dancing days are here again

"Please note that your responses will be used for research purposes only and will be strictly confidential. Any information that is obtained in connection with this study and that can be identified with you will remain confidential and we will release your survey data back to your institution with identifying information only if we have your explicit permission to do so. Further, all colleges receiving such information are required to certify in advance that the data will only be used for research purposes and will not be used to investigate specific individuals. If you do not give us permission to release your survey data with identifying information, we will provide your college with non-identifiable data."

Isn't that weird? Whenever I read that, I wonder if the scientists conducting the study have ever been in a situation that they actually did recognize someone by the data they provided.

For example: A scientist conducts a study on rape/sexual abuse victims, and they find that they can identify their niece by her information, by the habits of the person she identifies, the behavior, little personality ticks, location, the voice in her writing...

Or if they see someone they might possibly identify as a relative or friend in the survey, do they wonder if that's someone they know?

How funny that I should want to talk about shopping with such a good lyric to title the entry with.

So, in the last couple days, I've come to see that going shopping is like some bigbig nightmarish version of a hyped-up, super sped-up video game out of the 80s. While you're flipping out in a store with people all around you snatching at clothes--a veritable free-for-all, think SuperSmash Bros. or like one of those Sweepstakes shopping sprees--the store itself plays loud thumpy techno music to get you in the mood to run around grabbing as many articles of clothing as humanly possible and trying them all on.

There are also a number of problems with me and shopping. I have no sense of what's in style these days and even less (if there's anything less than "nothing") sense of what looks "good" on me or not. Which is why I end up relying on my sister's input. This works out a good 78% of the time, since my stubbornness prevents her from being completely effectual on the whole Fashion Law Enforcement-front. Sorry, Jennifer. In the end, I'll always just be nerdy and frumpy, I guess.

------

So, today I turned 18. Isn't that insane?

Super thanks and lots of love to my friends for coming over and surprising me with Fried Zucchini and cheesecake (Yay for Carl's Jr.!) and then some more for my family for taking me out to dinner. (Thanks to wine for relaxing my parents enough to get through the night relatively un-lectured).

    It's 2:01 AM, and I guess it would be a much better idea to go to sleep now, since I dunno. It's always better to sleep early and rise early, no?

    But I've been on YouTube for the last two or so hours (I know, what a good use of my time), just watching music videos. And for the last hour of that time, I've watched almost all the Justin Timberlake music videos in existence. Why? I don't know.
    It's been interesting. And even more interesting to realize that 6 years ago he recorded "Rock Your Body." What the eff. I was 12 when that song was on the radio?! And someone tell me how it was possible not to notice Pharrell in around 50-gazillion of them?
    By the way, I love you, Pharrell.

    Furthermore, it's called to my attention how awkward all these situations would be in real life. When someone gets in your face and sings really close into your ear/nose/mouth I wouldn't know whether to offer them a breath mint, a restraining order, or a nice fist to the groin. How do they keep a straight face for all of this? It's amazing. The power of dramatic talent, I guess.
    It makes you wonder more than ever, why Rivers Cuomo looks constantly confused (or manages to have the weirdest, most unattractive facial hair) in almost all the Weezer videos or how Mariah Carey can still manage to look so seductive when she's doing stupid things (and singing a stupid, but admittedly catchy, song) in her video.

    To cap it off, a question that sprung itself on me on the drive to the airport tonight: Are babies programmed to laugh? I mean, is it inherently so, that they know what a laugh is and what would trigger them to laugh? And even if it weren't, and they had to learn it from sight and experience, how would they know when is appropriate for them to laugh? And if it weren't a genetic thing, what if they were never around humans who laughed? Would they feel the urge to laugh or do something when someone did something funny? Or they did laugh, but they didn't know what it was. So it sounded different...
    What if someone made a weird blblbllbblblblbl sound instead of a laugh when they found something humorous? And the person who never knew what a laugh was, made that sound when they were supposed to laugh? And THEN! They were reintroduced to normal society, where people laugh like "HAHAHAHA" not "BLBLBLBLBLBL". ONOES! CULTURE SHOCK?!?!


    Okay. I'm going to sleep now, for reals.

