Archive for February, 2006

now

February 25, 2006 at 1:08 am · Filed under Uncategorized ·Tagged , ,

Right now, I’m almost as bad as any one of the girls in my grade, because I’m gossiping about a loooot of people. I blame Tamsh. jk.

I found a magazine article for my research paper. Yes, only three more sources to go. I am so prepared…xDD

Yes, I have a basketball game tomorrow. I’m so happy; bball throws me out of my loser life and into the adrenaline that comes from writing down the score. XD

So I told Horace that other kids were spreading rumors about him and me and I caught wind of it and got kinda worried. ‘Cause Horace and I are not like that, and I don’t like him, nor does he. At least, not in a romantic sort of way. Oh, look, he’s online, I’ll write more later. This wordpress is fun because it’s so loser-y and I don’t think more than one person will read it. xD

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awwww.

February 19, 2006 at 4:59 pm · Filed under Uncategorized ·Tagged ,

I wish our grade had GOOD soap opera-like drama. But nooo, we have to be all…crush gossipy and stuff. At least eighth grade’s drama is real-life, like parents and stuff. Not saying that I’d want to be them.

Yet I can tell from reading xangas and stuff that their grade is more ordered, and there’s not necessarily a perpetrator, but it’s not all mooshed up like ours is. Like, they have a source. We don’t have a source. We have gangs. Haha. Yeah…Meh.

I’m a nosy child; I think I’ll stop now.

Oh, Sam is a really funny kid. Wow, I can count on him to make my day and my humor go up a couple of notches. xDD

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Greek mythology

February 18, 2006 at 4:20 pm · Filed under Uncategorized ·Tagged

Family friends are coming over today. It’s only for like, four or five hours or so, so it’s okay. Haha. Nah, they’re nice people. I’m just kidding.

Anyway, my Greek mythology topic is “the sons of Apollo: Paethon and Aesculapius.” Well, it turns out that “Paethon” ISN’T Apollo’s son; rather, he is Helios’. Yet Apollo later gains the title of the sun god, therefore taking over Helios’ role. So in all technicalities, Apollo did NOT give birth to Paethon. Whatever.

Paethon was the guy who flew the sun chariot (of Helios’) too high so everything froze and then too low so everything burned and Africa became the Sarah Desert and black people turned black. =D

The reason for such a stupid thing was his pride; he boasted about being the son of the sun-god (haha no pun intended), and his friends laughed at him. So since Helios swore by the river Styx to obey his son’s wishes, Paethon (or Phaeton) asks to fly the sun chariot for one day. Wow, what an idiot. So Paethon is like “whee! *loses control of freaky horses*”

Obviously, he had to be stopped, so Zeus threw a thunderbolt at him. Paethon falls into the River Po (Eridanus, in that time). Cycnus, his friend, cries a lot so he turns into a swan. Hence, the Cy- thing being used with swans. Paethon’s sisters, Heliades, get turned into alder trees and their tears get turned into amber. Oh, poop. Sad ending.

Aesclepius (Aesculapius, Latin) is the god of medicine, healing. His name is also referred to as the Egyptian Imhotep. (That guy was cool.) His name means “cut up,” kind of like how scalpel has similar roots. His daughters are Hygieia (hygiene), Meditrine (medicine), and Panacea (penicillin, haha). His son is telesforos, the powers of recuperation.

Okay, so Apollo falls in love with Coronis (Arsinoe), who gets pregnant with Aesclepius but falls in love with this guy called Ischys. Apollo hears this news from this crow, so Apollo says, “Artemis! Go kill Coronis! Ragh!” Coronis is burned on a funeral pyre, which STAINS THE CROW’S FEATHERS FROM A WHITE TO A BLACK. WHOA. The baby is rescued, because Apollo performs the first caesarean section and gives it to Chiron the centaur. So anyway, Coronis’ father Phlegyas burns the Apollonian temple at Delphi and Apollo kills him.

