I hadn't cried in a long, long time. Things hadn't been going great for a while now, but i sort of threw it aside, tried to focus on other things, knowing my problems would go away eventually without me worrying about them. So, I put all those worries into my Reed application, knowing that, if I were to get accepted, my worries would melt away.

I got rejected today, and so I cried. I've had a lot of problems, and i figured an acceptance would boost my spirits enough to make me face them. This rejection only dampens my spirits, and I don't know whether things will be better for a long time. I'll now likely go to SF State and try to transfer after a year, but thats still not a condolence.

Whats funny is, most of these problems stem from my Crohn's Disease. With my App being what would end those problems, it all came backwards on me today, when I realized that my Crohn's is just causing more problems: it is the reason I didn't get into Reed. I met many people at the college who were in similar situations compared to how I would be if not sick, and now I know full well that, had I been healthy and back at school this year, I'd have gotten in. It makes me wonder whether Crohn's really will be the tell-all-end-all to my life, the joke being played on me that will ruin many potentially good things for me. Sometimes I wonder whether it'd be better if I skipped college and just got a job.

Hope everyone had a fun (and painless) Christmas/holidays. I say painless because holidays have, to some degree for everyone, turned into chores, where you have to actually work to have a decent time with the relatives. Gone are the days when I wouldn't be able to sleep on Christmas Eve, where I could just be myself and be the "cute youngest cousin." It's an expense of growing older I guess, because now I have to act more proper, even around my closest relatives, and instead of getting toys I get checks. Not to say I don't mind the money, but I can't say I don't miss the joys of ripping open wrapped presents, my eyes filled with glee at my latest acquisition. Now, I have trouble being around most of my relatives without some sort of intoxication. Growing up gets tougher every year, and instead of having the holiday "magic" seem to somehow manifest like it did in the past, I feel like I'm forced to manufacture it for the younger generation. Though that can still be fun, as I like kids (though babysitting them for 8 hours a day, as I'm doing now, can be tiresome), I know I'll never be able to get those past feelings back.

Anyways, aside from the somewhat depressing, somewhat nostalgic rant, I still did have a pretty cool Christmas gift-wise at least. I got Firefly on DVD, probably my favorite show, and so I've been watching it on marathon for the past few days. I also got Harvey Birdman Season 2, and the Astonishing X-Men Vols. 1 & 2. I've become a decently big comic fan over the past few months, and that is my favorite traditional-style comic, with The Walking Dead probably being my favorite.

Heres to hoping everyone had a good holiday. Don't be a stranger to my apartment either, y'hear?

I've been dreaming a lot more recently. More vivid dreams, and much more often I find myself remembering every detail of them. In particular, a few nights ago, I dreamt I was on a roller coaster with a bunch of people my age, none of whom I knew specifically. The roller coaster had a flat board to sit on, and just a single bar to hold onto, with no seat or strap of any kind. It started off slowly, but it's speed picked up exceptionally fast, and everyone was holding on to the bars as hard as they could, as one slip would be almost assuredly fatal. I was sitting next to a girl who, thinking back now, I probably would not get along with in a real context. As the ride hit a hard turn, she lost her grip, and went flying off the coaster feet first into the air. I remember looking into her eyes as she flew off; they pierced into mine with a force that shot to my heart. I was a first-hand witness to her pure fear, and I knew that I would be the last person she would ever have contact with. As quickly as I could realize what was happening, I reached out to her; my arm fell short, and she hurdled to the ground.

It was only a dream, but the guilt still hits me when I recall it. I could have done more. I did all that I could with the reaction time I had, but I know that if I could jump back to that moment and reach out to her that she would still live.

It was only a dream, but it felt as true as life, and I don't know what to make of it...

Today I had the scariest experience of my life, one which will forever be etched into my mind. There is one mental image in particular, though I won't divulge, as I would really rather not relive it. I just want to thank my friends for being there when I needed them, and I want you all to know that, if anything were ever to happen to any of you, that I love you all very much. Without friends like you I'd be nowhere in this world. Thanks for being there.

