Dango Daikazoku

I haz officially moved back home sweet home.

Questions Game
Do I miss Totem Park? You betcha. But I'm glad to be back in Langley, where every street is as familiar as the letters of the alphabet and 200th is as busy as ever. Wal-mart, Costco, Mac's, Starbucks, convenient, safe, suburban, home. Also there are no drunk randoms running up and down the stairs outside my room, throwing bottles, yelling incoherently, generally wreaking havoc, and annoying everybody else. Um. Unless they're my friends, in which case I will let them have their fun and/or join in.

Do I miss my hair (pictured above)? Yes... but no. It was time for a change anyway. I've had ombre, fried-Barbie-hair ends for almost a year now.

Have I been teaching myself guitar lately? A big fat no. I will get started on that... after I unpack. There's so much luggage and boxes and bags lying around the den right now, and my mother is starting to sound like a broken record player: "Unpack. /scratch/ Unpack. /scratch/ Unpack." Well, I better unpack before I go crazy.

Am I addicted to Tetris Battle? Yes, yes I am. Shameless.

Have I started looking for a job yet? Unfortunately no... Hel-lo, still unpacked here, what do you expect. Give me a few days at least.

Have I found a place to live for 2nd year? Also no. Which is even more unfortunate, seeing as I'm taking  a summer course so I should've rented a place already. I can commute for now but definitely not next year. I just might be homeless. I could live in a box or a garbage can like that puppet from Sesame Street. He was a pretty cool guy. Read bedtime stories to his little worm buddy every night. Every. Single. Night.


Clannad & Busta Rhymes mashup - "Dango Daikazoku"

I really enjoyed this mashup. I haven't watched Clannad in its entirety and what I've seen of it did not move me at all... BUT the original "Dango" song gets me a bit teary, I don't even know why. It's just really good music. I like the instrumental better than with vocals though.

(Sorry for this filler post. My clothes are randomly hidden in various suitcases and plastic bags right now. I literally have nothing to wear... to take outfit pics to post em here to show you guys that I iz so fashunabo. If you want, you can stalk me on my personal Facebook to compensate for a lack of my face on your computer screen, but just letting you know right now: there's no guarantee I'll accept any friend requests.)

TWITTER / LOOKBOOK / FACEBOOK / BLOGLOVIN

RARE EARTH

"Another Earth" - The Universe (History Channel)
I put on my makeup in the bathroom of the Anthropology and Sociology building today after my third (and second last) exam at 10 in the morning. It took me five minutes to draw on eyeliner, and to make both eyes even.

I lit my cigarette on the steps of the SUB and it burned out in front of the bookstore so I stored it in my pocket for later. Walked by people I probably knew without acknowledging them because the world is a blur without my glasses or contacts on.

To be honest, I only smoke Marlboro Lights (or the Canadian equivalent, since apparently we don't have the rights to sell Marlboros here) because Taylor Momsen smokes them, which makes me pretty shallow doesn't it. But trying Pall Mall is definitely saving me money and the menthol ones taste pretty good.

I hate wearing all-black and leather. Makes me look tougher than I really am. Do I really want to come off as being tough through and through?

It's my quarter-life crisis and this past week has been an emotional rollercoaster (ew, did I actually use that phrase, sorry guys). I'm at a loss. I have no identity.

All this year I've been searching for my identity. Turns out I had it under control in elementary school. Now, I'm just all over the place.

It's not a question of "Who am I" but rather "Who can I be?" and of all the personalities and places to be, I'm a liberal arts student at UBC in Canadaland. I wish all my dormmates well and good luck.

I bought a bicycle two weeks ago without trying it out first, and I'm about two inches too short to ride it.

TWITTER / LOOKBOOK / FACEBOOK / BLOGLOVIN

let me put on a show for you daddy

TSHIRT eBay retailer $15 / LEGGINGS Mariposa closing sale $5 / SOCKS Claire's $2 / SHOES thrifted $10 / FLANNEL thrifted $8 / BEAR HAT Whistler gift shop $15

I wish I could say I dislike Lana Del Rey's music, but unfortunately I like her songs. I just think she's terrible at performing live. At least she's upfront about it. And she can keep practicing her vocals and stage presence 'til she improves. Also, please just admit you've had plastic surgery to get those lips... It's so obvious. Why deny it, LDR?

