Forget the fact that I’m bringing these issues up as a way of informing my parents about a potential problem of my brother’s. Forget the fact that I’m bringing these issues up as a way of helping him in the future. Forget the fact that I’m put these out in the open now so they can be fixed before they hinder his future. Forget it all!

Why she’s so averse to having her sons negative points bluntly articulated to her is beyond me. Everyone has downfalls (she of all people should be aware of that). The point of a parent is to identify the ones which threaten to hinder and attempt to fix. The fact that I’m even willing to sit down and discuss my observations with my parents when they’re not even aware means that I’m already doing half the job. The fact that I’m willing to execute the solutions that I myself thought out means that I’m willing to take over their job completely in the name of my brother’s welfare (since they seem more inclined to perpetuate my brother’s false sense of self-worth).

But what I can’t do is help my brother when my mother undermines my authority and efforts at every turn by patting my brother on the back from a job badly done. She seems to think that every error of his is somehow the result of something we (my family) are doing versus the laziness and lack of effort of my brother. Any negative point brought up about my brother is immediately tackled by my mother as unnecessary libel against her sweet child due to the crass and bitchy disposition of usually, me.

And so I start to wonder … does she really think her precious tub of a son is perfect? She has to be aware that is inability to put his clothes on properly isn’t normal at this age. She she has to be aware that his attitude towards everyone is just heinous from his lack of friends and behavior at home. She has to be aware that his personal hygiene is greatly lacking from the condition of his skin to the state of his room. She has to be aware that his speech is horribly inarticulate as every statement or comment has to be repeated at least 3x for a semblance of understanding. She has to be aware that his weight is unacceptable when his doctor flat out says his weight falls under the light blue section (overweight).

What I can’t understand is why mother is so oblivious to the many downfalls of my brother when she’s so very acutely aware of every downfall I possess plus more.

You douchebags.

It is of an unfortunate turn of events that the object of our deepest desire, the epitome of sex on a stick, and the very definition of eye candy will be removed from the list of very eligible, very doable men.

And in this, I too lament.

However, as a form of marketable advice, I suggest that those suffering from the aforementioned news, take comfort in the acute realization that there was never even a chance in hell.

Regardless, I think I speak for all of us when I say “I’d tap that.”

I’ve been seeing someone new. I used to work with him at my first firm and he quit the week after I got there, but we’ve kept in touch. He’s an awesome designer, so I’ve learned a lot from him. We’re just having fun right now; I wouldn’t exactly call him my boyfriend just yet. He currently lives in Chino Hills, which is about an 45 minutes away from me but he’s going to be moving to Newport Beach next week so he’ll be closer. The drive to Chino Hills isn’t that bad though – it’s much easier than my drive to and from San Diego when I was with Joe, and a hell of a lot closer than Okinawa. Newport Beach is around the corner from me.

Anyway, I got a haircut and I also went red again. I sort of wish it was redder, but my stylist said I should go a little more conservative since I have to be a professional and the cut is already sort of dramatic. Conveniently, the salon is located next door to us in the same little plaza that my work is in. I also got some clip-in extensions in case I ever go anywhere nice and want to have long hair. Here are some pics:

view more photos of my hair in my album!

I look so different with long hair. I mean, my hair was long before, but I got 22″ extensions and they’re like movie-star perfect. I like my hair short though, its so much easier to maintain. Most days I can just wake up, scrunch, and go.

Work has been great; I’m building out the Cornzapoppin site, and it’s looking good so far. I’m excited to be wrapping that project up finally.

I’ll be hanging out with Agiri and Toya today, so hopefully Agiri or I will have some pictures to share later.

And took pictures at 2AM.

So I thought, “What better place to camwhore than 2AMfix!?!? Right!?!?! RIGHT!!!”

So basically, click (for huge ass pictures ;X)

A life line if you will.

But as of late, I’ve noticed that while going through my daily ritual of immediately signing on the moment I awaken, there’s absolutely nothing for me to do.

I mean, sure, I could revisit YouTube and watch the banally repetitive videos from different users over and over, but I don’t think that’s quite doing it for me.

And although a simple solution lies in merely broadening the expanse of interests I currently hold — I refuse. Quite frankly, I’m not really in the mood to be doing any major soul searching as to what banally similar hobby I’ve overlooked during my 10 year exploration of the web, and neither do I intend to ease my way into an agreeably soul searching disposition.

It’s come to a point where I’ve begun to actively force myself to learn things — mainly in the areas of graphic and web design — and renew my energies in previously kicked hobbies, which, I guess, only serves as positive revisitation due to the productive nature of said activities — but still. Even the forced renewal of interest is beginning to fall short as I find myself online, and with nothing better to do than complain about my sorry plight.

As scary as it may be, I’m actually beginning to believe that I’ve taxed out a good part of my internetly pleasures.

V-Day, more commonly known as Valentines Day, is the special day each year where prospective and existing couples around the world make an active effort in displaying the love, affection, and gratitude each harbor for the other. Right? Wrong.

Fine, then lets try again.

V-Day, more commonly known as Commercialism Appreciation Day, is the profit happy 24 hours each year where the stupidity of humankind unite in perpetuating commercialism’s biggest joke through the purchase of ridiculously overpriced Valentine’s Day paraphernalia. Right? Wrong, but you’re getting close.

Last try.

V-Day, more commonly known as Single’s Awareness Day, is the not so secret annual conspiracy created for the sadistic of society’s pleasure through the forced realization of unintentional intimate isolation often followed by an acute increase in single’s suicide rates. Right? Bingo.

Yah digg?

