Small Girl, Large World

After having returned from the Montclair preparatory lesson for Sunday, I realized a few things. It'd be awesome if I could list them all down but that just takes more effort than I'm willing to offer.

One thing I did like though was the chapel itself. Now it was very, very similar to the South San Diego Chapel, but this had an actual corridor in the middle with the Secretary right at the western entrance. Ah. I can't even begin to explain how pretty it is. Of course, it's only less than 2 years old, but still.

Call me unrealistic, but someday, I wish to create structures that evoke such feelings of awe (same emotions I felt when I walked in). Oh high aspirations, why are you so unattainable?

Whatevs.

More Geek, Less Nerd

Apparently, the majority of the Deca-kids have played Gunbound.

After we graduate and the endless, event-less summer is spread out before us, we return to that game. We need to pwn once more.

But I think Eunice's converting to WOW.

And after reading why I just typed, I really want to laugh at how dorky we all really are.

Random Midnight Thought

I want to watch QAF.

Exactly how it is.

I was browsing the PostSecret Blogspot:

-----Email Message-----
Sent: Sunday, February 25, 2007 8:25 AM
Re: From the film Garden State

You know that point in your life when you realize that the house that you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? Even though you have some place where you can put your stuff that idea of home is gone.

You won't have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for you kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place.

Purpose Defeated

It's pretty sad how I attempt to wake up early on Sundays just to better myself and get things done.

But apparently the world is out to get me, for I always end up doing nothing. Nothing, at all. Talk about productivity. Is it really so much to ask for? I go to sleep fairly early last night in order to wake up bright and cheery the next morning, content with a full 9 hours of rest. BUT NO. My body, the world, and the cosmos saw it more befitting to let me forsake my needed research for something they felt was better: a few more hours of rest.

Oy. Really, now. The whole purpose of my setting my alarm clock has been defeated.

Enough is Enough

People really do have some nerve these days.

Seriously, now. I am NOT anyone's doormat. I dare you to step on me.

And don't you dare cry when you foot gets bitten off.

Fear

Without any verbal adornments, I say this: I am afraid to understand myself.

It is accepted that to be human, flaws are inevitable; flaws, ironically, perfect. Such is the thought that has been accepted throughout the course of human history. As stated by Confucius, Better a diamond with a flaw than a pebble without. And all of this, I accept.

I acknowledge that this main idea of physical and emotional "perfection" is partly true. But by knowing and even accepting one's own shortcomings, it is expected that as ideal humans, or junzi in Confucian thought, it is the responsibility of man to try and transcend the mistakes done and/or inflicted.

And for that reason, I dread fully knowing myself. I fear the moment where I am forced to fully accept the reality of my being. Because if so, then it is necessary for my to take up the burden of correcting the faults that are my own. Please do not misunderstand. If such an instance arises, I will be certain to do that. But being me, it is possible that I lack the talent, the resolve to achieve correctness. And this, in turn, will lead to failure.

I am Leslie, and I do not wish to comprehend myself. I do not wish to fail once again.

Clear? Yeah, right.

It's all fairly simple: I need change.

That's all. And it is because of that fact alone that I ended up owing a fair amount of money today. Do I hate myself? You bet. Will I do anything about it? If you have change for fricken $100 bill, then sure. Other than that, I'm here to work my butt off for you.

Anyway, am I the only one who finds it extremely difficult to convey emotion via blogging or the internet overall? I know that it's fairly easy to type down a few words that evoke moving emotions because of the knowledge that no one will ever read them. But how about on the internet? I find it impossible. Although I do condemn the ability to do so. On the contrary, actually; I praise all who can. To be able to discard the queasiness of knowing that your words are visible to the general public, and knowing that those whom you are writing about are part of the crowd... well, you must be extremely brave.

Here I am, attempting that feat, pushing myself to not care who reads this, to exercise my right to free speech. Well, I have the apathy part down, but for something else. I don't care enough about the general public to reveal my opinions. Here's one though: I feel the public not worthy enough to read such cherished cargoes of deep thought and deliberation. No, this is not meant at all to be in any way elitist. But honestly, do you really care? No, right? See? Thus, my choice to not share such personal (but not exactly private) thoughts is quite justified.

