Toilet humor.

"She hasn't been peeing."
"What?"
"There aren't any pee spots in her tub. She hasn't been peeing."


Peeing is cleansing. Peeing carries away all the poisons and toxins that your kidneys have filtered out of your blood. Peeing carries away all the waste your cells make while doing their day to day job of keeping you alive. Peeing is a good thing!

Yes, when you are a pet owner, you worry about things like pee spots. Well, I guess if you have kids you kinda worry about pee spots too. If your hamster/small child has not peed in days, this is a bad thing. You may think it's a good thing, because there's less to clean up, but in the long run this is a bad thing.


When a loved one stops peeing, make note. When a love one starts peeing again, rejoice. And then change said loved one's bedding. Because as wonderful and healthy as peeing is, it's still very gross and smelly.

Kimmie: Updated.

UKS: culture show
I've been helping UKS (United Khmer Sudents, for the uninitiated) whenever I've been able to make it. I gave some writing notes for the script and helped with the blocking for a couple of rehearsals. Carol asked me if I wanted to be noted as a Co-Director and Co-Writer in the program. For some reason, that made me very uncomfortable. It took me a while to figure out why. I realized that I just wanted to help out in my free time. The director/writer of the script is very dedicated to this event. Everyone involved is busting their butt to make this show happen. I wouldn't be able to match their commitment level in any way, even if I wanted to. I couldn't in good conscience accept that. I asked Carol if they could just put me under the "Special Thanks" section of the program (you know, where they put ORL, any funding organizations, yadda yadda yadda). I think that's where I belong.

LCC: writing
I have not written a scene for the group in a very long time. I think I wrote when I was afraid that we wouldn't have enough material to put on a show. That fear gave me the gumption to turn in stuff, flaws and all. Right now the group is in good hands; they're working with some pretty brilliant material, so I don't really feel the need to turn in the stuff I write. I don't feel fear needed to make my writing better. I don't feel the need to make my scenes stage quality. Sometimes I wish that fear was still there.

LCC: directing
I love the scene I'm working on right now. The script really inspired me, and I find myself using it with a minimum of revision from the writer. The cast is pretty amazing. There is a lot of intricate blocking and dance, so I'm asking a lot of them. For a cast with varying degrees of movement experience, they're really holding their own. I think a big part of it is their willingness to try anything. They don't know that they shouldn't be able to do Graham-inspired post modern dance without rigorous training. I'm always amazed by how much people can accomplish when they don't know that they're not supposed to accomplish it.

Sixteen again.

I got to see my brother march for the first time a couple weeks ago. Unfortunately he was a center (the person in a rank the entire line of marchers try to stay in line with), they were marching really fast, and my camera does this weird thing where it takes an entire ten seconds to take a picture, so I couldn't catch a picture of him. However, I got this awesome picture of the Titans' letter line.




My brother and his girlfriend of six months. They look like they've been married for ten years.... My brother's hairline looks as if it's aged ten years too.


Probably one of the coolest parts of the visit was seeing Mr. Coleman again. He was my band director at Hamilton Middle School and is the new band director at my brother's high school. He's pretty awesome. However, seeing him is a little bit disturbing for me because his hair is now salt and pepper and he forgets things sometimes. And then, I think "Well, of course he's not going to look like he did when you were in seventh grade, Kimmie, that was almost ten years ago." To which my mind replies "Oh my God, that was almost ten years ago." And I then feel old and stiff.

Reconciliation.

My lappy's back. I thought a lot during our time apart. I didn't treat my lappy very well. I was rough with it, I took it for granted. When it started showing signs of wear, I got angry instead of remorseful. Lappy did very well during the break too. No more rubbed out letters, no more stuck keys, no more furious tabbing between applications. It's like taking her out the box for the first time again.

"Hi Lappy."
(Whiiirrrrr....)
"I missed you too."

Oh, me.

Taken in CS50. My heart goes out to whichever pre-med undergraduate gave out this silent cry for help.

...phonetically, it sounds like "Oh, Kim."

On a break.

