I'm attempting to start a Flickr, hopefully it goes well.

Stop on by:

Flickr: SydneyT22

Cross me baby

I'm restarting my PostCrossing.

I'm ecstatic about it! I'll make my blog my home base. exciiiiited!

From when I last did this (before I moved back home) I had 16 postcards. It was hard for me to pick a few as favorites because when I went back to look at them, they all had different quirks that I loved. Some for the message they wrote to me, others the picture on the backs, and still others for their really awesome stamps.

Here's a select few:

 

This had a message I particularly liked: I envisioned her and her husband walking along the river Elbe, hand in hand, going to the movies, and watching the ships go by.Picturesque and wonderful. Also to note: the stamps are what looks to be a tree in the snow and a city/town street at dusk.

This is one of the first that I received. I like how the picture/moment captured in this card is "historical." Love it. And note the funny cartoon stamp.

Not only is this one from Cambodia (the most "exotic" place I've received from so far), but there is an elephant for a stamp. A beautiful picture, a fun little tidbit about this person's reading circle they lead. 

This one is by far the most impressive one I've received. That library is utterly stunning and I'm absolutely in awe of it. Not only that but this girl's writing is immaculate. And the placement of the snowflake sticker is 10 points all around. She seems like a very sweet girl.

When I received these it was last December/January so almost all of them talk about the snow or the cold and wish me better weather in sunshine california. 

See how fun it is? I'm so excited to pick it back up again. I'm sending 5 postcards today and so, pretty soon, I'll start receiving them again too!!

To see more of the postcards I've received look at My PostCrossing Wall!

A Little Shout Out

I'm gonna go out on a limb and admit that I know I have a very small handful of readers. So I'm gonna say, "Hi! Welcome to my usually self-convoluted life as I try to a little to grow up." Thanks for coming around. It's nice to see that even one or two people take a peek. I try to keep it not so boring (try! not always succeed). I especially like to see the variance in everyone's location!

If you're secretly lurking in those shadows, go ahead, leave a comment or if you have a blogger, follow me and I can even follow you back!

I know blogs aren't social networking sites like Myspace or facebook, so I don't want or need comments or wall posts like it is.

But just cause I want to get to know you a little bit (cause you know so much about me!)

Here's a conversation starter:

Where're you from? How Old? What's your favorite movie? Why is it your favorite movie? What do you really think I should be when I grow up? What do you want to be? (or already are). How many coins can you fit in your bellybutton? and/or have any tattoos?

Pieces

To begin this entry I should begin with the explanation that I'm a little bit on the pessimistic side, if you haven't noticed. A bit of a downer. It happens. It's pretty much naturally my personality no matter how hard I try to fight it.

But sometimes I admit that there are bits of that part of me that affect my life in a good way. Here is one of them:

I put a lot of importance in the people I know. Even people I very casually know. If they are apart of my life, in any small positive way, I'm so grateful for it because I feel like there is so much not good out there.

On top of being slightly pessimistic I am also incredibly sentimental. This makes for an interesting combination. I think bad things but I'm very emotional towards the good.

So often times, I can meet a person even just once, and I have this overwhelming desire to stop, look them in the eye, and say, "Thank you for being here in my life. From the bottom of my heart. And we may never see each other again, but for a brief moment I loved you in my life and I hope you have a wonderful rest of yours." This is quite dramatic, I realize and have never actually done it. But those exact words stream through my mind like I really should say them.

On a bad day someone will give me the right of way and let me cross the street, and it makes my heart bleed with sentimentality. A lady lets me cut in front of her in line at a supermarket because I only have one item. Generally considerate people sometimes really affect me.

And even casual but more usual encounters. For instance, where we've lived we've never had good neighbors. We've had neighbors who hated us, or ones that gave us the cold shoulder. I can honestly say that I've never lived anywhere that REALLY felt like a small community I was apart of. But my family used to have a house in Hawaii. And the neighbors there were absolutely wonderful. All the kids played out in teh cul-de-sac at a certain time, we were invited to dinners and barbeques. And even when I wasn't there, they were SO nice to my sister (checking in with her if the power went out cause she lived alone, or inviting her to dinner so she wasn't lonely, or asking if she wanted to come to their kids school events so she could have a quasi-family) I felt like they were just wonderful, welcome, friendly, open-hearted people. And when we sold the house, even though *I* never interacted with them THAT much, they were such sweet good people that in my head I felt not only sorrow in saying goodbye but that urge came up once again. "I'm sorry we have to say goodbye, but I am so grateful for the moments you were apart of my life, you made it better and I hope you have a great rest of your life."

