have the willpower to deny myself anything. Which leads me to...

6.) Diet. I mean, look at this hot mess. I see it in the mirror and I cry a little on the inside. And then I eat to comfort myself. Mm...Coldstone ice cream--Cheesecake Fantasy. Oh, the bitter taste of self-hate.

7.) Type "lol" on AIM. It's uneducated and gross. Especially when people take it offline and say "LOL!" in real life. (Cough, Jimmy, cough.) "Wtf", I am beginning to condone, but "lol" is just...-sigh-. The next person to saw "rofl" is going to get a pencil up their nose. A sharp pencil. When I type "haha" I'm not laughing. When I type "HAHAHAHAHAHAHA" I am cracking up hysterically. Just in case you wanted to actually get to know the person behind the IM window. (You probably don't.)

8.) Pray in groups. I can pray for hours and hours by myself because I can go "Sorry, Jesus. Backspace backspace." but when you're in a group...things are exponentially more difficult. You have to incorporate the Bible to sound wise, say things that actually mean things... It's like a whole new language. I just can't keep my eyes closed for that long! I need to see! What if there's an axe murderer behind me? Is it a sin to pray with your eyes open?

9.) Take a compliment. I'm not cool enough to take a compliment well. I was raised too Asian. My first instinct is "No. Take it back." But society dictates that you have to take it humbly (is that a word? It looks like...bumbly. Did I spell it wrong?) or risk looking like a big jackass. I'm cocky enough as it is. If you compliment me, my head will upset my balance (which is pretty damn difficult, considering my weight is centered at my thighs.) and I will fall over and crack open my head. (Which, now that I think about it, was probably your intention all along.) Scariest compliment I've ever gotten? "Wow, Abby. You're so smart I just want to kill you." My comeback? "Wow. You're so skinny, I'd do you a bigger favor if you ate me too." Yeah...it was the best I could come up with under the circumstances.
**Jesus made us all equally gifted. (or if you're a pessimist, Jesus made us equally useless.) But I usually take the optimist point of view.

10.) Stay silent through an awkward silence. Or any kind of silence, really. Giggleloop? It's evil. -stacks cups-


So yeah, there's a lot of other stuff I can't do. Calculus, Draw, Sit still, etc. etc. but I know you guys keep more careful track of my flaws then I do.




Good God, it's windy outside.

Unrealistic Expectations

Kim and I decided to make a list of unrealistic expectations women often have for their future soul mate. Considering how, together, we may be the saddest pair of people alive (well...at the moment. Me, I've always been sad. Kim, only seasonally.) this list has its truths and exaggerations. Some stem from the bitterness of our single status, others from the disappointment cultured by grossly fictionalized romance novels. All in all, it's a pretty sad list.

1.) Chivalrous boys - Open doors, give girls coats, never vulgar, etc. etc.
We all have heard about this mythical creature. Maybe read about him in a book, saw him in a movie, swooned over him in a manga. The sad truth is, these boys don't exist in real life. They are the optimistic fruit of the ever-hopeful mind. Boys don't look at these characters in these books and go "Hey, I want to be just like him when I grow up. Get myself all the ladies.". Oh, no. They think, "What a pansy. I'm going to be rude and disgusting, just to distance myself from this queer." Oh, boys. When are you ever going to learn? It is the smooth tongue that catches the flies. (Or something like that.)

2.) The Sexy AND Intelligent Male (Otherwise known as Brain and Brawn)
All right. McDreamy. McSteamy. Heero Yuy. Legolas. Severus Snape. C'mon. We all know one. But have we ever met one? I don't think so. Ever walk into a doctor's office and come out bitterly disappointed? (Welcome to the story of my life.) But seriously. All doctors are either women or...penis wilters. (Erection Eradicaters, Woo-hoo Boo-hoo, etc. etc.) And I mean that in the kindest possible way. Obviously, those who are born sexy and smart realize at a very young age that you only need good looks to survive. Who needs to study and learn, start a career, when we all know rich cougar ladies are on the prowl?

2a.) Just as a small sidenote: Boys in glasses= hot. Those who can carry it off. There's just something about a man in spectacles that makes girl's blood go...well. It makes us extremely happy.

3.) The Arrogant Alpha Male
Appropriately jealous, domineering, insufferable, but completely lovable. You know what I'm talking about. Every romance novel in creation stars one of these. (Except those Fabio ones. Those are just disgusting. "I am a vuhgin." Gross.) Sometimes a vampire (Twilight does not count. Teeny Booper porn from hell. Guh. Don't get me started.), sometimes a werewolf,. I'm sorry girls, these mythical creatures just do not exist. (If I have offended you, because you happen to be a hot, sexy, domineering alpha male vampire/werewolf, you can call me at (510) 585-5555. Anytime. Don't hesistate. Just dial.)

4.) Boys who can play instruments AND sing.
I have been told that I am extremely picky. I would have it known that I am not picky, I have standards. Instruments does not mean electric guitar (Sometimes, I am willing to make an exception.) or the drums (Again, Exceptions.). Instruments mean classical piano, violin, cello, etc. etc. Instruments that you hear, each note vibrating down the halls at midnight, enticing you to follow, stirring your blood, mmm. Classical music. Is the best music.
4a.) Which brings me to people who have good taste in music. What is that called again...? Class. That's what it is.

