I'm not depressed.

I feel like crap. I feel stuck. I can't get unstuck. I want to get unstuck. I've been feeling nothing but pain. It hurts too much. I want to get rid of this feeling. Or non-feeling. I don't know. The pain feels like "nothing." Or nothingness. The last time I felt like this, it was bad. This time, it feels worse.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm losing grip. But then I regain my grip. So it seems like a momentary weakness. I wish that it was really just that, momentary. Temporary. Temporary pain that will go away. But really, it just keeps coming back, and I have to keep fighting it. I can't give in.

I wish I would open up to someone. Maybe it won't be so bad. I wish I could just let myself be honest and cry until I can't cry anymore. I don't like this feeling. I feel like a dam that's about to burst. It really hurts.

I need help, but I don't want help. I can get through this on my own. I know I tell people, my friends, that they should always be honest and open. To someone close to them. To me, if they can't find anyone else. I will always be there for them. For people. For everyone. I wish I could turn to those same people and let them know what I'm thinking, how I'm feeling. Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much anymore.

But I can't tell them. My problems aren't their problems.

Hah, I know. It's a double standard I've set for myself. I can't help it. My life's not that hard, but I can barely handle it. We shouldn't compare our lives to others' lives, but I know my life isn't that bad. I have friends who are worse-off than I am. And they're surviving. I'm just too damn weak to take on the small challenges in my life. So I won't talk to people. My problems are nothing. They're not important. I don't even know what they are.

I just feel so conflicted, uncomfortable, twisted, just something that I really can't describe. Something that I've been feeling for years and it has gotten worse now. I've been trying to figure out how to describe it, verbalize it. But I can't. For more than 3 years, I've been feeling this feeling that humans don't have a word for. Or at least it's not a word that I know or have ever heard of. It's an unknown word for an indescribable feeling. Maybe that's why I can't think of a word: I can't describe it.

None of my friends know how I feel. I've never told them. If I did tell someone, they'd probably just say it's depression. But it feels different from sadness or melancholy. It's different. Or at least I think it is. But who knows? We don't think the same. You couldn't possibly know what I mean. I've never heard the words I've been searching for. No one knows.

Maybe I am depressed. But how can I be? I have my happy days too. Depressed people don't have happy days. They don't smile. They have pained smiles. You can see it. My smiles aren't pained. No one sees pain in my smiles. I'm not depressed. I'm just not feeling how I want to feel. But I will. I'll work this out, and I'll feel better. Without help. I can do it. Or I can try. It won't hurt to try, right? Right.

I should get out of the house more often. I'm starting to scare myself sometimes :/

Why does hair matter so much?

So ever since I got my haircut, my mom has been on my case more than usual :( She's finding every little excuse to yell at me.. Hair is not that important. It doesn't determine who I am. She thinks I'm doing illegal crap because the hair is a sign.

I don't know why she keeps doing this to me. She keeps telling me that I'm going to grow my hair out again. I can't choose my own haircuts anymore. I just wanted to try something different, and this was different. My friends like it. I like it. My mom and generally the older generation don' t like it.

I'm debating about whether I should keep the cut or just go back to how it used to be. I like my fauxhawk. I wasn't seriously considering keeping it until I saw it. But now, if I keep it, my mom's gonna keep giving me shit about really stupid things. Well, more than she used to. I should just grow it out so she'll stop yelling at me so much.. :( I hate it when she yells at me, especially when it's unwarranted. She could be nice about it. Instead, she's blaming me for nothing. What the hell is she blaming me for? I haven't done anything wrong. She's the one who's yelling about stupid things.

I want to do what I want to do. When I do something, especially something new, I always consider her feelings. When she does something, she doesn't consider how shit affects me or my brother. She's not always thinking of us. She loves us, but she doesn't always know what's best for us. I wish she'd stop acting like she did.

We're supposed to make our own mistakes to learn. If she keeps trying to prevent our mistakes, we'll rely on her less, ignore her more, and never learn. I wish she would see that. Every time I think she does, she just goes back to her old habits because it's easier for her. It's never easy for me.

Ahh, this is just a haircut. Why should people's sympathies matter? Why would their sympathies change when they see my hair? If they change, then I guess those people are judgemental people that don't give others a chance. First impressions aren't everything, especially when you don't even meet the person. My friends know I'm the same person. Why won't my mom see that too?