TWITTER / LOOKBOOK / FACEBOOK / BLOGLOVIN

wesbrook village

SWEATER thrifted $8 / SKIRT free from Totem Clothing Swap / SOCKS Claire's $2 / BOOTS thrifted $10 / HAIRBOW American Apparel $16 / TEE American Apparel $25

My sleep schedule is completely out-of-order. I slept 2 hours before waking up at 7:30 A.M. on Saturday for my English exam. Then stayed up 'til 6 A.M. on Sunday due to a study session with friends. She lives in this gorgeous apartment in Wesbrook Village... It's insanely quiet and tranquil there. We took 3 smoke breaks in total, which really isn't that bad. Walked back around 9 A.M., took a long shower, and decided to finish watching Fight Club... ended up falling asleep from noon 'til... now. 14 hours of sleep and now I'm starving. Just coughed down an opened bag of Crispers (these are so addicting I tell ya) but I have no other food. Ugh. Wish I didn't eat my instant noodles two days ago.

Here are a couple photos I found of William Edward Hickman from this website.

He's the young fellow wearing the rather stylish patterned sweater.

Anyway... Brad Pitt actually used to look pretty hot. In the Fight Club film at least. Oh man I remember reading and obsessing over Chuck Palahniuk's novels in Grade 10 with some of my close friends. We would all talk about the horrors we encountered when finishing up Rant or Choke or Lullaby (one of my favourites). Haunted was the novel that managed to gross me out the most. I can't believe high schools put stuff like that in their libraries... But if it wasn't for Mr. Palahniuk's novels, I'd never have been able to nurse my tolerance for the disturbed to this level. I've got a long ways to go though.

As for me and my friends, we moved onto Douglas Coupland, who we came to call "the Canadian, less terrifying version of Chuck Palahniuk". But in reality, Coupland is probably a much better storyteller than Palahniuk. Even without the gore and guts and sex and violence that can be found in Palahniuk novels. Which is saying something.

P.S. After 2 1/2 tequila shots during the allnighter study session, I convinced a friend to chop off my ombre ends. Goodbye hair.

TWITTER / LOOKBOOK / FACEBOOK / BLOGLOVIN

STONE-COLD

BUSTIER F21 $23 / MAXISKIRT my mom's closet / SUNNIES Urban Outfitters $18 / BACKPACK H&M $30 / SOCKS random Facebook retailer $10 / SNAKE RING Sirens $5 / FLANNEL SHIRT mom's coworker's handmedown / FLANNEL JACKET Urban Outfitters (men's) $10 / SHOES thrifted $10

Just finished watching the first season of American Horror Story and I gotta say, I was pleasantly satisfied. Even though some lines made me laugh out of pure ridiculousness, the entire story and the characters were justified and developed. Good job, Falchuk and Murphy (writers of said T.V. show and also of Glee and Nip/Tuck), well played.

I can't really blame Violet for falling in love with a psychopath either. In every young girl's life, one goes through a phase where the "bad boy" trumps all other stock characters of a self-written movie script. With a sudden growth in the amount of lines, scenes, and dialogues with the "bad boy" comes a whirlwind romance in which

A) the relationship ends badly

B) the girl gets hurt and heartbroken while the boy plays the "I don't understand why you're being like this" card

C) the boy realizes he's in love with her and changes his ways in the end

D) all of the above.

In AHS (D) is the correct answer.

Oh and everyone dies in the end. And the boy is still a psychopath.

FIN.

If you guys have time, read this interesting article I found a few months ago while Googling "in love with a serial killer" (I was watching Dexter around that time, so naturally I was curious). "Romancing the Stone-Cold Killer: Ayn Rand and William Hickman" discusses Rand's idealized characterization of Hickman... or something or other. I didn't finish reading the article but will right now, after posting this! Heh.

Here's an excerpt from the author's intro:

At the time, [Rand] was planning a novel that was to be titled The Little Street, the projected hero of which was named Danny Renahan. According to Rand scholar Chris Matthew Sciabarra, she deliberately modeled Renahan - intended to be her first sketch of her ideal man (emphasis added) - after this same William Edward Hickman. Renahan, she enthuses in another journal entry, "is born with a wonderful, free, light consciousness -- [resulting from] the absolute lack of social instinct or herd feeling. He does not understand, because he has no organ for understanding, the necessity, meaning, or importance of other people ... Other people do not exist for him and he does not understand why they should." (Journals, pp. 27, 21-22; emphasis hers.)
...

Obviously, Ayn Rand was most favorably impressed with Mr. Hickman. He was, at least at that stage of Rand's life, her kind of man.

So the question is, who exactly was he?

William Edward Hickman was one of the most famous men in America in 1928. But he came by his fame in a way that perhaps should have given pause to Ayn Rand before she decided that he was a "real man" worthy of enshrinement in her pantheon of fictional heroes.

You see, Hickman was a forger, an armed robber, a child kidnapper, and a multiple murderer.

Other than that, he was probably a swell guy.

