In my inbox, with the title "This is what I do at work."

Care of the lovely Christy S:
If the princesses ever had to unite to fight off an ultimate evil, I'd hope the final battle would look something like this.
This was inspired by the midget stenographer on the Chapelle Show.
Enlightenment can be found here. Yes, here, right below the right nipple.

Thank you, Mike G.

As promised:
I am unto a god.

I am unto a quirky symbol of the australian outback.

Update:
I am unto Gollum's Worst Nightmare.

Alex Kona Ice 4:11

Some LCC guys got together and made a video in twenty four hours for the Insomnia Film Festival. They are required to incorporate the above elements for the video to be eligible. People can vote for it. If they win, they get stuff!

VOTE FOR THIS VIDEO!

Look at me!

Janet was kind enough to take headshots of the cast for the fall show. Here are some of the digital shots from my session:

Man... that burrito looks so good.... I could go for a burrito right now.

Oh man, is that a burrito? For me?!?

Shhhh! I am NINJA!

Then we got bored, and started taking group pictures for the website:
Janet is being shunned. For being Canadian.

Scott is being gross. I am being grossed out. Janet and Simon are Neanderthals, and Kelvin really wants world peace.

Tis the season.

My co-worker told me about World Vision Gifts earlier this week. It's a non-profit organization that offers assistance to people who really need help. You can buy gifts for people in need through the organization. Some of the things that you can purchase:

A Wheelchair for $14.

An Alpaca for $360.

A Mongolian Ger for $1862.

I usually try to stay away from religiously affiliated charity organizations (because I'm sure they have an agenda), but the Christian-based World Vision Gifts has really impressed me with how PRACTICAL their gifts are. I did some research, and it doesn't look like a scam either. So, come on guys, check out the catalogue. Think about buying a share of a deep well ($100, $18000 for the whole well). If you know of any cool charities like this, let me know.

Our Tenth Anniversary
Quotes from this weekend:
-Eric: "You know, now that I've met your high school friends, I kinda get why you are the way you are."

-Kimmie: "We can't say bad words at Disneyland. Maybe when we feel it coming we can say something else... like Harry S Truman." (note: Nearly 100 Trumans total by the end of the night)

-Princess Belle: "Do you want to stand for our picture?"
Liz: "Mmmff."
Princess Belle: "Do you want me to sit next to you?"
Liz:"Mmmmf!!"
Christy:"Oh..Yup, she's gone mute."

-Disney Cast member: "Happy Birthday!"
All four of us: "Thank you!"


More pictures and stories to come.
*******************************************

There's an LCC Show this Friday and Saturday at 7:30 in Northwest Auditorium at UCLA. If you'd like to go, let me know and I'll put you on the guestlist. You can see the theatrical debut of my new bed. Yes, yes, my bed will be onstage for a scene. Sigh. The things I do for this group.

Looking up.

I HAVE A BED.
I spent four years on futons, sleeping pallets, pull out couches. Using my first UCLA employee paycheck to buy a bed was probably the smartest thing I ever did for myself.

MY GIRLS ARE IN TOWN.
Liz, Christy, Carol and I spent all last night reminiscing about old stuff and speculating about the new. We spent today making all sorts of new stuff to reminisce about later. For example, I will from now on out remember our time fondly anytime I hear a racial slur.

I WILL BE GOING TO DISNEYLAND WITH MY GIRLS.
The best part of this, besides having a chick lunch with the princesses is renewing my Annual Passport. Twelve more months of enjoying the happiest place on earth at my leisure.

...BEST NOVEMBER EVER.

Clap hands!

People have taken to calling me folksy. I dunno why, maybe it's the peasant skirts, or the banjo ringtone, or the butter churning I do on Saturdays. Anyways, this new Beck song appeals to me. It's got that folksy charm. And fork percussion! And puppets!

I want to ride the dinosaur.

I hope to all that's holy that is will be the way we all go:

Season's Eatings

This, my good friends, is a turducken. Even Dr. Frankenstein wouldn't dare to defy God by assembling this mutant abomination. Not even Swedish scientists cloning baby parts by the dozen using embryonic stem cells would flout Nature by creating such a cursed and miserable creature. Good thing we Americans have the Cajuns! And for that, I will be thankful.

Naturally.

Some people are naturally good friends. They give off a warm, "call-me-anytime, do-you-need-a-shoulder-to-cry-on, mi-casa-es-su-casa" vibe. These people smile and you just know in your gut that everything will turn out alright, no matter what happens. A hug from a naturally good friend will do more good than thousands of dollars in therapy fees. These people are sweeter than pure cane sugar.

