Directions from a Stranger

pushymushy @ 2007-09-16T16:59:00

2007-09-17T00:01:19Z

"In LA, I'm twice the size- height and everything else- of most of the other actresses who are going for an audition." - Keira Knightley

Scaringly, it's plausible...

Victimizer [a poem i found in my journal, but was not written in my writing: weird]

2007-09-03T04:38:50Z

I try to keep her emotions in control
because otherwise she doesn't understand
the pain she inflicts.
She can't think for two,
even though she tries it doesn't help;
she's a victimizer
that can't look inside
and see we're both at fault.

I try to keep her from thinking
too much because she tends to anaylyze us.
She manipulates us
and makes breathing tougher than it is.

She likes the attention
I can't give.
She likes the way strangers
will call her beautiful
and stare, and make her a beauty queen.
And she doesn't notice
the times I've complimented.

Do I really take her for granted?

She called me up one day
and told me I'm no fun.
She victimizes herself and
makes me feel ashamed.

Do I really take her for granted?

pushymushy @ 2007-08-15T04:19:00

2007-08-15T11:33:53Z

I was attempting to cheer up a friend the other day online. You know, browsing through the auction house trying to find the right gift to put a smile on his face when he logged on to find more random junk mail from me.

Anyhow, as I was doing this I couldn't help thinking, "If only I was able to put my signature on the present so he'd know it's from me and not throw it away later on in the future." When it hit, like dejav, I've done this before.

I must have been scurrying about for nearly six hours during that time when I had tried to engrave my name onto some momento for my crush/boyfriend at the time.
It ended, however, after the 500th or so candy heart I had tried making and failed to get my name attached to the item.
But, I believe what really devastated me was after sending the candy heart to that recipient and had let myself go knocked out on my bed for a good ten plus hours to then logging back onto the mmo and getting a brief "thanks for the treat" comment, I was told these exact words, "I ran out of bag space so I ate your heart."

You just did what?!

Which resulted in him typing out an explanation that sounded cliche, yet corny as I sat there smiling to his excuse.
He ate my heart present so that he'd be certain he always had it.

Corny? Highly.
Did I fall for it? Very.

-----
I never did find a good enough present for my friend. Instead, I was visited by an old memory and realized history repeats itself too damn much.
Yet at the same time, I don't mind it as much as I thought I would have.

pushymushy @ 2007-07-04T20:17:00

2007-07-05T03:19:44Z

Happy 4th of July!

breaking news of the day

2007-06-30T16:39:05Z

"Winfrey had her DNA tested for the 2006 PBS program African American Lives. The genetic test determined that her maternal line originated among the Kpelle ethnic group, in the area that today is Liberia. Her genetic make up was determined to be 89% Sub-Saharan African. She is part Native American (about 8% according to the test) and East Asian (about 3% according to the test)."

pushymushy @ 2007-06-26T07:28:00

2007-06-26T14:38:11Z

So I was in the kitchen raiding the fridge when I found myself rubbing my tummy. And rub, rub, rub, I went when it occurred: my abdomen is shaped oddly.

I'm not sure if it's considered "well-fit" as though I work out or not (for some reason it concaves... is that the right term? Where it curves in?)
Either way, I was mystified by this discovery as my mom came behind me and greeted me with a warm, "Morning."

I smiled. Then reached in for my (MACHO!!!) shredded beef burrito. (For all you non-SoCal-ers.... Del Taco > Taco Bell.)

My workout plan: play WoW like there's no tomorrow.

pushymushy @ 2007-06-11T05:57:00

2007-06-11T13:05:11Z

I have a tendency of sleeping odd hours.
I'd like to say it's due to the fact that I pull a lot of "all-nighters", but I don't know. I think there's been a lot on my mind lately (or the past year). Enough, I guess, to make me act the way I do.

It was during my usual sleep/stay-awake habits of sitting before my laptop clicking away that I was greeted into the blissful hours of wee morning by a chirping bird.
I didn't think much of it but then the chirping persisted and before I knew it, I could hear a frustration stir in the air before a Bang! rang out and temporarily silenced the calm.

Did I think what happened just happened? I asked myself, sitting there sipping my cup of coffee.
Naw.... no way....

Five minutes later the happy chirping continued and a few seconds after, another gunshot ensued.
This time, however, no chirping retorted the metal clang.

Of course, I just sat there sipping my cup of coffee. No way would someone in Westwood, Los Angeles, dare to pull out a gun and shoot our pesky neighborhood birds. There's just no way LA people would hate nature that much!

pushymushy @ 2007-06-09T04:58:00

2007-06-09T11:59:34Z

Home.

pushymushy @ 2007-06-01T07:11:00

2007-06-01T14:14:46Z

I keep telling myself my pet's alive, but I know all too well she's dead.
Nor am I able to take her corpse out of the tank. I guess I didn't realize how much she meant until I had to actually get rid of her.