Gasp. Now here I am going on about my views on the sharing of views. Hypocritical? Yeah. But who isn't one?

EDIT: After reading an article on the New York Times website regarding the new avant-garde film regarding the Rape of the Sabine Women (this time, placed in a mod 60s setting), I decided to do a little research. It's quite interesting.

According to Wiki, Romulus and the newly-made, male populace of Rome sought wives. They thus turned to the neighbor tribe of the Sabines. Unfortunately, the fathers refused to wed their daughters in fear of giving rise to a rival clan. Thus, the plan to "rape" [abduct] the women of the Sabines was set into action. After, Romulus spoke to each women, imploring them to marry the into the Roman clan, assuring them of honorable marriages and birthing freemen. In the end, the Sabines and Romans go to war, but in the middle, the women throw themselves between their fathers and their husbands:


"If," they cried, " you are weary of these ties of kindred, these marriage-
bonds, then turn your anger upon us; it is we who are the cause of the war,
it is we who have wounded and slain our husbands and fathers. Better for us
to perish rather than live without one or the other of you, as widows or as
orphans."

Ok. I just wanted to let you guys in on that since I thought it was pretty... cool.

1:43 am

I'm listening to two of the loveliest instrumentals ever composed for a movie.

The Waltz of Chihiro from Spirited Away and one of the claimed theme songs from Howl's Moving Castle.

These songs reflect the calming beauty of one's imagination and the wistful reminiscence of youth. Sigh.

I love these songs.

Goals. The point is...?

I really don't know. As you may have noticed, I've joined "43 things" in order to find at least one thing that can help me organize my goals. I'd like to say that it's helped me a lot. To some extent, I think I will say that. But here's the problem: I don't know what my goals are.

Pretty big? Yeah, I know. You look at that little corner, and you see a few things that I, Leslie, may be interested in doing. But how exactly can an ambivalent person like me decide on such goals? This goes far beyond the actual listing of aspirations, my friends. Listing helps, mind you.

But that certain technique of actually taking a pen and a piece of paper (or in this case, a monitor and a keyboard) does NOT help at all if you feel completely hopeless when thinking of goals. Don't get me wrong. There's nothing wrong with not knowing your goals. That is what everyone's been telling me, so I will pass it on to you. As for me, I want goals.

Hm. That should be my first goal. Or at least one of them. But let's be realistic here. What kind of goal is that? Thinking up of more goals? That is something that will eventually lead someone like me into an endless circle of Bob knows what.

And now, I am abed. Hah. I've transfered my recent frustrations onto all of you. This feeling of mischief is something one can get used to.

Okay. Leaving on such a note just gave me the chills. So feeling the necessity to be kind, I want to share my current musical love that has ignited a full-blown musical treasure hunt. And this is the treasure:

Whatevs.

"It's not my fault people suck."

Well said, love. I continue the tipping of my hat to you.

EDIT: The two things that usually keep me content are the two things that I must strongly abstain from doing now that that time draws ever near. Instead of painting, I must study. Study, study, study. Although it is something that I do not regret doing, keeping myself from the sketchbooks releases a grouch.

The saddest thing though is that I'm actually beginning to question my part in choir. And that is something that I never planned on doing in all my life. Just questioning whether or not I should do it only exposes the weakness within me. Weakness is something that I will not tolerate. Doubt in something I love is not an exception either.

Anger seethes through my pores as I contemplate on the value of my taking part in such a crazy activity. I regret having ever asked questions about it. But it also kills me to know that I also would have regretted not taking part in it.

Curse this human weakness we were born with. Curse the hesitations that innately plague the human mind.

Youth: It's Something Kinda Great

Actually, I only wish to emphasize certain aspects of youth instead of addressing youth as a whole. I'd also like to point out that there is, in fact, a difference between being "young" and being "dumbly immature." It's not necessary for me to delve into that right now.