Chiron teaches Aesclepius doctor stuff (surgery). Chiron also teaches him drugs, incantations, love potions (Pythian Odes, Pindar).

Okay, and then um, Aescle guy fights with the Achaeans (Trojan War), and cures Philoctetes of his famous snake bite or whatever. Sometimes this part is confused with Aescle’s sons, Machaon or Podalirius.

Since Aesclepius is using his ability to revive the dead (Gorgon’s left side of the heart = poison, right side = revival from death), Zeus is like “ROAR” and throws a thunderbolt at Aesclepius. There are some accounts that Zeus is mad because Aesclepius is accepting money in exchange for resurrection, or Zeus killed Aescle after he agreed to resurrect Hippolytus (this angered Athena), and Hippo guy might have been killed with the same thunderbolt. Anyway, the killing of Aesclepius by Zeus illustrates “man’sinability to challenge the natural order that separates mortal men from the gods.”

So to get Zeus back, Apollo kills the Cyclopes, who fashioned Zeus’ thunderbolts. Dang.

Zeus realizes Aesclepius is a really important guy after he murders him. …No crap. So he places Aesclepius in the sky as the const. Ophiuchus; serpent-bearer= Aesclepius’ staff, entwined with a serpent. It’s for physicians, and shouldn’t be confused with the commerce one (Caduceus of Mercury), which has two serpents and wings. =D

So in honor of Aesclepius, snakes are often used in healing rituals, non-poisonous snakes left to crawl on the floor in dormitories where the sick and injured are kept. Around 300BCE, the cult of Aesclepius grew really popular. Healing temples=asclepieion; pilgrims sleep there overnight and report dreams to the priest, the priest prescribes a cure (usually baths or gymnasium)

Aesclepius is married to Salus (Epione), and has six daughters Aceso, Iaso, Panacea, Aglaea, Meditrine, Hygieia, three sons, Machaon, Telesforos, Polidarius. His most famous sanctuary was in Epidaurus in NE Peloponnese.

The male rooster (cock) is sacred to Aesclepius. Don’t ask. The original (ancient) Hippocratic Oath begins “I swear by Apollo the Physician and by Aesclepius and by Hygieia and Panacea and by all the gods…”

There’s a botanical genus Aesclepias, or milkweeds. Also, there’s a medicinal Asclepias tuberosa, or “Pleurisy root.”

Haha, see how I type so much more for Aesclepius. That’s because I think Paethon is an idiot and I’ve read his myth like, five times. I have one of those old school kids’ mythology mini-books.

This will be used as my reference instead of always using wikipedia, because all this stuff is copied from wikipedia. =D So yeah. It’s for my paper. Deal with it. I guess um, I’d correlate the two with having deaths instigated by Zeus’s thunderbolts and they both kind of had morals (kind of). Ignore my run-on sentences.

Listening to my whole iPod is FUN. I suddenly realize that my taste for music is varied. VERY varied. …and how half of the music I listen to I don’t understand the lyrics. Even if the song is English.

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nothing much, i guess.

February 17, 2006 at 2:35 pm · Filed under Uncategorized ·Tagged , , ,

So I finally looked at my report card yesterday after it being left on the library table for nearly half a week. I was pretty happy about it, because Cerqueira gave me a 90 instead of the 88.7 that it was supposed to be. Awesome.

Spanish I — Q1 (90) Q2 (99) ME (99)
H Biology — Q1 (97) Q2 (94) ME (95)
Gym — Q1 (95.2) Health — Q2 (96)
H Geom — Q1 (100) Q2 (95) ME (95)
World Civ — Q1 (96) Q2 (90) ME (90)
H English — Q1 (92) Q2 (95) ME (86)
Intro to Art — Q1 (98) Q2 (93) ME (91)
Italian II — Q1 (96) Q2 (98) ME (97)

In other news, everyone is so angsty lately. Why? I understand that this is the second boyfriend that Stephi is going through, but barely a week into it, she is angsting out. She never did this with Sean, did she? Or did she not tell her mom the first time? Well, it’s not good to make speculations. Simply, she’s complaining about her mom telling her not to hug him or do anything. Well, if that’s the case, why bother getting one? Is it only for social status? Is that why I’m such a social disgrace to the azn crowd? Or am I? Haha, I’m just kidding.