She's always complaining about how I'm always home, doing nothing and not making any of my own decisions. I make a small decision about something quite unimportant, and it's the end of the world for my mom :( Her only reaction is to berate, scold, and threaten me with "bad" consequences (mostly social things that I obviously don't care for).

Besides, I wanted to make a different decision about my hair. She's got to decide my hairstyle ever since I was born, except twice: Junior year when I grew out my hair, but even then she kept making me get my hair "trimmed." It was more like grow my hair to my shoulders and keep it at that length. I got so frustrated because my hair could've gotten as long as to reach the middle of my back. It never got to because she kept overriding my wishes. How's that fair? :/

The second time is this time. Yeah, I can understand that she's not happy because it's pretty radical. It's rather unorthodox even in this time. But I wanted to try. Just to see. You can't judge something until you've seen/felt/experienced it. I can't understand how she can be angry that I "defied" her. My decision, not hers. My hair, not hers. I'm fuckin' 18. I need a little liberty with my life.

She doesn't care that I like it. She doesn't like it, so I can't keep the style. Some respect. There's no respect. I said this before in my old LJ: I can't respect people who don't respect me. I don't think I've ever really respected my mom.

I love her, sure. She's my mom. I'm supposed to love her, yeah? I think that's dumb. You shouldn't have to love people just because you're connected by blood. Blood doesn't really mean too much. It seems to because we give it that importance. But blood is blood, a red sticky substance that helps to keep you alive. I shouldn't have to love my family because we're related.

I should love people because they deserve my love. I should respect people who deserve my respect. And I believe respect should be mutual, not one-sided.

My mom takes care of me, sure. But she shows no respect for me. She doesn't even know me anymore. She doesn't pay attention to how I feel or what I say or want. She's already told me that she won't listen if what I say doesn't please her. So I know she never really listens. Most things I say never please her, unless I'm trying to get her to like my friends (I talk about my "smart" friends).

Sometimes, I don't feel like I'm her daughter. Sometimes, I feel like I'm her employee. I don't get paid. I'm just supposed to do what she wants me to do (and repay her with my deference when I'm older). And I've done that for most of my life. But I can't stay her little employee forever. I'm so stuck under her. I'm dependent. I can't think for myself. I used to try, but she'd disagree with something and yell at me. I stopped trying to think for myself. I suppose that may be why I have trouble making my own decisions. I'm always I'll choose the wrong thing for my mom.

Gah, I want to move out. I can't live with my mom. She won't let me do my own thing. She complains that I get to do too much already. Yeah, compared to her living in Viet Nam when she was younger. Obviously, the values and customs of Vietnamese people and those of Americans are different. Here, we value independent thinking and growing, not controlled thinking and growth. She wants me to grow but by her standards, not my own.

And I can't break myself from that. My friends suggest that I should just do what I do, but I can't. I'm still stuck on trying to make my mom happy. I do the wrong thing, and everything becomes my fault. Everything I do becomes a good excuse to blame me. I gave her enough reason with this haircut. I don't want her to keep yelling at me. I don't want to go to bed crying every night anymore.

I think I'll just grow out my hair like she wants. One fewer things to get blamed for. I don't need to stress about this, about my hair. It's just hair. One decision I don't need to make.

As long as my hair stays the way it is, she's going to keep putting me down. I hope my hair grows out fast, so she can just shut up about it.

Ugh, I have no willpower. I don't want to argue with her. I don't argue with her. I just shut up. Why can't she take the hint and shut up too? The conversation's over, but she's still bringing it up every time she sees me. I'm going to dread talking to her and even seeing her now, until my hair is "back to normal."

So much for trying something new and different. It's making me miserable.

Today, I got a haircut.

Yay for New Year's resolution #12.

I went to my brother's friend's salon near SJSU. 2 o'clock appointment with Linh. Cool dude haha.

I got a fauxhawk. I think it looks pretty good. It's so weird though because I've never really strayed from my usual haircut. I was so afraid it would turn out bad. If it's bad, well it's not too bad, imo. The wind kinda messed it up though. Hopefully, I can get it to look good tomorrow haha.