It feels like everything is changing again. It does this time to time, where the established social situations, which have been solid for a few months at the least, all seem to fall apart. People that had some trouble with others but kept up reasonable associations fall apart to the point of almost hatred. Good friends seem to fall through the woodwork, and new ones come to the forefront. Love is lost, and love is gained. I usually hate this change, as it is part of my nature. But at the same time, I felt like things needed to change. I've felt in an awkward place lately, but a few things are changing that.

I wen't to Portland, and my college choices changed dramatically. Lewis and Clark College was my frist choice initially, but after a tour, I learned to hate the place, with it's cold, dim, and chain smoking students. Reed College, on the other hand, was like a dream come true. It is the haven for the "Freaks and Geeks" of the US, and I seemed to make more friends there in 20 minutes than I had throughout all of high school. Plus, I think I have a very good chance at getting into Reed, as they care much more about one's passion for learning than their grades. They listened to my health concerns, that affected my education, and were very open about helping me. This is unlike L & C, who couldn't care less about it and rarely give interviews in the first place, seeming to ONLY care about GPA. I think I have a good chance at getting into Reed, to which I am applying early decision, and pray to the good Lord, Mike Ditka, that I get in.

I'm not exactly finished with this post, but will finish it tomorrow. Mackinney is waiting for me outside, so I've got to run for now.

WOW! I had a GREAT couple days! I haven't really had fun times like that in a while.

Firstly, and most importantly, I went to my second Tally Hall concert yesterday. They are a really cool band and very nice guys. They're main song is "Banana Man," so the group I went with, a bunch of EEPsters, all brought bananas to the show. I have an ongoing "concert joke," where I yell out "play Freebird!," a famous Lynyrd Skynyrd song. I did that at the concert, when Kavutskiy informed me that occasionally Tally Hall will perform a cover of that song, if there is enough request. They have a very cult fanbase, and so many members of the awesome crowd knew this, and when their set ended, the crowd started chanting "Freebird! Freebird!," and the band started performing it. When they reached the guitar solo, Kavutskiy and I jumped on the stage and air guitared with the band with our bananas! Then, after breaking my banana in two and throwing it to the crowd, Kavutskiy and I CROWD SURFED!! It was the coolest concert I'd ever been too, and I had a really great time!



Also, in a stunning upset today, UCLA defeated USC, 13-9, knocking out USC from the national championship game. Being a UCLA fan, this totally made up for our mediocre season thus far. Great game that came down to the last minute!

And, tomorrow I leave with my family to Portland for a few days. We are touring Reed and Lewis & Clark Colleges, my two top choices right now. A bit nervous about making a good impression, but also hyped that I'll finally get to see the schools and hang out with my good friend Sandy for a day.

WOW!

I found this through a gaming blog and it made me feel all warm inside.

I got my precious, and have been playing it more than extensively recently. I recently logged 24 hours of Zelda, showing how boring home school life is. But, after a long 24 hours, in which i could have easily beaten some games, I've only just barely begun Zelda, only just now acquiring the Master Sword. Some incredible fan had a real-life mock-up sword made recently, pictured above. Though I wasn't much of a Zelda fan before this (I had liked what I had played of the series, but had not played much), I have become a huge fan of Twilight Princess, the latest installment, and hope to start playing Ocarina of Time as soon as I can get my N64 back from my brother. This game is so incredibly done, I really feel like I am the heroic Link, at first set out to a mysterious Twilight Realm to save children from my home town, to then discovering my true destiny; to save the kingdom of Hyrule from destruction.

I guess this is just a further elaboration on my last post, but I really truely do love video games, and all they provide. They are like books, but with more of an accomplishment. (Not being able to put it any other way) It's a magical feeling, and this game especially has touched me. Bah, I'm a bit over sentimental, but thats just how it is with me when it comes to games and other things.


I also want to talk about my friends for a second. I have been going through some tough stuff recently (some stuff that even my closest friends don't really know about), but they have helped me out through it all. I've also done some stupid stuff recently, but they have stuck with me. I'm lucky to have good friends who can accept me for who I am and who understand my actions and such. Thanks for being there.

So close, and yet oh so far away...