5.) Boys who employ proper etiquette.
Boys are not supposed to tell girls, "I'm going to punch you in the cooter." What the hell is a cooter anyway? Say please and thank you. Demonstrate more manners than an average caveman. ("Ooh. Food. SNARKLEGRUNTSNARF") Say the right things in front of your parents. Goes back to chivalrous boys, but seriously. Polite, tactful, witty boys. Jesus, can I have one for my birthday? Please?


6.) Boys that dress well.
James Bond in a suit. That is sex.

7.) Boys who can cook.
Enough said.


The same can be said about girls. I'm sure boys are all looking for the one who is all breasts and no brains. Throw in hips and booty, and the perfect woman is made. I'm not saying that we should all die painfully single and alone. All's I be sayin' (That's right. I pulled a Marchand.), look how our standards have fallen! What happened to the debonair gentlemen of the royal courts? The Lords, Dukes, and -dare I say it- the Rakes. (Oh, baby.) Where have all the good men gone?


Well. I'm holding out for a hero.


Damn right.



















(And yes. Most of this was just an excuse to put those pictures up. Mm.)

Belle

Epic.

Friends

I'm always going to be on your side.

Unless you're wrong.

Then I'm going to slap you around until you see straight.

Nicely.

And with much love.

To quote my parents:

"I only do this because I love you."


Be good. Be safe. Be smart.

Poop in the Park

I had a whole Chipotle burrito today (Chicken, save thirty cents.) and I felt humongous. That, in addition to two rice krispies and buttload of french fries that pass themselves off as "Veggie Straws". (Deep fried and taste good with ketchup = french fries) So I decided to haul my fat ass off the drums (Yeah, I'm a drummer. Call me.) and take a few laps around the park with Sebastien.

I'd finally motivated myself to exercise, and brought my favorite dog (I am not ashamed of favoritism. Or...anti-favoritism as it were.) to keep me entertained, and what the heck happens?

Sebastien poops.

In the park.

On the sidewalk.

How mortifying.

"Don't slow down! We're going to make this lap this time! Why are you walking funny? Did you step on something? Oh, poor ba--POOP!"

Stupid dog.

Then I'm stuck with a serious dilemma. There are no poopie bags in the park. Do I do the morally correct thing and pick up that piece of poo with my bare hands, stick it in my pocket, and dispose of it when I get home? Or do I take the grey route and kick it off the path -- in my mom's shoes.

I'm sorry Jesus.


I jogged my little tushie home as fast as I could, stopping every once in a while to turn to Sebastien and say "Don't you dare! Suck that back in!" and "NO POO! Wait until we get home! We're almost there!!" I swear, racing poo is not easy. I got home in the five seconds flat, I don't even lie. And the moment he stepped through those red gates, he relieved himself like a chocolate ice cream dispenser. I was thoroughly disgusted.

And in the end, we only took one lap around the park.

One out of three, that's one more than I usually get. Good job, Abby. (:

Leisure Time

In APUSH, dear Ms. Narveson is teaching us about industrialization and the advent of leisure time. Rapid growth of cities led to the birth of spectator sports, biking, etc., etc. but I'm still a little confused. What is this leisure time you speak of?

It faintly rings a bell. I seem to recall better days when I actually had the time to sit around doing nothing, read fanfiction/porn, watch movies simply because I wanted to. But these sweet memories have already almost faded into nonexistence, replaced instead by bitter, painful recollections of toiling over AP homework, studying for SAT, and wondering where the hell I am heading in life at what feels like 5 miles an hour.

If I had leisure time, maybe I'd dedicate a little of it to working out.... HA! Sorry, yeah, thought it would be a good time for a little joke.

But seriously, there are so many things that I want to experience that, lately, I seem to never have time for. I'm down with learning at school, but when are we supposed to put these desultory numbers and concepts into action if not real life? The last time I picked up a book that did not have people fornicating in it was...hell, a long time ago. Even Scarlet Letter had some action. I want to go back to the classics. I started Obama's book, made it a bathroom book for while, wrote a three page essay on it, and now it sits, tragically collecting dust on my bookshelf. Some may say my bookshelf is a graveyard for discarded books, but I prefer to see it as a retirement home. The books are in good care, I visit them from time to time, and occasionally, I even bother to crack 'em open for a better look.

Well, as much as I would like to complain more about my lack of free time, the fact that I am blogging about absolutely nothing pretty much defeats my point. Besides, I still have time for TV. I'll always have time for TV. It is the love of my life,and I cannot refuse its call. Oh beautous box of grey and black, if you lived to be a hundred and one, I would live to five hundred, so I could cheat on you with all your improved brothers.

Yeah, so I'm pretty amused about this whole blogspot/blogger thing because...well, you can put pictures on it! ---> See?

Isnt' that flippin' awesome?

So my angst stays livejournal because I always follow the porn. (Immigrants followed the money, look where it brought them. Well...to porn, so I guess that had the right idea.) I guess this just better illustrates by lack of commitment to anything. Except a bloody slab of steak. Ain't nothing that could ever tear us two apart. Mm-mm.

Nobody, nobody but yoooou.



Yeah. It's late. I'm off to sleep. Let's just say...it's not sheep I'm counting.









It's COWS. Jesus, people. What the heck were you thinking?