It never fails to amaze me, what an impact I made on the Darkshipping fandom. I was twelve. Twelve! And I had high schoolers and college kids and adult-adults respecting me, reading my stuff, gushing about it. I even hosted a pervasive fanfiction event; it’s fun going through the old Darkshipping LJ comm archives and seeing people talk about it. Amphitrite’s Darkshipping Ficaway indeed… People are STILL reading my Darkshipping things, still favoriting them. And miraculously, I’m still churning them out.

Fanfiction is my Myspace/Facebook. It’s where I got to meet the most amazing people, who would never even turn my way IRL, who saw a part of me that nobody else ever did, who love and compliment my work without being obligated to at all. It’s where I still get the biggest ego-boost ever (way bigger than being admitted to Cal), where I know that I am loved by many (Favorite Authors!) and where I know that I made an impact on people’s lives.

I love the Internet.

mood: >:| annoyed
music: Make It Mine - Jason Mraz

I hate it when people ask me if I’m excited to go to Berkeley because then I have to lie to them.

Because the truth is, if I had it my way, I’d stay here for at least another year, earning money, taking unstressful classes, driving myself around, WRITING, not making social contact but for seeing my friends every other week or so and speaking a few sentences to my family every day.

I’d stay here for at least another year, because I go to sleep happy every night and wake up even happier. I’d stay here, because I only cry once a month now, instead of every week. I’d stay here, because I can’t bear to part with my house, especially my room. I’d stay here, because I don’t have to worry about roommates or drama or making friends. I’d stay here, because I can see my friends often but not too often. I’d stay here, because Jess needs me. I’d stay here, because I can blast music as loud as I fucking want, and because I have the house to myself for hours and hours. I’d stay here, because my mom makes me amazing food, and because I make myself amazing food, and because the restaurants make me amazing food. I’d stay here, because I only share the bathroom with one other person. I’d stay here, because everything is so convenient, because everything feels so damn good.

I’d stay here, because for the first time, I feel completely in control of my life.

I’d stay here, because I don’t know if I’m ever going to experience freedom like this ever again.

Remind me why I have to leave this paradise again?

mood: annoyed that my shoulders hurt but otherwise not bad
music: Love Lockdown - Kanye West

Saturday, September the 20th (…LOL, two months ago, yes), I went to an insurance class about what to do in case of an accident. The guy, who loves to talk, rambled on for ages about things both important and not-so-important. Actually, that’s incorrected; I suppose I should say he “loved”.

Jonathame, my insurance agent, in whose name I found endless amusement–which I happily shared with all of my friends–died last week. Just the other day, I had gone to visit him with Mother, to whom he had tried to convince to attend one of his classes. Just the other day, she had complained to me about how he always creeped her out because he liked to be in close proximity to people when he spoke, and to put a hand on their shoulder, pat their back, etc. And then here came the news of his passing; he died of pneumonia.

Life is so short.

Today, my Humanities teacher talked about how scary the external world is; any of us could be run over a truck on the way home. I’ve always been hyperaware of the fact, often morbidly imagining such scenarios, but Jonathame’s death brings me immense sadness. I think we often associate death with lifeless, suffering people; people who have no choice but to die. This man was so full of life that it was sickening; he was talkative, full of energy, and so damn animated that you just wanted to tie him down so that he would take a deep breath for a moment. It’s like this when you hear about the high school students who die, like Chuck Keith, for whom the street in front of University High is now named. You don’t have to know people like this to feel sad about their deaths, for you can just imagine the youthfulness and vigor of these types of people–and how it’s so…gone, now. They make me sad; these people who have their lives snatched away from them.

Anyway. Then, I went to the library to do research for my paper, whoo. That night, I took my sister out to Black Angus for dinner, which was fun. The food’s quality has greaty decreased, but the prawns were still really delicious. I barely touched the mashed potatoes, though, blegh. Soup was still delightful, as usual. Dinner was fun. We’ve been doing a lot of these since, and it’s been really nice. Sisterly bonding experience and all. It’s nice.

The following Friday, I took Jess to Mervyns, which is having a huge store closing sale. Just ended up buying a Jansport duffel bag that I adore; it was 50% off so only $30, yay! I used it when I went to CalSO, and I expect to use it when I visit Irvine after I go up north, yay. Don’t you love how I’m already planning my trips back? Ahaha.