    I'm falling behind in schoollife. My room is the messiest it's ever been (it's disgusting, you have no idea). I haven't done a tape assignment in about a month, I owe Hoague an essay, owe Slattery two MC practice tests... well. And I think one assignment in German.
    Well, it's not as bad as it sounds. Hoague'll grade the essay so long as it's in before Friday. Fizzix is pretty much over, since the AP's done.
    (Random Reflective Interjection: I think, if it were true, the best way to end that whole "This is how much life is butt-raping me right now" first paragraph would be something like: "I've gained 36 pounds, stopped showering for the whole natural look, and I've decided to get breast implants." Y'know, the epitome of suckage, the nadir of epic failure, et cetera, et cetera. ... Which is, apparently, breast implants.)

    And really. At this point in time, I couldn't give a flying fuck (by the way, what the hell is a "flying fuck"?) about school. Of course, this could very well change when I go to school tomorrow morning to suffer through first period German (shoot me now) and a stupid short-essay question test devised to torture long-suffering German 3/4 students...

    Whatever, I've worked my ass off for the last four years of my life. I think I deserve to slouch my way through my last month in high school... but I have to say, Senioritis better go away soon, because it's bothering me how undisciplined/flaky/loser-y/disorganized I'm getting...

    Anywho, my day was like this:

• Went to school.
• Flopped my way through German. Whatever. WHAT. EVER.
  
• Chillllaxed my way through the other 6 periods--I love having 4 AP classes after APs are over.
• Brawled my way through 7th period. Last game, Matt Ly and I pwn'd Tony and Alex. It was beautiful. "Pron" > "God".
  
• REGULATED them bitchez trying to walk on the front lawn in front of the school. Basically Debbie told us not to let kids walk on the front lawn after school 'cause there was wind-/tree-hazard. Imagine variations on, "AY, AY. GET OFF THE GRASS, YOU HOOLIGANS." And then an elaborate tackle-scheme meant to provide maximum prevention/protection. That's effective tomorrow, though, so that we all have an opportunity to man-up overnight.
  
• Baked cookies for Jessi. I have ~35 chocolate chip cookies sitting on my kitchen counter. I'll bring some tomorrow, and I guess just bake another batch for Jennifer before she goes to NY.
  
• Took some over to my neighbor, Hannah, and then picked some lemons off her tree. She's the sweetest old lady ever and has a thick yiddish accent. I love her. I think she's been more of a grandmother to me than any other old woman, my biological grandmother included. And her husband too. We called him Mr. Simon.
  
• Ate dinner and watched the Laker game. The fourth quarter was beautiful. Suck on that, Tim Duncan.
  

    On the upside, I baked some cookies and I'm hanging out with friends more. On the downside, I baked some cookies. Man, I'm going to be such a fatty in the next few days...
    'Kay, gonna go get a popsicle now.

    It's like dipping my hands into buckets of weak dye. I can keep floating my hands through it, lightly sloshing around, but unless I start dipping intently, in and out of the bucket, my hands'll come out much the same as before.

    It's a little unproductive. It's like letting my mind wander, but not in an unbridled sort of way. It's like letting your eyes unfocus while you stare off at something. You know what you're looking at, but when you look away and return to focus, all you're left with is the feeling of whatever it was you were looking at.

    It's kind of like that.

    Yesterday, I had this long emo thing typed out, y'know. When you're in a funk and you're just feeling down and out.
    And I guess nothing's really changed situation-wise, but somehow I'm feeling better. When you're feeling poor and alone, it's good to count what you do have. It's so cheesy, but when I think of that, I think of "riches/wealth of the heart/mind"--whatever that stupid cliche is. I guess it's true anyway.

    When I was younger, my favorite animals were snails. I'd crouch down next to them, little green Keds blending into the grass and watch them suck in the dew as they slid across the lawn slowly, leaving glittering dotted lines behind them. I'd just watch them. They were amazing. Carrying a little house on their backs, a portable hidey-hole to retreat into when it got too cold or it got too hot or too embarrassing or too scary. So at ease with the world. It always made me sad when people would pick them up or throw them or poke them or try to mush them. Snails do nothing more than ooze around and aid decomposition, what real harm are they?
    I'm kind of sad that my mother has a deathly fear of slugs and snails. A long time ago, I gave up trying to draw little crayon masterpieces of them for her when her reactions would be, "Ughhaahhhh, how niiice--!"

