Alternate Ending

"And if you can't say yes, answer anyway. Because I'd rather live with the answer than die with the question."

But would you rather have the answer, knowing you may die when you hear it just the same?

~&~

If he had turned around like Orpheus, seeking for a reassurance, a sign from the faithful ghost of Eurydice; if he had chased after her like Apollo, chasing after Daphne even as she ran from him; then maybe Narcissus would still hear Echo repeating the same three words again and again, so long as he said them aloud; then maybe Helios would still catch a glimpse of Clytie's longing gaze following him through the sky.

If only, if only.

Oneirology

I had the strangest dream last night. It involved these two fine people:

Emma Watson

Lucas Till

I was at the local amusement park with Emma. Technically, I was supposed to be interviewing her for the school newspaper, but we were chatting along like buddies. She was the epitome of perfection -- impeccable fashion sense, artistic gift, charisma, athleticism -- and what you'd call "beauty & brains."

For some reason, I was running beside her through this very strange, colorful obstacle course. It was very early in the morning; our breath floated from our mouths in small whimsical puffs. Apparently, she was at the amusement park because she was playing the leading role in some play that would be performed there that afternoon. Her co-star was Lucas Till, whom she described to me as "not at all bad to look at, but you can't have a single intelligent conversation with him." Unlike the hundreds of fangirls waiting at the park gates, she was not at all smitten by him.

We sprinted around the obstacle course, and then headed over to one of the theaters that was playing a documentary on FGM, where we had a very deep discussion about the oppression of women in modern society.

This dream affirms two things:

1) I've watched the video for Taylor Swift's "You Belong With Me" one too many times.
2) Emma Watson is the bomb.

Dreamcatcher

I woke up this morning and saw You caught in my dreamcatcher, squirming like a fly gasping on a spider's web. I don't know why You were poking your nose in my vespertine musings. I don't know why You decided to rear your ugly head in my sleep when you already seem to intuitively know that I can't look at you anymore.

Modern Romance

Two lovers embrace within the cage of the steel construction grid. The concrete is rising, their bodies are hardening, but they don't care. Because in a few moments, their lips will lock for eternity.

Sophelia's Weekly Five, Edition III

I would have loved to report that in my five day absence, I spent a great deal of time writing and getting back on track with my work. Sadly, that is not the case. So instead of commenting about random nonsense like I usually do, I'll use the Weekly Five as an excuse to share all the wonderful happenings in my life.

Sophelia's Weekly Five, Edition III

1. The Health-Nut Strikes Back

I've already used this picture before on a previous blog post, but I think this is pretty applicable to what I'm about to say.

I miss the good old days when I could eat anything and everything I wanted, and none of it would culminate around my waist in a halo of fat. I am probably the least-picky person I know -- fortunately for me, the only things I do not like to eat are either expensive delicacies like sea cucumbers and sea urchins (totally not worth the money) or extremely sweet foods (I do not like whipped cream, birthday cake, or anything overloaded with sugar). Fortunately, when I was young I burned off nearly everything, due to the fact that I played tennis for two and a half hours per day, seven days a week.

Furthermore, I can eat incredibly fast. When we were eating Togo's sandwiches at Rogue's house last winter for her birthday, I finished my sandwich faster than S -- who happens to be a six-foot tall guy. Eating fast is an incredibly bad habit to have -- you don't realize you've stuffed your stomach until it's too late. Fortunately, my stomach has shrunk a great deal since the days when I would gorge myself on food -- but on the flip side, I haven't been exercising.

Anyways, I had a doctor's appointment last Wednesday. Apparently here are the things I'm doing wrong:

- Not Enough Sleep: When she asked me how much sleep I usually get, I responded honestly that I sleep five hours on the average weekday. Apparently, I'm only getting half of the required amount for teenagers, who are supposed to get nine to ten hours a night. Um, hello? Can you tell that to my teachers? I have to get up at 6 a.m. by the latest in order to make it to zero period on time. That means I'd have to go to sleep at 9 p.m. -- which happens to be about the time when I start eating dinner.

- Not Enough Fruit & Vegetables: I actually thought I was doing okay regarding fruit. Our house is filled with fruit from the farmer's market. I always have fruit with my lunch, and I usually eat more when I return home from school and again after dinner. Apparently that's not enough. I'm only getting three servings out of the expected five. Right... when am I supposed to eat the other two servings? Sometime during my nine-hour sleep?