Anyways, I don’t know what Kaffy is talking about, either. I don’t know if the angst she puts on her xanga is fake or not, because she doesn’t seem like the kind of person. Yet again, I’m stereotyping. Yeah. Wow, I think a lot of people don’t like Qbert because he just talks too much. Even though, the more I think about it, the more I see his point. What he says is (for the most part) true, even if he overdoes it and tells us, the audience, all he thinks about other people. That’s what I’m doing right now, isn’t it.

Rose: Whoa! Look at Sam’s pushups! They’re like, THIS close to the ground! So crazy! Look, Lisa, Look!
Me: *looks*
Sam: *on hands and knees* GRAGGGGH. GRAGGGH.

So now I know what Sam’s pushups look like, haha. Wow.

Bri, Horace, Choie, my mom, Sarah, and I went to Mahzu last night. I must say it was quite fun, even though I gained like, three pounds from eating all of that. =___+ There’s nothing else more to say about it, though. No funny comments or anything. Even though half of it was amusing, it wasn’t amusing in how others look at things. So it’s best left unsaid. Alas, it was a quiet dinner; not terribly so, but it was not loud. Not like Chili’s, which was death.

Oh, and I apologized to Greg after Valentine’s Day occured, because I didn’t see where his feelings lay. Since now I do, it’s easier to forgive him for how he “abandoned” me. I was being selfish when that happened. It’s human nature, again. Please see below for my…rant on humans. It’s pretty badly written, though. Hahah. xD But he has been acting different. It’s partially his fault, only not. I guess it’s best to leave it as it is.

Mom was like, “Don’t mistake your feelings.” Of course I won’t; Horace is my best friend ever. BFFLYF, right. It’s true he brightens my day with a wave, but I couldn’t stand being any more than friends. That’d kill me. Besides, looking at others around me right now, I’d like to NOT get a bf, please.

Wow, the title deceives the reader. It’s quite a lot for nothing much. I hope track goes well.

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Chapter 1

February 13, 2006 at 5:21 pm · Filed under Uncategorized ·Tagged ,

I was ready. Oh, I was brilliant.

It was my first day at an American public school since, well, kindergarten. My parents had suddenly decided to move back to America after spending a good half of my elementary school in England. So here I was, sitting in the classroom of fourth grade teacher Mrs. Jiustina. I had rehearsed my long-forgotten American accent. It was tough.

Oh, but I was prepared. My eyes were focused on the lady I had seen walking in.

“Hi, kids, my name is Mrs. Jiustina. See, this is how you spell it.” The plump woman who was most definitely over forty wrote her name on the board. She turned back to face us. “See, it’s not pronounced like ‘juice’ as in ‘juice-box,’ but like ‘justin’ with an ‘ah’ at the end.”

Okay, simple enough. Juice-box lady. All right, I was psyched.

“Now, everyone, stand up.”

Wait, what? I looked around nervously. Wow, there were a lot of people. Self-consciousness took over. Everyone had a friend; everyone did, except me.

“We’re going to have assigned seats so I can learn all your names and you can get to know each other better!” I heard the majority of the class groan. Did it happen a lot, this…assigned seat…thing?

“When I call your name, get your backpack and jacket, and sit where I tell you to. Alice Abrams. You sit here…Salina Amster, you sit next to her.”