    For the past month or two, anytime I'd come running out of the house at 7 AM, nearly late for first period, or step gingerly back onto the porch, coming home late at night, I'd see the same snail making its twice-daily commute across the front of the porch. Luckily, in that time, my mother never noticed Steve.
    My mum saw Steve and his friends night before last, and yesterday morning, my dad poured out the toxic snail-/slug-pellets into the lawn, spilling them all over the clover-ridden flowerbeds.

    I wonder what happens to snails when they die. Do they evaporate? Do they just get absorbed into the ground? I know their shells deteriorate. It's sad to see the empty shells, bare criss-crossing of fibers as they break apart in the sun and wind and water.
    I kind of don't want to know. It's one of those things you wonder idly about and you kind of want to know, but you think it's so much more interesting to imagine what actually happens.
    I think they'd deliquesce into the ground. Not just get absorbed, but deliquesce. Elegantly melt away into the earth, only to seep back up again and build another shell. Viva la Steve! and reincarnation and all that.

    I think "California" by Joni Mitchell is my favorite song about California. I should make a CD of all the California songs I know. That'd be kind of cool. I like most of them anyway. Or maybe I'm just attached to Joni Mitchell. I don't know. Is that nerdy or stupid? Whatever, she's cool.

    Life is so freakin' hard.

    A few pieces of dirty underwear I'm airing for your viewing pleasure:

• Why the eff does college cost so much freaking money?! I know there're the professors to pay and the room/boarding, food expenses, utilities, ... a shitload of stuff. But WHY. WHYYY.
  Er, read all of this as: "Shit, I need to find some money." I'm trying to find some good scholarships, but everytime I look at the odds or consider how many amazing kids are applying for the same thing: looking to get that $10,000 or $5,000 or $50, I get so dejected and lose all motivation.
  I think I'll start small. I'm submitting a drawing for a $75-prize and we'll see where the added confidence'll take me...
• I am seriously socially retarded. Truth: I fail epically at socializing. I know it's hard to establish any kind of relationship with random people online to begin with, but okay. WHY am I just so awkward?
  Whenever I do something totally weird and random in front of someone who doesn't already know me enough to know that I do weird, socially out-of-left-field things in normal conversations, I just ramble on, (a) hoping they don't notice I've blown my cover as a normal person or (b) trying to dig myself out of the verbal shithole I've thrown myself into.
  I constantly give people the wrong impression of me, and I just want to ... y'know. Ctrl+N everything. Or Ctrl+A & Backspace everything.
  ALL. THE. TIME. Oh shit, guys. I'm going to be SUCH a loser in college.
  So, yes. This relates to the Brown Facebook group. Whatever.
• My glasses tan got three-times worse today. Yes, just when you thought I couldn't get any nerdier, I have come home today with: a sunburnt nose, (probably) a few tanlines from my track uniform/spandex, and some crazy-ass glasses tan. Eek.
• I got my period today. Do I really have to explain how terrible this is?

    Anyway, I hope that cheered you up. I won't even bother to throw in all the crap I've been dealing with about Senioritis. Waugh.

    It's 4:02 AM. I have a flight tomorrow night to Brown at 10 PM. Thank you, LAX/AA for red-eye flights. Otherwise, I know for sure it'd be a bitch to get onto that flight on stand-by.
    My spring break is taking an interesting downward turn. But hopefully tomorrow should change that. Serious thanks to Simon for being so determined to drag me out of the house. More bargaining on my part with my parents, but with any luck (ha) it'll work out okay.
    Random Interjection #1: Insecurity's a bitch, but where do you draw the line between there and being considerate? I'd hate to think I was intruding or invading people's get-togethers (or in this case, trip to the zoo), but Simon assures me it's fine. He's allowed to invite someone, and that's me. So. My objections: I don't know any of his friends half as well as I know him (How well do I even know him?!) and I should really be studying for my APs/packing/getting ready for Spring State. Those are seriously legit reasons. Fuck. I think I fucked up.
    NONOOKAY Everything will work out okay. Karma will ensure this...
    Random Interjection #1.5: I think Simon puts me on a pedestal. One day, I swear, I'm going to let him down. It's just going to happen, and shit. I'm going to be so sad.
   