Now to finally get to the point of this entire entry:

My family has been frequenting a thai restaurant in Half Moon Bay for quite awhile. Quite a loooonnng while. (My only peice of community I've belonged to, practically). I guess my earliest memories of us eating there are when I was around 8 or 9. They had all these crazy thai statues and figurines and wall decorations and because the restaurant was usually pretty empty I could wander around looking at all of them. And if you didn't know, my parents are very gregarious people. My dad, with his natural salesman personality, can make friends and talk business with just about anyone. Given that there isn't exactly a large asian community in half moon bay, they became quick acquaintances. Especially when later added filipino (and even thai) titles of respect and/or affection. Something like grandpa or uncle, I guess. So even while I grew up and the restaurant changed locations, it was something I was just around often. We'd go in and I'd put his hand to my forehead as a sign of respect and daze off in my own kid-like way.

As I grew older and I started going to restaurants without my parents there was still a certain amount of familiarty there. He would come say hello, ask about my parents, place his hand on my head, and in an almost strange way he'd pet my head. He was basically just a really friendly old guy, who was barely coherent when he talked quietly, shuffled around the restaurant, and constantly asked after my various sisters, brothers, and parents.

Not to be decieving, the relationship wasn't intimate or anything. He wasn't like an ACTUAL grandfather or anything. I have a soft spot for old men (in a non creepy way), he knew my order, I've heard him joke about thai transexuals that are sexy but also really hard ass boxers, and that's about it. He has at least two daughters, Vy and Dolly that work the restaurant. He's got a wife that isn't as friendly as him but is really nice to my mom specifically. He gives my little sister hugs when he sees her. And I guess in some small way he has watched me grow up. We first started going there when I was around 8, and about 4 years ago I started going at least once a month. I mean, when I say I'm a regular there, I'm REALLY regular there.

Now onto the news!

I hadn't been in in a couple of weeks, and when I was he suddenly wasn't there. His absence in the restaurant utterly alarmed me. I don't think I've ever been there and he just wasn't there. Also to note: there are stray cats that usually hang around for cat food he puts out for them. (it's it's own kind of sweet). They were gone too. There was no dish of food or strange cat eyes peering out from under cars. There were no sign of the cats either. It gave me a bad feeling. So I ask his wife while paying, "Oh, anon (sp?) isn't here? Is he ok?" She assures me that everything is good and asks after my mom. I told you she was less friendly. Curt, if anything.

I tell Adam, "He isn't here. Something is wrong. What if he's sick in the hospital?! or DEAD?!" (There goes that pessimism) He tells me I'm being crazy, which is a usual thing for me. I think everyone I haven't seen in a couple of days or doesn't pick up when I call is sick or dead.

A week goes by and tonight I go in with Adam and my little sister for dinner. Lo and behold, there he is. And I breathe a sigh of relief, but not without whispering to Adam, "see, I told you something is wrong with him, he's dressed casual." THis may seem like a rude comment but he's usually looking pretty nice. I chalk it up to an older generation (especially older immigrant) that place importance on always looking your best. (Who doesn't know or has heard of some old man who refuses to ever be seen in anything but a pristine and well ironed outfit? A suit or at least a dress shirt). But there he was, in casual wear. A cotton polo, a windbreaker jacket, nondescript pants.

So when he comes by for our usual pleasantries I mention that I didn't see him when we were last there. I don't push. And he tells us that he's been in the hospital/sick for THREE months. He keeps making this really creepy motion with his hand like a line from his collarbone to the bottom of his ribs. A gesture similar to when someone makes the neck slitting gesture when they're trying to indicate that you're dead meat or something, but he does this over his heart. At least once or twice.

And we can barely make out what he's saying EXACTLY but it's something like he quit smoking 20 years ago but he did it too much. He smoke and drank too much and it was left in his body even after he quit. And if i do either I should make sure to quit. And to tell my dad to stop smoking and drinking. Because now he is sick because he did it for 20 years, even though he has stopped for 20. He keeps making that sickening heart slitting motion.

I won't lie and say I'm absolutely heart broken. He isn't my father or my grandfather, and I don't think I really know his true personality or anything like that. And I guess he could go home and beat his wife for all I know.

But it's sad anyway. I want to stop him and look him in the eye and say, "You've been a part of my life. I thank you so much for that, I really truly do. And I hope that everything is ok and you get better and you live a long and healthy life. And if I don't have time to say it later, then GoodBye, and thank you, and I want you to know that you were here, you affected me, you are a part of my life."





(I know, I'm such a useless sap.)

More DisneyLand

 

My favorite picture of Adam

Things I have learned:

The scans look better if I just choose all the options in the scanning process as black and white and/or greyscale.

 

I shouldn't leave the shutter open so long or I should learn to use a tripod

Black and white film may never be a good option (cause yes, I know, I know it can just be done digitally) But I feel like it's somehow more forgiving. And it steers me into less cheesy family snapshot territory while also steering me into the more cheesy wanna be artsy territory.