I keep telling myself she switched shells, and maybe lying to myself is enough to save myself.

What else have I been oblivious to, to save myself from facing the truth?

I couldn't resist it, I just hope I did the idea justice hehe

2007-05-18T08:45:54Z

What I'd Like to Do This Summer

2007-05-18T02:15:01Z

Is to go fishing in the Santa Ana (River) stream that runs through my hometown.

I'm thinking a walking stick with some fishing line I manage to scourge down at the Ace Hardware.
Maybe, just maybe, I might even dig up some worms along the way to see what I can catch down in the stream. I know there's a ton of frogs.

Maybe even some land crabs. But I do hope there's some fishies. Because really, what's fishing without fish? oO

To Do for Week 5:

2007-05-08T21:58:18Z

Finish Henry V.
Finish some of my Swift readings.
Study for the Thai midterm.
Study for my AO Sci 1 midterm.
Do my lab report.
Do my science homework.
Play WoW.
Eat.
Write out a chapter for SoT.
Go visit my counselor on Friday, and any other day she schedules.
Go to work.
Sleep.
Call home for mom's birthday (buy mom a present...)
Eat.
Sleep.
Wake-up.
Make sure it's fifith week of school still.

pushymushy @ 2007-05-02T22:37:00

2007-05-03T05:46:45Z

If there's one thing I want to do, it's to do something exciting.

Maybe not exactly life threatening, but something spontaneous enough and unique enough that if I were to recount it to a friend I'd get a nod of approval.
That's how yesterday went. I finally found something out of the norm of my life to do. It didn't involve spending money. It actually involved earning money.

You see, every evening while bussing tables, I always come across a half-read Wall Street Journal. And always, I remember to fold it into a quarter and place it in the recycling bin. But this particular evening, after much thought, I found myself gazing at one of my favorite customers as he was drinking his single-shot, non-fat latte on the stool that overlooked to the parking structure.
He was reading... a Wall Street Journal!

And since I've always enjoyed reading the short articles on the front page (due to reading them daily for my eighth grade English class), I walked over and snatched the paper for keeps after he left.

Excitement of the Story: I have now figured a way to be up-to-date on my WSJ by taking the leftovers from that particular business student who seems to enjoy his lattes at our cafe. Also, isn't it fun to see what others find interesting in a paper? I notice he doesn't write or make notes on the paper. It's always crisp and new, despite having been opened.
Not even a drop of coffee on the papers ever either! :O

Because She Said So

2007-04-29T08:04:29Z

Every Sunday, instead of going into the confinements of a religious organization, I use to always dig around in my jean pockets until I mustered up a quarter for the bus fare down to Santa Monica.

I use to read there a lot.
Order myself a cup of coffee at the Starbucks; despite not really being a big fan of the general Starbucks, just this one on Third Street. Then find myself a stool along the bare open shop windows that overlooked the street that lead to the Pacific.

I remember one particular day, while reading Age of Innocence, that a peculiar woman had decided to sit down beside me. She had peppered hair, but a face that was strangely free of wrinkles. Considering, heh, that she must have well been over sixty. Perhaps even verging near her seven-O years.

I carefully turned the pages and tried to make myself scarce. Really not wanting to engage myself in strangers and their business. But this particular woman had a way of entrancing her audience so much that before I knew it, I was sitting cross-legged facing her. All the while sipping on my cup of coffee with an open book in my lap.
We chatted about a many things. Ranging from her family to her current situation: she was searching for a roommate. She also had a job as a ... therapist of a sort. If, I may say that.

We ended up exchanging addresses. Or, rather, I ended up finding myself holding a torn page of a newspaper -- an advertisement she had carefully selected earlier that morning and torn off to remind herself in the future of its purpose.
I sat there, a bit at awe, as I watched her walk away.

She wasn't the typical granny who swaggered as she walked or needed a carrying cane.
She had an odd way of carrying herself that made one want to simply watch. Be amazed at the strength of her as she walked out and did not ever turn around back to the audience.

I sat up straight. Before leaving, she had noticed I was a sloucher. And in our quick friendship she had gotten off her seat, and stood directly behind my unsuspecting self.
She pressed her fingers upon my back, and I never quite understood it but in those precise seconds that took place I felt a part of me that changed and noted how tense I always was in the presence of others.
She pressed her fingers into my back and a smile rang through her voice, "See, doesn't it feel better?"

One Damn Thing You Need to Know

2007-04-24T06:23:46Z

If there's one thing you must know about Westwood Village (by UCLA), it's where to locate a damn, good bar.

