Sweet revelations, bitter replies.

During my recent trip back to my hometown of San Diego, I attended my cousin's 18th birthday debut. At the party, which was a romantic event staged in a Spanish-style miniature villa in the Otay Lakes area of south San Diego, one of my aunts remarked that I looked like my uncle Jun. I've been growing out my hair to a lustrous style lately, thus the reference would be fitting considering this look is a slight homage to 80's glamor. However, after this compliment was paid, I quickly asked whether that description was a good thing or a bad thing. So maybe this estranged relative of mine once looked dashing in the 80's hey-day, but I could not help but immediately recall some negative image out of that statement. In my mom's side of the family, we have a highly diverse lineage, almost every family unit has followed the tracks to the American Dream except perhaps this uncle. On my dad's side, my surname lineage is squeeky clean, so I feel comfortable being the posterboy of black sheep badass for my Sacramento family. However, getting mentioned that way in conjunction with my other family left me with a stinging after-taste. That uncle, the last holder of my grandfather's name, has all but been disowned in some way by my own mom. In many ways, I am slightly on the same course, and that is a growing fear I can't live with. I am reckless and without a solid bearing that will dictate the next 20 years. These things I am very aware of, and I don't often care about the end results of my existence. I am just afraid that these nightmarish self-induced prophecies will come true just because I believe they will.

Parody of a Parody?

I watched this recently throughout a series of sporadic encounters with various guests during that day. Firstly, it was inspiring in a ridiculously similar way to my own life. Except I don't get to sing duets with Her #52 while battling my arch-nemesis twice. I think I may try vlogging on odd days when I feel the urge to be artistically productive. In this way, I can induct myself into the elusive world of cinema. Or maybe I should find a way to get a scanner set up and redesign my website enema. Dun Dun Dun.

Too many things to consider. Retropolitan, Slumberjack, LOG://MKII-CZ, Void, Zuda, painting, and mostly sleep. I will have to find out really soon how many days in a row I can stay awake.
Though I can't make one right now, I know a fairly intelligent decision will be to delete Facebook. Hopefully I won't have to remove Myspace. Less fake socializing is healthy, I think. NEED MORE BRAIN POWER.

I'll sleep when I'm dead

It's been a blur lately. I've begun the past couple of weeks with all-nighters; Sunday into Monday, Tuesday into Wednesday. Yesterday, I took a nap at 9pm and woke up around midnight. Knowing I can no longer afford to rest, I hunker'd down at this computer and typed out 7 pages of an overdue research paper. Not bad, though I've done better without the need for caffeine or pharmaceutical assistance. At that point, I was up. No turning back or lying down. I was able to actually catch the bus on time for a change. Called Alex at the RT station, hopped on the train, did the 16th street boogie, and had time to spare on the walk to campus. Today, I remembered to bring an oil paint pen with me, and somehow Fate cast a wicked smile in my direction.

One last thing

I'm a hater. Not an overt hater, just a cynical, critical, and highly jaded individual. And these features are fairly visible in my character. I hate on the majority of contemporary/pop music, guys with cute girls, korean-made sushi, even the institution of art that I am currently trying to claw my way into. Essentially, most things produced are related to modern society. What I don't hate on (too much) is science and those true factors in this universe that immediately validate our existence. That being said, I adore minimalism in art and the visible light spectrum. I figure, if one can see, they oughta appreciate the tangible beauty of reality. I would hate (and sincerely pity) blindness. Or the lack of any senses that contribute to empirical reasoning.