It just occurred to me that I went to 7-11 on 7-11! Irony overload, lol. ^^
Also, "Devotion" by Yahel is one of the most beautiful songs ever. Unsurprisingly, it contains no spoken words.
Jul 11, 2005
Jul 10, 2005
Your daily serving of cynicism.
My pretty distance, I could pet you for awhile, celebrate everything you do for my well-being, and most certainly keep you forever.
Forward and brash like a colony of army ants. The common anthill; a human society in miniature. Endless bustle, collaborative workmanship, struggle for survival in defiance of subtle decay. I don't get people. I don't understand why some of them make me feel the way they do. They really make me uncomfortable. They know too much. They judge too heavily. They assume too readily. They use words like violence. Sadly, I do the same. They don't get me either. Everything has a tendency to balance out like that. I am safe here in my little textbox.
Subtract, multiply. Add. Divide. They can take their "human equation" and shove it. In the end, it will always amount to zero, no matter how they work it out. Anyone who desires an appointment with immortality, take an irrational number and keep holding your breath for the Messiah.
I'm such a shithead. lol, hi.
Forward and brash like a colony of army ants. The common anthill; a human society in miniature. Endless bustle, collaborative workmanship, struggle for survival in defiance of subtle decay. I don't get people. I don't understand why some of them make me feel the way they do. They really make me uncomfortable. They know too much. They judge too heavily. They assume too readily. They use words like violence. Sadly, I do the same. They don't get me either. Everything has a tendency to balance out like that. I am safe here in my little textbox.
Subtract, multiply. Add. Divide. They can take their "human equation" and shove it. In the end, it will always amount to zero, no matter how they work it out. Anyone who desires an appointment with immortality, take an irrational number and keep holding your breath for the Messiah.
I'm such a shithead. lol, hi.
Jul 9, 2005
Oh no, it's raining again!
Lately, through having spent a much greater amount of time than usual with my father, I have come to recognise just how much we differ in many ways. We still have much in common, but lately, we have been engaging in quite a few debates and arguments. When I was younger, I had grown accustomed to him always winning, because I honestly believed that "father knows best." For a few years now, though, he and I have both realised that I am entirely capable of being the victor in debates that arise between us, and though he is a self-proclaimed intellectual, I win at least as often as he does. I wouldn't attribute this entirely to the fact that I have become older and wiser and have acquired more experience. His mental prowess, in fact, has deteriorated somewhat due to aging and all the medications he must take for his physical pain.
Of course, I have found myself disagreeing with more and more of his general opinions. Tonight, he commented on how he was growing tired of it "constantly being windy" at our house. Yes, the trade winds are usually strong here, but not all the time, and even if they were... I would have no problem with it. Unlike me, he doesn't care for rain, either. This house is located just a few miles windward of the rainshadow, so the surrounding area receives only about 70-80 inches annually. It is rare to not see the sun appear at some point during the day, though the chances of it being sunny all day are slim to none. Hardly a day or night goes by without some rainfall. It seems... so ideal to me. My mother, though, thinks it often gets very "cold and blustery" up here, which only makes me chuckle, really. Maybe she would have a right to complain if we lived a couple thousand feet up the slope, but not here... the night time air is simply cool and perfect... nothing "blustery" about it, unless it's a cold front. Admittedly, though, this house has an aluminum roof, so sudden heavy cloudbursts can jolt me right out of a deep sleep. It happened several times last night. However, it's something I almost never mind being awakened by. If anything, I find it pleasant and enchanting. I'm also watching the 2004 Hot Dog Eating Contest on ESPN, but only to check the MLB scores on the bottom ticker. It's disgustingly humourous. I wish Crazy K could have joined! Honestly, what will they consider a sport next?
I have decided to write about my summer mainland experience in four parts, just to make it manageable. Since a few acquaintances and friends have expressed interest in hearing about my adventures, I definitely feel it is worthwhile sharing about them. It will also be a way to re-live the experience myself, in a sense.