I am not a good friend.

I will forget to call you back. I won't reply to your emails for weeks. If you IM me while I'm away, I will not reply "What's up?" three hours later. I will make plans with you and flake. I will say I'm busy when you ask me to lunch and will instead do nothing but lay in bed rereading old paperbacks. I'm naturally solitary.

I borrow your clothes without asking. I eat your food without replacing it. I bend the pages of your books to mark my place. I forget to pay you the ten bucks you're owed. I keep your DVD for months before returning it to you. I covet your possessions. I see no point in saying please and I will forget to say thank you. I'm naturally selfish.

I have people in my life who are naturally good friends. I learn from them. It's hard, but I am trying. I make mistakes and they forgive me and help me get better, as naturally good friends tend to do. One day, I may be the Splenda of friends. Not all natural, but derived from the best, the purest. A substitute for the real thing.

Splenda tries too hard. The texture is all wrong, and so is the color, so it's twice as sweet to make up the difference. Instead of being more like the real thing, these extra efforts do nothing but make the differences more apparent. Sometimes I think I do the same. But, as some are willing to accept Splenda, so I hope others will come to accept me.

Obvious saccharine sweetness and all.

My goal for 2007.

Things I have been up to.

I've recently switched from coffee to red bull. Result? Still groggy, still grumpy, and now I've got a toothache. This is not working out for me. I just need my soy mocha latte no foam with room.

For some reason I've decided to be active in LCC again this quarter. I can't figure out what keeps drawing me back into all that stress and drama. Maybe it's because I now don't have midterms to distract me from putting on a good show. Come check it out November 17 and 18. More details to come.

I went to visit the La Brea tar pits. There are two things that I walked away with: a great appreciation for things that DO NOT smell like tar, and this cute purse:
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am now the proud owner of a wooly mammoth PURSE. It easily goes from a handbag to a clutch (here shown in clutch form).

My two best friends who currently live up north are coming to visit this Veteran's Day Weekend W00t! I want to spend a day doing touristy stuff, and a day doing LA type stuff, but I'm finding it difficult to come up with ideas. The definitely doings include Disneyland. The maybes include Museum Row, Fashion District, and Abbot Kinney bar/lounge hopping. Any other suggestions?

What's up?

I have a huge painful pus filled zit inside the very edge inside my nostril. VERY painful.

That's the only thing going on in my life worth blogging about. I have a very monotonous lot in life.

It's very hard to anagram anagram.

I am having fun with this Anagram generator. Kimhouy Tong can be anagramed to My Tough Oink. Haha!

I'm listening to listener supported radio! At work!

I think that the work day would pass agonizingly slow if it weren't for KCRW. I used to subscribe to Yahoo's Launchcast and listen to the same twenty songs randomly chosen and shuffled by a computer.... Yeah, I almost drove myself crazy. But I don't do that to myself now. Instead, I get to listen to music lists that DJs put together old fashioned way, flipping through catalogs by hand, picking songs that flow from one thought to another with some lyrical logic. It's pretty frickin' SWEET. Highly recommended. However, I do also recommend donating to the subscriber supported radio station. Then, you can listen to great music by The Soliloquists of Sound, Ray Lamontagne, or The Kooks (Check out their single "Naive!") without guilt.

I went to D-land awhile back

Here is approximately two thirds of the Disneyland fun-time crew. We look happy! I really love these guys, and I'm glad that a lot of them got annual passes. Now I have lots of Disneyland fun-time friends. Btw, that guy straddling Conroy is NOT Tan Lam. He is pseudo-Tan (i.e. our now good friend Bao). We like him a lot. Also, Hoai and Jonathan have bad "tough guy" faces.


This is my friend Lydia. She was the only other girl there. We're very cute.


This is me and Lydia together. She made me angry. Kim blast!

ARRRGHLKDjkasdjksldjk.

THIS IS WHAT I WANT.

History.

I went home. I came back. I cleaned. Trains were involved. Oh, and my parent's home is apparently contested turf in a vicious gang war. So, same old, same old.
*******

I love Youtube. However, I've mostly used it to look for clips of TV shows or celebrity interviews or really cute cats fighting. I've never locked onto a particular video contributor before. That was before I found clips of this man. His videos consist of anecdotes about his life told in ten minute one shots. In other words, his videos resemble every other video on Youtube.

So... what sets him apart from other Youtubers? He actually has something to say! I mean, the man has lived through wars! He's almost eighty years of history, but interesting and compelling and personal! Plus, mad props for attempting technology. My own parents have problems navigating the Favorites drop down menu. Check him out.
************

I got the hammies new tubs and tubes. Pictures to follow. Trust me, TOO cute.