TWITTER / LOOKBOOK / FACEBOOK / BLOGLOVIN

"Born to Die" COVER

Kay I left my camera at UBC so my outfit photos have been left behind as well... Here's a cover to tide you over 'til I get back tomorrow. If I feel particularly brave enough, maybe I'll perform it for an actual open mic. But most likely, I'll wimp out heh. I'm just not a musician in that aspect. I can't perform. I love singing and I love being able to sing along to my favourite songs... But that doesn't make me a musician nor an artist. My voice needs more practice. Maybe one day.
"Born to Die" by Lana Del Rey cover

TWITTER / LOOKBOOK / FACEBOOK / BLOGLOVIN

open mic

"Ophelia" - Ambulance LTD
I need to transfer the poetry I've posted on Facebook onto this blog. It's going to take forever, and I know I will delete many and love only a few, and will end up posting only 10% of it =_=;;

Here are a few select from the five months between December 'til April; the words come to me and I write them down simultaneously (i.e. I rarely edit), so don't get your hopes up for any witty wordplay or extended metaphors... These are just words, words that may appear under pretense or under fire, words that I want to read later on, maybe tonight, or a few years from now, and remember exactly how I was feeling when I do...

the horse
what is progress
what is poetry
what is a word
what is a mist
what is the sun
what is the rain
what is English
what is Spain
what is a girl
what is a hand
what is a pen
in that pale hand
what is a wire
connecting the land
what is the book
Bible or demand
where does it start
the growing nag
incessant need
to lower the flag
to raise a fist
instead of a voice
instead of a child
you've raised a horse
galloping forever
along a narrow track
what is a carriage
that does not travel back.

biography

we could be friends

i read that on twitter once

i think

on somebody's twitter bio

it's definitely under 160 characters

it's definitely short and to the point

a bit sweet and shocking

"we could be friends"

imagine saying that to someone

you've just met in real life

face to face, words to ears

handshakes and smiles

"we could be friends,"

you might utter to me

once you've digested my name

in the bowels of your labyrinth

the letters now melting in sulphurous fumes

and evaporating through pores on your head

that allow for growth of lush legume

"we could be friends,"

i might reply.

i think i read this

on zach braff's twitter bio

but who cares where it's from

for all that matters

is that i know what it means.

this is what i tell myself when i'm feeling down

don't worry girls

you can be more than objects looked at

you can open your mouths and speak

that is what God has given you

that is what society has stripped of you

don't worry girls

you can do more than fix your hair

if you're having a bad hair day

s m i l e

because it is only temporary

because beauty is ephemeral

because God has given you a voice

in addition to a casing to hold in that voice

in addition to a mind to contain the thoughts

that give rise to your voice

in addition to tongue teeth lips to project that voice

into the good of the earth and the air that surrounds

the society of our generation.

and if others don't like what you've got to say

don't worry

because I hear you

and one day

they'll understand too.

ONE

I am 4 people at once

I am funny,

And pathetic.

I am beautiful,

Yet bare,

Naked,

Ugly,

Raw.

I can charm you,

And disgust you.

You forget who I am.

I can wear all my clothing one morning;

I can wear your clothes.

I can hide in your clothes.

I pile on all the makeup in the world

But all the masks of this world cannot

Conceal what I really am.

I am the rain.

I am the cement of the pavements.

Sometimes I am the sun.

I am the sun behind the cloud.

I am the cloud.

I am an animal.

I am the girl you see walking down runways,

Walking down aisles in supermarkets,

Walking past.

I am the girl on the news,

Crying for her lost family.

I am the girl with no bones.

I am the girl sitting in the coffeeshop,

Awkward,

Alone,

Deep in thought,

Sipping her coffee

As it burns her tongue.

~

Outfit post next!

TWITTER / LOOKBOOK / FACEBOOK / BLOGLOVIN

I am the girl your mother will hate

It will take you a while to realize that your life isn't some museum where everything is on display for others to view and amble through as freely as they wish. Not a play either, where you're the protagonist (or antagonist at times), or a narrator reflecting in. You don't need to dress a certain way (see: ripped tights and oversized band tees) or do certain things (see: smoking) to fit into any label or hyped up subculture of the current generation. You are you are you. You can do whatever you want. And that includes dressing in ripped tights and oversized band tees and smoking, without being called a "rocker" or "punk".

It takes 20 good minutes to brush out your mane of ratty, matted hair after a night of dancing, and all the while this sounds like your phone vibrating. But no one's calling you.

You learn that you just need to be sweet to people who are worth it, and that's basically everybody. Never hurt or anger anyone unless they, deep down inside, want to hurt or anger you.

You need not be funny or quirky or witty in any way. Not every girl needs to subscribe to the manic pixie dream girl lifestyle magazine. Actually, scrap that, no girl needs this aspiration in life. Just live, and be, and free yourself from any social constraints. You will find a person (anybody, anybody, out of the 7 billion and growing) or even two people or even three or more (!) who will sincerely care about you and want to see where you are now and where you'll be in a year, five years, sixty years.