Okay, so here's the thing: cartoons. Yes, I said. Cartoons. What exactly is so great about these simple animations that just brings smiles to the faces of children (and some young adults not to mentioned aka me)? It has already been mentioned. Cartoons are just simple. There's nothing to it. Animators just lay the flat characters out there with their fitted personalities and recorded voices. Now, it is not my intent to remove the "magic" (if there is any) within the creation of these shows. But you have to admit, when watching some cartoons that are actually good, you can't help but feel happy. Right?

Take Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends. It's new and it's computer animated with it's flat spaces of color contrasted with the smooth movement and intricate patterns found in the screen. This type of simplicity echoes the Fauvism art movement during which color reigned supreme. Moving away from the visual aspects of this particular show, there are also the development of the characters. Keeping in mind that this show is intended for children, the characters lack that depth and complexity that are expected of most [literary/film] characters. But where exactly is the fun in that?

Growing up, we continually experience moments that we consider rather complex. Love triangles, difficult choices in the wrong scenarios, we've all of them and have probably been in the middle of them. Such confusion and distress result from this and that result is most definitely not desirable in a rapidly moving society. Now, I must admit that there are some real-life characters out there whom we might have labeled as simple and lacking in depth of character. But by that, many only usually mean that those people's preferences are rather shallow. In fact, most human beings are rather intricate in nature: both physically and mentally.

Facing all of that 24/7 can frustrate a girl like myself. So to what or to whom do I turn to? You guessed it. Cartoons. Within that microcosm behind the glass is a world of escape, a world away from reality. And with that, my attention span is completely run out.

What am I doing to do? Watch cartoons, you say? No, I'm going to read. :)

Insane Once Again

Here's a disheartening thought: in order for you to be yourself in the future, you must remake yourself now.

Think about it. It's practically true. In order for one to be one's self in the future, to have the right to do what they want (within certain limits, obviously), a person must basically conform. Conformity is the key to success. That is, unless you're a genius. And considering the current thought-process (or the lack thereof) of many in my generation, it seems as if the 9% who are of above-average intelligence seem to be apathetic towards the imbeciles that run and influence our pop culture.


And with that, I'm going to refrain from continuing in hopes of never having to think about that ever again. But here's a guilty pleasure: depressing thoughts, and non-Deca-related thoughts, are my new comfort. Now don't get me wrong. There is nothing for me to go on about when it comes to the negative aspects of that. It's just nice to have a few musings to yourself that don't eventually end up with you putting yourself down in order to continue on some reading material. Although I do that anyway (in order to get back on track), doing so in small increments instead of large blocks of years isn't so bad.

And now for the real end of this entry. Bye.

The Office

JACKPOT!

Indifference Reigns Supreme

A question has been gnawing at my tooth for a while. Hm. Better yet, make that a few questions.

First off, since when did emotion really become expressed in a negative light amongst the majority of the intelligentsia? Now, let me get this straight. Humans, of course, are idiots. I admit that I, too, despise the flaws that all too well define what we are in nature. And with that, emotion can be considered one of those flaws for they hinder direct and rational (usually a very good thing) thinking. But even so, how can they really be all that bad? I know that I may sound a little (or very) naive here, but really now... since when did happiness become looked down upon? Sorrow, a normal "feeling," is now considered "emo" even if the situation calls for that certain sentiment. These emotions are our natural reactions. They come instinctively. Can we really consider the suppression of this basic instinct be considered wise? No, I think not.

The adoration should not come with the complete censorship of these passions, but with the ability for one's self to adhere to both instinct and logic.

Of course, I don't expect any one of you to understand where I'm coming from. Whatever, I'm tired. Bye.

EDIT: DOWN WITH GRAMMAR AND ALL THOSE SILLY LITTLE THINGS ATTACHED TO IT!!!

Regionals: Part II

Dustin: GRANADA ON 3! 1, 2, 3!
The Rest: GRANADA!

Yeah. Pretty exhilarating.

Awards' tomorrow/later-today. By the way, I love Spirited Away.