Unclaimed

There's this website that lets you know if you have unclaimed property in the state of California. Unfortunately, I have not misplaced ten million dollars in lost trust fund, as I had originally hoped. I entertained myself for an evening by looking for money for other people.

People I know who may have unclaimed property:
Christy "I ain't no bitch" Siojo
David "Soul of a 78 year old man, only more cantankerous" Lee
Alan "I have way better hair than my son" Jwo
Julia "Back in China-no, Australia-wait, no, Japan" Lam

.... um, and that's it. If it's yours, shame on you guys for leaving money just lying around. It could be put to good use! You know, extra cash for getting your friends nice things... like the really cute suede slouch ankle boots at DSW I had-I mean, that people might have had their eye on.

People I don't know but am really interested in and that's my own business goddammit who may have unclaimed property:
Joss "Slayed through the heart" Whedon=$184.06 and $1,326.00
Sarah "My career fell apart post-buffy" Gellar= $629.00 and $2,016.00
Angelina "Sometimes a vial of blood is just a vial of blood" Jolie:$602.83

I wish I had a witty ending for this post, but I don't. So, instead, I present to you Happy Cat:

Being loved makes him happy!

Hedgehog Preservation Society EXISTS.

There are so many thought-provokingly bizarre and awesome things in this article that I had to post it. Enjoy!

Inexplicable obsessions.

I am currently in love with Jimi Hendrix. I've tried several times over the past week to explain it to several friends, and the best I could articulate was "He's just, wow, you know? And, yeah. Uh."

It doesn't do Jimi Hendrix justice.
***********************************

Mike G linked to this awesome seal generating website. I made this one to test the product:

I think I'm going to have a lot of fun with this.
***********************************

Still obsessed with 1996. Rewatching Buffy while listening to my Spice Girl Albums. I don't look forward to the life in which I talk with people who don't remember life before "Zig-a-zig-ah!" You know, like how people try to talk to me about Silver Spoons.

What the?

Pho place out on Western. I've never eaten at this place, but I feel like it would be a grave injustice if the waitresses weren't dressed as car show models and the busboys as um, car show model oglers?
**************

The retiling job in my apartment is starting to piss me off. I came home and there was a layer of dust (from pulling up the carpeting) on EVERYTHING. My clean dishes draining in the rack, my couch, my toothbrush, even the hammies were all dusty! Boo! I want this to be over!

**************

I now work from 7:30-4:30 so that I can take advantage of a carpool. It's nice to have the afternoons and evenings to myself, although I find I tend to doze around 10:30. Janet summed it up pretty well when she said, "There goes your social life."

***************

Having immigrant parents can be pretty cool. They do things like buy you a new car when you crash your first one within three months of owning it ("Everyone needs a car in LA, right?" "Uh, yeah mom... yes." But there are drawbacks. For example, my mother does not have the best grasp of English grammar. She'll say things like, "I'm boring," to indicate that she has nothing to do. So, when my mother says something like, "You're going to die," on the phone to me, I know she means "You're gonna kill yourself if you don't take better care of yourself." I love you too Mom.

I am enjoying routine.

There is something to be appreciated about getting up at the same time every day, working for eight hours, coming home to unwind and falling asleep like clockwork. After four years of college, it's a welcome change. Don't get me wrong; college frickin' ROCKED. But at some point midnight runs to Puzzles and drinking until five o'clock in the morning loses some of its luster.
***************

I am cat-sitting for Ray, my good friend of a bajillion years. Frankie the cat is thirteen years old and reminds me of a dog who wants nothing more from life than a bowl of soft food and a pat on the head. He's a pretty awesome cat. Unfortunately, I've noticed that since I've started visting Frankie, Chess and Punchy are very uncomfortable around me. Chess refuses to climb onto my hand and Punchy, well, Punchy acts more like Punchy, which means she runs around in circles more and chews on her wheel more vigorously.
...I need to get real pets.
****************

There is something very human about the need to make fire. It's a way of affirming that yes, we do belong at the top of the food chain. We were smarter than you so we get to eat you, HAHA. Sure, we've traded in tinder and flint for charcoal and lighter fluid, but the satisfaction of watching the flames catch is still strong. That is why I've put this hot little thing on my wish list.

Bits and pieces.

My strep throat has finally cleared, just in time for me to writhe in agony from my toothache. Yeah...guess who doesn't have dental coverage yet? My mouth and its peripheral body parts are betraying me! UCLA Human Resources has let me down!Arrrgh!