And my mom freaked out, saying I look like a gangster -__- She complains about me never making my own decisions. And when I make a small decision she doesn't agree with, she gets angry at me. How can I have any autonomy if all she ever does is reprimand me? Stupid.

Anyway, whatever. I don't care. I just wanted to try something different. It's not too different. I just have to pay attention to my hair more now haha. We'll see if I keep it. I don't know yet. My mom wants to make me grow it back out to the usual do. Grr, I need to get out, get away.

Hmm, what else?

Oh yeah, I'm such a bad student. Procrastinating like hell. Now I have to try to do 2 essays tonight. I'll probably only get one done though. Whatever.

Mm, that's it. I just wanted to document a day where I did something rather radical by my standards. Err well, mother's standards.

That's so gay.

I honestly don't care if people say "That's so gay." I hardly notice.

But that's not what this is about. I'm not sure what this entry is about.

It's just I was talking to my mom and B about hella stuff. Somehow, we ended up talking about this guy who doesn't work. His wife's sister is one of my brother's bosses. That conversation isn't important, but what my mom said about the sisters was. To me, anyway.

Mom (in Viet): "What terrible luck for the two sisters. They're both so beautiful. The older one has a Communist husband who doesn't work and doesn't love her. The other one is gay. How terrible." I don't know if that should bother me anymore, but it did.

We don't talk about anything gay-related. Unless it's about gay hairstylists. When it comes to lesbians, there's nothing to say. Except my brother mentions his bosses (both lesbians). I don't know. My mom doesn't look at me when she talks about his bosses. She just looks away. I don't know if it's me or if she's just doing it.

I came out to her toward the beginning of senior year, but we haven't talked about it since. I don't know what she's thinking. I wish I knew what she was thinking. But she won't say anything. Neither will I. I guess I like the safety, but the not knowing is difficult. I wish we'd talk, but I don't think we have that kind of mother-daughter relationship.

I don't really talk about it with anyone :/ Yeah, sure, I talk to my friends about liking girls or whatever. But I don't talk to anyone about the family stuff. I'm not sure I know anyone who can relate. You know, to the silence, the avoidance of the topic. But even if I did have someone to talk to, what the hell am I supposed to say? I wish my mom would be more accepting? She is accepting. She just doesn't say anything. I guess I want to hear my mom say something supportive, but whatever. I don't need it. Not now.

I just don't like the awkwardness of when she starts talking about my brother's bosses and somehow their sexuality always comes into the conversation. Egh.

I just gotta let it go.

Why am I still thinking about her?

Again, I forgot something. Darn my memory -_-

So, this morning, I had a dream that I actually remember.

I dreamed about a girl. I haven't seen her since I visited ST back in January. I miss talking to her :/ I've tried to call her a few times since, but her phone's always off. I haven't gotten any calls back nor any replies to my texts.

I think I used to like her when I was still a senior at ST. I say "I think" because I wasn't sure if I wanted to like her (it gets troubling to like girls who only ever talk about guys). I think she might have liked me. She might've told me. But then she changed her mind. I remember she had "something important" to tell me once. I waited. But she never said anything. When I asked her about it the next day, she chuckled and said she couldn't remember. I doubted it. It's hard to forget when you have something important to say. But I didn't push it. Maybe I should have. Maybe I should have said I liked her.

Anyway, I've remembered her from time to time over the past 9 months. I didn't think about liking her. I just thought about her. I miss talking to her, listening to her. But I don't think anything's ever gonna happen there. I can't even get in touch with her.

I haven't been thinking about her lately, but the dream made me think of her again. She likes a guy I know. Well, that's what she told me. I know who he is. I wonder...

Back to the dream. It was short. I meet her somewhere. She seems happy to see me and gives me a hug. I can't stop smiling at her. I ask her about why I haven't been able to reach her. She says that her phone is broken and she's been thinking about me and feeling sorry about not reaching me. She misses me. My heart does a little dance, and I just keep smiling, saying it's ok, we'll keep in touch better now.

That's all there is to the dream. What I remember most is how she looked in the dream. Sweet, happy, and just so damn cute haha.

I have no idea why I dreamed about her. I haven't been thinking about her. Or have I? Mm.

Damn. I need to obsess about someone I actually talk to more often. Why am I thinking about someone I don't even see anymore? :/ Letting-go issues, must be.