- Not Enough Exercise: I admit, I cannot disagree with this one. Before yesterday, I hadn't touched my tennis racket in over two weeks. Which leads me to my next topic...

2. Why I am Never Flying a Kite Again

Last Thursday, I took the last AP test I'll ever take in my life. This calls for celebration, right? G and Gov. J came over to my house that afternoon. We had plans for walking my dog and flying a kite in the park near my house. You may now picture a beautiful, sunny California afternoon as you sit next to a white roly-poly Maltese dog while one of your friends squints up into the sky to find the rainbow-colored kite sailing in the wind.

Now, you may picture your friend letting go of the kite.

Perhaps a bout of insanity overcame Gov. J, or perhaps she was simply tired -- she ambled idly after the kite as it jumped and bounced wildly across the field, towards the street, smacking into a parked car before landing onto the roof of a nearby house. G and I, however, were screaming frantically, "RUN! GO GET IT!"

It was too late by the time we caught up. All we could see was the string of the kite hanging off of the second-story roof, with the end of the string dangling in the driveway. Parts of the string were snagged on the roof -- no matter how much we pulled, the string would not move. Time of death for the kite? 4:44:44.

The amiable neighbor of the house, who wore a black cowboy hat, decided to help us out. His attempts to loosen the line failed, but we greatly appreciated his help. He left with the promise that he'd try again when he returned home. But not wanting to simply rely on others, the three of us returned to my house, dropped off my dog, and came back to the site of the accident with an extendable branch-cutter. Ironically, Gov. J, who was the tallest, was the weakest one who could not hold onto the towering branch-cutter for too long. G, the shortest, turned out to be the one with absolutely no fear of heights. We took turns giving directions and managed to unsnag the line from several shingles of the roof except for the one at the roof's peak. Gov. J rang the doorbell, and the owner of the house, who did not even bother coming out to help, reported that there was no sign of the kite in their backyard.

Thinking something was weird, I decided to go visit the house behind them. As it turned out, the house in the back belonged to some family friends, the K family -- and the kite had landed on THEIR roof, with the string suspended all the way across two houses. Gov. J, the genius going off to Harvard in the fall, suggested cutting the string on their side, and then the three of us should able to retrieve the kite from the top of the K family's one-story house. I dashed home and returned with a ladder. Using the branch-cutter, I was able to pull all of the string off of the two-story roof and retrieve most of the string off of the K family's roof.

With Gov. J holding onto the ladder for support, G climbed onto the highest step of the ladder (which you are instructed NOT to do on the ladder's warning label) and used the branch-cutter to cut the string from the kite. It was nearly 7 p.m. by the time we got the kite off the roof and started untangling the three pieces of string.

Not exactly the best turn of events, but G, Gov. J and I agreed the experience was a lot of fun. I could probably spew the saccharine reflections about how getting the kite off of the roof allowed us to bond and utilize all of our best abilities -- Gov. J's brain, G's fearlessness, my I-don't-know-what -- but I think you get the point.

3. And Yet Another Exhausting Day

I have no idea where in the world this roller coaster is, but that's not the point.

Friday was the Math and Science day at the local amusement park. Thus, the AP Stats, AP Physics, and Math Club students from my school spent the entire day riding on roller coasters. I am not really afraid of rolller coasters -- I just don't get the same adrenaline rush that G seems to get high off of. Towards the afternoon, I started getting a headache, since I obviously do not get my head shaken around violently on a day-to-day basis. As it just so happens, I sat out when my friends wanted to ride on Flight Deck again, even though the park had techinically closed thirty minutes ago. As it turned out, the second time they went on, the ride creaked up the initial slope and then suddenly stopped, leaving S, C, and G dangling in their seats at an approximately sixty degree incline.

It only lasted for ten minutes, but it was pretty funny. My runaway imagination was coming up with all sorts of ideas, but I think I'll let you think of them on your own.

4. Eternal Sunshine in the Prom-inflicted Mind
Yes, I will admit that I have been dutifully ignoring the Senior Ball drama and refraining from blogging about it.

For awhile, I was considering not even going at all. The reason? I assumed I would most likely end up going stag again, but this year, I'm not quite so comfortable with that idea. Why? Because all of my friends (excluding S, who doesn't count) have all paired off with their romantic interests, thus making me the triple third wheel. Because Gov. J is stubbornly refusing to go for reasons I do not comprehend. Because of another reason I do not want to reveal on this blog.