I have 4 days, 11 hours, 23 minutes, 46 seconds until my precious comes out, and then I can immerse myself in the beauty of Hyrule, or save lives on an operating table. I've always wondered why I play video games, but it is always such a straight-forward answer: you can be something you are not. This is one of the most interesting facets of our kind, the wanting of what we can't have. Some, like myself, lead relatively normal lives, boring as they may be, and crave to pick up a sword and shield (not to mention a boomerang!) and save the princess from evil. Others, like Bilbo, live lives of danger and action, but want to be left alone to a quiet life. Man seems to never be content with what they have.

But the fact that we can pretend, from the simple imagination to the complex of video games, is intriuging in and of itself. I have always loved video games, the little guy conquering over a seemingly overpowering evil. From a blue hedgehog stopping an egomaniacal professor, to a shamed spartan warrior fighting a god for his life back, to a boy in a green hat saving a princess from an evil sorceror, video games allow us to lead multiple lives of action, mystery, and intrigue, and live them how we would like. This differs from books, in which the reader has no real say over the protagonists actions or fate. Though video games follow basic storylines that can obviously not be changed, one still has control over how they accomplish tasks. Games take from you; time, energy (at least in the case of the Wii, heh), and perseverance, to stick it out and fight. To finish a truly epic game is one the of the most satisfying feelings in the world. Though hundreds of thousands of others will accomplish the same task, at least I can know that I saved my own little Hyrule from imminent destruction.

I, started playing some Warcraft recently, playing the beta of the upcoming expansion, and it got me thinking. Life is a lot like World of Warcraft. At first, you start out in a comfortable place, safe from danger and enclosed to the world. There are only small difficulties, but they serve as no real threat. Everything is calm and peaceful, and you never want to leave:


This, of course, is not meant to be. You have to leave eventually, from the warmth of home to a great unknown. It is daunting to say the least, scary and yet beckoning:


Though it is frightening, and there will always be dark times, if we don't leave the comfort of home, we'll never discover what could be out there:

This is the single worst news ever:
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0480249/

At first I thought "WOW they are making another I Am Legend movie! pwnage!"

Look who is playing Robert Neville...

KHAAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!!






[Update]: http://movies.ign.com/articles/740/740704p1.html
More horrifying movie news!

I've been going through a lot of rough stuff lately, with school, health, relationships, family, college, and other such stuff. I know it isn't, but deep down, sometimes I feel that it is all my fault. Though I could not and can not control being sick, it is still the cause of all that has happened the past 9 months or so. It has affected every aspect of my life, and other people's lives, to the point of destroying my ability to lead a regular life and breaking up my family. This feeling has been on and off for the past months, but has been really coming to the forefront lately.

But, when I'm at my lowest, I always remember that there is a Rivendell tucked away somewhere in the dark woods.

I've only just recently started watching The Crocodile Hunter, and only now do I realize how incredible Steve Irwin is. He really does connect with animals in an extra ordinary way. He's also helped me (and I assume others) get over "animal prejudices" as I call them. People fear animals, and sometimes rightfully so, being that they are extremely dangerous (venom, claws, teeth, etc.). But Steve faced them with no fear whatsoever, treating them with the utmost respect. It is a crying shame that I only realized this after his untimely demise, but I will always remember (and will continue to learn) the things he has taught, because they have more importance than in just the animal world.

Sorry to put you through this (if anyone actually will take the time to read this passage) but I really loved this passage about a museum:

"Even though it was Sunday and Phoebe wouldn't be there with her class or anything, and even though it was so damp and lousy out, I walked all the way through the park over to the Museum of Natural History. I knew that was the museum the kid with the skate meant. I knew that whole museum routine like a book. Phoebe went to the same school I went to when I was a kid, and we used to go there all the time. We had this teacher, Miss Aigletinger, that took us there damn near every Saturday. Sometimes we looked at the animals and sometimes we looked at the stuff Indians had made in ancient times. Pottery and straw baskets and all stuff like that. I get very happy when I think about it. Even now. I remember after we looked at all the Indian stuff, usually we went to see some movie in this big auditorium. Columbus. They were always showing Columbus discovering America, having one helluva time getting old Feerdinand and Isabella to lend him the dough to buy ships with, and then the sailors mutinying on him and all. Nobody gave too much of a damn about old Columbus, but you always had a lot of candy and gum and stuff with you, and the inside of that auditorium had such a nice smell. It always smelled like it was raining outside, even if it wasn't, and you were in the only nice, dry, cosy place in the world. I loved that damn museum. I remember you had to go through the Indian Room to get to the auditorium. It was a long, long room, and you were only supposed to whisper. The teacher would go first, then the class. You'd be two rows of kids, and you'd have a partner. Most of the time my partner was this girl named Gertrude Levine. She always wanted to hold your hand, and her hand was always sticky or sweaty or something. The floor was all stone, and if you had some marbles in your hand and you dropped them, they bounced like madmen all over the floor and made a helluva racket, and the teacher would hold up the class and go back and see what the hell was going on. She never got sore, though, Miss Aigletinger. Then you'd pass by this long, long Indian war canoe, about as long as three goddamn Cadillacs in a row, with about twenty Indians in it, some of them paddling, some of them just standing around looking tough, and they all had war paint all over their faces. There was one very sppoky guy in the back of the canoe, with a mask on. He was the witch doctor. He gave me the creeps, but I liked him anyway. Another thing, if you touched on of the paddles or anything while you were passing, one of the guards would say to you, "Don't touch anything, children," but he always said it in a nice voice, not like a goddam cop or anything. Then you'd pass by this big glass case, with Indians inside it rubbing sticks together to make a fire, and a squaw weaving a blanket. The squaw that was weaving the blanket was sort of bending over, and you could see her bosom and all. We all used to sneak a good look at it, even the girls, because they were only little kids and they didn't have any more bosom than we did. Then, just before you went inside the auditorium, right near the doors, you passed this Eskimo. He was sitting over a hole in this icy lake, and he was fishing through it. He had about two fish right next to the hole, that he'd already caught. Boy, that museum was full of glass cases. There were even more upstairs, with deer inside them drinking at water holes, and birds flying south for the winter. The birds nearest you were all stuffed and hung up on wires, and the ones in back were just painted on the wall, but they all looked like they were really flying south, and if you bent your head down and sort of looked at them upside down, they looked in an even bigger hurry to fly south. The best thing, though, in that museum was that everything always stayed right where it was. Nobody'd move. You could go there a hundred thousand times, and that Eskimo would still be just finished catching those two fish, the birds would still be on their way south, the deers would still be drinking out of that water hole, with their pretty antlers and their pretty, skinny legs, and that squaw with the naked bosom would still be weaving that same blanket. Nobody'd be different. The only thing that would be different would be you. Not that you'd be so much older or anything. It wouldn't be that, exactly. You'd just be different, that's all. You'd have an overcoat on this time. Or the kid that was your partner in line the last time had got scarlet fever and you'd have a new partner. Or you'd have a substitute taking the class, instead of Miss Aigletinger. Or you'd heard your mother and father having a terrific fight in the bathroom. Or you'd just passed by one of those puddles in the street with gasoline rainbows in them. I mean you'd be different in some way-I can't explain what I mean. And even if I could, I'm not sure I'd feel like it.
I took my old hunting hat out of my pocket while I walked, and put it on. I knew I wouldn't meet anybody that knew me, and it was pretty damp out. I kept walking and walking, and I kept thinking about old Phoebe going to that museum on Saturdays the way I used to. I thought how she'd be different every time she saw it. It didn't exactly depress me to think about it, but it didn't make me feel gay as hell, either. Certain things they should stay the way they are. You ought to be able to stick them in one of those big glass cases and just leave them alone. I know that's impossible, but it's too bad anyway. Anyway, I kept thinking about all that while I walked."