That's all. Nothing else. You know where to find one bar and your navigation advising is set. (Because of all the things people have ever stopped me on the streets is to ask, "Where can I find a good place to chill outside and drink beer?"

"The hookah bar. See the Fox tower? It's right by there; on Westwood," I'll add quickly before tucking my hands into my jeans then walking off.

She Must Be Pregnant and He Must Be Dead ....By Now

2007-04-22T22:43:32Z

My first paid job was at the age of six.
I was busily picking flowers from the tall bushes you'd see lining the I-10, but in this case it was lining the narrow pathway toward the local elementary school. My best friend, who seemed to change weekly, was standing beside me as I strung the petals into a necklace. The two of use were laughing as we began to exchange the picked flowers, thus changing our lacing patterns.
It was while we were busy threading the petals and trying not to get our fingers pricked from the needle, that our neighbor approached.

"Would you girls like an important job?" the elder man croaked out and stopped the two of us in our tracks. We merely looked up, with big eyes, at the aging black man before us. His clothes emitting a faint charcoalish, yet tobaccoish scent as he moved in closer to then stopping and reaching to his back pocket with his right hand.

Slowly, he pulled out two crisp dollar bills and handed of us each one -- as though we had agreed to the job before even answering.
"You see," he began. "I have to go get milk for the cats. But," he stopped, just as the purring and meowing of the stray felines echoed their earlier introduction. "My wife isn't feeling very well, but I don't want to leave her alone but," he sighed. "I also need to feed the cats. So I need to go down to the shop and pick up some milk for them. You girls will watch over my house while I'm gone, right?" he asked, giving us a small smile as we went from unsure faces to smiley expressions.

I nodded, and my friend turned to me then back and nodded as excitedly. The way children do naively.

It's been almost fifteen years since then. It kind of makes me chuckle to think of the value a dollar has nowadays. I faintly remember after successfully house-sitting that afternoon, that my friend and I had waited for the ice cream truck to drive by around the three-to-four o'clock late-afternoon shifts.
We had already planned out what values a dollar would get us. And to think we had two dollars. The idea caused us to be ecstatic.

At the end, we were sitting behind my garage, on the abandoned trailer thing. It must have been five by then. The sun having made its way to the far east, and the two of us sat with our legs dangling in the air as we counted the popper rocks we had bought, and the parachute army men the ice cream woman had given us as a bonus to our other treasures. There was the Ring Pop, and the FunDip, and Boston Baked Beans, and then the assortment of bubble gums we had managed to choose to make out to be fifty cents worth.

And all the while we sat with ice cream Torpedos in our free hands. The two of us each licking our own frozen treat as we talked over our little adventures and garland-makings.

Sometimes, sometimes when I think back I wonder how everyone's doing now.
I somehow managed to get out of life unscathed. Or, compared to my peers from that small neighborhood, I didn't have to face the troubles they did.
Sometimes, sometimes I wonder how changes are made so that a child eating a popsicle with no worries can be somewhere now having a child reliving the childhood she once had but at such a tender age. I wonder, yet am glad it wasn't me.

pushymushy @ 2007-04-21T21:35:00

2007-04-22T04:41:35Z

The other day I bought a toilet cleaner. It was one of those blue tablets you left sitting in the tank for months so that miracuously it would "clean the bowl."

How it'd clean the bowl was another matter, but it's been there for two weeks now. Perhaps three, but I've always been bad at counting.
And so while I was ready to flush the toilet today, the thought just hit, "That's a beautiful blue." In the bowl.

Somehow, I had managed to create a light blue. Barely showing any signs of green. Untainted by the yellow of dehydration. It was magnificient, had I not let the thought finish itself: That's my piss in there.

And so I stood, fingers on the flush dial, paused by the hue in the bowl.

I'm not as dehydrated as I thought, I guess.

"It Felt So Safe to Be Awoken By Mother"

2007-04-20T17:48:52Z

I was turned toward the wall.
Things were a little hazy; likely the effect of the shift between consciousness and being unconscious. Reality fading in and out as I lay there trying to decipher between what was happening and what I was feeling.

I could feel the trickle, tickling upon the nape of my neck. The fingers that slowly made their way through the loose strands of hair, to then breathing and whispering slow coherent words into my ears.

"Your friend is dead." The words kept trickling in, the fingers warm against me.

"Your friend is dead," she repeated. The words not hitting home as I could feel the fingers gently massage my scalp with each tress of hair that fell against my pillow.

As usual, I couldn't turn to direct my own voice out. Rather, I watched nonchantly from above. The omniscient eye that traced out the silhouette of the woman sitting at the edge of my dorm bed. Her voice comforting. Her touch warming, and careful as she blew warm gusts into my hair and slowly mangled the strands into stresses and knots and left me to wonder what the matter was.