Anyways. I agonized over the decision for a long time, until my mother neatly resolved the issue Friday night. When I came home exhausted from the long day, she showed me pictures of the dresses she had looked up. Upon seeing how excitedly my mother was looking at dresses online and in the fashion magazines, I realized the least I could do for my mother was let her doll me up for the last formal dance of my high school career.

Those close to me probably know that my father is an E-bay nut. He knows all the tricks and whatnot. Occassionally, I browse around just to look around -- I don't have an account, and I have never asked my father to bid anything for me. On a whim, I decided to look at designer dresses on Friday night. I looked at my two of my favorites: Vivienne Westwood and Marchesa. I found this:

Yes. It's a Marchesa Notte dress. Retail Price: $950. When I first found the listing, the price was at $228.

All of my measurements fit, except for one -- my waist. My body type is more boyish than hourglass, and thus I do not have the waist for this kind of dress. For awhile, I toyed with the idea of buying the dress as an investment -- if I didn't fit, whatever; in a few decades, I could sell it as vintage clothing. In the end, the dress ended up selling for $313.67.

My mother ended up taking me out shopping yesterday. Shopping with my mom = visiting discount stores like TJ Maxx, Marshalls, Nordstrom Rack, and Loehmann's. My family is rather frugal, in case you haven't noticed. For Junior Prom last year, I spent approximately $30 on a dress I found at TJ Maxx. This year, I spent even less than that.

My dress isn't quite so simple as this one, but this is very similar to what it looks like. I spent $10 on a little red dress and $11 on platform lace-up sandals.

I intend to buy some red silk or velvet orchids and sew it onto the left strap so it will slightly resemble this:

Yes. As you can see, I like Marchesa very much. And I am very miserly when it comes to money.

5. But I Haven't Been Goofing Off This Entire Time...

Last night, I hung out at C's house with S and Duckie. We were supposed to be working on our Stats project but ended up wasting a bunch of time. That evening, G and JC came over and we watched Memento.

I had actually heard of this movie before -- I knew about its spliced storyline technique, and I had planned on watching it anyway, because I want to try that technique for the novella I intend on writing at some point in my life. The film splices a storyline into two halves. The first half runs chronologically in black and white, while the other is cut into sections that go in reverse chronological order. At the end of the movie, the two halves meet and black-and-white becomes color.

I have to say, I was only interested in the movie in order to figure out how the spliced storyline technique was used. To be honest, if the storyline of Memento had gone in chronological order, I think the movie would have put me to sleep. I think this is the type of movie you can only watch twice -- once to experience the suspense, twice to grasp a better understanding of what you didn't catch the first time around.

Regarding the novella I mentioned -- I've been toying with the idea in my head for almost half a year now, but it's still in the process of brainstorming. At this point, I don't know if I am mentally or emotionally mature enough to tackle the project; on the surface, it sounds like EP -- featuring another pair of rock stars with a twisted love story. But it actually deals with a lot of existentialism and questions about unrequited love/death/art. Furthermore, I doubt I am skillful enough to reach the level I want with this story. It features three parts, and each part uses a different technique -- stream-of-conscience, surrealism/unreliable narrator, spliced storyline. I've limited it to focus on only two main characters -- and only one of them will actually appear in the entire story. This is a dark story with no happy ending, and it's going to be very tough to handle.

Therefore, I've decided I won't even dare start writing this until I'm in college. Back to work on EP!

The Last Chapter

"At sunrise we start anew."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Neil Gaiman has some pretty slick quotes.

"Life — and I don't suppose I'm the first to make this comparison — is a disease: sexually transmitted, and invariably fatal."

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love."

And most importantly...

"My words of wisdom: don't blog because it could "get you out there". Blog because you want to blog. There are too many people blogging out there already and too few with anything to say. If you have something you want to say then do it, otherwise go and write books instead."

I think I'm going to start writing again.

Or maybe I am bipolar...

Ignore the last post.

I am feeling MUCH BETTER.

And I cannot wait to get out of here. I cannot wait to go to Duke and completely reinvent myself. I just activated my new Duke e-mail and joined the Facebook network. This is so exciting. I am going to stop wallowing in self-misery and end my high school career with a KABOOM.

Honnêteté

X: Si vous saviez que votre compagnon ne veut pas sortir avec vous, est-ce que vous voudriez sortir encore avec lui?
O: Si je le veux, si je sais que je veux cela tellement -- oui, bien sur.

La question est stupide. La reponse est ridiculement simple. Je suis folle.

Aujourd'hui, c'est le deuxieme fois. Je n'apprends jamais.