It's finally cooling down. You can really feel it in the evenings and early morning. It's a nice time to enjoy a mug of hot tea with a puzzle and hamster. Er, I meant loved one.
...No, I meant puzzle and hamster.



It's really hard! It's been sitting on my coffeetable for the past few weeks and I still haven't solved it yet. Arrrrrgh!

1996.

I was watching episodes of Buffy season one and was absolutely taken aback when I realized that it's been ten years since this show first aired. TEN YEARS!!! I was twelve years old ten years ago! And then, Mike G sent me this:

So (of course) I spent the next two hours on YouTube watching old clips of Spice Girls performances. Oh man, I loved the Spice Girls. Posh Spice was always my favorite. She's got this awesome sense of humor. I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want. I want girl power back.



A list of some other things I was obsessed with circa 1996.


Love at first sight with hot boy+Family Angst+"People screwing up my life, ugh why don't they just stop!"=Exacty how every twelve year old girl has ever felt. Baz Lurhman is very good at tapping into the pre-teen's psyche. Not only that, but it's love theme, "Kissing You" by Des'ree became my number one JAM that year.
********************

The Macarena. I still perform it. You do too. Stop lying to your bad self.
********************

Did anyone else own a pair of shiny pleather pants? I know I was not the only person sporting pleather pants. Or the pleather jacket. You know, the one with the matching waist-tie? We used to wear it with the knee high boots? Was that only me?
...Shut up.
********************


This scary man inspired me to take up Irish dance. Man, in seventh grade I had calves of steel. OF STEEL.


Um.... there was lots more in my head when I was thinking "Hey, I should post about things I like from 1996!" Um, I'm still trying to remember them... what else was there? Hm....

Folding.

File this one under "Why the hell didn't I think of this myself?!?"



***********************
I've been trying to get really good at folding paper cranes. I fold them at work during my breaks. I've been getting a lot of guff for it though. Folding cranes is a more obvious sign that you're not getting work done. More so than, say, surfing on the computer. At least, surfing on the computer can be hidden by bringing up minimized spread sheet or something. What can I do when caught folding cranes?

"Uh, I was.... working on improving office morale?"

So yeah, now there's a stack of cranes in my office, for anyone to pick up for their own desk. Come by and get one, if you'd like. It'll improve my morale to see you!

My ailments.

I went into work Wednesday and came home almost immediately because I had the shivers. NOT the shakes, the shivers. By the time I got home I also had the headaches and the sore throat. Yup, I had the flu. Spent the rest of the day trying to get warm, getting too warm, trying to cool down, getting too cool, rinse, repeat.

Then I ran out of meds. Ran out of Nyquil, ran out of Dayquil and ran out of Advil. I still had my motrin, but that's for my crampies and I still had my tylenol pm, but I didn't want to knock myself out. I might not wake up and drown in my own phlegm!

Oh yeah, the phlegm. When you have a phlegmy cough AND a sore throat, lemme tell you, that is some painful right there. I feared phlegm like I never feared phlegm before.

I was feeling pretty ok this morning, and was going to go into work, but then I got a bloody nose and started coughing up blood.

...So yeah, going to the doctor today.

Isn't this stuff supposed to happen in the winter?! You know, when people have nothing better to do but get sick?!?!

Apartment stuff, largely.

Hey guys, I am looking to trade my large rectangular dining table that seats four for a small round dining table that can seat three. WITH chairs. Help a sister out! I need to make some space in my itsy bitsy living area! If you've visited, you totally know what I mean.

Speaking of, my apartment is undergoing some major changes this summer. They've already taken out the fireplace and are going to replace the carpet with tile. My living room is going to have that eerily clammy, bathroom feel. Yummy.

Also, if anyone would like a Russian dwarf, please let me know.

Bondfires.

I attended a very lovely bonfire this past weekend with the perpetually lively LCCers. We spent the day frolicking and barbecueing and all sorts of other fun things that end in -ing.

Here are pictures of some LCCers near and dear to my heart.

This is a pretty cool looking picture of Yumi, Simon, Me, Tru, Conroy and Jonathan. The moment appears much more classy than it actually was: Simon spent the entire time on Conroy's shoulders yelling, "My balls! My balls! Hurry up with the damn picture or they're going to rupture!" or something to that effect. And then Hoai ran up and jiggled Conroy's head, further infuriating Simon. It's OK though, Simon has the last laugh. He can do an ENGLISH ACCENT.