More film explorations to come. I've signed up for a flickr (which I always misspell) but we'll see how long it takes me to actually scan and post these guys.

Film Life

I got my film pictures back! A lot turned out to be really great, while others not so much. I guess that's the fun (and expense) of film.

I've decided that I love my camera, I love using actual film (over digital), and that these pictures inexplicably make me both nervous and happy.

It may take far too long to scan them all in. So here's one before I go out. Hopefully more to come or something...

My drive to home from Santa Cruz

Animation Academy!?!

When we were at Disneyland we managed to catch one of their "Animation Academy" sessions. Which is a huge auditorium, every seat gets a sheet of 11x14 paper (complete with Disney logos) and a pencil and a "cast member" teaches you, in about 10 minutes, how to draw a classic Disney character. So goofy, we did!

The first one is mine. It's really small (especially compared with the paper size) cause when she told us to draw a circle I was somehow convinced we were drawing the nose, not the head. And I was so excited to have a big goofy.

 

Here's Adam's goofy. His, of course, has a lot more style and character than mine.

And last but not least, my favorite of all favorite Disney Pictures, it was so awesome we had to buy the overpriced picture. Adam and I coordinated to make the same face. But half way through I got really motion sick and HAD to close my mouth and could barely muster my smile. And yes, we rode the WHOLE ride with our hands like that, just in case.

 

We give Space Mountain and DisneyLand: FOUR thumbs up.

Also something to note and be grateful for: My date still shows on my blog spots. :sigh: what a luxury.

Slow Show

Here's some disneyland pics that I'll gradually put up.

I took two rolls with The Dreamer which are being developed. Here are some from Adam's Digital. All the cheesy cloud pictures by me. All the ones of him by me. All the ones with me in it by adam. the end.

Also: I'm posting these on Adam's computer. He always complains that he can't seem to format his blogger pics. Apparently on his computer neither can I... (also, that stupid adam and sully picture has apparently popped up twice. I can't get it to go away. I guess it's kind of funny...)

So I'll just go through them in order: 

1. Roadside clouds that I absolutely love
   
2. Objects in mirror are closer than they appear. Side note: It took me at least 12 years of my life to realize that it isn't "Objects in mirror are closer then they appear."
3. The Pantages theatre for the Phantom. It was slightly exciting because I don't think I've ever attended an event that had those crazy spotlights outside that can be seen from really far away. The theatre was spectacular even if we got a little lost finding it and had to change in our cars. The show was enjoyable even if I kind of really love the movie. And it was overall a good time. heart heart love bubbles.
4. We were riding the silly Monsters Inc. ride and it suddenly stopped and broke down! They had to turn on all the lights, come release us from our little chairs, and walk us out. I hope it didn't ruin any of the magic for the young'uns but for Adam and I it was not only hilarious but incredibly cool.
5. Adam, Sully, and Boo hanging out, running through some doors, and trying to save the Monsters world.
6. Adam and Wall-E after our "Animation Academy" drawing class complete with double-sided light saber souvenir.
7. Me in front of the teacups that I love the look of but have never and will never ride due to EXTREME motion sickness and an almost phobic fear of spinning things.
8. My older sister Grace, her roomate vicky, my little sister Emily with a Nemo hat, me, and Adam on our last ride of the night: space mountain

The Runway

Here's something I don't think I get or will ever get: fashion.

I don't think I grasp or understand the idea of something being so last season or so last year or so last minute. I don't think I could eye someone and guess brands or labels or their position on the fashion hierarchy. And I really don't think I get why certain things must be worn for certain parts of the year and not others: like white after labor day or some such.

Maybe I don't get seasons cause I'm such a bay area kinda girl. It's summer in the winter and winter in the summer and there's barely anything of spring or fall.

Here's the things I do get: some things are just downright ugly. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. I was once told by an asshole of a guy that beauty may be in the eyes of the beholder but ugly is universal. While I don't exactly prescribe to this state of philosophy, I will admit, that some things are just really ugly.

But I know more than ugliness it's important to factor in comfort level and attitude. In my mind there is no other word that "Rocking It." Ok, that's two words but it's one sentiment.

Once my sister and I were laughing in a shoe store about these really horrendous boots, joking that we should buy them. As we were leaving another woman was entering. We looked in another store, came out, and found ourselves face to face with that same woman, wearing those very same ugly boots. And she was rocking it. She is still, to this day, the epitome of the phrase and of sexiness and confidence. She was wearing a torn, xxl, open backed, tie-dyed cotton shirt that bared her ridiculously flawless, dark skinned backed, super short shorts, and these new absolutely awesome looking brown boots with fur all over them and pom-poms attached to the shoe laces. ugh, even now, just imagining it my jaw drops to the floor. She strut down that city street with a walking stick like a goddamned peacock on parade. That was high fashion to me. If you can walk like a model in crowd wearing exactly what you want, how you want, making a statement and not caring who hears: mad props.