After that, we went to the Grand Opening of 85C Bakery, which opened its first US store right here. Well, damn, haha. So I went to spy on the action, wearing sunglasses and all, LOL. Jess and I bought a shitload of goodies, except that they turned out to be not-so-good. I was kinda disappointed, but I guess any business that gets superly duperly commercialized like that ends up being not-so-great as it really could be (don’t get me wrong, I love Starbucks, but it really has lost that coffeshop feel!). You can read all about my unpleasant experience here. I was a very unsatisfied customer, haha. And usually I’m quite easy to please regarding food/restaurants!

One thing I do want to elaborate on is the demographic aspect of this town.

When I reflected on my experience, I realized that something else 85 C Bakery Cafe lacks is Americanism. Perhaps the owner is unaware, but while half of Irvine may be populated by Asians, most of them are English-speaking, Americanized Asians. Irvine is no Arcadia or Rowland Heights, where one can survive not knowing a single word of English. From the way they spoke and the way they didn’t put good service as a priority, I could tell that pretty much all of the workers were imported from Taiwan. This may work in other cities, but it’s just inefficient in Irvine, where almost all of the Asian kids speak English, where the non-Asian population loves to dabble in multicultural foods, where the majority of the population is pretty integrated into American society.

I dunno, I find this town really interesting in that aspect, and it’s a large part of why I love living here so much. When you walk around our mall, you see so many interracial couples, young and old. When you work in any kind of restaurant, you see so many interracial couples. I see a ton of them daily, because my family’s store is one with a crooked customer base–my mother seeks to serve food that white people will embrace, but my aunt is insistent on making the store a Chinese one. So a lot of what I call “halfie” couples enjoy our food: it’s an interesting medium, if anything. Another large portion of the demographic that enjoys our food is English-speaking Asians. Like, not Asians who can speak English, but Asians whose main language is English. Asians like me. Which I also find fascinating.

But anyway. The next day, I went to South Coast with Jess, which was fun. Got a bunch of warm clothes for Berkeley–well, relatively warm, anyway. A jacket, a 3/4 sleeve shirt (yes, I was just stretching the “warm” here, LOL), a cardigan, awesome bright yellow earrings, a very-me necklace. Oh yeah, I also went into the Abercrombie store for the first time–well, the kids one, anyway. For the past ten years of my life, ever since I started hearing about the brand, I’ve refused to go into the store, deciding that it would be awesome to fight mainstream, overpriced, overworn clothing. Also, that company has a horrible history regarding minorities, ranging from its plethora of white (naked) models, its racist shirts, its lack of white workers (despite that the brand is immensely, ridiculously popular among Asians… HMM), and its former status as a non-GLBT friendly store (it has only been GLBT-friendly for 3 years). You hear about this shit and you think it’s all lies, but just walk into an Abercrombie/Hollister store and look at its employees. The guy who gave me a fitting room was possibly the hottest white guy I’d seen in months. HMM. Yeah, so I decided that since I had turned 18, I should get out of that middle school funk and hatred of the mainstream. I bought two things but realized that it hasn’t really been about being in middle school. That kind of aversion has been part of me for a long time, and I predict that it’ll remain with me for a long, long time after my teenage years. Abercrombie has always been up there on my list with name brand bags, expensive shoes, and expensive jewelry–a fucking waste of money and ridiculous for people to desire. Meh. It’s just too bad that their clothes make me look so damn hot.

P.S. NaNoWriMo Word Count: 26,000, YAY!

It’s like, everything has to be a lesson.

I think that if I were stranded on an island and could only have one thing with me, I would want it to be Wikipedia.

I don’t care what anyone says; it’s frickin’ godly.

Am I really weak, or is that just how I let myself be characterized?

Perhaps I shouldn’t be so arrogant about the arguing. I’m just as stupid, sometimes.

I just voted for the first time ever, and DAMN, does it feel good!

I am praying with all my heart that Prop 8 doesn’t make it.

Good luck, Obama/Biden!

THIS IS IT. LET’S WIN THIS.

I am very nervous about this election.