I really should start posting at TFS more...
Of course, I have found myself disagreeing with more and more of his general opinions. Tonight, he commented on how he was growing tired of it "constantly being windy" at our house. Yes, the trade winds are usually strong here, but not all the time, and even if they were... I would have no problem with it. Unlike me, he doesn't care for rain, either. This house is located just a few miles windward of the rainshadow, so the surrounding area receives only about 70-80 inches annually. It is rare to not see the sun appear at some point during the day, though the chances of it being sunny all day are slim to none. Hardly a day or night goes by without some rainfall. It seems... so ideal to me. My mother, though, thinks it often gets very "cold and blustery" up here, which only makes me chuckle, really. Maybe she would have a right to complain if we lived a couple thousand feet up the slope, but not here... the night time air is simply cool and perfect... nothing "blustery" about it, unless it's a cold front. Admittedly, though, this house has an aluminum roof, so sudden heavy cloudbursts can jolt me right out of a deep sleep. It happened several times last night. However, it's something I almost never mind being awakened by. If anything, I find it pleasant and enchanting. I'm also watching the 2004 Hot Dog Eating Contest on ESPN, but only to check the MLB scores on the bottom ticker. It's disgustingly humourous. I wish Crazy K could have joined! Honestly, what will they consider a sport next?
I have decided to write about my summer mainland experience in four parts, just to make it manageable. Since a few acquaintances and friends have expressed interest in hearing about my adventures, I definitely feel it is worthwhile sharing about them. It will also be a way to re-live the experience myself, in a sense.
I really should start posting at TFS more...
Jul 8, 2005
Home again.
Well, jeepers, it -has- been awhile since I've updated the ol' blog. GOSH!
I have returned home, and home feels... well, remarkably more pleasant and cozy after being away from it for a few weeks on a hectic and stressful, but oftentimes joyous and wondrous, excursion. I suspected that a few weeks of travel would help me to appreciate home much more, and lo and behold, that is exactly what happened. I am truly glad to be back here, and my suspicion that I would not feel more at home anyplace else has been confirmed. Granted, there were some areas on the mainland where I felt quite cozy and comfortable, as if I belonged there, but none so much as here. I felt like way too much of a tourist. Large metropolitan areas still intimidate me, even cities so marvelous and attractive as Vancouver. The Canadian Rockies national parks had a way of winning my heart and making me feel very secure as a wolf, with their gorgeous ambience, beautiful surroundings, and wildlife protection policies, but I never could quite get accustomed to the feel of the air. To think, I was subjected to a nicer subdivision of San Diego, and I still found the general settings to be rather dull and unbecoming. It was just simply too... well, Southern California-ish.
Yes, this trip has resulted in my realisation of just how special this place really is. I can stand out on the street at the end of the driveway at night and not hear another neighbour, or even a car on the adjacent highway, for hours. Yet, we are not in Bumfuckville; just a very nice, secluded little corner of a small big island which realistically has all the amenities I need not terribly far away. I love how the wind almost always blows on this mountain, and I appreciate the random rainshowers. Everything is more colourful and vibrant here, and yes, the people are also much more cheerful and friendly. With my mother vacationing in the eastern U.S. until the end of July, this house seems almost too large for two people. That's not to say I'm not enjoying the space and the comforts of home, though.
I certainly don't believe I'll be leaving Hawaii anytime soon. I have it too good here to feel it's worth taking the risk to try to fashion a 'better' lifestyle for myself somewhere else. If all my closest friends could and would be willing to move here, then I would probably be perfectly content to reside here for the rest of my life, taking the occasional trip to distant continents, of course. I feel extremely apologetic about being so unreachable over the past couple months. Not only has every day since... well, the middle of May been something wild, but I admittedly slip into very reclusive phases. It's something I definitely seek to alleviate, with a few e-mails here and a few ICQ conversations there.