Here are some more things I'm pretty sure I know: Don't wear booty shorts on cold days, stay away from being TOO trendy, colored jeans make me cringe, the 80s should stay there and let the 70s shine like it damn well should, and avoid ever wearing clear heels.

Here's something else: some things are really awesome looking. They just look nice. For me, the things I think look nice are usually randomly stated, don't fit the rest of my wardrobe, are out of my life budget, and make my heart ache.

Do you think it's true that fashion is just another sexist invention by The Man? (haha). Or is it more plausible it's just another way for corporate something or others make us feel bad about ourselves because we can't afford 200 dollar shirts or thousand dollar shoes or shiny bags that make my heart go aflutter? Is the fashion industry similar to the pharmaceutical industry? Workin' on makin' you feel good but more interested in the bang for the buck? (don't get me started on medicine prices!)

or is fashion a natural human nature kind of deal? That humans have been judging, copying, loving, and working on the physical for as long as our brains evolved too big for our bodies?

Oy vey, I'm thinking myself into oblivion. Either way, something that somehow eludes me.

oh well

Picture Imperfect

 

Please tell me why I risked my very life and limb and precious time to take pictures, all by myself, in Davenport, only to realize that like a ding dong I didn't take the lens cap off when I took the last 4 pictures of my film?

Because I'm a ding dong, that's why.

Also: I'm on pagaent overload. Little Miss perfect on wednesdays, Toddlers & Tiaras on tuesdays, and last night a showing of Painted Babies (which I've watched on youtube already).

All about it

My theory on life

Retrogression?

A sad realization I've reached:

My self esteem has reached an all time low. I don't even think I felt this bad about myself in middle school. Everyone hates themselves in middle school. I've always been a little self-deprecating. But I don't think it was ever a problem.

It suddenly is. And more than anything I want to fix it. I don't want to be the immature 22 year old who can't be happy with herself. I don't want to be like so many girls I've seen and known who couldn't care enough about themselves to respect themselves.

I feel like, give me a person, any person, a stranger I don't know, even someone I know (or knew) and hate or dislike. And I can tell you redeeming qualities about them, good qualities about them. I can give them the benefit of the doubt and the leisure of being themselves.

But I can't do that for myself.

This isn't some pathetic attempt to attain compliments. I'm not fishing for them. I could be told a million times that I'm not fat, I'm not stupid, I'm not horribly ugly, I'm not boring, or loserly, or a million other things. And it doesn't sink it. I don't need to be told things,

I need to some how change my very psychological make-up to believe in them. More importantly, to believe in myself without anyone needing to tell me anything.

But I don't know how. I see the problem. I don't know what the solution is.How do you change the way you think about something after 22 years of developing that opinion?

Is this something I shouldn't worry about because I'll outgrow it? Is this something I shouldn't ignore because it's a detrimental problem?

I can honestly say that every day I have a moment of feeling bad about myself. Maybe it's social anxiety, maybe it's mild depression, maybe it's an after effect of heart break, or pain, or society and culture, or my upbringing. I honestly don't know. And I honestly think it's possible it's all of that.

But what do I do?

You've got me

(A pretend song written to the woes of my current state)

Oh, zantac, singulair, and zyrtec.
You lead me on,
keep me going.
pull me in,
pull me in.

Oh baby
i'm hiving so bad
don't you know I need you
don't hide from me
i'm hiving so bad.

So, I was irresponsible and lost my purse
I'm completely sincere when I tell you
the one thing I worry about most
and is giving me a panic attack
is your absence.

Forget about my wallet,
I'll throw it away.
Who cares about my sunglasses,
I'm blind without you.
Forget my eyeliner, lipgloss, various credit cars, and ID,
It's you that's keeping me up nights.


Oh baby
i'm hiving so bad
don't you know I need you
don't hide from me
i'm hiving so bad.
(Repeat 2x)

Missing you
and my throat is closing
missing you
and I can't sleep
Missing you and my stomach is turning
Missing you
and my skin is on fire

Oh medicine cocktail
originally listed for
indoor and outdoor allergies
heartburn/stomach pain and
asthma
But consumed for my raised skin
swollen skin
itching skin.

Chronic Idiopathic Urticaria
has nothing on you
oh savior, lover, reviver.

(Chorus 3x)

Please come back to me...

The SisterHood

Beyond the subject of Disneyland, valentines weekend, and the many shows we went to this weekend, here's an interesting subject: Sisters.

After seeing: Maurine & Norine and following it to The Sister Project I began to think of my sisters.