Now, I'm thinking about every person I had a serious interest in. Only 4 or 5 people. I debate the seriousness of my past interests a lot. 4 girls, 1 boy. Haha. There's no one for me to like right now, so I can only think back to the past. What fun.

Thinking about these kinda things just makes me feel so alone. I keep feeling so alone. Gahh.. I need to stop thinking. Or to start pursuing someone hahaha. Make this into a game. No, I wouldn't do that. But I don't know what or who to think about. The stuff I think about now are too disheartening. I hate thinking about the future. I want to think about someone.

Who??

Haha this reminds me of my first couple of entries on LJ. Wondering who will be "the one." Still waiting for my firsts and all. I'm still patient, maybe complaining about my chances a little more than I used to. I just don't want to feel so...

Empty and alone.

Major?

So last night, I forgot to update about something haha. Surprise, surprise.

Yesterday, in English, everyone got their first out-of-class essays back. I didn't. Mine wasn't done in time. Dang, why does that always happen to me?

Anyway, so I came by Prof Williams' office a lil later to pick it up. And since I was the only one whose paper she didn't finish grading, she gave a lil one-on-one about my essay. When I was about to leave, she asked me what I was majoring in, and I said Undeclared. Then she suggested that I major in English. I just smiled and shook my head. I have never considered English to be a possible major for me. I don't really like English haha.

I have a knack for writing? No waayyy. I don't like to write. At least not formally. Academically. Most of the time in school, I have to write about things that I don't care for. The rest of the time, even if it is something I do care about, I have to write better than I'm used to. I honestly don't care to improve my writing. I'm happy with the way it is.

Writing, I want to keep as recreational and free as possible. School and I just don't mix in my pot. School has drained the fun out of a lot of things for me. I don't want my written self-expression to lose its comfort. School made me hate math. Ok, well, I don't hate it, but I don't love it as much as I used to. Sometimes I don't think I even like it much at all anymore.

Anyway, when I walking to the light rail stop, I was thinking, "Me, an English major? No way. No. Never would have believed that. Noo." Then when I was home, I remembered I should be open-minded to the possibilities. Ahh.

Possibilities. But I've never considered English a possibility. I never liked English. I mean, I've been pretty good at everything related to the English language (except vocab) throughout my primary education years. And I even improved a lot on my vocabulary in the 6th grade and all. And my scores on the SAT9's or CAT6's, whatever they're called now, have been pretty high. Proficient or Advanced. I had been consistent with those. But they meant nothing to me.

Hmm, what would I do with an English major anyway? Or a minor? English seems like a social personality's major. I'm not social. As much as I want to be, I know I'm not. I like to keep away from most people. But then I also want to be around people.

Gahh, I'm such a confusing person. Confusion will be the bane of my existence -__-

You know, I just like blogging because I don't need a form, a structure, or anything important like those. Blogging can be all fluff, and it wouldn't matter. And people don't read my blog very often if at all. (I seriously don't know if anyone reads this)

A silent audience. I like that. Whether it be ghosts or real readers. I'm not afraid to put down what's on my mind.

Hah, somehow I managed to go from talking about English major to English writing to blogging. I love my tangents oh so much haha. But yeah, English major. I don't know. I don't know what people see in my writing. I don't see anything, except for the words I put down and the thoughts that were attached to them.

Write as I speak or think. That's the only way I go. Even for my essays. That's why I always worry about how they flow. No transitions. I always put those in later.

I just don't want to fit into a writing mold. I like my disconnected, albeit difficult-to-follow style. It's how I write, how I think. It's just, I write for me. I don't write for another audience, even if there may be one. I think that's the hardest part about writing an English paper for me. I don't want to write for another audience. Why should I care to write for them? I don't want to change people's minds. I might want them to listen to my opinion, but that's it.

Why do things have to get so complicated with explanations and reasoning and all that? Yeah, sure, they're good for arguments. But I don't want to argue. I would much rather listen to people and make my own judgments. Keep 'em to myself. The rest of the world doesn't need to know what I think, what one person thinks.

Oh, such negative thinking. Hah, I should just go back to updating about my daily routines XP

Delusional, indeed...

A few things to mention in this entry...


First, today in Poli Sci, we learned about deceptive statistics. I believe I've already explained how I felt about statistics. Anyway, we did a little probability test with quarters. Yeah, the coin toss thing. Tossed 100 times. My group of 3 tossed 52 tails and 48 heads.