    Random Interjection #2: WTF. THE NEWSPAPER JUST CAME. SHIT I NEED TO SLEEP.

    Sometimes, when you're in a funk, it's hard to pull yourself out of it. And over something as dumb as an injured foot... I'm sure there's more to this, and it's just a reaction to the crud building up, but today I had no heart to be productive in practice. That actually worsened my mood, instead of letting me mellow out.

    Random Interjection #3: As Pepper-Ann-ish as it is, I love my rollerblades. They make me feel happy. And flipping off the gardener/construction workers on the way home in the middle of Rosemead and Longden as they made catcalls at me was strangely satisfying.

    I have a busy day tomorrow.
    Crikey, I hope I'm making a good decision by packing my break like this...

    Yesterday, I went to a Bad Religion concert. My FIRST ever rock concert. (Jason Mraz doesn't count, his concerts are under an entirely different category titled, "Jason Mraz Concerts")
    In one word: Intense.
    In many words:

• Broadway Calls opened for them. They were eh.
  
• Bad Religion comes onto stage and IMMEDIATELY, the entire crowd crammed into the House of Blues goes freakin' INSANE.
  
• Within seconds, I am mashed into the WALL of overweight hispanic 30-something males who managed to CLOBBER their way to the very front. Basically right in front of me, since I was one or two people from the rails and security guards. They stay there for the rest of the night and alternately engulf us with waves of stench (from their pot, lack of deoderant, beer-breath, et cetera) and suffocate us with their FAT, which they decide to RAM into my face.
• I like that I'm allowed to punch/kick/elbow people at these concerts without feeling bad. I did it SO much last night.
  The people around me probably thought, "Oh hey, small Asian girl. Ha."
  NO. NONONO. Bitches, THAT's right. The small Asian girl just KIDNEY-PUNCHED your FAT SELF. Suck on it.
• I stayed up front the entire night. I was less than 15 feet from the (THE) Bad Religion (GREGGRAFFEENIFNGNF!SFSLDF!)
• Someone asked Bryant whether I was his girlfriend and then told him I was brave for staying up there.
  The only thought that filled my brain last night as motivation to stay up there was: "BITCH, I WANT MY MONEY'S WORTH. PLAY, DAMNIT, PLAY!!" I think this is kind of sad.
• For this reason, I have two bruises on each leg, a bump on my forehead (when some asshole decided he'd crowd surf ON TOP OF ME and kicked me in the head), and bruises up and down both my arms from punching, elbowing, et cetera.
  
• Simon and Bryant told me that I was butt-humped from behind like 30 times. I didn't even notice because I was packed in so tightly and I was too busy enjoying the show.
  They said that they took turns "protecting" me from behind. This probably means they ground up against me and called it protecting me. Whatever.
• I also kicked and punched Bryant and Simon several times on accident 'cause I was trying to hit someone else for punching me/pulling my hair.
• The combined smell of pot and beer was overpowering. Fifteen minutes after the pit fills, we could smell it like Axe and stale B.O. in a boy's locker room. Disgusting.
• Bad Religion opened at around 9:30? Their set ended at 11-something. Insane.
• Simon lost his shoe in the mosh pit and some guy found it, and held it up for him for like 10 minutes until he retrieved it.
• I was advised to check between songs for my money, phone and, jokingly, virginity.
• Some girl got felt up during the show and started a scene after it with some drunk guy. They called the cops. It was awesome.
• We left Downtown Disney around 12, got to Denny's around 1 and had dinner-something and I got home around 2:30.
• I took an hour-long shower and called it a night.
  
• Best night of my freaking life.
  

    From now on, I'm going to as many concerts as I possibly can. This was SO awesome.
    Anyone down for going to Warped Tour in August? The line-up's not that fantastic, but I want to see RBF, the Aggrolites, the Vandals, and a couple others. Yeah? Yeaah? Plus! We can end this summer riiiiight.
   
    And! A random question for random you from random me:
    My Bounce brand static-clingies are at the scent level of 2. WHERE can I get a scent level 4 box of Bounce?