...

OMFG SOMEBODY SHOOT ME NOW.

...

I am:
- chronically depressed
- pissed
- angry
- and irritated at a certain person who has tormented me to no end
- stressed out by the bullshit that was suddenly dumped on me this afternoon
- disgusted by the superficiality of a certain group of people
- ugly
- fat
- questioning the concept of beauty
- apathetic towards AP Chemistry
- sad
- bitter
- and disappointed that a certain person has chosen to hang out with others over spending the evening with the people who have been by this person's side for nearly their entire lives thus far (and I've been by this person's side for nine years)
- sick of this
- sick of the world
- a pathological liar

...

everything i've said is a lie
but everything i've written is true.

...

"Hope, it is the quintessential human delusion, simultaneously the source of your greatest strength, and your greatest weakness. "

"I love French wine, like I love the French language. I have sampled every language, French is my favorite. Fantastic language. Especially to curse with. Nom de dieu de putain de bordel de merde de saloperie de connard d'enculé de ta mère. It's like wiping your arse with silk. I love it. "

-- Matrix Reloaded (terrible film, great quotes)

Mother's Day

The first time I saw that photograph
I thought the little one was me
She wore a printed skirt and had
The cutest face I'd ever see

But it turns out that girl was you
The more I look, the more I see
It's A-Mah standing by your side
But somehow I still see you and me

One day, maybe ten years from now
In your cradling arms you'll see
The cutest face that you've once seen
In A-mah, yourself, and in me.

Teaser

To be honest, I rarely watch our music videos. They almost always seem to feature another model or actress in your arms, her head pressed against your shoulder with the knowing smile that you will take her to bed once the filming is wrapped for the day.

F.M.L.

Why did I sign up for 4 AP tests in my senior year?

Why does my chem grade keep plummeting like the stock market?

Why did I get such a crummy grade on the free response section of our final today?

Why can't we just not have classes when AP tests are going on?

Why do I still have to go to zero period sculpture at 7 am when I have to take my AP Stats test in the afternoon?

Why do I not understand Macroeconomics at all?

Why did I get such a crummy grade on the multiple choice section of our Econ test today?

Why do we even have tests at this point in the year?

Why does my AP Lit teacher seem to completely ignore the fact that our AP test is this Thursday, and instead of reviewing she talks about how our Invisible Man essay is due in two weeks?

Why can't we just graduate once we find out where we're going for college, since California's budget deficit is so bad anyway?

WHY?

They tell you to ask questions in school. Then they tell you that you're not asking the right ones.

Letter from an Upset Swine

Dear Editors,

A prominent government head once said, “Times like these, dark times, they do funny things to people. They can tear them apart.” This man, who devoted his life to bringing equality to those regarded by society as inferior beings, spoke of an entirely different global crisis, but his words still ring true today.

We are living in dark times. The economy has gone down the toilet. April marked the deadliest month in the Iraq War. The San Jose Sharks were eliminated from the first round of the Stanley Cup playoffs. And as if the situation wasn’t bleak enough, an influenza outbreak has caused the entire world to turn their backs on a certain cute, curly-tailed species.

Last week, the government of Egypt ordered the slaughter of all 350,000 pigs in the country. To compensate the swine owners’ loss as a result of this atrocious mass murder, the government is offering 180 dollars per pig.

Is that all my life is worth? 180 dollars? My kin and I are sacrificed, not to be digested warmly and cozily in a human’s stomach, but to supposedly impede the spread of a virus that hasn’t even been reported in Egypt yet. At a time when food prices continue to rise, the amount of food going to waste is unthinkable.

Picture the classic American breakfast: pancakes, hash brown potatoes, scrambled eggs and – most important of all – your choice of bacon, sausage or ham. Now picture a rosy pink, 400 pound pig. This little piggie produces 2,000 strips of bacon. And finally, picture 700,000,000 strips of bacon incinerating under the Egyptian sun.

Pigs are not bioterrorists, capable of wiping out the human race. Babe, Piglet and Wilbur would never harm a fly (or spider). Though we may not be able to compete in ice hockey or invest in the stock market, we have our own rights and dignity too.

In these dark times, it is your people’s duty to uphold the principles of equality and protect the rights of those that your society views as inferior beings. Arthur Weasley, the speaker of the aforementioned quote, still worked relentlessly to protect the rights of Muggles during the Dark Lord’s return. Why shouldn’t you do the same?

Signed,
An Upset Pig