star-fall.org

It’s just been one of those weekends. You know the kind—it’s Wednesday or Thursday and you swear up and down that you’re going to study and catch up on all of your readings, assignments, and if at all possible, even get ahead in your mountain of work. The kind of weekend where instead of plunking yourself down at your desk like a studious, dedicated Asian with serious post-undergraduate plans, you realize your town is overflowing with all kinds of exhilarating illegal substances because of the hippies currently swarming your small college town due to the 40^th annual Whole Earth festival. Yes, it’s been one of those glorious weekends that’ve consisted of getting one’s relax on and then attending a tiny barbecue where everyone makes fun of you because of how stupid you’re acting (calling an otherwise pleasant mutually known acquaintance a ‘FUCKING FASCIST CUNT/BITCH’), laying out in the grass in a bikini you’ve never had the confidence to wear just to take in the sunshine while listening to some Johnny Cash and Bob Dylan for hours just to punctuate that folk-y, eclectic atmosphere surrounding you. Then you get up and decide to head down to the campus to take it in even more. I won’t lie, Friday and Saturday are a bit of a sun-baked blur when I try and grasp any tangible, meaningful things, or even thoughts, I’ve done or had.

I took an exam on Friday morning– fueled by anger, black coffee, Camel cigarettes, a dab of amphetamine, and no sleep. While this formula typically works very well for me, resulting in undeserving A’s, I’m not particularly confident about the pending results of this exam. The nonstop stress frenzy I’ve worked myself into is obviously starting to take its toll on my overall motivation, so maybe this weekend filled with absolutely fucking nothing will prove to have been a good restorative. Obviously nothing restores quicker and more efficiently than a sickly-sweet snap of amphetamines crawling up your spine, but when you’re lacking in necessity / justification beyond being a tweaker, why not go the traditional route of some good old fashioned NOTHING? Of course, me being the way I am, the only way to get into that kind of relaxed state is to ply my brain and body with other things, but I won’t go into that.

Sunday has been a bit more purpose driven. Saturday evening I finally plucked up the courage to finish off Battlestar Galactica, even though the series has been over for a good month or two—I forget. I can say this, truly without hesitation or shame, that Battlestar Galactica will be missed. Such an epic show—thoughtful, character driven stories are something we don’t much get anymore, what with all of the I WANT TO MARRY A MULTI-TRILLIONARE, WHO IS THE TRASHIEST SKANKBAG?, ALONG WITH 6 OTHERS, AM WILLING TO SELL MY SOUL TO THE MADISON AVE. MEDIA BY UPHOLDING THE LOWEST COMMON DENOMINATOR IN ANY AND ALL OUTLETS IN HUMAN EXISTENCE, and of course my favorite kind of television: I AM A BORING, SHALLOW MOCKERY OF HUMAN LIFE—SO PUT ME IN A HOUSE/RANCH/ROOM WITH TEN OTHERS JUST LIKE ME SO WE CAN PUT ON DISPLAY FOR THE ENTIRE GLOBE JUST HOW HORRIBLE OF PEOPLE WE REALLY ARE—I WANT THE ENTIRE GLOBE TO THINK THAT WE REPRESENT AMERICA! Uh, that’s a lot of caps and I truly, truly digress… I have no idea what I was even thinking about anymore. Oh yeah … Anyhow, after my bleary-eyed Battlestar Galactica marathon, I decided to do some reading. I couldn’t find my well-worn copies of Burning Chrome, Neuromancer or Mona Lisa Overdrive (I KNOW they are here somewhere. I fucking know it. I just saw them. I realized I’d probably still got a touch of the dex-paranoia when I was tearing through my bookshelf and the rest of my apartment at 330am, wondering if my WASP roommate took some of my favorite books to get back at me for using pages out of her King James bible as rolling papers. Paranoia train-wreck. Why the fuck would she care enough to steal my books? Shut the fuck up, you crazy asshole.) So I finally retired to my room and read some of the Philip K. Dick that I’ve had floating around for a few years and passed out around 5am. Sunday morning my phone explodes with text messages (actually, was it morning? With my sleep pattern it could have been 2pm and I would’ve thought it was 6am.) about a group project meeting we had scheduled later that day, something about mother’s day, something about Mexicans not tipping at a restaurant, someone was apparently still drunk from the night before, and I responded in a deft manner that only a sleep-drunk state can provide. Actually, that must’ve been a hallucination, because I went through my outbox just now and I didn’t even send responses to anything. Go me. Okay, instead of me going on about my tangential exercises in futility, I will go back on track.

SUNDAY. I woke up, did my retarded stuff, and headed back to campus for some Whole Earth festival fun. I was a bit apprehensive about going this year, since last years was a slightly traumatic experience, but I figured I may as well just do it. Superficial disdain for hippies aside, I do adore them at times. Amidst all of my hate, anguish and rage with the oppression of the pedagogy, the apparent sisyphean futility of exams and papers, the never ending stress, I do love my school. With the academic year coming to a close within the next few weeks, I can honestly say that I can’t see myself having gone anywhere else. Possibly Berkeley—but I would just be another embittered, miserable hermit there among many. At least in Davis I can still be miserly and perpetually frustrated with humanity, but the community is so gorgeous, the sun feels so good, and the people are so relaxed, I can’t help but ease off a little.

Sorry for the shitty quality of pictures and media in general. I was trying to balance a hummus, falafel and tabouli wrap, a Nalgene bottle, and a camera. I dropped my pride somewhere along the way to campus, so at least I didn’t have to worry about that.

REFRESHING HERBAL ELIXIRS??? I WILL HAVE TWO MANA POTIONS, PLEASE.

THIS GUY. I followed this guy around for a while, hoping he would do something interesting. He turned out to be a tool instead so I gave up and went looking for other hippie-folk to stalk and generally make uncomfortable with my Asianness.

