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Fuckers.
I think I might've truly fucked up my knees from the bicycling incident. How long is it going to take to heal?! I still can't kneel down on them. I tried in the middle of warm-up but pain shot up like lightning. Goddamn it.
They are still bruised. Did I screw up the muscles or something? Damn it all. Healing takes a long time.
But, I need to shower and accompany Lollipop to SuperStore. She's grabbing a bunch of stuff for a camping trip this weekend.
I'll write more later.
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Leaning against the pole, swaying side to side, I stared out the skytrain, mindlessly regurgitating a stint of time from two days ago. Mother asked me if I planned to start any classes in September. I mumbled negative and she prodded me about my education. Irritation arose. Quietly, I explained I'd start in January and for now, I have other plans and the only way I can complete them is if I work all the time right now.
I miss school. I love school and I've always loved going to school (except high school summer school). I wish I could sit in classes, hours on end, either listening to the teacher and learning or ignoring the teacher and learning. I like hearing other students' opinions and taking decorative, colour-coded notes. I like seeing bright patches of neon colours littering the top of my textbooks, marking pages I need to read and will read, pages I need to study for an exam but probably won't and pages of pure interest but probably will not be on the test. I miss the weight of a textbook in my arm. I miss the comforting weight of a knapsack encompassing my back and over my arms - like a fabric embrace.
Yes, it sounds ridiculous but I like school and I miss it. I'm a true geek. (I've got the glasses to prove it. *grin*) I rather spend hours in the library, lounging around and napping face-forward on black print, potentially drooling on vital information for temporary usage.
Without a regular school routine, I feel dumber. I'm becoming more and more vacuous like the stupid female voices I answer to on the phone at work (both of them) where every single sentence sounds like a question. Simplified explanations are painstakingly repeated, annunciating every syllable like a toddler learning to speak. My vocabulary flies down and lower. I write and write and write, anywhere and almost about anything. Futile attempts to use what I do know. With the hopping daytimes and night hours, I am either writing or living life so I can write about it later. My library books are collecting dust and more times than I like to admit, I've maxed out my renewals and I return a handful unread. My reading time is floating somewhere. I need to find it and reconcile it back into my habits.
I love learning.
Geeky inner Dee is dying.
Cutting across Slocan park, the green blades tickled the tips of my toes. Hitting dead center, I slipped off my jewel-toned turquoise sandals and reveled in the cool touch of the ground, rubbing the balls of my feet into it. Sitting down, I swished a hand absently on the lushness. Thoughts of a late-night conversation came back and I crumbled. Tears leaked down the edges of my face. I stared at the tops of the trees and blinked rapidly but the technique didn't work. I gave in. I let myself sob in the middle of the field, empty minus a few children screaming in the playground in the distance. No one paid any attention to the nutty lone figure in pinstripe slacks, rubbing the scar on her left forearm.
Reminder of helplessness and I made a friend feel worse. I wish I knew what to do.
I wanted to scream out loud like I saw Delicious do once in high school. Frustrated with her family once, she sat in the middle of the soccer field at Gladstone, screamed her head off. It looked relieving actually. Illusion, MT and I stood from the edge and watched her. Eventually, me being the girl, the guys nudged me forward to go to her. I did. She felt much better.
But I wasn't mad. I felt sad. I didn't feel like screaming. Instead, I cried silently. After a long time, I allowed myself to sob, make little sounds. (Since I was a teenager, when I cry, unless I was absolutely traumatized, I cried with almost no sound. Everyone rarely heard it... unless you're Wang on the phone at 4am in the morning. Even then, I'd be too busy talking to cry much. It's a luxury of sorts to make sounds, letting others know you're in pain. Everyone knew I was a crybaby, cried all the time, every week - part of my routine. Eat, sleep, moon over some guy, work, cry about some sort of pain, internet, nap, eat, volleyball or working out, shower and eat. Whatever.)
I wish I could go to school and work at the same time without having to worry about the trip to Japan in November and tournament season starting in the autumn, but I want to travel, go somewhere for a change and see something new, even for a short moment... or ten days. I'm very domesticated and I'd like to explore. I'm stuck working and saving up. No extraneous outings. (I pick and choose which ones I can do. I do maintain a budget of sorts.) No spur-of-the-moment road trips. No new expensive hobbies. Cut down on my bills and cut down on eating out. (Eating out is down by a damn lot. The difference is crazy.)