Yumi, Janet, Me, Hoai, Tru, Jonathan, Aki, Conroy and Simon making an awesome pyramid as the tide was coming in. There's only one thing missing from this pyramid:

Caroline got a little lost (OK, a lot lost) and so missed the pyramid building, but it's OK, because we saved her a spot right at the top! I feel this picture of Caroline kinda captures her reaction to LCC: slightly startled and apprehensive, but curious to see what these weirdos will do next.

What's next? This picture!

The obligatory mid-jump shot. Tru, Hoai, moi, Jonathan, Yumi et Simone. Janet was taking this picture, but she wanted in so we spent the next five minutes trying to replicate it. We couldn't though because Simon sucks at taking pictures.


Yay friendship!

Let's do this again!

Sprycel.

This is what I've been a part of for the past year!

It's nice to be a tiny part of something that makes a big difference. For the first six months, I didn't even know what I was filing for. ("What are we filing for?!" "Cancer!" "When are we filing it?!" "NOW!") It's interesting that a job I started as a part time student kind of grew into a full time career position. And it's stuff I like! And it's stuff that matters! Although it does make it harder to slack off at work.

"Hm, help work towards a new cancer medication, or visit cuteoverload..."
Decisions, decisions.

Adventuring.

When I first moved into my apartment, I didn't have my own copy of the house keys. As such, I spent many an hour tending to the bruises I got from jumping our stucco-ed balcony (I bruise very easily). When I had my keys made, I thought I'd never have to jump that damned balcony again.

So I think it's quite understandable that I would avoid going home for a few days when I accidently locked my keys inside my apartment. I mean, I could have been home easily if I had been willing to put up with climbing that balcony again. That goddamned balcony. I decided that it was summer's way of telling me to adventure, and try new things. So I did.

Much thanks to J-lo, Yumi and Robbie for housing me. Thanks to everyone who put up with me in the same clothes for two days (I actually couldn't do it...I ended up buying a new shirt because it bothered me so much). I have learned that Hedwig and the Angry Inch makes for beautiful watching, and I couldn't have watched it with a more appropriate couple (because botched sex change operations, soul searching rock ballads and tranny loving christians make me think of robbie and yumi). Thanks to Stan for beer and cherries and Project Runway watching (psst-I won't tell anyone!). So yeah....

Fuck you balcony.

Speech.

OK, so the comment problem has been fixed: you can now comment on my blog! Feel free!

Kimmie

Weddings and stuff.

Eric and I attended his ex-girlfriend's wedding a while back. When he last had to attend a wedding, he took our other friend Lynn. He learned a lot from that wedding. You could see the experience he gained from that event from the instructions I was given: "Look cute and don't embarrass me."

Here I am almost ready to head out.



This is how happy we were to be stuck in traffic. The longer we were stuck in traffic, the longer we wouldn't have to be with strangers making small talk.



On our way there, Eric was telling me about how he fell out of touch with his high school friends. He wasn't really expecting to know anyone there (hence my presence there: better to be awkward in a social situation with someone you know than someone you don't).
...Yeah, everyone Eric knew from high school was there.

A mere fraction of them: Hoai, Eric, Jay, Lynn (the bride), Reid (the groom), Johnny, Mike


A good time was had by all.
*******************************************************
I was going to post this yesterday, but it seemed to be missing something. And then it hit me. It was missing this:
(Chess in a ball.)

Ok, NOW i can post this entry.

I love me some bullet points.

1. For those of you who want to comment on my blog but feel you can't because you have no blogger ID (ahem, ahem, Ms Suh), feel free to reply as anonymous and identify yourself in the body of the text. Or leave it blank, so we can play guessing games.

2. Thank you to Spiffy for capturing on film two pretty important moments in my life:

A. My family at my graduation. Although I do wish we were smart enough to do this in a place where their faces were lit. Because they do have such pretty faces, the Tongs.



B. Me meeting one of my heroines.

Good things.

Congratulate me, as I have officially passed all of this quarter's classes, and therefore am officially graduated from the UCLA School of Letter and Sciences with a B.A. in Psychology. W00t!

My plans this summer include:
-Shortening my "To Read" List considerably. (More on that in a later post)
-Beach bonfires.
-Camping in Yosemite.
-Weekend getaway to Carmel Valley.
-Las Vegas birthdays.
-Visiting the beach at least once every other week.
-Writing for the sake of writing.
-Making good use of my Disneyland Annual Pass before it expires. Especially making good use of it with good friends. Anyone? Anyone?

Wigging Out.

I wig out from time to time. Not the good wigging out, like "Time Warp" wigging out. Wigging out like, "Strongbad getting the jibblies" wigging out. When life is really good, like it is for me right now, being reminded of when life was really bad makes me wig out.