Nobody else really cares about such detail in your life. All the time you're just talking to a wall, to the Internet, or to yourself. You think you're so goddamned interesting? I know you do. Everybody thinks they're interesting in some way or another. And it's true that some aspects of your measly life can be construed in a way that appears 'interesting' to others, but in reality, you are not on reality T.V. and people don't either hate you or love you for some arbitrary reason. You just exist. That's all.

You can make something of yourself though. You can meet the people who will love you and adore you.

You can go out there and do it all.

Do not be afraid on this venture, and remember to drink lots of water,

TWITTER / LOOKBOOK / FACEBOOK / BLOGLOVIN

late-night obsession

Why are we all so obsessed with clothes?

Am I the only one browsing vintage eBay stores and fashion blogs late into the night when I should be, in fact, fast asleep with sugarplum dreams in my head?

Have you cried because you couldn't afford an item of clothing that you know would complete your life?

It's just me, isn't it.

Why am I so obsessed with clothing?

This can't be healthy.

Maybe it's because of my childhood, the way I was raised (but should I be blaming everything on nurture? what about nature?), because I never could get what I want, not because I wasn't loved, but because of financial difficulties (which should be better than deprivation of love, shouldn't it, but it isn't). Mommy and daddy asking to borrow small amounts of money, asking to "take care" of Christmas cash and New Year's allowance, and then never seeing a bill or coin again. Working minimum wage from the age of 14, spending earnings on a new "want", coming home to be reprimanded, and then seeing stacks of unworn clothing hidden in my closet, in front of my closet, beneath my bed for months afterwards. Secondhand clothing I pass off as "new" because people think I can afford "new" when I really can't. Living off sales and clearance racks, shamelessly, this is who I am.

Thrift stores -- I'll spend $100 in thrift stores without a second thought, because hey I'm saving money in the long run, aren't I? I don't shop there to be unique, I shop there to save money in the long run. I don't think about the long run anytime else, only when it comes to clothing.

It's time to clean out my closet.

I can't sleep, and this is really due to a bunch of other things, not only to unworn clothing and shopper's regret. I'm scared and anxious, I don't really know why. I really want to go have a smoke but it's super late and I'm already washed up for bed. I have to write 2 papers by Wednesday afternoon but I can't start yet. All I want is a smoke and then to sing aloud to a couple of my favourite songs and then fall fast asleep and not wake up 'til morning.

What is this, oh my God. I don't want to stay a little girl forever. Can I just grow up please, now. Kthx.

(I also attribute my obsessions to the ever-growing Internet... I HATE YOU INTERNET, but I also love you.)

(I need to save money... and at the same time acquire a pair of flat-heeled boots and a plaid maxi skirt... and other miscellaneous curios that I would like to just hold in my hands and say to myself, "Yes these are mine and I am going to wear them one day. One day.")

DRESS, FLORAL HEADBAND, SHOES secondhand/gifted $2-$8 / CARDIGAN thrifted $6 / SOCKS American Apparel $20

Still disillusioned and enamoured with commercialism,

TWITTER / LOOKBOOK / FACEBOOK / BLOGLOVIN

The Pretty Reckless (alternatively 'Young Hollywood: Taylor Momsen')

Recently got into The Pretty Reckless again, fronted by the talented Ms. Momsen. And of course, with a change in music comes a change in personal style; this was demonstrated quite nicely last night when I woke up around 5:30 P.M. and decided to throw on ripped tights, black knee socks, Creepers, acidwash shorts, a ring of black eyeliner around my eyes, dark lipstick, and flannel-upon-flannel. (Oh BTW I bought this lovely flannel patterned men's jacket from Urban Outfitters for a whopping ten dollars which I am loving right now. It says DRY CLEAN ONLY so I'm a bit scared it'll get torn up in the washer but... meh. It was $10 for goodness sakes!) Last night wasn't too bad either. Messed up my sleep schedule quite a bit, but I digress.

Below are some inspiration for aspiration:

1, 2, 3 unknown, 4, 5, 6 unknown

...

What? This entire blog isn't anecdotal for you?

Can't believe TayM and I are the same age. Okay.. so she's older by 3 months. Even in 3 months' time I don't think I can achieve everything she has achieved, from playing the infamous Jenny Humphrey on Gossip Girl to touring the world with the likes of Evanscence, Runner Runner, and even Marilyn Manson. She has really performed for the full spectrum of audiences. I think I will be in love with her forever.

CLICK TO READ MY LAST YOUNG HOLLYWOOD POST.

TWITTER / LOOKBOOK / FACEBOOK / BLOGLOVIN