grapes

My brain feels like it’s being wrenched inside my skull. Why is the end of the school year such a rush?

I love my parents. Of course as I grow older I start disagreeing with them on many things, but whether that is just a phase of life or a permanent thing is yet to be seen. I say “old and bitter” because that’s what it seems like, sadly. Maybe when I was little I just wore rose-colored glasses, but I do think they were happier than they are now. As a young person I’m full of optimism and all of that, so I’m determined to be happy. Get back to me in fifteen years and we’ll see.

MUSIC – I get the feeling you just turned fifteen. I’m a bit ahead of you, but if you want to round almost an entire year, then yes, we are currently the same number. My sixteenth birthday’s in August. Holy god, I’m more than halfway to thirty.

Remember when I was going on about how I wanted to do everything in the world? It’s too much now, because I’m trying to cram all these experiences into the next few years. Starting a new club about making life an adventure in a school where everyone is mainly focused on academics is not very encouraging. This club thing is such a dilemna – because I feel like it’s too broad. I wonder if it will succeed. But then I get the feeling that if you keep worrying and bringing up possible obstacles you’ll never even start the project.

I’d love to take a camera and go on a trip by foot throughout the city with my friends, just taking pictures.

And right now I’d even just love to kick back in a bus and take a cross-country road trip.

I think what I need now is a trip somewhere away from the city, preferably with some buddies. But I doubt that’s happening – this is not a city of teenagers who spontaneously visit a forest together. Too many safety regulations. I’d like to see what a world without so many safety regulations would be like – where people could camp at the beach without worrying about security guards telling them to move because they’ll get swept away. And if they do get swept away, so be it. Makes for more dramatic stories. There’s a reason people avoid watching “The Perfect Storm”.

PS. I know that that would be anarchy, but allow me my idealism for this moment.

All this daydreaming has made me slack off in school too. My chem grade just slipped with this last test down to a B. That means I have to get an A on the comp to bring my grade back up, which means studying hard this week. I’m resisting so much right now – but I really don’t have much choice.

I’ve also decided that I’d love a garden lunch for my birthday – if not the entire party. The more I look at it the more my backyard, however small, looks beautiful. Maybe it’s because it’s the closest to free space I’m going to get from this computer. I’ve never spent so much time staring out the window…well, maybe at my old house. But all I saw there was a wall, a tree, my Indian neighbor’s house, and occasionally a bird. I remember I saw a bluejay once, and I wrote a poem about it. Or was it a squirrel?

I do love Cerritos, it’s full of people who are different from any you would find outside, and they really take care to keep this city looking nice. It’s partially a mix of all the old white people who like to wash their vintage cars thrice a day and the Asians who wouldn’t really mess with the city for no reason. It’s an ideal suburb – but that’s exactly what’s wrong with it too. I’m pretty sure Tim Burton lived in a place like this, because he retaliated with “Edward Scissorhands”.

Sometimes I think that talented people are so modest because they really think they’re nothing special, not  because it’s an act. I completely understand their denial, because people rave about my writing and I don’t see what’s so special about it. The other day my church buddy told me she was really impressed with my “Angry Asian Man” screenplay – that she had been surprised, especially since I was a fifteen-year-old who hadn’t had much exposure to scripts. I had handed to her the worst draft of “Angry Asian Man” – the one I wrote in a day because all I had was the story to get down. I was embarassed of it and determined it would never see the light of day.

If you don’t think your work is much, sometimes it is better than you think. Especially with writing and such, if you grow up like that, you never think twice about it until you see everyone else’s work. There’s always doubt, is what someone told me. And it’s true but I hate it. Although, I do think it makes for better work.

I need a good jacket – not a hoody, although that would also be nice. Maybe I should return that $30 outfit from Forever 21 and invest in some good basics. 

I’ve been reinspired to write. I’m currently in the middle of my first feature-length. I don’t want to spill much, but it includes celebrity, old love, and a funeral. Sound intriguing? Old love does not mean lost love, by the way, because lost implies that they still wanted it to go on. I’m hoping that in the flashbacks the hazy polaroid-reminiscent small town feel will be captured. I’m excited for this one and I really want the script to turn out well. Who doesn’t want their screenplay to turn out well, but this one in particular. It could just be the excitement of beginning a new story. We’ll see.

I’ve also been wanting to read The Road  by Jack Kerouac. Yes, yet again inspired by Johnny Depp – but it’s my own interest now. It has to be if I’m to attempt such a fat book. I haven’t read anything that thick since Harry Potter. I don’t know how I’m going to do all this though – there are only so many hours in the day, and I’m planning to get my sleeping schedule ready for next year. That means bed ideally by 9 PM and up at 6:30 AM. I have an extra class next year in the morning and I’m not looking forward to the stress of next year. Can I handle a club on top of that, and possibly work?

Who wants to go camping in my backyard? I have such summerlust right now. I hope that’s not a double entendre. Goodness, tomorrow is crazy Tuesday. Thank God. I need the break.

So, summer, now my favorite time of year. Where are you?

What are your plans? I’m hoping to plunk down with some good books and movies, go out frolicking with buddies, and make some good stuff.

Looking at some of my old Word files, it still amazes me how far I’ve come from full-on PotC fan. Yeah, I still usually know Johnny Depp’s whereabouts, but I can stand on my own now, if that makes sense. If you were to pull PotC out from under me, I wouldn’t fall over. Huzzah.

I feel like going on and on. Permit me, s’il vous plait.

That will never be a jumble of words that mean “please” anymore. It will forever be “if it pleases you (polite)”. I love French class and I hope Madame gets better.

I’d love to go rollerblading at this time of day, when it’s pitch black outside. I’d have flashing neon lights on my rollerblades and annoy the heck out of everyone like the fatteh Mexican on the dune buggy who revs by my house twice within five minutes. I wonder if I’ve lost readers because of the replacement of sarcasm by wishful thinking. I wonder if I ever had readers to begin with. Fatteh lurkers. Can’t say anything though, I am one.

Whell. My sister went to Medievel Times today. Good for her, that she went and devoured chicken like a fatteh while watching fake knights prance about below. Like in our time, some of her classmates fell in love with the knight. I think the same colored one too. I must confess, I did secretly scrutinize him as well, but he fell far short of my liking. Huzzah, because there’s no use for an eleven-year-old lusting after some old man who prances about in a green tunic on a horse who spends most of its time behind a glass window.

And both of them have fevers, which means double hand-washing for me. Hopefully they recover soon. I think Jocelyn’s okay now. When did I start referring to them by name instead of my sister and “my younger younger sister”? I wish I had somewhere to go this summer, like back to Taiwan or Canada. I say back because even though I wasn’t born there it’s still a little bit like home. I wonder if my children will feel the same?

That’s it for tonight. I’ll keep on daydreaming but I’ll keep it to myself for the rest of the night. Huzzah, see you later alligator.