In my family, with Adam. and even some of my friends, I'm well known for my hardcore twin envy. I'm obsessed with twins. I can't get enough of everything from matching outfits, celebrity twins (Naima on ANTM, ashton kutcher, even elvis! but not the olsens, they scare me.). I've somehow been convinced, much to my parents dismay and my other siblings amusement that I was missing a twin. Often times I'd day dream about my long lost twin and how wonderful it would be. A lot of people tell me it couldn't possibly be that great, having to always compete and be compared. But I'm not a very competitive (I think) or jealous (I know) kind of person.

And just this evening Adam and I were talking about what would happen if I suddenly found out I *did* have a twin. The thought alone made me so happy I blushed. We came to the conclusion, after many hypothetical scenarios, that I would love to have a twin and know her, even if she was horrible and mean, or we didn't get along, or love me, or was a thousand times more wonderful than I am than not have a twin at all. I'd rather know I had a twin and only see her once in my life than not have one. that's how much I want a twin. It's a strange and neurotic and sometimes embarrassing obsession.

But then I began to think that I may not have a twin. But at least I have sisters.

I am both an older and a younger sister. We aren't very close in age (8 yrs apart and 12 yrs apart) but we try to be close. I can honestly say that, while she drives me absolutely crazy, half the time I'm swearing I can't stand her, and for the past several months we haven't been tip top shape, She's still the best bigger sister I think anyone could ask for. She mothered me and took care or me sometimes more than my own mom did.

Here's a funny tidbit: ever since I was 12 or so my older sister has CONTINUALLY denied that she didn't teach me to tie my shoes, or to read, or how to add or multiply and a multitude of other things that I REMEMBERED her teaching me. But she insisted so forcefully and so often that I almost began to doubt myself and my own memories. Only, after a decade of lying, did she finally admit that she did teach them to me: she only lied because she wanted me to feel more independent. Like I did all those things and could do a million others all by myself.

And while, even with such a great example set for me, I find myself struggling to be a good older sister as well. When she was a baby I babysat all summer long, I learned how to use her little asthma machine and administer it while she took a nap once a day. i changed her diapers and I dressed her in tutus. But as she grew up I didn't know how (and honestly still don't) to balance being her teacher and her caretaker with also being her friend. I thought I was more interested in teaching her wrong and right, and what not to do, more than I was interested in just bonding. I guess it's a learning process and we can't all be perfect.

And so, while I lament that I don't have many girlfriends, especially not any close ones, and I have yet to find my long lost twin... I am very grateful that I at least have sisters. (but don't get me started on my brothers. that's a WHOLE other story!)

Maybe I'll eventually talk about the million ways my siblings and I are alike and the million and one ways we're completely opposite from one another. Having such a big family really makes me question: nature or nurture?

Disney Times

first of all: *I* WAS PLAYER ONE!

Just ask Adam, he'll tell you I'm not lying. I did some work on those zurg ass aliens.

Second: I hope everyone had an enjoyable valentines day, mine was awesome.

Third: omfg, this weekend was SO exhausting.

• altogether 17 hours driving/sitting/being in the car. 
• Over 15 hours of straight walking/standing while at disneyland
• Two stage performances watched (outside of disneyland)
• a whole hecka of a lot of fun
• and very little sleep.

We took a LOT of pictures, which will work their way up here. stay tuned

You May Say I'm Just a Dreamer

I got a new camera. This incredibly pretty lomo Diana Dreamer. A mouthful of a name, I know. The colors are so me. It says "dreamer" on the lense.

I know, I know, it's a little trendy for me. And yes, I even had the gall to get it at UO.

But I can't help it. I love it. Yes, I fall in love with products and no matter how hard I try to shake it, I just turn back to it and back to it and back to it. Like the green anthro purse that was leather and was too expensive. and the candy apple green oxford style kate spades. Le sigh. It happens rarely but the draw is undeniable.

Look forward to upcoming pretty pictures.

(Side story: looking through old photographs of my parents as teenager made me fall utterly in love with photography, in general. I've never been one to take many pictures because I felt like it took me outside of whatever was happening. Like taking a step back and removing myself, distancing myself, from action. from life. But seeing the gauzy, low-fi, golden fuzzy pictures of my parents at the beach, with their names written in the sand. It was... utterly breathtaking. I framed those pictures for my parents' christmas gift and vowed that I would one day get a camera from the early 70, late 60s and take photographs that captured that same hazy wonder. This Diana is the next best (and cheapest) thing.)

Epiphanies

Due to my previous "who can read about my life?" freak out I began to read my older blog entries.

And wow, some of those are quite a doozy.

And me, being me, I went to my other-blog. Now that's quite a doozy.

But you know what? Sometimes it's nice to go back to my old stuff, even if it is hard to read and hard to swallow. Because back then, I used to try.

I used to be so open-heart-on-my-sleeve kind of girl. I used to be deep and have emotions and not get angry and feel things. I stopped being that person. I picked a new life. I made a new blog. And realizing that is a hard thing. A hard, sinking to the bottom of my stomach, hollow sort of thing.