It happens from time to time. No one's fault. Just know, that if I suddenly need to take a walk at three in the morning, or feel like I have to take a cab home, don't worry. It's not you. It's just me a-wigging. Let me do my thing, and I apologize if anyone gets wiggy because I'm getting wiggy.

Wiggity-wig-wig-wig. Gettin' wiggy with it.

...Ok, I'm done.

Wig.

Effin Family, man.

I am currently hanging out with the familia in Long Beach. Comments overhead:

"Can you buy me a saxophone?" (My brother, the jazz musician. He got all the music talent in the family. However, I find it interesting that he'd turn to his broke-just-out-of-college sister for a $2000 saxophone instead of the parentals. Sometimes you need someone in your life who's not constantly thinking everything in terms of how it will help your GPA.)

"Did you lose weight?" (I've lost five pounds since the last time my uncle saw me. Last I saw him, it was "Wow. You look kinda big." Thanks Uncle Oeuy. I appreciate that. Bastard.)

I've been more irritated in the past six hours than I have been through the entirety of Finals Week. I snapped at people at least twice, and each time it happened, I got a look from my mom. You know, the 'I can't believe my daughter is so rude' look. My family has a knack for brining out the worst in me.

However, in the past six hours it hit me that I'm graduating. Sixteen years of school behind me, and I didn't start to get really excited until I saw my family congratulating me, telling me how proud they were of me, for doing something no one else in our family has done. It makes a person feel kinda good. Almost good enough to forget that they're trying to get you to move back home with promises of "It'll save you money," and laments of "But we're lonely without our kids!"

My rep.

I recently found out that I have a reputation. It's not even a cool reputation, like "Girl who kicks most ass in a bar fight," or a scandalous one like "Most likely to have crazy make outs while drunk."

I have a "Hates to have people touching her" reputation.

I'm not quite sure if I should be insulted or flattered. If anything, I'm confused because it's somewhat erroneous. It's a title given to me by a very friendly, very physical asian american theatre group. I'm think that their social behavior is not indicative of the majority of the American population (and it's certainly not indictive of the majority of Asian Americans... it might be indicative of the majority of theatre people though. Those people are FRIENDLY). I really don't think there's any merit to what they're saying.

I love people! I'm very friendly! I love hugs and noogies. Yeah, I weird out when people try to give me massages, or when they try to touch my hands, or if they try to hug me without giving me prior notice. And man, I hate tickling. HATE IT. I will deck anyone who tries to tickle me.

...I may have a slight problem with comfort zones.

Distractions

Things keeping me from focusing on my pending Psych 110 Final (t-minus twelve hours):
1. Chess. Owning a hamster is too much fun! We frolicked on my bed and I gave her a new toy. It's a Nut Knot Nibbler; basically it's a tangle of mini-Lincoln Logs with a nut in the middle. She's supposed to chew through to get to the nut. I figured she needs to start working to get to her food (girl is going from PHAT to FAT), but she took one look at the Nibbler and walked straight for her food bowl. Curses, foiled again!

2. Seanbaby.com. I'm not linking this because I want to save you from my fate. Damn you Mike Golamco! Damn you and your random facts about Hostess fruit pies! Damn you for telling me about this during Finals Week! ARRRRGH!!!! Too...entertaining.... Must... close... browser.......

3. Carol. I haven't seen said roommate in about two months (excluding the show, which she always faithfully attends), so we're catching up BIG TIME. Of course, this involves plenty of talking and eating and tea-making and Friends reruns watching.

4. My apartment. What with the rehearsals, the show, banquets, beach day, work, and finals studying, the past few weeks has me coming into my apartment just to change and drop shit off. I took a good look at my place today and saw the biggest mess my apartment has ever been in since the last time Eric visited. (He's a pig.) My fingers ITCHED. I really, really, REALLY wanted to clean the apartment. I humored myself by doing laundry and going through my loose papers (you know, to throw away the unimportant stuff such as old receipts, bruinwalk flyers, the communist manifesto).

5. This blog. It never fails. Any time I have a deadline or an exam, I find myself doing this exhaustive posts that probably no one will read all the way through just because I can't seem to bring myself to do what I need to do.
....
Um, yeah. I uh, I should go study for that final, huh?

Ten weeks in ten sentences.

LCC was pretty amazing this quarter. I loved the script I was working with, thanks to this guy, and I loved my cast:


They did such a great job. If you didn't get to see them in action, or didn't get it the first time around, here it is again.