In the past couple of weeks (usually as I'm working on my script or an expedited safety report for work...or updating this blog) the the F2, Tab, and 2swx` keys on my lappy would stick and cause it to wildly switch from window to window, typing gibberish into random text boxes and preventing me from getting any work done. I said "Well, to hell with this!" and threw said iBook against the wall. No, I didn't do that. I'm not an abusive person. I passive aggressively let my laptop know I was upset: I used it less every day, I spent more time on my desktop at work, I even tried out some of the PCs at Powell Library. Still, the problems persisted; if anything, they got worse! I decided to seek professional help, but alas, even the geniuses at the UCLA computer store told me that there was nothing they could do. We had to resort to drastic measures: a temporary separation. Hopefully when we're reunited in 7-10 business days, it will be back to its normal functioning self. And maybe, I'll learn to better appreciate its efforts to perform well for me.

Things that make me feel good.

-Seeing my brother play timpani with his high school winter percussion in championship competition. The Caeser Chavez Marching Band will be performing at Disneyland this April 11. How exciting! I'll be ditching school to catch their performance. I mean, really, how often do I get to go to Disneyland? Not often enough.

-Reconnecting with people I haven't seen or heard from in ages, a la MySpace. A fair number of them are now married and/or pregnant. At twenty two! Wow. To be fair, we did grow up in Stockton. Many a young blood in Stockton spend their Saturday nights making a difficult decision: eat at Denny's, shop at Walmart, or go neck...you know, now that I think about it, not too difficult a decision.

-Knowing that even though I have a cell phone again, I can always turn it off. That took a while for me to figure out. I think I have it now.

-Getting to a point at work where I am actually knowledgeable enough to know about what I'm not knowledgeable enough.

-Mocha Lattes.

You can't get this in LA.

Interstate 5 is the main artery between Northern California and its southern counterpart. It is the most direct route to Stockton from Los Angeles. It is also one of the most boring six hour drives in America. For three hundred miles, there is nothing but brown grass and the occasional cow sitting forlorn on the landscape. Usually I find myself looking forward to the next “__ miles until Rest Area” signs; they were the only things to break up the monotony of the view.

However, there’s a tiny window of time, between the drowning rains of March and the scorching heat of May, when I-5 gleams. Mustard grows wild in stretches miles long, and the yellow looks like a thick blanket. Bushes grow thick and tall; in two months they'll be tumbleweeds, but for now they stand pretty. Roaming gangs of sheep and steer loiter at leisure in the fields and cherry tree orchards, nipping at a grass blade here, a bloom there.

There was a moment while I was driving, when everyone else in the car had fallen asleep. The sun made natural spotlights in between the clouds, and the mist made the hills look lush. I crested a hill and out of nowhere a herd of shorn sheep glowing white against the green came into view. I stared for a good two seconds, then the car whizzed by and the entire scene dropped out of view. I turned and "Hey, did you see tha-?" and realized that our car was the only car on the road, and I was the only conscious person in the car. It may have been the most perfect thing I have ever seen, and I was alone. It made me feel like that section of I-5 was put there just for me.


Even through a dusty windshield on a cell phone camera, you can see the clouds forever. You can't get this in LA.

Beautiful Days.

I like spring. It's a time for ausipicious beginnings and fresh starts and airing out the old so it seems brand spanking new. What have I done in honor of the season's arrival?

I made my room look different. Well, my half of the room. I got an urge to make it look, you know, inhabited. New color scheme, new shelving, new sheets. It feels good to be in there. Maybe I'll actually spend a night or two in my own bed. You know, instead of the couch.

I talk to my mom more. I call her maybe once a week, and when she calls me, I actually pick up! This is a vast improvement over our previous record of never calling/maybe returning the phone call if she threatens me via voice message.

I go to farmer's markets. I'm sad, because the farmer's market in Westwood may actually lose their street closure permit. That means no more fresh veggies for Chess on Thursdays! I guess I'll have to visit the Sunday farmer's markets more often instead. I really like the one in West LA, behind the Santa Monica library. They had a petting zoo the first time I went! Also, this nice man named Joe gave me free incense with purchase of incense holder and taught me a cool handshake.