Coming in due time: a detailed photographic and textual account of my mainland experience. It shall be plenty of work getting everything together, but it will happen within the next week or so.
I have returned home, and home feels... well, remarkably more pleasant and cozy after being away from it for a few weeks on a hectic and stressful, but oftentimes joyous and wondrous, excursion. I suspected that a few weeks of travel would help me to appreciate home much more, and lo and behold, that is exactly what happened. I am truly glad to be back here, and my suspicion that I would not feel more at home anyplace else has been confirmed. Granted, there were some areas on the mainland where I felt quite cozy and comfortable, as if I belonged there, but none so much as here. I felt like way too much of a tourist. Large metropolitan areas still intimidate me, even cities so marvelous and attractive as Vancouver. The Canadian Rockies national parks had a way of winning my heart and making me feel very secure as a wolf, with their gorgeous ambience, beautiful surroundings, and wildlife protection policies, but I never could quite get accustomed to the feel of the air. To think, I was subjected to a nicer subdivision of San Diego, and I still found the general settings to be rather dull and unbecoming. It was just simply too... well, Southern California-ish.
Yes, this trip has resulted in my realisation of just how special this place really is. I can stand out on the street at the end of the driveway at night and not hear another neighbour, or even a car on the adjacent highway, for hours. Yet, we are not in Bumfuckville; just a very nice, secluded little corner of a small big island which realistically has all the amenities I need not terribly far away. I love how the wind almost always blows on this mountain, and I appreciate the random rainshowers. Everything is more colourful and vibrant here, and yes, the people are also much more cheerful and friendly. With my mother vacationing in the eastern U.S. until the end of July, this house seems almost too large for two people. That's not to say I'm not enjoying the space and the comforts of home, though.
I certainly don't believe I'll be leaving Hawaii anytime soon. I have it too good here to feel it's worth taking the risk to try to fashion a 'better' lifestyle for myself somewhere else. If all my closest friends could and would be willing to move here, then I would probably be perfectly content to reside here for the rest of my life, taking the occasional trip to distant continents, of course. I feel extremely apologetic about being so unreachable over the past couple months. Not only has every day since... well, the middle of May been something wild, but I admittedly slip into very reclusive phases. It's something I definitely seek to alleviate, with a few e-mails here and a few ICQ conversations there.
Coming in due time: a detailed photographic and textual account of my mainland experience. It shall be plenty of work getting everything together, but it will happen within the next week or so.
Jun 12, 2005
Rayg bless Canada.
I have a strong feeling I am going to fall in love with Canada.
...Based on what I have seen of it so far, at least, which isn't much. Still, first impressions count for something. We crossed the border at around 9 in the evening, so what I have seen of the scenic landscape was drenched in lovely twilight... and ironically, the overcast sky began to burst open immediately after we reached 'the other side.' There's nothing like just entering a country for the first time, when the twilight is just fading into dusk, and the music of Underworld is playing from the dash while cold raindrops splatter against the windshield. It was a very surreal experience. Darkness had fallen by the time we reached Vancouver, B.C., and I was greatly impressed with the view of the city's skyline. Downtown happens to be surrounded by water on all four sides, and our hotel is located on the northern end. We checked into the Renaissance a few hours ago, and it happens to be a tremendous step up in quality from the last hotel we stayed in. Complimentary valet parking, a ritzy-looking building, a 14th story view of the waterfront and northern Vancouver (not to neglect mention of the town of Whistler, located way up in the distant mountains- their lights can be seen from the window), a mini-bar, Internet access (how else could I post this?), and a pool, spa, and sauna... whoa. I am going to savour such luxurious amenities, as very seldom do I ever have the chance to experience such a thing. The room itself is nice, but what takes the cake is the view. The sliding glass doors open on either side, enabling me to step right up to the glass railing right outside the centre of the room and take in the view. It's a vast array of glimmering city lights on the other side of the water, with gas stations for mariners actually located in the middle of Burrard Inlet. Admittedly, it seems rather strange to see a 'Chevron' sign protruding from a vast body of water, but I have also gotten used to it. With the doors open, the cool Canadian air drifts into the room, and it feels... soothing. It's also raining... lightly, but steadily.