You know the first thing I thought when I saw that? Guess. Haha. I thought, "Wow. Those numbers look very familiar. Why?" Then a little later, I remembered: Prop 8 results. Yeah, I know, a common coincidence.

Mm, I don't remember where I was gonna go with that bit. Was supposed to lead to "We don't know what we don't know. We only know what we might know." But I don't think I can explain that well enough. Oh well.


In English, I had a group presentation about global revisions. Fun stuff. Anyway, after the presentation, Prof Williams talked about using "one" as a pronoun in academic writing. It used to be overused. Now, we see it less and less in contemporary writing. I like "one," but I agree too much of it is tiring.

When I see the pronoun, I immediately imagine an old man with an English accent and a long nose speaking to me. He speaks with his nose pointing upward as if looking at me would make him sneeze or something. Pretentious. Indeed.


Obsession. Makes me think of the Frankie J song. "Amor, no es amor..." I can obsess easily, but I can put some things out of mind just as easily. I used to obsess about crushes. But I haven't liked anyone since high school, which ended only 9 months ago. But it's been 9 lonely, quiet months. I sometimes don't know what to think about if not people. But people disappoint me. I want an idealized person to think about. And what is better than an infatuation to occupy my thoughts?

I sadden myself sometimes. I feel so alone when I think about people I can't have, but I might feel worse if I don't think of them at all. But then I'm ok. I've been alone for over 18 years. I've gotten used to it, but I feel like the comfort of not knowing is slipping.

I just want to have someone to think about. I want to be delusional sometimes. Hmm, delusional, what a thought.


PDA. I've come across people who shudder at the thought of gay couples kissing. Weird, queer, uncomfortable. At first, I thought they were just idiots (for I think all people are idiots). Now that I think about it, however, I agree. PDA is weird. PDA of any kind. I thought I was comfortable with it, and I am. From a distance. I blame movies. Movies make PDA seem so sweet and passionate. It's touching, moving. You'd think it could be the same in real life. But we have to take the context into consideration.

If I see a people kiss on screen, it's like "Whatever, they're kissing. Big whoop." But in real life, it's different. For me, anyway. If I see people kissing from at least 10 feet away, I'm still nonchalant about it. But when a couple is kissing in front of me (within 4 or 5 feet) and there's nowhere else for me to go or nothing to block my view, I feel awkward. It's like "Do I keep looking straightahead or do I look away? What the hell am I supposed to do?" No one's looking at me, but I still can't help but feel self-conscious. If I keep looking, I feel like a gawker. If I look away, I'm too shy for my own good. But it's respectful, isn't it?

Anyway, if I know the couple, then it's a little better but not by much. But I think it's worst when I'm a third wheel. Ugh, I hate being the third wheel with a couple. That's happened to me a few times, and I felt so uncomfortable all those times. Why must I be so nice and say yes?? Aiyah... Luckily, that hasn't happened to me lately. Third wheel, tch. I'm too nice a friend. I don't even know why those couples invited me along. Whyy? To make me uncomfortable?

Ok, tangent ending. PDA, not always a comfortable situation. But that shouldn't stop people from showing PDA. Ultimately, I don't care and sometimes think it's sweet, cute, or whatever. I think it's just me. I'm not around people enough to be used to all these strange public customs or anything.


I don't daydream as much as I used to. I don't think as much as I used to. Or do I and don't notice? Hmm. I need to pay attention more. Lately, I've been imagining myself as a popular kid. Making friends wherever I go. And keeping them.

It seems I don't keep my friends well anymore if at all. I'm not sure I know how to speak to them at times. I can only grin and nod. Grin and nod. What I always do. Making new friends is difficult. Has always been. I always waited for others to speak to me. Then I started speaking to other people on my own, but not often. I should. I should just try. I've been successful with that. I still talk to some of those people. But I think I fear people more and more every day. I think about how we live now, and I can never be sure how to react to the people I imagine are around me now. I feel like I can get along with almost anyone, but only an open person does that. I know I'm not open.

I'm friendly, not open. I'm not a private person, but I'm not open. Why? My friends are very open for the most part. You would think that they would have rubbed off on me. Perhaps they have, and I haven't noticed. Or I've regressed. I always regress. In school, in life. Why?