How did I get here?

Uhm... here's somethign strange, you know, other than the fact that I've begun blogging like 10 times a day.

I commented on a friend's blog, and I usually don't. And then I realized that what if, through his page, someone stumbles along my page? possibly people I don't WANT to see my blog.

And for some strange reason I got panicked at the prospect of certain indelectables reading my private business. So panicked in fact, that I went back and deleted my comment.

And before I'm reprimanded for thinking that an internet blog could be "private" let me explain that... I'm under the false impression that it very well could be. I mean, how many people REALLY read this? And it's a blogger, not a myspace or a facebook. So it isn't easy to track it down or anything.

But I guess... Someone who I don't want to find this, could easily find it. And... that bothers me.

I'll be honest, in the past several years a lot of people have changed from people I like to people I really dislike. What if they... find my blog... And so there are people out there secretly reading this and SECRETLY getting joy from any unhappiness I may express. .. .. .. .. .. .... ... ......

I don't like that thought.

What a glorious feeling...

I've officially decided to add more of these cheesy internet pictures to my blog. To break up the brick walls of text that I'm more prone to do...

Why did I have such a fun day?

I slept in and was lazy all morning. I woke up in a... dare I say it?... a good mood! surprise, surprise.

View Larger Map

Danielle and I went a-walkin' through the forest  (see awesome google map) and got RAINED on. It even started to hail! And I loved it. There's something exciting about running through the rain.

(side note: dear danielle, is it strange reading about an event you were a part of in

a blog? and then... being directly addressed in it? sorry if it's too weird.)

Then chais, and hangin' with The Emster. She always wants to get ice cream and I feel bad having to say no every time. And not even for the sake of nutrition but because no tengo dinero. Oh well.

(another side note: Does anyone think that when you pretend that animals are people, like the picture above and other such pretend-o worlds like the show Little Bear, that the carnivores could really only be considered murderers? Even though it's the set fate of nature that some animals have to eat other animals? Like that bear up there with the rain boots and umbrella, is his friend the goose appalled when the bear eats his friend Senor Fish? But I guess goose eat fish... Do bears eat goose?)

Is tomorrow Thursday? Yay, I hope so.

PS: expect a label remodel soon. I've decided my labels are far too boring.

PPS, maybe I'm in such a good mood cause I actually have internet at my house. What a glorious luxury...

All I can do is Try

I find myself falling into this slump of... vegetation. I used to be the kind of person that never watched TV, if I did, it was only once a week. I read a lot, I crocheted, I had general hobbies. And if that wasn't enough I was out of the house socializing in one way or another at least 80% of the time.

But lately I find myself actually looking forward to going home and doing nothing. I smile as I run up the stairs and I feel comforted in the couch, with my laptop on my lap, watching TV.

I blame it on laziness, DVR, and a lack of what I call "every day" friends. Don't take offense in that, what I mean is, friends I see practically everyday and I'm so comfortable with I can be with them and do absolutely nothing. With most of "hangouts" there's a buffer, an activity or a specific reason we're hanging out. Not that one matters more than the other, just that friends used to take up a LOT of my time, but now it's more coordinated, purposeful, dates.

But I will say, thanks to DirectTV, I'm able to watch my oh-so-favorite Nelly Furtado in concert on TV. And I am enjoying this. I was a big fan of her pre-"Loose." Back when she was more folksy/lite-rockish. But contrary to a lot of her older fans I don't consider her a sell out.(But I do hate the song Promiscuous).

My favorite video in all the world:



I love the Days of Heaven references, story line, and visuals altogether. It makes me breathless.

On other hands: I went to all of my classes today, which is always an accomplishment of will power.

I began to think earlier today of a hopefully future date where I'll have no school. And I'll have a job (that's the hopefully part) and I'll work the normal 9 - 5 or whatever. And after 5 o'clock I'll have absolutely nothing to do... I can see why recent graduates say they actually kind of miss school. I don't doubt that I'll get easily bored and wistfully think of my educated days... And I know I'll miss the actual processs of learning. But maybe I shouldn't focus on that yuckier negative part and more on the fact that I'll have more time to cultivate my self.

I can remember the things that I like to do for fun, develop actual interests beyond finishing my next paper, and I won't be so exhausted all the time that I look at downtime as a luxury. Downtime will be a commonplace thing and maybe I'll learn how to be a different person. A person that does things I enjoy.

ALso a thing to note: this morning I heard a news thing that people who don't sleep well at night on a usual basis are 3 - 4 times more likely than a well-sleeping-person to be/feel dissatisfied with their lives.

Uhm, hello? Sydney, note to self: get more sleep. It could solve your persistent ennui and wistfulness.

Heart Heart Heart

 

Apparently it's Heart health Awareness month

And Valentine's Day is this week

And I'm such a cheeseball I like dumb pictures like these...