I wish my mom would be happy and not constantly harping about how life isn't going the way she want it to. She tends to come off as a hard person and I think she only gets along with other Chinese people because they are equally wacky, tough and bitter as she is.
I wish my brother would complete his high school diploma and quit the gang, drugs and gambling. I wish he lived a safer life. (Last week, his runner was stabbed and it left things in a lurch. My brother was not happy. He went off and today, he's ranting to his managers about someone having food poisoning. It must've been the stand-in or something. For some reason, I feel my brother has more bodyguards, hit men and muscles than he does runners. I rarely meet the runners but I meet his bodyguards all the time. They hang out in the living room with him, eating junk food and watching Asian movies.) I wish he'd quit smoking. I want him to live longer.
I wish my dad was the passionate painter he was before the schizophrenia. I want the guy who snuck us chips and pop, wrestled with my brother and taught us card games (like Black Jack) or little card tricks. He'd hold contests for who can hold their breath underwater longer (and my brother always won). He ran our baths and always threw a big show of how silly we were when my brother or I ran out of the bathroom, screaming the water was too hot. He made a funny fearful face, rolled up one sleeve, held his breath and jabbed his arm into the tub. Then ta-da! He's okay... minus the fact his arm was cherry red. (But it was okay because we were horribly dirty brats, playing in the garden, park or playground. Dust, tree sap, bugs, mud, stray leaves and twigs constantly stuck to us.)
I wish Wang would find a driving passion in his life for something, a direction or a big dream. Screw the stagnancy of everything. Confidence, motivation and action.
I wish ckn would stop being a negative nancy all the time and put his damn portfolio together. I pointed out some opportunities but there's a wall of obstacles and excuses he hovers behind and..... I think he can do better. He can do much better. He can do more. I can see him getting past it all but for some reason, he still sits in his little spot, not going anywhere.
I wish I could leave everyone to their own devices without guilt, worry or feeling bad. I nag and nag but I don't want to argue, not in serious bad way. I prefer the fun, light-hearted stuff instead... like how much is in a 'couple' versus how much is in a 'few' and 'several.'
I wish... I wish I didn't wish so much and appreciated what I do have. I'm frickin' selfish.
It made me feel better. Crying out loud. I cried a little harder but I didn't feel like staying this way for long. I didn't want to explain puffy eyes to anyone who saw me.
I laid down and stared up at the skies through my fingers, criss-crossed on my face. Glasses off. The blueness of the world streaked through my latticed hands and odd rainbow prisms coloured the bits on my right hand. One second. Then I shifted my fancy ring (one I put on and take off at whimsy - my right thumb ring always stays in one spot) and made the lights dance.
Sniffling my leaky nose, the heat drove me away. I brushed the random fluttering insects off and went home.
It's not all in vain. There is a purpose. I can continue working for the rest of the year, save up money, travel for a tiny bit and then I'll be back in school, piecing out some paper. I need to avoid letting the feel of working all the time drag me down. It's a means to an end.
If I want, whenever I miss school, I'll chill with BloodBond at the Grind when he's studying. It only sucks that he doesn't have any classes at the moment. (September!) He's busy working now. Bleh. (I always like to be with a group of people studying, even when I'm not in school. They'd procrastinate with open textbooks while I write and doodle in my journals, reading the local newspapers. I need to find more studious friends versus ones who go out all the time.)
I have goals. I have dreams.
I'm going to be someone, even if it's only to a handful of people (It's enough for me.) and I'm simply taking my time. I'm going somewhere. I wouldn't let myself any other way. I wish I can do the same for others. (Damn it - there I go again.)
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Fireworks Plans
Tonight - Canada = after the movie, with Belle, Bt & co. (Yes, he comes with a whole entourage.)
July 26 - USA = after dojo's pool party, with Wang and possibly aluc4rd, LD_Noodlez and ckn
July 30 - China = TBD (but possibly a date? Awaiting the guy to check his work schedule...)
Aug 2 - Finale = after work, with the karate group (at Ah-nold's insistence - fuck, I think I'm stuck planning this.)
Why are people so difficult when it comes to seeing the fireworks? At times, I feel like I have to drag them by the front of their buck teeth to go. Booooooo.
I love watching the fireworks.