Back to daydreams: I've been thinking about life without my family. Independent, confident, impressive, skilled, versatile, eloquent, knowledgeable, and more. Qualities I want to have but won't give to myself now. I'll only think about what I would be if I used courage. I know my family isn't holding me back. I am. But I don't always want to blame me. It's better to just imagine a closer-to-perfect world. People like me. I do more and try harder (or try less and still be great). I love. I embrace my flaws. I embrace... people. I miss young life when none of this mattered much. I've grown to feel inadequate. I let myself feel this way, I know. I haven't tried hard enough to do better.

Who could love such an inconsistent person? So inadequate. So afraid. So boring. So lost.


I need to stop procrastinating. I've got a lot of homework to do this weekend. Essays, arguments. I'm going to be up late on Sunday night. I'm sure of it. Ahh, I should do better. After Spring Break. Maybe.


I wish I could remember my dreams. I've been forgetting them too easily.

In order for some to win...

A realization I made a while ago and also continually: In order for some to win, others must lose.

Have you noticed?

Joanna's birthday party....

So yesterday, I went to Joanna's party at about 7 or so. I borrowed my mom's car, only after getting reprimanded for wanting to go out. Again. Nothing new. Told her I would only stay 2 or 3 hours just to talk to some friends I hadn't seen in a while.

I drove up and down Joanna's street trying to remember which house was hers. Then I finally decided to just park somewhere and walk until I could find the right house. When I went in, there weren't too many people there yet. Maybe 6 or 7, plus Joanna's bro's (Tiberio?) friends, the 21-and-over's.

The new people I kinda talked to at the party: Chad and 2 girls, whose faces I remember but whose names evade my memory :(

People I did know: Ally, Emerald, Diana Park. There was also Alicia Drake, whom I remember from Marie's Drama class last year (but I never talked to her haha).

Anyway, I think I spent most of the time sitting and talking to a few people. There was also forced dancing. Joanna's dad threatened to turn on Andrea Bocelli (whose music I personally enjoy) if there were people who wouldn't dance. He wanted guys and girls to pair up. Haha that didn't last too long. And I have fun memories of all that dancing too :P Oh, Ally and Emerald ahaha. Other than that, didn't dance much. The room needed to be either smaller or more crowded. Still embarrassing to dance when people can see me dance haha. Either embarrass the hell out of myself or have someone to dance with. And that last bit was definitely not an option haha.

Let's see. What else do I remember from last night? Uhh, drunk guys taunting Joanna's dog. That was bothersome, to say the least. Oh, one of the guys hella reminds me of the wheelchair guy from Scary Movie 2 hahaha. I think it's his eyes, glasses, and goatee.

Well, anyway, the dancing was the last thing I did before I left for home at 11:30. Yeah, my mom wasn't happy about that, but I rationalized and said that it was because my friends didn't show up until 9 or so, which was true. And we all know you can't leave before most people show up. That would just be sad.

Overall, the party was pretty chill. Can't say I had the best time of my life, but it was good stuff. Though, I have to say I felt like people were staring at me a lot O_O I'd always catch someone's stare or glance or whatever. A lil unnerving.

And oh yeah, when I was leaving the party (through the front door), I had to walk through a large group of smokers. Geez. So much smoke. Choking, gag. If it had been 3 or 4 people, ok. But over 10 people packed tight together smoking. Shit, man. How do people breathe?

Also, as I was walking away, I heard one guy ask his friend, "Dude, is that a guy or a girl?" Hmm, he must have been too drunk to tell. Everybody else seemed to know I was a girl. Even Joanna's dad could tell I was a girl, and it's usually the older people who mistake me for a dude. I might not dress up all girly or anything, but I don't think it's that hard to see. Then again, androgyny is just so hot, so maybe it works for me ahaha. I've been called a cute guy before, so hey -shrug- haha... :P

I don't mind it anymore. I used to cry about it because it felt like people were making fun of me (and sometimes they were), but life went on and I learned to just accept people's reactions to whatever they thought of me based on first impressions (sometimes). Gender ambiguity, oh, what fun a person can have with that ;P I can just mess with people's minds haha. I get to watch them try to be polite and avoid masculine/feminine topics to avoid insulting me.