As for the city itself, I plan to spend a considerable portion of tomorrow traipsing about the downtown segment. I'm sure I am going to discover plenty of interest... from what I have seen of Vancouver so far, it's a beautiful city, and seems to have much, much more character than a typical U.S. city. However, I should mention that I am truly fond of Seattle. I spent Saturday wandering about a few of its parks, and I was thoroughly impressed with the natural beauty I found. It was a very damp and rainy day, and the sky looked simply magnificent, especially as I walked the paths in Magnusin Park. I found the colder, temperate rain to be quite pleasant. A nice quality about Seattle is that since it is surrounded by several bodies of water, it cannot experience the same kind of widespread suburbanisation trends that many other American cities become victim to. Cities like Phoenix (shudder) which are built on wide open tracts of land continue to expand and expand until they become one gargantuan spread-out city, while Seattle and Vancouver can only expand upwards or on the other side of the water. This makes them much prettier, in my opinion.
Before we left Seattle, we decided to pay the astronomically high fee of admission for elevating to the top of the Space Needle. The view was excellent and the day was only partly cloudy, so I got plenty of photographs, which I will gather together and post in due time. Afterwards, at Pike's Plaza Marketplace, I enjoyed the best Chinese food I believe I have ever had. I know for certain that I have never had better tofu. We also toured Seattle Aquarium, which turned out to be a little too heavily orientated toward small children for my liking. The highlight of the tour, however, was watching the sea otters swim about. They are such delightful creatures, and I can see why a couple of my online furry acquaintances take after them so strongly.
I feel as if it's been a week since I left home, but in reality, it's only been three days. 'Tis quite strange, how that works. But it feels so right to not be in the United States, eh.
I try not to get too long-winded with these journal entries... it hardly feels right to be staring into a computer monitor while undergoing this once-in-a-lifetime experience. Well, perhaps it isn't once-in-a-lifetime... but summer of 2005 could be something I vividly remember 50 years from now, my finest summer ever, and I find it satisfying to preserve these memories in writing.
...Based on what I have seen of it so far, at least, which isn't much. Still, first impressions count for something. We crossed the border at around 9 in the evening, so what I have seen of the scenic landscape was drenched in lovely twilight... and ironically, the overcast sky began to burst open immediately after we reached 'the other side.' There's nothing like just entering a country for the first time, when the twilight is just fading into dusk, and the music of Underworld is playing from the dash while cold raindrops splatter against the windshield. It was a very surreal experience. Darkness had fallen by the time we reached Vancouver, B.C., and I was greatly impressed with the view of the city's skyline. Downtown happens to be surrounded by water on all four sides, and our hotel is located on the northern end. We checked into the Renaissance a few hours ago, and it happens to be a tremendous step up in quality from the last hotel we stayed in. Complimentary valet parking, a ritzy-looking building, a 14th story view of the waterfront and northern Vancouver (not to neglect mention of the town of Whistler, located way up in the distant mountains- their lights can be seen from the window), a mini-bar, Internet access (how else could I post this?), and a pool, spa, and sauna... whoa. I am going to savour such luxurious amenities, as very seldom do I ever have the chance to experience such a thing. The room itself is nice, but what takes the cake is the view. The sliding glass doors open on either side, enabling me to step right up to the glass railing right outside the centre of the room and take in the view. It's a vast array of glimmering city lights on the other side of the water, with gas stations for mariners actually located in the middle of Burrard Inlet. Admittedly, it seems rather strange to see a 'Chevron' sign protruding from a vast body of water, but I have also gotten used to it. With the doors open, the cool Canadian air drifts into the room, and it feels... soothing. It's also raining... lightly, but steadily.