The presidential race is ridiculously huge, the campaigning in my city is more intense than I’ve ever seen it (the incumbent mayor has been out-termed), and to top it all off, my big issue–gay civil rights–is facing an incredible battle in my state, California.

This is huge.

This also happens to be the first year that I get to vote.

So there is excitement mixed in with my anxiety, but I still feel more apprehensive than anything. Everything is so close, and it seems like nobody can predict anything this year. Nothing is for certain.

Turning eighteen has given me a sense of pride–rather than subtly demonstrating my opinion and determination through rainbow shirts and jewelry and declarations on my AIM profile and on social networking sites, I feel like I can go out there and do something about my opinion. Proposition 8, which would create a constitutional ban on the same-sex marriage that was legalized in California this summer, has been worrying me ever since same-sex marriage was legalized. So when election high-tide began rolling around, I put an obnoxious notice in my profile. I put a notice in my Facebook status and updated it regularly. I donated $20 to the cause and wore a bajillion pins obnoxiously to school and work. I made my own flyers and went door-to-door in my community to pass them out. I participated in a protest in my city for three hours, yelling myself hoarse. I put a NO ON 8 signs in my front yard, the back of my car, and the living room window. I posted notices to both Myspace and Facebook. This was what I wrote:

Proposition 8 seeks to amend our state constitution to define marriage as a union of a man and a woman.

We never voted on heterosexual marriage, so why are we voting on same-sex marriage? What is it about same-sex marriage that is so wrong?

Isn’t treating everyone equally common sense? Isn’t that what America is all about?

The government’s job is to protect minorities, not discriminate against them.

This is not a religious issue. This is not about children, schools, or adoption. This is about giving all law-abiding citizens the same rights.

As many of you are aware, I am proudly bisexual. If Prop 8 passes, I will once again be a second-class citizen in the eyes of the Californian government. I will no longer share the same rights afforded to Californians who are attracted to people of the opposite sex. Why? What makes me so different from you? I’m no heathen–I like smoothies and blasting songs obnoxiously on my car stereo; I hate homework and waking up in the morning. I just happen to like girls in addition to boys.

Is that so wrong? And even if you do think it is wrong–is it RIGHT for me to be denied the right to marry someone I love because of my gender and sexual orientation?

A vote for Prop 8 is a vote for discrimination, a vote for hate, a vote that eradicates the step forward that California took by legalizing same-sex marriage.

How would you feel if the government told YOU who you had a right to marry?

Gay or straight–

VOTE NO ON PROP 8.

In my city, the YES ON 8 campaigners are maniacs. Signs flood every street, they’re calling people, they’re leaving letters on cars in parking lots, they’re putting up signs on their houses. They even hired airplanes to draw campaign notices in the sky. Yeah? Fucking BRING IT, bigots. Every time I see a sign, I want to cry at the unfairness of the people of this world; I want to cry at how people don’t understand that people like me are NO DIFFERENT THAN THEM–if murderers and rapists can marry, then why the fuck can’t I?!

But I don’t cry. I hold the tears in, and I let my feelings of frustration fuel my determination. We will fight this. And we will win.

Alex and I talked about how ridiculous this entire issue is–especially the fact that it even has to be debated and voted upon. He commented that none of the things we do really change anything–this is something that everyone has pretty much already decided on.

But.

I just want to do everything in my power to fight this. That way, at least, if we lose, I’ll know that I did my part and contributed. It just feels good to fight it–this is what I’ve been trying but not been able to do since I was twelve. That’s what’s important, you know? That we stand up for our rights, for what we believe in… For what we know is right. Even if we lose, another opportunity will come.

DAWN WILL COME.

I just hope I’ll live to see it.

Ellipsis updated; NaNoWriMo begins at midnight; “Wrath of the Lich King” is coming out in less than two weeks; parents are out of town; received a really sweet text from Mark last night; gonna see Amanda and Diana today; gonna watch the Memory World arc of Yu-Gi-Oh! with Jess this weekend; gonna go to work dressed up as a flight attendant.

Life is good. Happy Halloween!

Mark says it’s bad to suppress bad feelings, but… Sometimes you can’t go on living your life if you don’t do it.

They still don’t understand.

They’re done, but I still get sad, and mad, and I still cry in frustration.

The story’s ended, but I can’t put the damn book down.

I dreamt that college was hell.