Throw rocks.

So, it's becoming blatantly clear to me that I should avoid all things and all people when I'm pmsing. I punched some annoying freshman on the bus today because he kept insulting me. Normally, I probably would've ignored him. But since I'm pmsing, I slapped his head. And then punched him. Two of my knuckles still hurt. But seriously, he was such a dumbass. Anyone can testify. I really don't feel like typing out the whole story, since it was just so stupid. But basically, there was a lot of 'bitch, flat-chested, fuck, she's a dude!' thrown around (on his part) and also a lot of 'fuck, shut up, I'll hit you if you don't shut up' (on my part).

I think this describes my mood right now pretty well.

Thinking Positive!

So, I figured out one good thing about my period. It may make me think I'm fat, make me feel like crap, and make me surly, but it also makes my boobs a hell of a lot bigger. At least I think it does. It looks that way.

Mozart Poopzart

I must be musically challenged. As I sat in my guitar lesson today, I suddenly remembered why I quit piano and violin. I never feel so helpless, stupid, and frustrated as I do when I'm learning to play some kind of instrument. The only advancement I made musically in my fifteen years is learn to sing on key (and that was only discovered very recently when we went karaoke-ing.) Usually, I excel in everything whether or not I put in actual effort. But music is really my downfall. I just don't get it. I see my teacher getting less patient, I see that look in his eyes that accepts that I'm slow. If I were in a classroom setting, I'd be the pothead sitting in the back. The sad thing is, I try. I really, really do put in effort, but when I'm sitting there, I can't concentrate, I can't understand, and I can't even hear him. I feel myself tearing up and the only thing that keeps me from crying is my pride. He's so nice, too. I'm just an idiot student.

Sausages and Women

I have decided that if I should ever marry and have children, I will never let my looks decline to that of my aunt. She's...what, in her early thirties? She never really lost the weight from her pregnancy (although she's dieting now) and she looks exhausted and messy from day to day. Her curly hair's always in a messy bun. She's always wearing unflattering, baggy clothes, and she's always running after the baby. It's just so unappealing. I mean, if I was my uncle, I totally wouldn't have sex with her. So, my decision is that my husband will NEVER see me (a) without any makeup, (b) fat, (c) unsexy in any way or form. If I have a kid and I'm still fat after childbirth, I'll just tell him I'm going away for two months so I can lose weight. I'm not going to let him see me run on the treadmill at home, sweating like a pig and with my fat jiggling everywhere.

In sort of relation to that: My cousin has finally won me over. His one and a half year old cuteness if just too much to resist. The weird thing is, even though I ignore him most of the time, he seems to really like me. He keeps calling, "Sister, sister!" all over the house with that sweet little voice of his (cousins are not cousins in China, but more of a sibling relationship). And although he's the meanest, most stingy kid I know, he always shares his toys with me. He'll just randomly walk up to me, hand me a car or something and I'll just look at it and be like, "Okay..."

P.S. You can have sex in my house any time you want. Just buy me new sheets afterwards.

My Heart is a Black Hole

I bought a guitar today.
I'm becoming more and more the epitome of an angsty teenager. I already have black hair that gets in my eyes. I'm writing a masterpiece novel that's never going to be finished. I dabble in poetry. And now, I have a guitar. You bet I'm going to strum all my pain in that thing. Jesus, I should just go slit my wrists and commit suicide.

I've noticed that there are three types of hair popular among Chinese girls.
1. The 'I just stuck my finger in a electric socket': This type of hair is exactly like it's name. Girls are walking around with frazzled, poofy, electrocuted hair a mile high in the air.
2. The Nice Girl Ponytail: A plain ponytail with sideswept bangs. All nice college girls sport this.
3. The Baby Doll: Long hair with bangs cut straight across the forehead. They're walking around looking like cute little porcelain dolls.

And now I'm being kicked off the computer.

The Sword's Got Nothing on the Pen

Ambition is looking more and more like killing spree conducted by a crazed author.

Characters dead within the last five chapters: 1
Characters dead so far: 5
Characters to die in the future: 7

Characters left in the story by the last chapter: 2

And, also, I've decided to chronicle my dreams because they are just too damn interesting. This is the one I had last night.

My mom and I and some other random people are alone in a house in LA. A mass murderer comes along in his car (you know, one of those with personality disorders) and asks us if he could use the phone. Naively, we agree. Thus, we set this murderer loose in the house. He starts hunting us down one by one, but the thing is, he's really very friendly. He becomes really attached to anyone who is nice to him. So that's exactly what my mom and I do. We pretend that we're totally buddy buddy with him while I go off to call the police. The police comes, takes him away (we breathe) and then we find out that they set him free. The murderer comes back and stays in our basement. He's really angry that we called the police came, so I explained to him that I was still totally friends with him, and that I just called the police on accident.
He accepted this explanation.
And since he won't leave our basement and we can't get him to leave or be mean to him, we call the police again. They come again, and they set him free. Those bastards. But here's the interesting part:
I start plotting to escape our house and go elsewhere (since the murder won't let us leave). We drive off, and first go to the mall to get disguises. The murderer follows us in his car. And then, suddenly, I notice that the murderer is strikingly like my stepdad. Who then tells us to save gas money when driving.

So, what does that mean? Any interpretations? Why is my stepdad the mass murderer and why do my mom and I risk our lives to escape him? If I were Freud there'd be a lot to be said about my subconscious feelings toward my stepdad here.

Snug as a Bug in the Bowl

I found a worm in my porridge today.

"Ew," said my cousin's nanny.
"Maybe the cornmeal has grown worms," my uncle worried.
"Just take it out," my grandma said. "Worms that grow in grains are inconsequential."
"Eat it," my mom grinned diabolically. "It's full of protein."

Mom, Dad, and that Random Girl

I should be eating lunch, but instead I'm writing this.

The weather here likens the aura of the capital--stuffy, gray, and shackled from glimpsing the sun, which stands not too far above the somber overcast. In my grandmother's house, there is a neverending cycle of life. They rise at dawn, move about the house like busy ghosts, cleaning, washing, and directing the girl here that works from them. A few hours the sky turns from black to light gray (ie. mid morning), my cousin, nicknamed Yuan Yuan wakes up with cranky babbling of, "Nononononono! Don't want!" Along with him rises the rest of the household. His live-in nurse, a chubby, kind-hearted young woman waddles after him like a concerned shadow. My uncle will also wake up and sit on the couch with his computer, working on god knows what. They move about the day, chasing after the baby, cooking for my mom and I, shuffling from room to room in their slippers, all the while turning the air conditioning on and off. They're scared they'll catch a cold, but also impatient with the stuffy heat.

It's starting to rain outside. The moisture in the air is rising to an unbearable level--to a place where I think I'm breathing in liquid. I want to go to the art exhibition with paintings by Renoir (my favorite artist) touring in Beijing, but I'm too lazy to get off the couch. I was supposed to go tour the Imperial Palace this morning. But it rained.

Forget December...er...September

Alright, so it's only August and I'm already posting. My hiatus ended a lot sooner than I orginally intended. I am now in China. It's the land where food is entertainment, alcohol flow like rivers, where red lights mean go and green lights mean go faster. Good place, this is.