No, I'm not confused about my gender. I'm a girl. I like being a girl, I guess. I mean, you either accept what you're given or change it. Whatever floats your boat. I just like guys' clothes better because they don't restrict breathing or movement as much as girls' clothes do. And they're also more suitable to my "fashion" sense.

So now I'm wondering if I should just go on and let people assume I'm whichever gender they think I am. Or should I just continue to correct them or point out the fact? I mean, correcting people sometimes embarrasses them because... well, actually, I don't know why it would be embarrassing. Maybe just because they couldn't tell and we all obviously should be able to distinguish "boy" and "girl." I don't know.

I just think sometimes it's funny. In fact, when I heard the guy last night, I smiled and laughed to myself. Maybe that's why people kept staring ahaha....

Prop 8...

Went to the CA Supreme Court today. Arguments for both sides of the issue have been heard. Now, we have to wait 90 days for a decision.

You know, I feel bad for the justices who have to make the decision. Whichever way they rule, someone's gonna hate on them. Whichever way they rule, people are still gonna fight their decision.

Prop 8 supporters will fight if the majority vote is overturned. Prop 8 opponents will fight if the majority vote is upheld. This is going to be a neverending fight. Or it's going to seem like it. Then in the future, maybe 50 years from now, we'll all look back and be like "What the hell were we thinking? Arguing about some stupid shit like that when there were bigger things to worry about, like the legalization of marijuana or prostitution." :P I don't patronize either of those, but I'm just saying I consider those more important issues to worry about.

I don't really care about Prop 8. Marriage is marriage. It's a personal thing for all of us, obviously. I just don't think people should have the right to decide a stranger's right to marry. In the modern day, I have the right to decide who I can marry. It's not the right/decision of my mom, my brother, my friends, or a stranger.

Irrelevant: I'm kinda surprised people aren't as heated about convicted murderers and rapists being allowed to marry in jail as they are about gays getting married.

Seriously though, Prop 8 is really more about semantics than actual rights. People just want to restrict the definition of "marriage," which they can in their mind if they want. We can't dictate people's thoughts; our technologies aren't that advanced yet. But changing the words on the CA Constitution, how tedious. Whether the "amendment" is passed or not, people will see marriage as what it is and always has been: whatever it has been to them since they learned the words "marriage," "love," "monogamy," etc. An amendment isn't going to ultimately change the meaning behind marriage. It's still going to mean what it means to each of us. Hell, some of us don't care for it at all.

There will still be domestic partnerships/civil unions, which get most of the same benefits of marriages. It's true that they don't get all the same benefits. Yeah, a domestic partnership makes things a bit trickier than a marriage would, but c'est la vie. There are always obstacles to our goals and needs.

It's amazing how one word can divide people so easily. Well, more disheartening than amazing.

Another sad thing about the whole Prop 8 debate is all the ad hominem, bandwagoning, ad populum, straw man, and crap flying around. Mostly the ad hominem. Homophobes. Fags. Dykes. Breeders. Sinners. Haters. Anti-Species. Anti-Rights. Sodom and Gomorrah. Idiots. Bigots. I could seriously go on.

Is this how we argue? Like little children who haven't developed their vocabulary yet? We're not really arguing. An argument attempts to sway opinions and beliefs or incite action. Name-calling totally just turns people off. No way there's gonna be any swaying with that. This is why no one has offered a compromise. And you know there are always possibilities for compromise.

Oh, and yes, I voted no on Prop 8. Why? Like I said before, I don't like the idea of strangers deciding who strangers can marry. It's like worse than having my mom decide. And thank goodness, arranged marriages have lost their appeal. I've said this before somewhere, but Prop 8 is like a broader version of an arranged marriage. It doesn't tell you specifically who you have to marry, but it does limit your choices greatly and tells you who you should marry. And that's just as sad.

Counterarguments to 6 pro-Prop-8 worries. Convincing, I believe.

But we know that when people are provided with evidence contrary to their beliefs, sometimes they stick to their ironclad beliefs just because it's easier. I know I do it, but I'm still a youngin', so I'll learn to do better.