Maybe I'll get a stroke of inspiration and post something a little more original.

In class we're watching a documentary about Monsanto and all these crazy FDA conspiracy pollution/world poisoning things. Look it up...

Note to Self:

Why am I such an Old Lady that I love these uber expensive Kate Spade heels? My heart skips a beat for the bright green ones at Nordstrom's. My bank account keels over at the price.

But oh, a girl can dream, can't she?

Things to do:

• 
  
  Get a job, a stable, well paying job, that I enjoy enough to hold down for at least a year.
• 
  
  Graduate school: only 5 weeks to go! (A bachelor's is so pointless. I really just need a job)
• 
  
  Learn to enjoy my life without worrying about school and a job.
• 
  
  Learn to socialize, possibly drink alcohol, or at least learn to relax in a room full of people
• 
  
  Clean my car at least once in it's sad lifetime...
• 
  
  Gain enough muscle mass/ drop chub mass/ be healthy and active enough that I can: like myself, wear certain items of small sized clothing I own, and have sex more than 3 times without feeling so physically exhausted I'm sick.
• 
  
  Remember to keep any of my New Year's resolution. It's only febuary. I was allowed a reprieve throughout January for circumstantial duress, but I've got get back on it. Why has it felt like such an extremely long, and trying year, and I'm only two months in?
• 
  
  Learn to actually rock my DIY haircut without feeling insecure. Better yet: maybe I should learn how to stop feeling insecure... That'd be a good one.
• 
  
  Stop blogging and research my paper. Boo.

Also to note:  On saturday, I saw this huge Tongan guy at the bank in daly city with a huge tatoo on his neck. What was his tattoo of? A picture of my face!!!!!!!! Just kidding, It was just my name in fancy cursive writing: Sydney Tan.

Ok, I'm kidding you again, It just said, Sydney. But that was way cool enough for Tiffany and I both to turn red and try to secretly take a picture of it with my phone. Everytime I snapped he moved. Evasive, son of a bitch. I've narrowed it down to one of the following four possible reasons he could have MY name on his neck:

1. He has a wife, mother, dead friend, sister, or dog named Sydney.
2. He has a child named Sydney.
3. He's from Sydney, Australia (and therefore not Tongan)
4. Or, he knew he loved me before he met me. He was dreaming of me his whole life, he knew he loved me before he met me, maybe he dreamed me into life.*

All of these are definately possible. Most likely it's the last one. And I just angered fate by not going up to him in his little red car that had a major engine rev to introduce myself. Aren't the near misses of destiny a funny, enchanting thing?





*Savage Garden. Represent.

Be Careful What You Wish For...

Oh, so, what'd I do this weeked?

Jet-style blasted through the Asian Art Museum. And me being be, first thing I thought was, "you could have weddings here!" Very few places make that my first thought... Loved the Indian sculptures, I always love ceramics, the scrolls and other such inked things were pretty cool. But above all, my favorite was the building itself... Even the escalators were somehow really awesome. Seriously. Maybe I'd have a more comprehensive review if we spent more time...

Other hands?

We watched Pink Panther 2 (swear, I didn't pick it). It was... to expectations, which says a lot. I didn't expect it to be a moving, jaw dropping, film. It wasn't. I expected a light-hearted, mostly non-sensical, silly movie. Indeed, that is what was received. I will admit though, that Aishwariya Rai Bachchan knocks my freakin' socks off. She's such a fox. Not only a fox but an all around stunner: in interviews, in pictures, in bollywood, in her few american movies, and probably in life. She waaaaaas Miss Universe after all. And I'm probably just complaining and being sensitive... But why's the ONLY brown person in the movie gotta be the bad guy? But I guess if she was the other girl in the movie, I'd complain why does she have to be the helpless, idiotic one? Or maybe that's less something to do with race and more to do with sex.... Why are the women either idiots or bitches? Strange...

Also watched Coraline...

I have much less to say about that given it scared my goddamned pants off. Every second of that godforsaken movie twisted my stomach and made me to want to throw up and/or cry. I don't watch scary movies in general, and somehow the (amazing) visuals were more twisted, creepier, and altogether more frightening than some ridiculous porn and gore flic. I wasn't SCREAMING in fear or anything, but then entire time I was somehow whimpering with discomfort and fear. Yea, yea, yea, maybe that's what it was SUPPOSED to be. But seriously, don't take any kids to that one. Scary, scary, scary. Pink Panther was the kind of movie you could enjoy while you watch it and get all you need to get. Coraline? I think one could watch it a million times and still pull amazing observations. My first watch? Too terrified to begin to see ANYTHING. Seriously. So maybe I could watch it again and tell you what I think about the politics it conveys, or how the popcorn trees looked, or the stunning-ness of every second of the movie, or even how much I loved the cute little pink house. But for now? All I can say is that the second it started, I was turned into a quivering child, and the second it ended I could only dread the nightmares it would give me.