I try new things. I played my first video game to completion. I made scones. I nailed stuff to my walls (and it only took me two hours to do two shelves!). In honor of spring, I will continue to try new things. I will meet new people. I will see new sights. I will read new books. I will get new hairstyles. I will have new, different, novel experiences because I am young and unfettered and free.

Well, I'm free until Chess gets hungry. Then I have to get home and feed her. She's a growing gal!

Progress.

Scaffolding creeps up the buildings walls and green tarps ooze around its edges. It's a little bit of an urban jungle, more dangerous and without the risk of malaria. Ever since the Barnes and Noble on Pico and Westwood got the boot, I've recovered from many a socially awkward moment with rampant speculation about its usurper. Mayhap a grocery store? A dance club? Dare we dream, a Target? Rumors can be put to rest. A giant banner covers its north face, smothering the wild mess with sleek catchy slogans and brand name identification. Yes friends, the great hulking beast to replace the chain bookstore Barnes and Noble will be...

A chain movie theatre.

You know, we need another movie theatre in the Westwood/West LA/Santa Monica area. Especially another Mann theatre. Because Westside Pavilion doesn't already have a movie theatre five hundred yards away (which will probably put out better movies than whatever Mann will regurgitate). And the busy Westwood/Pico intersection will give Mann theatres the exposure they desperately needed to grow as a fledgling business.

Sometimes, civility is over-rated.

What happens in Vegas.

The last time I was in Las Vegas, I was underaged and unable to do, well, pretty much everything (geez, you need to be twenty one just to stand next to the casino floor?!). There were some pretty depressing moments on that trip that left a bitter taste in my mouth. I swore to myself that I was going to go back and gamble, drink, see strippers, hire escorts, watch racy shows. I wanted to party like I was going to prison for being too prudish.

Well, I went back this weekend. And, let me tell you, whew. What a weekend. Yeah. Wow. ...Yeah, except for a drink while waiting for a dinner table, I didn't do any of the above. Not even a nickel at the slots. I think the previous trip was so disappointing because I was bothered that I couldn't do certain things, even if I wanted to. I think if I took this trip immediately after I turned twenty one, I would have made good on a lot of those personal promises. I think I've had time to realize that it's OK to do things that I enjoy, as opposed to doing things that are expected of me. So, instead of gambling or partying, I took in the sights and caught a show with a good friend. I window shopped. I read and ate at great restaurants and saw the Las Vegas Winterguard regionals. I felt good the entire weekend. Maybe the next time I go back, I'll be able to fulfill some of those personal promises I made two years ago. Until then, I take comfort in knowing that even if I didn't, I would be OK with it.

And really, it's not as if I didn't do anything Vegas while in Vegas. I definitely took advantage of some excellent buffets. One had a chocolate waterfall! Now that's sinful.

My other half.

Yes, yes, I have a sister named Kim. Yes, yes, it was confusing growing up. No, no, we never tried the old "take the other person's place to help them out of a bind only to end up in an even more difficult position through a series of wacky high jinks." We're not identical, dummy.

I was always pissed at her because I had to work my ass off when it came to wheedling our parents into letting us do something untraditional. I argued my way into attending Science Camp in fifth grade, joining the dance arts program in middle school, and moving more than an hour away from home to attend college. I was the rebel. I had an "if you don't let me do this, I'm going to do it anyway" attitude. My sibs just had to utter the words "But you let To Chay do it. Why can't I?" and my parents crumbled like a stale cookie.

My sister was always pissed at me because she constantly took the fall whenever I misbehaved. She was the one who listened to my parents' wails over my disobedience when I went to a sleepover after they explicitly said no (and didn't tell them I was going anyway). She stayed home to babysit when I had a late night "study session" with a "friend." She was the person who chose family over cross country. She was a martyr. I didn't have to do anything to appease my parents, because my sister had enough duty in her for two good daughters. I used to think that this made her weak.

She just had a hip hop performance that I couldn't attend because of LCC tech rehearsal. However, she was gracious enough to send me some fab photos from the event.
As I was flipping through the photos, I realized that my sister is strong. She didn't have a "fuck you" attitude like me. Instead of making waves, she quietly became this other person while attending UCSB, this hip-hop dancing, leggings loving, creative spirit who bided her time and is living life with as much gusto as I am. This isn't weakness. This is strength in its stealthiest form.