I don't hate Prop 8 supporters, although I've heard a few hate me. I don't know why. They don't even know me. I'm a nice person. But being a Prop 8 opponent brings in anger and dislike from the other side, just as being a supporter does. It's sad. It's human. We're not very humble, are we? We should at least respect each other, but I see little respect out there. That's one of the reasons why I think this will be an ongoing battle.

Sometimes, I feel like this debate has really turned into a competition of right or wrong, win or lose. It's not for the betterment of the people. It's not progress. It's just something else.

Man, why are people so angry, so afraid? What are we so afraid of? Of losing? Losing our righteousness, our self-esteem, our fraternity, our equality? Why are we all so angry?

No one's ever really equal.

Human stereotype?

Sometimes, I feel like giving up on life. Other times, it feels like I already have. I think I've given up on people in general, but not individually or even collectively.

What's the generalization/stereotype of a human being? There isn't one. Is there one? Is there many? Why?

When you tell people to think of a human being, what do they imagine? Obviously, "human being" is very vague, but this leaves room for us to see what other people see: A man? A woman? White? Black? Mexican? 10-year-old? 60-year-old? Clothes? No clothes? Tall, short, or "average"? Skinny, fat, muscular? Smooth or scarred? Weak or strong?

When I hear human, I imagine a thin, white male, standing at 5'10", in his 20's, wearing a polo and jeans. Short dark hair. Dark eyes. I stop at that. What am I supposed to imagine? A typical human. What's typical? Nothing's typical.

No one represents the human race, yet we all do. How's this possible?

What do we imagine when we think "animal"? Dogs, cats, horses, fish, birds, lions, elephants, pigs, etc. Are we so arrogant as to hold ourselves higher than what we really are? "Humans and animals..."

Humans are animals.

We can prove it genetically, behaviorally, and in many other ways, I'm sure. Yet, we see ourselves in such a better light than we do animals. "Humans are more evolved." Pfft, what an ego! Humans are no more evolved than dogs or bacteria. The Theory of Evolution shows that we all descended from the same first being whatever that was. All species have evolved over the same amount of time through different changes. We can see that we're not as tiny or fluid as bacteria, but our ancestries have survived through the same amount of time.

We're all as evolved as can be at this point. And there's little doubt that there will be more change in all species in the future. You never know. Bacteria might become the most complex and intelligent living creature on Earth in a few hundreds of thousands or millions of years.

Where the hell was I going with this?

I don't like that some people assume human beings are just the shit. Why are we so great? Because we think so. Chyeah, right. For all we know, dogs and cats are really incognito and studying us when we don't pay attention to them. We don't know. We could really just be that simpleminded. We make our assumptions and are happy with that.

Maybe we should just be happy with what we think we know and leave it at that. It's worked out rather well for some people.

Ok, I'm going to stop rambling. I can't keep this up anymore -__-

I need help, but I don't want help.

I have a lot of trouble asking for help. Especially in school. Especially with math or English. I've never really felt comfortable with asking for help. It makes me feel like I'm inadequate. It's a feeling that I try to avoid as much as I can (lazily). I want to do things on my own, just so I know I'm not completely useless. And if I fail, it's because I didn't get the proper knowledge. It can't be all my fault.

But I know it's always my fault. I'm the one who chooses to not get help and therefore limit my abilities. I know. I'm just stuck with the "never try, never fail" mindset.

I handicap myself.

Never try, never fail. I'm sure some people consider that to be a failure within itself. I'm not sure I agree, but what does it really matter? I don't want to fail. The possibility of failure is probably the reason why I don't "live life to the fullest." I can think about doing that all I want, but it's not going to happen any time soon. I'm not giving myself the chance. Why won't I just take a chance?


So I'm in college. Many of my friends are in college. Many of them are living outside of San Jose. Obviously, less family influence and more, new friendships. New hobbies and whatnot. A few people have become dancers and/or joined dance crews. Some started during high school; others in college. I've gotten used to Ariane performing. Now, I'm getting used to the thought of Alex D, Kat, Brian, and possibly more friends seriously dancing/breaking. I don't know. It's just new to me.

In high school, I kinda felt like many of us didn't do too much, aside from school stuff. Now, they do more. I'm still same old, same old.

I don't remember where this was going. Just want to say I'm proud of my friends and I wish I could have been there. I guess I just feel left behind..


I need to get lost in something. I need to get lost. I am lost. Ahh. I'm losing my words.

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