I want to meet new people, experience new things, see new places — so why haven’t I? Sure I’ve conversed here and there, ate a couple new foods, and ventured out into the neighboring cities — but it’s all half-assed. So why, I begin to ask myself, do I have the right to complain about any aspect of my life when I haven’t done a damned thing to change it? True, I’m not exactly in the greatest spot financially, and unfortunately, fun, requires funding, but I’m sure there’s something I should be doing to aid in my sorry plight. Getting a job would probably be the first priority in the effort of picking my life off the floor, but it’s just so damned difficult. I have no desire to slave for a ridiculously tedious job which pays minimum wage, nor am I all to keen on having less game than the corner street bum. And not that my bizarre school schedule helps in the least.

I just find myself completely unwilling to exert any energy while being paid minimum wage. It goes against every fiber of my being. And then I begin to think: What exactly is the practicality of working during times of play while working with the intention of funding said play if it fills the playing time slots rendering the whole effort useless. And then, that beacon of intelligence buried deeply within the folds of my brain begins its verbal thrashing — “So you’re saying being a penniless bum with no game, is better than being financially able with no game?” Case, and point. The job effort must begin.

So this post was written in a bizarre way. I know. Deal.

.AGIRI

I kid.

A lot on my mind lately,
so things might get slightly pensive.

So first off,
Happy New Year and the best of wishes for 2008!

Had a fun night of clean partying while the parents were away holding their own celebration in San Francisco. I’d say it was a pretty decent way to bring in the new year.

However winter break is now coming to a close, and I’m left dreading the overly packed schedule I’ve arranged for myself. Busy to the point that I’m asking myself, “Homework ever gonna get done?” which I’m seriously hoping is a resounding, “YES!” I really want to see my resolutions through this year. Sure, everyone says it — but seriously kids, I’m gonna do it. I figure nothing in my life is ever going to change (except for the worse) unless I put some effort into it. Hence, I’ve taken the more intelligent route and set realistic resolutions — so no, I’ll neither be swearing off procrastination nor setting weight loss … although that would be rather nice.

Resolutions of 2008:
1. Write a reason to be happy, 1 for each day, for 365 days.
2. Do all my homework — no exceptions.
3. Save $1000.
4. Exercise 3 times a week.

With that aside, I’ve been seriously thinking about what the hell I’m actually doing in school these days. Sure I’m taking the recommended science and math packed classes aimed towards transferring to a UC for Computer Science — but what for? I’m barely staying afloat in my goal to transfer in two years, and seriously think I’m beginning to incur hair loss from all the stress its been giving me.

Which begs the question,
Why am I in such a hurry to transfer besides the obvious reason of being able to move out?

Honestly, I think that’s my only reason. Sure, the faster I get my degree, the faster I’ll be able to get a job, and the faster I’ll be able to support myself while living the way I choose — but honestly — I’m in no hurry to grow up. I figure taking it slow throughout my major wouldn’t be that detrimental seeing as how most other major require extra training after getting the basic bachelors to even start applying. I guess 5-6 years for a bachelors seems like a ridiculous amount of time, but whats the rush? If I’m able to dabble in everything I want to, see the things I want to, and experience the things I want to while accomplishing a decent amount academically, I really don’t see the harm. That includes being able to study abroad, considering an internship or part time job at The Boeing Company, and killing off “Anisha’s official list of things to do before 21″ which is yet to be established, btw (>>;;).

Anyway, I’ve become quite obsessed as of late (courtesy Melissa) with organizing all the files in my computer — including my ITunes library, which is seriously no joke. It’s hard enough when you’ve got the efforts of ITunes automatically retrieving song and cover art information — but when you’re a k/j pop nut like myself, the whole shibang’s manual. Not fun kids, not fun. Nevertheless, I’m determined to complete it all and keep it that way. I figure once I go through all the pain of organizing everything at once while experiencing great pain, I’ll be inclined to keep it all organized as I continue to add more songs.

And I was seriously making an effort until my god damned Dell XPS M1210 which I seriously regret buying decided to retaliate, AGAIN, and refuse to charge. I just had a Dell technician make an at-home call and replace my motherboard. Apparently the original broke loose, and decided to charge my laptop whenever IT saw fit. Ridiculous. I think I was able to appreciate a total of 18 hours of consistent charging before the AC Adapter just keeled over on me. =_=!!! RIDICULOUS.

And now, I just want to stop typing, so BYEBYE.

I mean my freakin English professor acts like she’s doing us all a favor by gracing us with her presence during my English 100 final. It’s your fucking class, its your fucking job — learn to deal. If you had to wake up 1 hour earlier, for one day out of the WHOLE, ENTIRE semester — SUCK IT UP. We’re the ones fucking writing! And sure, maybe you were grading our final essays during that time, but woman, you’re doing no one a favor by grading them in that fucking mood. Seriously.

Then we’ve got my brother acting as if his world has been thrown into utter and complete turmoil because of a fucking group project. YOU’RE IN FUCKING 7TH GRADE. HOW FUCKING STRESSFUL CAN LIFE POSSIBLY BE?!?! I mean seriously! Learn some fucking coordination skills, do your homework, drag your ass to school everyday, and you’re covered! I did it. My sister did. EVERY FUCKING PERSON DOES IT. I fail to see why it’s so extraordinarily difficult for you.

Then there’s my father. Oh, my wonderfully, sweet sweet father. HA! I could pour out a flawlessly flowing essay, relating how fucking annoying this man is, on spot — but alas — I have finals to study for.

Then I’ve got stress from males, stress from finals, stress from the outcome of finals, stress from the upcoming SF trip, stress from the stress I’m going to get because I’m going on the SF trip, stress from my brother’s performance in school, stress from thinking about next semester’s schedule and classes, stress from covering for everyone, stress from being punk ass broke, and the stress of having so much fucking stress — it’s fucking endless!

So although my vacation technically starts in approximately 18 hours, I’m still fucking dying.