I watched the two girls chatter together excitedly. I sighed, noticing half-heartedly that it was going to be alphabetical. Just my luck; Risa Yang always happened to be last. I waited for at least ten minutes. My legs hurt from shaking with embarrassment, being one of the only ones left standing. I could feel the others’ eyes taking me in, me, with my pigtails especially braided by my mum–sorry, mom–for this occasion.

“Risa…Yahn?” I groaned inwardly. Oh, look, someone who couldn’t pronounce my name. Again.

“Yang, miss.” I loved how my voice came out, a British squeak among the American folk. I hated standing out so much. No, not hate; I strongly disliked it.

Mrs. Juice-box nodded, writing down something in her book. My eyes widened in fear; did I do something wrong? She must’ve noticed me with the eyes secretly hidden on the top of her head, because, without looking up, she muttered, “phonetic spelling.” She lifted her pen off the paper. “You can sit here, next to Kevin.”

I sat down slowly and folded my hands, as was proper posture. It was appropriate and encouraged in private school. I saw this so-called ‘Kevin’ look at me. I mouthed a “hi” and unfolded my hands, staring down at the desk.

“Sally…Yoko.” I lifted my head up. What, for once, there was someone with a name that was behind mine! Excited, I looked at the girl who sat down next to me.

First impressions must be everything.

She looked weird. It must’ve been my English upbringing and henceforth separation from Asians or something, because Asian children looked weird in my eyes, even though I myself was Taiwanese. She had glasses with a stern look on her face, short, black hair that shined but didn’t bounce. She hung up her jacket on the back of the seat. She wore the kind of outfit that I saw often in Taiwan, woolen red with a natural green colored pair of pants with dirtied trainers–no, sneakers.

I think she noticed my stare, because she turned her head to look at me, one eyebrow raised. I put my face into what I thought a friendly one and waved meekly with one hand.

No response. All right, then. I faced front and refolded my hands automatically. Mrs. Juice-box had returned to the front of the room. She had a smile on her face that seemed to make her eyes shrink back into her…er, weight.

“Welcome to fourth grade.”

First impressions are everything.

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Yeah.

February 12, 2006 at 3:18 pm · Filed under Uncategorized ·Tagged , , ,

It’s not exactly depression, what I’m going through right now. Actually, I’d call it “vop-ing,” or “venting out periodically.” Haha. Wow, that was really bad. I’m happy though, that I got out my feelings in talking in riddle to Greg. I kind of feel sorry that I had to put him through that kind of trouble even though it was only a petty selfish concern on my part. Ah well. I talked to him about the existence of life. Humanity is its own weakness.

…And wow, I’ve been talking wide-scale too much lately. I’m rereading my convo with Greg (viva Instant Message Logs! XDD), and a lot of what I’m saying shouldn’t be coming out of me. I can write a book. Dag, that’s so weird. =D Listen:

I’m so selfish. I’m so selfish; I’m blinded by what’s right in front of me. I should stop living in the past. I could so easily ask, “what happened,” but that’d be reflecting, and reflecting is bad. That’s why in soap operas they punch mirrors so much. Reflections are ugly. Everything in this world; it’s such an ugly world. Humans are evil; they’re the exact definition they created for themselves, the essence of the word.

So I’m such a f*cking hypocrite. *punches wall repeatedly* Why did it turn out to be this way; why is there jealousy and hatred everywhere? I hate human essence. I hate human knowledge. I hate thinking about it: Why do we exist? A world without humans. Lord of the Flies is right. All humans will eventually resort to violence, and murder, and death. So apparent, and yet we say it’s for good.

Greg: Wow. You are going to make me emo.

Heh. I find it ironic, how I talk about drugs so much, when drugs are, essentially, evil. They alter life; they interfering with whateger’s up there; they’re killing us slowly, weakening our immunity. Immunity is nothing. Everything fails; that’s why the immunity system in our bodies is so weak.

Stupid crap. I can’t believe I’m talking about this. I’ve been under pressure way too much. It’s like I’m about to fall and never get up. Now I’m just talking to myself.