"The thing was, I couldn't think of a room or a house or anything to describe the way Stradlater said he had to have. I'm not too crazy about describing rooms and houses and anyway. So what I did, I wrote about my brother Allie's baseball mitt. He was left-handed. The thing that was descriptive about it, though, was that he had poems written all over the fingers and the pocket and everywhere. In green ink. He wrote them on it so that he'd have something to read when he was in the field and nobody was up at bat. He's dead now. He got leukemia and died when we were up in Maine, on July 18, 1946. You'd have liked him. He was two years younger than I was, but he was about fifty times as intelligent. He was terrifically intelligent. His teachers were always writing letters to my mother, telling her what a pleasure it was having a boy like Allie in their class. And they weren't just shooting the crap. They really meant it. But it wasn't just that he was the most intelligent member in the family. He was also the nicest, in lots of ways. He never got mad at anybody. People with red hair are supposed to get mad very easily, but Allie never did, and he had very red hair. I'll tell you what kind of red hair he had. I started playing golf when I was only ten years old. I remember once, the summer I was around twelve, teeing off and all, and having a hunch that if I turned around all of a sudden, I'd see Allie. So I did, and sure enough, he was sitting on his bike outside the fence- there was this fence that went all around the course- and he was sitting there, about a hundred and fifty yards behind me, watching me tee off. That's the kind of red hair he had. God, he was a nice kid, though. He used to laugh so hard at something he thought of at the dinner table that he just about fell off his chair. I was only thirteen, and they were going to have me psychoanalyzed and all, because I broke all the windows in the garage. I don't blame them. I really don't. I slept in the garage the night he died, and I broke all the goddam windows with my fist, just for the hell of it. I even tried to break all the windows on the station wagon we had that summer, but my hand was already broken and everything by that time, and I couldn't do it. It was a very stupid thing to do, I'll admit, but I hardly didn't even know I was doing it, and you didn't know Allie. My hand still hurts me once in a while, when it rains and all, and I can't make a real fist any more- not a tight one, I mean- but outside of that I don't care much. I mean I'm not oing to be a goddam surgeon or a violinist or anything anyway." -The Catcher in the Rye


This is one of my favorite passages from any book. It is a good example of Catcher in the Rye as a whole, but this passage always jumps out at me. It is really powerful, and makes me somewhat nostalgic, though that isn't really the right word for how I feel about it. Anybody else feel remotely the same way?

I've been reading a bit about Joseph Campbell, a mythology expert from some years back. He is an incredibly interesting fellow, and studied with many famous philosophers and writers, including James Joyce and John Steinbeck. He understands so much about mythology, it's roots and concepts (and is kinda who I want to be, heh heh). The above is an old saying that he uses in much of his mythological analysis, and is, in my opinion, a great representation of a key concept in myth. Sorry, I'll stop now.

I've also discovered the awesomeness that is Star Trek: The Original Series. It is so corny and yet so addicting to watch, and I am hooked. The other series of ST can not compare, because they take themselves too seriously. Bah, geek overload.

"Difference of object does not alter singleness of passion. It merely intensifies it. We can have in life but one great experience at best, and the secret of life is to reproduce that experience as often as possible."

- Lord Henry, The Picture of Dorian Gray

NOOOO.

I had a great time at Comic-Con. It felt different this year, a lot quicker than last, but I had a lot of fun hanging out with the likes of Travis, Frosty and Sasha. I wish it could go on longer, because I can be with people who really understand me. I also met a TON of people whose work I have loved for a while now, including Jeph Jacques (Questionable Content), Tycho and Gabe (Penny Arcade), Eric (of TimandEric.com, known mainly for his work on Tom Goes to The Mayor), and, of course, Joss Whedon, the creator of Firefly, which (thanks Sasha!) has fast become a huge favorite of mine, due to its foundation of prototypical Western shows (many of which I grew up on) blended with a futuristic world. I love the show and am grateful I was able to meet the man.
I feel like most everyone lately has been using me. I seem to be second to the fact that I have a pool and a parentless house. Sometimes I make it clear that I can't do anything one night, but people still come over. It really makes me angry. I'm not being a pushover in this situation, but people are just insisting far too much. I feel like I'm starting to see people for who they truly are.
I start my job tomorrow, and am excited but nervous. It will be fun to have something to do on a regular basis, but I am nervous because I am worried it will eat into time with friends, and I already know that it is eating into D&D time, which makes me muy sad. Oh well, it is only for 4 weeks, and I should have a good enough time with it.
For anyone interested, Deerhoof is playing the Troubadour on September 6th (which may interfere with school) and, more importantly, the DECEMBERISTS are playing the Wiltern on Saturday, October 21st. My favorite band at my favorite venue!! I am very excited, and if anyone else is we should plan on going together. Also, as a reminder, Harry and the Potters are playing the LAPL Central Library this Saturday at 2, so give me a call about going. It's free! Also, I can kill you with my brain.

Yeah... I'm off to D&D.