It was my last quarter with LCC, so Janet played my substitute boyfriend and got me a flower. Here I am basking in the glow of her love:


Our theme for banquet was "Game Characters vs. Film Noir." Here are two of the five people who dressed up as film noir:


Here are the people who joined the group the same time I did. I love these guys so much, I would walk on fire for them.


There were so many things that happened during my time with LCC and I am so sad that I wasn't able to chronicle every moment. I really can't imagine UCLA without the people that I met through this group and really grew to love. I can honestly look back on my time in college and say "That was the best four years of my life" and my LCC pals really had a lot to do with that. Thanks for the memories guys.

I hate blogger.com

So there have been a lack of posts because Blogger somehow manages to fuck up whenever I am trying to post an entry or add pictures to an entry. Believe you me, stuff has been happening in my life that I want to chronicle: my last Mentorship event of the year, my last LCC Show, banquets, new roommates, graduation. I am frustrated, to say the least. Hopefully Blogger doesn't fuck this post up too.

Damn you blogspot! Damn you!

Entropy.

Creativity is almost never as good executed as it is in your head, unformulated. Someone once told me, "I have this awesome idea for a story, but I don't want to tell anyone because i can't do it justice right now." I think that it probably has something to do with entropy.

I'm not very good at explaining things like this (I took Physics 10, aka "Physics for Poets"), but I'll try to give this some context. I apologize if I offend any Physics (PhySUCKS) fans out there. From what I understand, when you're doing something, and it takes energy to do it, entropy is the stuff that you can't use to do what you want to do. It's increasing inefficiency. According to the second law of thermodynamics, entropy is always increasing within an isolated system.

Well, I figure that an idea, that perfect idea, is in this little isolated system in your head. When you want to write, this idea has to get from your head to paper. Your vision has to go through a series of transformations before it can be realized, and everytime it undergoes a transformation, from this vision of perfect clarity to your outline to your dialogue, to agonizing over every word to get the tone *just* right, your idea gets a litle muddled. It gets a lttle chaotic. Suddenly everything isn't as crystal as you thought it was. When it's done, maybe you're a little let down that the execution of this awesome thing brewing in your head wasn't as you pictured it.

Often what I see in my head doesn't translate as well onto paper. Hell, this post looked a lot better in my head ( I was more coherent, and WAY more knowledgeable about physics), but that doesn't mean it's bad. It's just different. The work that you put out is imperfect. It's been affected by your experiences, your moods, the people you surround yourself with. It was influenced by the egg you had for breakfast and the bum you saw on the way to work. This thing, this physical manifestation of your thoughts may be flawed, but within its flaws is something beautiful.

So yeah, entropy rocks.

Oh, and the german word for poison is Gift. Effin' Germans, man.

Dancing.

I think giving up dance was one of the biggest regrets of my life.

I started dancing really late, age twelve or thirteen. Before, I was a proud tomboy, and shunned dance as a pansy sissy past time. I went to a middle school that had a huge emphasis on performance arts, but I requested a PE class instead of the Pre-IB Dance Class. Somehow, I got bullied into going to an audition by my one friend in seventh grade. Even back then, when I had this wannabe tough gal persona, dance was so easy to fall into.

I remember the first time I danced. It was an afro-haitian fertility dance, lots of body isolations and rhythmic stomping and feeling the percussion through to my bones. Man, it was an awesome feeling. It was like crack cocaine. I wanted more! Give me afro and Irish! Lyrical and tap! Modern and swing! I didn't touch ballet though, because ballet is intimidating. Ballet is all rules. Ballet is for girls who took classes from age three, not someone who got in so late that she lost all her flexibility (to this day, I can't do the splits). Ballet girls scared me.

They still scare me.

Yeah, I wish I stuck with dance. I wish my mom enrolled me in baby ballet, I wish I wasn't such a stubborn boy-girl. I wish I could see my old friend from seventh grade, and tell her thank you. Maybe I can go back in time and tell myself young self to stick with it, even if what's-her-face is sniggering at my arabesque. And then I'd go and kick what's-her-face in the fork. I wish, I wish, I wish.
...
Well, one of my wishes is coming true. BEST SHOW EVER COMING BACK ON FOX. Tune in!

Get your shit together, BROTHER!

There is a very real chance that I may not pass all my classes this quarter. This is bad, because that means I don't graduate and I bought a cap and gown and special grown up clothes (a hat that says "grown up") all for nothing.

Got a new phone! Yay! Same phone number! Double yay! Unexpected financial expenditures!?! Boo!