I soon after awoke. The message hazy in mind as I thought of the words, the feelings evoked, and the last face I saw before my eyes flew open.
Your friend is dead.
The fingers then slowly wrapped strands and inbetween the draperies of my knots she blew warm breaths that left me falling deeper into the haze of sleep.

My friend's face appeared and the message left its eerieness only to my coherent mind as the image analyzed related itself immediately to the dream. And I awoke, unable to determine the scene passed was reality or nightmare.
Only the reminder that it was so sweet to see mother once again.

pushymushy @ 2007-04-20T10:04:00

2007-04-20T17:25:22Z

"Testerone comment."

If I recalled correctly, homosexuals have relatively more, if not the same amount of, testerones compared to other males.

p.s. I think the internet has just blinded me with an obscene STD picture after I was MSN picturing searching Kate Beckinsale (after seeing some movie clip about Vacancy). I advice you to not do the same thing then scroll down to the very bottom of the list of photos... your sight will never be the same T.T

pushymushy @ 2007-04-18T20:40:00

2007-04-19T03:47:54Z

Coffee.
Yes, the thing you drink to get caffeinated and ready in the morning (or night, for some of you psycho, studious kids out there :P), is quite useful in many ways on lone walks home (and around dark alleys... not that you should even be walking down dark alleys alone, late at night :P)

So as I was walking home from work, with a cup of hot tea in hand, it hit that if I was ever in need of defending myself all I had to do was open the lid and splash some hot water onto the predator and wala!
......................... I am saved. Or temporarily, as the burns will soon catch up and my attacker will be Ow! owwing as I manage to escape :D :D

pushymushy @ 2007-04-18T01:01:00

2007-04-18T08:03:45Z

Tina has just brought to my attention that Friday.. is 4/20.

And I'm to hang out this weekend with her haha!

in reference to an entry i posted not too long ago

2007-04-04T01:21:58Z

Let me tell you, two hours of class is a long, long time. That didn't stop me from attending both my lectures today, however. But then again, it is first week so I shouldn't be slacking and ditching classes too soon also.

But what's gotten me excited currently is that awhile back I had posted an entry regarding customers tipping me at work, etc etc. As it turns out, today went off to a good start at work. Or, I guess better yet: it's going to be an aspiring Spring Quarter this year. I say this because not only was I personally tipped for making a milkshake (I don't suppose I even make proper milkshakes, just that I take a long time trying to make drinks...)
It was one of those, "No, don't put it in the cup" kind of things. To which I want to say, there needs to be more customers like this. Ones who admonish me for trying to put the tips into the tip box, but simply to pocket it all myself.
Which brings me to another question at hand, am I to be blamed for this if a customer demands I pocket their tips?

Hmmm... I will contemplate this matter as I finish this burrito.

pushymushy @ 2007-04-03T13:06:00

2007-04-03T20:18:21Z

In an attempt to entertain his A&O Sci 1 students, Professor "M" gave the analogy of the ozone makeup.

"You see, oxygen is a happy molecule. It is like a married couple: there is two of them and they mind their own business. Things are good. The world is good. But then..." he trails then looks around the room suspiciously.

"When another oxygen comes along... and," he stops and waits to catch our attention again. "Another comes along and joins our happy little couple, trouble starts and so the once happy o2 becomes o3. Or, if you'd like to imagine, picture an Angelina Jolie appearing and you will see why." He slowly fumbles and mumbles into his mic as the class bursts into unsure laughter.

Supposedly, if I ever need to remember what's wrong with the ozone layer I'm suppose to think that when there's too many Angelina-Jolie-lookalike threesome couples then it hits that too many causes too much trouble. Or, there's an imbalance in the couple system when every couple has no monogamy. (We can't have too many three-paired couples! :O)

BTW: yes, my professor has an accent. So reread what I quoted (or tried to) with one! :P

pushymushy @ 2007-03-25T23:48:00

2007-03-26T06:51:34Z

[After a long movie marathon...]

I'd like to admit I have a fictitional crush on Mr.Darcy.
Yes, how lame am I? *gush*gush*

The Things That Go Through My Mind

2007-03-17T00:47:47Z

It was 10:45 and I was barely in front of the sixth floor elevator of my apartment complex. Getting to class already took twenty minutes so I knew that no matter how fast I walked -- I'd still be late.

I was trying not to worry too much about running late to class when from behind me I could trace out two voices.
A female's and a male's.

And when I turned around, the first thought that came to mind was: This girl has a really squeaky voice.
The second was, Wth is wrong with her hair?
Third: Did these two just have sex?
Fourth (As she's putting her arms around him possessively): That must have been some horrible sex or something... her hair's all dry and nasty... it's not even the hawt-sex-hair...

Yea. I know. The things that run through my mind...