Also, she somehow got really cute since moving out to Santa Barbara. wtf?

Etc.

Hufu Update
It looks as though Hufu might not be legit. I paid for the human meat substitute via Paypal, but the money was returned to my account. Could this be a service error? Or were Mike and Dave actually right, and this was all a hoax? I'm going to try one last time before I concede to their cynicism.

Chess
Some nights I like to sleep on my couch. It's warmer in the living room, and quieter (I don't hear the tenants walking across our echoing courtyard at two in the morning from the couch). The best part of sleeping outside is waking up early and hearing my hamster get ready for bed. She sits and gathers her bedding of Tissues and shredded woodchips around her in this perfect circle of a mound. She gathers and pats and shreds until the pile of soft bedding is up to her ears (my hamster is puppy-sized, so this takes awhile). When she settles in for sleep, I can see her nodding off content, a job well done. Sometimes I wish life could be more hamster-like: they are happy eating, drinking, and it's ok if the most strenuous part of the day is going to sleep.

Yay, Science!

I love biology. I love animals and plants and niches and seasons and evolution. Ooooh, evolution, I LOVE EVOLUTION. Mad Propz to Malthus and Darwin, among others, for figuring it out. Many thanks to the Discovery Channel for making the theory accessible. Thank you Big Daddy Knudsen for making it fun. Without these influences, I would never have autoclaved my own agar trays, I would never have cultivated my own bacteria, I would never have done an extended essay on "The presence of bacteria and its effect on kale plant growth."
...Without these influences, I probably would not be such a nerd.

Every once in awhile, in support of evolution, I will post links to articles that use this glorious theory to showcase nature in all its utterly complex glory. That said, here is the coolest non-beaver I've ever seen:

(Click on the picture to view article)

How cool is that? Pretty darn cool.

When in Fiji.

I told Mike and Dave about Hufu^TM today, and I was met with scoffing laughter.

"What a hoax."
"No, it's not!"

"How would they know what human meat tastes like, huh?"
"I don't know."

"You gullible child."
"...Your mom is gullible."

I didn't know how to answer some of their questions, because I hadn't visited the website in awhile, and even then, I didn't really look around too extensively. So, because I hate being wrong and not knowing things, I revisted the website. I also wanted to see if it was hoax-like, and it doesn't look like it is. It looks like a genuine business venture. They developed the taste "through painstaking research and excessive testing." They also credit someone named Hatawenka who has been "from the very beginning of the Hufu^TM project a guiding light and vital inspiration." I don't know about you, but this Hatawenka guy sounds like a reformed cannibal, so I'm guessing he guinea pigged for them and taste tested the Hufu^TM.

You know what? I am going to order me some Hufu^TM. I'm going to try it out and I'll report back with my findings. If it does turn out to be a hoax, and I am mailed a box that has nothing but the words "Made you look! Sicko!" written on it, then I will make sure to include that in my follow-up.

Wish me luck!

Hard at work.

I love to waste hours just surfing the net. Lately I've been looking at fun items on J-List . I like these in particular because you'd have no clue what they are if you just went by the items' appearance. Take the time to guess before clicking on the link:

I don't even use pencils anymore, but I would buy this because it's just that AWESOME.


My male readers are cupping their meat-and-two-veg right now.


File this under "I wish I was making this shit up."

But, you know, as weird as Japanese commercialism can get, they've got nothing on Americans. I mean, what other country would try to market the fecal matter of a spiritual entity?

New times, new blog.

I'm going through a period of change. As wonderfully as "kimmiesgotskills" served me for two years, I've realized that it's time for a blog that won't cause me to shamefacedly mumble its web address whenever I meet someone interested in reading it. I mean, give me some credit. I stood by this name for six years, I am no flighty blog-name-changer. I would just like to think that the person I was six years ago is very different from the person I am today. Rest assured, I still have skills. I'm just no longer so gauche as to advertise them to any Harry Joe Smith on the internet.

Surely, I am all at once a changed but familiar person. To truly encapsulate the changes that led me to who I am today, I present to you a recent picture of my hamster:

So thoughtful!