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What a cruel joke

Why does Houston never have a "TEMPERATE" weather dial to turn to? It's either Death Valley scorching hot or Lousiana swamp sweltering humid or windier than freakin' Chicago or don't-go-into-the-ocean-water-it's-cold-it'll-take-you-by-surprise chilly OR SUDDENLY IT'S 20 DEGREES ON A SUMMER NIGHT BUT THAT'S OKAY THIS IS HOUSTON. THIS IS NORMAL. Houston weather will never compare to Anaheim or San Francisco weather. Listen, folks, I know the economy's booming down here but stay away.

And stay away from Austin, y'all SXSW attendees. No one wants you tourist folk

The sad truth is that I bought a fleet (a fleet) of cutesy lightweight jackets but it's too muggy to even wear clothes ever here so count your blessings, non-Houstonians. Count them slowly and ever so deliberately. 

Update: Still in a bummy mood. Not as all-engrossing, all-encompassing bummy. A squadron of friends and I headed over to some Alaskan Husky canine-themed Hooter-esque (I apparently can't be bothered to remember this eatery's name) shindig doodad where we proceeded to zap my month-old crawfish cravings away. Huzzah! Except, you know. It wasn't that great and 80% of the crawfish weren't fresh (you would know). Oh, and we joked about how one person from the group looks like Mike Shinoda of Linkin Park. Consequently Mike Shinoda is my screen background and this fellow look-alike we were dining with I do not like. He knows this as a fact, though. 

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Mike Shinoda, as is as my wallpaper. I live by this mantra, as you should know. Or if you didn't, you sure do now.
Trying hard not to visualize them being too phenotypically alike or I'll set my screen on fire (or just hide it in the shadows of my Google Chrome windows and widgets). They're both half Japanese, half European so I mean, it shows??? Jeff doesn't have the coolness factor of Mr. Shinoda, though. 

In lieu of attending and basking in the events that were corollary to a few weeks' worth of planning (the Hermann Park Japanese Heritage festival, and the monthly Muse Party) I just drove to my college on this Saturday and just played resident bum during Pop Singers' rehearsals. Simply put, I didn't want to be home. I also didn't want to be in the midst of people genuinely enjoying themselves out on this prickly warmed-over day at the park. Or drive an extra hour to central Houston/midtown to a studio party where I probably wouldn't be missed anyhow. To that, I shrug. What-ev-er. I mean, I did hold down the fort against a barrage of questions pertaining to the music (are you/why aren't you in this concert? are you/why aren't you in Les Miserables? are you/why aren't you singing for jury? are you a singer? why don't you sing? blahblahblah) which was pretty much the only redundant part of my day. 

Oh. I carried my foil on campus. A foil is a type of sword you fence with, and it counts as a weapon. Why was I toting it around? Because it was a physical manifestation of all the hatred I have for humanity sometimes, and I was frustrated coming onto campus. I really am like a pendulum swing: I either love everyone and shower hugs and kisses to all in the land or I just want to take my foil (its name is Velvetine) and run it through someone's arm. Which, to anyone who actually fences competitively - happens on occasion and by accident. Sheer accident.


I'm not quite positive if I'm feeling better though. The moment my friend Kitti said "I'll see you Monday, right?" I slow-mo'd into a panic attack. Another bad habit of my escapism is wavering in and out of time, and being reminded of days of the week, hours, dates, just any increment of time, and I just FREEZE. Putting yourself in excruciating pain in fear of a deadline doesn't even begin to explain it. April Fools' is almost a half-month ago. Time comes and goes and it's scary. Usually that means I haven't been making good use of my time, which would account for a lot... Days pass by like water from a faucet through your hands as it just drips down into the sink. 

I think I have it all down for a week or two and then the will, the motivation, and the fire just vanishes. Having an adequate amount of sleep does that to me though. I can't fall into the same patterns other people do. I can do 3-5 hours of sleep a night just fine, because my worker ant ethic never stops and if I let it stop with a normal sleep cycle it just stops. And it breaks down. And yeah, it's a cruel joke.

The weather. The placement. The time. The pieces that don't quite fit the same anymore. 
And I'm supposed to make up for it all, in a way.


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