Getting life back on track feels subtley good.
**************
I'm a big fan of that show on vh1, the one with Hulk Hogan and his family. He's so cool! Really strong, but mellow and an all around good guy. He reminds me of really strong, mellow good guy Mr. Knudsen, my old biology teacher. I don't really think of him as The Hulk anymore; in my head, I call him my friend Terry. Today, Terry realizes that he's too old for wrestling and that selling energy drinks may be a more lucrative creative outlet. Good for you Terry, good for you.

Making things work.

I have an addiction to trashy blogs. Seriously trashy. I love celebritiy gossip blogs and fashion blogs and he-said-she-said blogs. I often waste hours reading these things instead of updating my own. Here are some of my favorites:
Bryanboy
Go Fug Yourself
Hollywood Tuna
Highly addictive!
I've been trying to figure out what makes these completey different blogs so entertaining, so that I can apply them to my blog. Here are some things I've noted:
-Pictures. I need more pictures. Preferably of skinny blonde girls and things/people I can make fun of.
-Links. I need to link more often to dumb news stories, gay people blogs (for some reason gay people have the BEST blogs. I LOVE reading them), and funny pictures. I should be as link friendly as Fark.
-Disdain. I need to be really mean. But funny "Oh my god you're wearing last week's Fendi and it's not even cute young Fendi it's old used to like Chanel but can't afford it now Fendi." Right now my funny is at a "Your mom" level. Must up the catty in my funny.
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My phone died. Like, literally. I was crossing the street and the phone fell out of my pocket. Before I had a chance to run back and get it, a car hit it and smashed it to pieces. Then a truck came by and smashed the pieces into tear sized shreds. Once again, I will be very difficult to contact until I get this resolved.
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My Thursday exame is not actually a Thursday exam; apparently it's a Tuesday exam. In other words, shit is hitting the fan RIGHT NOW.

Catching up.

I am the most awkward phone person in the world. I hate hate HATE talking on the phone. I'm just no good at it. The awkward pauses, the telephone hum in the background, the "ums" and "ahs" as you try to think of something, something, ANYTHING to say is worst than a visit to the dentist.

So it's a very special person who can keep me on the phone for thirty minutes at a time and leave me thinking, "Thank goodness they called."

Religious stakes.

"I call your Virgin-Mary-burned-into-a-slice-of-toast and raise you a koranic-verse-embedded-in-tuna-scales."

As a passively amused (and Buddhist) observer, I often have many questions for my God-loving friends. Why do they love him so much? How does He improve their day-to-day lives? And why does he keep leaving signs of himself all over the place? Is he trying to teach his flock about everyday miracles, or is he just a lazy deity who won't pick up after himself and thus leaves vaguely religious residue all over the place? Maybe he's too lazy to do real miracles, like making the earth stand still. I can't blame the guy. After millennia in the same profession, he's bound to want to slack off a bit. I think maybe I'm thinking about this too much like a Buddhist.

...God needs a vacation.

New things I have learned.

-Adam Baldwin of Firefly fame? NOT a Baldwin brother, despite the name.

-Trying something new means risking falling flat on your face.

-Loss of visual acuity may be due to diabetes. Get checked NOW, especially if it runs in your family.

-Baby rabbits are called kits. Bunny is just a cutesy nickname for rabbit.

-Bravery is putting your feet back in the water, especially if you know there are alligators waiting, they've already got one of your toes, and you're scared as a Mcdonald's hamburger on 29 cent Wednesdays (does anyone else remember that promotion?).

-I am not brave. Not yet.

Newsie Shoesies.

What is wrong with these shoes? I mean, sure, they're a little dirty, a bit scruffy, they may have seen better days. But serviceable, right? That's what I thought. These are my favorite shoes in the whole world. I wear them almost every day to almost every occasion.

I guess that may have led to their faster-than-regular wear and tear. I mean, sure I wear them to class, to work, to clubs, in the rain, on the beach, while fighting crime, etc. They're easy to slip on and off, they're comfy, and they're so cute! But come on, does it really explain this?








Boo.

I'm so sad. I have to find a new favorite pair of shoes now.

Wheels.

I recently got myself one of those wheeled carts. You know, those carts that blue-haired women fill with leafy greens and daisies at the Sunday Farmer's Market. Those big black carts with cushioned handles and a wide turn radius. I'm going to trick mine out with spikes and a troll doll.

I got a new back pack too, also wheeled. It's gray and orange. I'm trying to find a picture of it, but it seems to be a discontinued color. This makes my bag twice as cool. I now understand why some pianists prefer classic ivory keys and why my dad finds turtle meat so delicious.

I need to find a third wheeled item, so that my wheeling trifecta is complete.... Chess would look awesome in one of these:

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.