“Aww, that’s so cute! Your white oppressors let you out of your cage reservation for the festival, I see! Now make me something with some blue beads!”

No, seriously. One of the “main themes” of the festival is sustainability– a HUGE green goal of our campus in general, so there were these solar power panels setup everywhere. I’m assuming to try and power the festival through the AMAZING POWER OF THE SUN GOD WHO BLESSES THE EARTH MOTHER WITH HIS BOUNTY OF CLEAN, YELLOW ENERGY HUGS. Obviously, Michelle needs her vegan wrap to be cooked by sun power. It tasted amazing, I love the sun.

What did you fools do to the Welman building?! I have classes in there, dammit. YOU FOOLS.

I wonder how quickly I’d be yanked out of my university if my Neo-Con father found out he was paying disgusting amounts of money to have me liberally indoctrinated, sit on a pile of nutrient rich dirt, eat hippie vegan food, and trip balls. I reckon I’d be out of college and put to work in the fields very quickly.

Anyway, here’s a video that I took after I decided to sit in some dirt outside of Welman. Pretty much the entire campus and town was like this. Imagine, thousands of hippies swarming through a tiny, green town on bikes, on rickshaws, and driving Prius’. IMAGINE. IMAGINE, DAMN YOU.

So I came home from class today and decided that I had had a long morning. What better way to reward myself than with a couple beers and some catching up on some reading for class?

Well, I sat down at my dining table and found an interesting piece of what I assumed to be junk mail. That is, until I saw that the brochure had been previously opened and left on top of the stack of mail that is meant for me. I’m 100% sure i know one of my Christian roommates left this thing on my stack of mail, and I’m about 80% certain that I know which one it was. see: aforementioned WASPy closet Republican.

Damn you and your passive aggressive attempts at Jesus’ing up the local heathen. My idea of an Easter tradition is making a huge bonfire and roasting those sugar-encrusted peeps with one of my bestfriends. In fact, since I’ve moved up north, our tradition has gone unobserved. God dammit. This calls for a peep burning the magnitude of burning man.

I’m sure this is going to stir up an arguement later tonight, especially being as that I defaced faux-religious doctrine with an army of dicks, but I’m buzzed right now and think it’s hilarious. I left the brochure open and on top of the suspected roommate’s mailpile. I hope I’m around when she sees it.

Well, in my time spent neglecting this blog and this paid webspace, you should at least take solace in the fact that I’ve been relatively productive with my time. Somewhat. Unfortunately, majority of the time is spent “in recovery” from the latest happy hour binge down at The Grad, or failing in my attempts to keep up with heated conversations because of a lack of sleep.

Cool, I totally forgot what I was writing about. I’ll fix this when I don’t have an 8am class.

Edit:

I AM GOING TO PREFACE THIS FIRST ENTRY WITH A WARNING: I HAVE NOT SLEPT MORE THAN 2 HOURS IN THE LAST 48 HOURS, SO THE QUALITY OF WRITING YOU ARE GOING TO GET = POOP. THANK YOU.

Time for introductions. I live in a pretty tame apartment with three other down ass fools.

J’ the closet Republican and I met at the UCD transfer orientation during the summer. We hit it off pretty well, considering my dark sense of humor didn’t send her and her mother running. J’ and I were initially drawn together because of a little shared addiction problem. As a recovering World of Warcraft player, J’ had played it, but had been off/on until well—we moved in together. She was impressed by my leet purps and guild’s raid progression. I don’t know if this was a very good idea– she seems to have gotten worse over the course of the academic year. In fact, we barely see her, save for when she emerges from her dwarf mine to scavenge for food, go to class, or see what commotion R’, C’ or I am making.

R’ is our dude housemate. He’s pretty chill—Indian, vegetarian, but knows how to chillax. (It should also be noted that he has blue eyes, completely natural. I thought they were contacts for the first three months of living together, but no, I’m just a horrible self-centered person and assumed the wrong thing.) R’ is often the initiator of kickbacks at our place that include poker, beer pong, and strange flying machines that torment me and chase me around the apartment. He protects the women of the house.

C’ is closest to my heart. C’ and I grew up together, and have known each other since literally before pre-school. Well, our families attended the same Nikkei (Japanese American) Baptist church so they’d already known each other anyway. We also attended Calvary Christian Academy together during middle school—I’m sure more on that later—and now, we attend the same university and live together. C’ and I do a decent amount of work with the Japanese exchange students. C’ admittedly has an ulterior motive in that she wants to bring the newly exchanged students to JASS (Japanese American Student Society), but for myself, it’s just something to do with people to meet. I enjoy getting them hammered and when they pass out on the 2808 couch after a good party, giving them the American treatment and drawing dicks and balls on their faces with sharpie marker.

M’ – for Me. Just kidding—Mika. I’m pretty much the half retarded annoying roommate. R’ and I share one side of the apartment because we’re both dickheads and have no sense of time, nor do we remember to turn off our incredibly loud bass heavy music until 430am because we’re too busy being passed out on the bathroom floor. Or in my case, the bathtub tangled in a shower curtain. I tend to get inappropriately drunk at inappropriate times and yell inappropriate things at neighbors as well as do inappropriate things to them. One time I was able to coax J’ out of her cave was when I got drunk and somehow… accidently lit an iron pot of soup on fire. The smoke and burning didn’t clear out of our kitchen and living area for about half a week. I’m probably a horrible person to live with, but that’s okay. My next plan is to buy a crossbow and sneak into the abandoned building next to the apartment complex and shoot crap in there. Stacks of hay, empty beer cans, most likely myself… in the ass. Anyway, that’s all for now. I have finals that I should be cramming for…. oops.