Nothing like things that go 'BOOM!' with pretty lights to light up my face.
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I'm learning new things every day.
On some days, I learn more than other days.
Last night was probably one of those days.
.new.knowledge.
* Bear mace/pepper spray is a type of oil and to remove it from skin and eyes, wash with Dove or milk, no rubbing at all. Or... flush it out with water, sitting under a spray.
* That shit is contagious. The oil on every single surface spreads and it's itchy. (Thankfully, I only ended up with minor itching on my arms.... and it's most likely from hitting Bt. He carried the towels on his shoulders and spread it on himself. Stupid me.)
* Belle is a closet obsessive-compulsive clean freak. (She's cringing over the sink, complaining about the burning feeling on her face when she begins rubbing at the sink. She can't see but feels the urge to clean the sink if it's dirty. - AT WORK, I'M GOING TO WIPE DOWN & REORGANIZE THE CASH DESK MORE OFTEN NOW. I can imagine how its current state freaks her out all the time.)
This morning, I woke up around 8:15am due to hunger pangs and a slight chill in my room via my open window. (I always leave it open during the summertime but Vancouver's weather been playing magical chairs so I'm never sure what to do. I leave it open and surprise myself in the mornings.) Calculating when I passed out (around 3:00am or so), I knew I didn't get enough sleep. Grumbling grumpily, I thought about the past events and tried to call Belle. Her phone was dead. I called work to warn our store manager Licka about Belle's situation and asked her to remind Belle to use the eye drops once an hour. (I know I can depend on Licka to take care of us. She'll force Belle to take two seconds every hour.  The store won't burn down if Belle isn't working constantly.)
Then I called Bt, knowing he was sleeping, and left a voice message of thanks for his fanatic efforts, despite Belle's protests.
Lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, I focused on the scent of my pillows and fell asleep again.
.random.karate.stuff.from.last.week.
Before karate on Thursday....
After work, I hung out at Lollipop's until we had to leave for karate. Absolutely pooped out, I hung out on her sofa, goofing off with my camera. I fiddled around with the video option. (I feel so technologically-challenged. Grrr... but I'm learning more about the contraption. Score!) Don't mind my sleepy look in the pictures. Work seriously drained me.
 She pretended to spit on my face and I pushed her away.  I thought we'd try for a normal shot but then Lollipop had to hold the knife.  She tried to be normal. Then I passed out into a quickie nap, letting Lollipop run amuck with my camera. (I have this tendency to let people run off with it and I always end up with a numerous amount of random pictures for my entertainment.)  Lollipop's backyard (Her parents have a huge green thumb.)  self-portrait: Lollipop in a huge floppy hat she has lying around in her kitchen.  Me passed out, sleeping. I stuck my feet into her couch because I was cold. I also wrapped my red pashmina around a little but my muscles felt too tired to move properly. (Damn it - I feel my arms are big here. Grrr.... I can't do anything about them though. At least I can punch someone and it'll somewhat hurt. *roll eyes*) Getting up from my nap, I catch Lollipop in her living room...  ....off-guard and furiously tapping away on the guitar. (She was waiting for me to wake up.)
At the dojo on Thursday....
 Ahhhh.... adorable little se7en What would life be like without a shot of her face gracing my camera? (She also ran off with my camera, taking a bizillion self-portraits and two video clips after I started training.) My favourite training buddy, AV, came back from Vietnam....  and he's extremely dark from the blazing sunshine over there.  When AV saw the pictures after training, he pointed out he's grown so dark, he matches the walls of the dojo. Hahahahaha.... yes he does!  I tried to get a shot of Midget about to kick AV. Instead she jumped over him and I couldn't catch her in mid-air. ACTION SHOTS ARE HARD!
.minor.bits.
 One of the chains on my favourite necklace (one with a purple whistle on it) broke. It's two necklaces attached together. I rummaged through my room and found a substitute for it but I still need to go out and buy another necklace, one with a similar size chain. I'm wearing it more often now. My eczema use to break out along the back of my neck when I wore this necklace and I stuck to draping it outside of collars or hoodies. Now, no big deal. Yay! But it still broke. Bleh.
 This morning, mom gave me snail mail, postcards from Singapore. Thank you, goodbyedinner!! This is awesome. I'm going to write to someone with them. SNAIL MAIL FOREVER! 
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True
Quality freakin' time.)