Greg: You talk in riddles-ish. Not really.

I don’t even understand them, myself. You could save this conversation and analyze every lien, and it still wouldn’t help, because I wouldn’t know. Life is too fast for me to worry about something like this. Why am I; it’s so sick. Throwing up sick. Retching, how my life suddenly evolved; no, mutated, from being revolved around cartoons and stuck in fantasies all the time to this pitiful existence, always complaining, never doing anything. I could write a really badly written book at this point in my life: “The Life of Lisa Yan and the Crap She Spews.” That’d be the title.

Greg: Well, brb.

I nearly ran out of things to talk about. That’s it, I meant nature, not human essence or knowledge; I’m a complete idiot for forgetting the word. It’s either I have way too much time on my hands and I think about this way too much, or I have too much of a life. “Life is good.” That’s what it’s supposed to be; what happened? Spiritual death.

Greg is back at the computer as of 6:31:38 PM.

Wow. Emo songs do nothing for me. They’re so damn repetitive. *punches wall* What the hell. Emo kids should have better taste in music. Not like I’m going to turn emo. Holy flip. Emo kids cause too much problems. They’re the result. They’re the visible result of what society does. Seriously. Seriously, why do people turn emo? It’s to release, to get away from it all, and still yet, there are people that discriminate against them, against goths, against asians, against preps.

Greg: Yes! So everyone is discriminated against.

Everyone has their own place. We should all freaking die. That’s the solution, the essential solution. Doomsday; givingup. That’s what people do; it’s in their nature. What the heck, why am I so sad all of a sudden? I think typing this out does something to me. Yay. I get a WHOLE day full of snow, hopefully, to think about it and mope in my room, and draw sad pictures, half of which turn out to be crap. So I crumple it up and throw it away, missing the wastebasket. What a sad, sad world, always thinking pessimistically, always striving towards what is impossible

Greg: Holy crap. You type a lot. oO And you think a lot about stuff.

Yeah, maybe. I have time. I can multi-think, as opposed to multitask. …Even though I can do that, too. That’s what thinking does to you. You realize discrepancies. What the heck. We talk about independence, and yet civilizations depend on a “divine intervention,” require a reason for life. The reason for life is–hold on. I’m going to leave you at a cliffhanger.

Greg: Okay…

Life is death. It is its reflection. You live to die, you die to live. Two sides of a coin, it’s what I came to, my realization, some time around December while buying Christmas presents.

Greg: Food. Brb.

Okay. What I’m getting at is that you didn’t always use to be like this. I’m trying desperately to cling onto your old self. Nothing’s going to get out of it, though, andI’m not in the right place to say that you shouldn’t change, because I’m not your mom (no pun intended). Basically, if you see me in the hallways and I say hi to you joyously, I’m truly and honestly happy to see you, and I’m not faking it. I’m going to try and be as true to my emotions as possible. If I could express that correctly, I would. I’d preach to sam, but sam’s away, that butt. He’d find a way to totally own me in religion. Yeah, I think I’m done. You could forget all of this when you walk into school on Tuesday (hopefully). And when you seemy face, know that I am happy to see you; not because you’re a bastard, but because you’re you, you’re greg, and that’s who you are.

Haha, I have no life whatsoever. But that’s okay, right? I feel happier now, anyway. I think this is mainly going to be venting, this site. So listen to me and how I hate my life not really. I love my life. I just have this problem with making scenes about really petty stuff. It’s so fun, though, to spew bullcrap about the world. It is. xD

–lisa

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Thinking.

February 11, 2006 at 7:29 pm · Filed under Uncategorized ·Tagged

Wow, I’m going to get into this new blog, simply because I know like, no one is going to read it. Unless I suddenly break out into the open about this thing. It’s not going to happen, though. I hope not. Xanga is way too overcrowded and filled with underlying tones.

Hi, Sam.

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