The End.

PS, how was everyone else's weekends?

My Poetry Was Born Between The Hill and The River...

Scrabulous

Here are some pictures from this past sunday that I finally got access to. Most are courtesy of Adam's picture taking, except for the awesome scrabble one. haha

Well, first of all, we started out at the Embarcadero/Ferry building. With some snacks we wandered around before deciding what to do... Here's my sister and I beneath the fountain...

And then we went off to Fort Mason, which I had the pleasure of introducing everyone to. If you haven't been there, I'd highly suggest it on a nice sunny day. I used to go to do homework on the grass and soak up the sun.

There are 360 degree beautiful views of the city. It's quiet and peaceful... Everything is just stunning and awe-inspiring and breath-taking.

Us being us decide to....

SCRABBLE!

 
 

I won, just so everyone knows. And I'm not even lying about that.

Here were are. Vicky, Grace (my sister), me, and Adam. Take note of the background. Seriously, every way you look it's a beautiful view. Disgustingly picturesque.

And that was our sunny wonderful Sunday.

The Open World

Sometimes when the walls are crushing in on me I start to think that I'll never be free...

There came a time in my life that while it was extremely painful and lonely... I felt free. I didn't have a boyfriend, school wasn't worrying me, I don't even remember if I had a job or not. And I felt like I was at the edge of a precipice. Like I was looking down into an abyss of nothing. And I was so empty the winds of infinity flew through my body, reminding me of every hollow cavern. And it hurt, I was empty, afterall. I was lonely, I was alone. But I could breathe.

I felt like I could close my eyes, reach as far as I wanted, and I would find nothing. I felt unfettered. I was free-falling. There were no anchors, nothing was concrete, the world didn't exist. I was ephemeral.

And it was such a horrible thing. And it was such a wonderful thing.

I was alive.

But some part of me, I'll call it the adult part of me, felt like I was hurting for nothing. That I was allowing the winds to ravage me without any protection. And so I built walls of responsibility around me. I built walls of real dirt and substance around me to remind me that the earth was there. I touched the walls to remind myself that I was there.

And I've lived there. I'm living here. With each foot and hand and eye fixed on something real, fixed on my protection. To remind me: I'm here, I'm safe, I exist. And it all felt like the right thing to do. It all felt like the right thing to do.

But I think somehow, in the process, I've forgotten to remind myself of one thing: Am I alive?

Cora-love?

I admit, I was originally a little skeptical of the new movie, given that I usually dislike Tim Burton. And while that comment alone usually elicits a ridiculous amount of groans, moans, and death threats, I just can't seem to like him. He butchered Charlie and the Chocolate factory (I also hate Johnny Depp, which causes more bad news my way), Edward scissorhands was too whiney for me, and The Night Before Christmas? Come on. Maybe what I don't like more is the crowd that usually idolizes him. The "I'm so creepy and weird and no one understands me wanna be goth wanna be emo wanna fit it but don't fit in so I say I'm deep cause weird and creepy means deep" crowd. Anything Tim Burton is practically produced JUST to make it into a million Hot Topic products... Shoelaces, stickers, lunch boxes, hair clips, even hair dye. Seriously, straight to Hot Topic.

But that aside, this picture that I found via DesignSponge, allows me to appreciate it more. Possibly makes me NOT dread the movie (cause we all know even with my complaining and hatred of Burton I would have gone to see it in theaters anyway). This and all the "press packages" they've been sending to anyone who is anyone in the online blogging community (ie, not me). I got a first glimpse of them from NotCot.

They're super cool:

Fixed

I GOT THE MY DATE BACK!!!!!!!!!

hoorah

Closed Invitation

I got so excited to do the antique flea market this sunday.... :(

Then I realized it was last sunday. booo....

Ughk, and last sunday? The San Francisco Fine Print Fair... That I missed.

Super boo. We were RIGHT THERE. We just didn't know it was the only weekend... Oh, fort mason, how you are cruel.

Today, on a whim, I cut my own hair. I now look like a total dork. At best it could be considered choppy, uneven, and strange.

Rather than be upset about it like some others might, I find it utterly hilarious. How funny is it that I got this random idea to cut my own hair, use the same scissors I use to cut the dogs hair, and without any skill or practiceand barely a plan of attack just start cutting? After the first bad snippet that reminded me of when my little sister cut her own bangs in secret when she was 2 or 3, I just couldn't stop laughing. A little nervous and unable to stop giggling I continued to cut for a pretty long time.

I mean, it doesn't look BAD at all. I have such long, dark hair that it practically masks any real change, good or bad. But have I had better haircuts? Yes, oh yes.

Have I had more personalized and humorous haircuts? Definately not!