As for the city itself, I plan to spend a considerable portion of tomorrow traipsing about the downtown segment. I'm sure I am going to discover plenty of interest... from what I have seen of Vancouver so far, it's a beautiful city, and seems to have much, much more character than a typical U.S. city. However, I should mention that I am truly fond of Seattle. I spent Saturday wandering about a few of its parks, and I was thoroughly impressed with the natural beauty I found. It was a very damp and rainy day, and the sky looked simply magnificent, especially as I walked the paths in Magnusin Park. I found the colder, temperate rain to be quite pleasant. A nice quality about Seattle is that since it is surrounded by several bodies of water, it cannot experience the same kind of widespread suburbanisation trends that many other American cities become victim to. Cities like Phoenix (shudder) which are built on wide open tracts of land continue to expand and expand until they become one gargantuan spread-out city, while Seattle and Vancouver can only expand upwards or on the other side of the water. This makes them much prettier, in my opinion.
Before we left Seattle, we decided to pay the astronomically high fee of admission for elevating to the top of the Space Needle. The view was excellent and the day was only partly cloudy, so I got plenty of photographs, which I will gather together and post in due time. Afterwards, at Pike's Plaza Marketplace, I enjoyed the best Chinese food I believe I have ever had. I know for certain that I have never had better tofu. We also toured Seattle Aquarium, which turned out to be a little too heavily orientated toward small children for my liking. The highlight of the tour, however, was watching the sea otters swim about. They are such delightful creatures, and I can see why a couple of my online furry acquaintances take after them so strongly.
I feel as if it's been a week since I left home, but in reality, it's only been three days. 'Tis quite strange, how that works. But it feels so right to not be in the United States, eh.
I try not to get too long-winded with these journal entries... it hardly feels right to be staring into a computer monitor while undergoing this once-in-a-lifetime experience. Well, perhaps it isn't once-in-a-lifetime... but summer of 2005 could be something I vividly remember 50 years from now, my finest summer ever, and I find it satisfying to preserve these memories in writing.
Jun 10, 2005
"The air... it feels so different."
We made it. The going was rough at times, but we found our way.
I am sitting in a fourth floor hotel room at the Courtyard Marriott in Lynnwood, Washington. It is only 10 in the morning, but it feels much more like 6 in the evening. Jet lag, I adore thee so. The normal check-in time is 3 pm, but we wanted a room earlier than that. The best they could do was give us a smoking room, which we quickly settled for. The entire room possesses a slight foul odor of stale cigarette smoke, but it's tolerable, and quite frankly, I don't think I would have been up to running around town for hours before getting some sleep in. The building is very proximate to a freeway, but it cannot be heard with the windows shut. The view of the townscape is nothing to be excited about; it's the typical American town landscape, full of dull-coloured concrete compiling major chain stores and restaurants. The verdancy of this city, however, I immediately took to. There are so many trees and lakes and greenscapes... something I am accustomed to, and would be disappointed not to find in a place like this. We drove right through Seattle on the way up here from the airport, and it was truly a delight to see tall buildings and impressive urban landscapes up close again, for the first time in what seems like a great while.
The 2,800 mile flight over here was not entirely pleasant, though, and I was not expecting it to be. I was sandwiched in on a middle seat, and I could swear that these jetliners just get smaller and smaller every time I step onto one; the aisles narrower, the seats even more unfathomably constricting. I barely had room to move my arms, with both passengers on either side of me silently insisting on using both their arm rests. The leg room, of course, was null. A fidgety wolf who is too often as energetic as a flea on a sugar high has a difficult time staying in one place for five and a half hours. I'm surprised I can deal with these situations as well as I do, considering there is absolutely nowhere I could go short of the shoebox closet commonly referred to as the lavatory (remember, don't tamper with the smoke detectors!) should I decide to oh, say, lose it.
It's strange, though, when the flying is so smooth that the aircraft seems not to be moving at all. The journey across the globe has become virtually effortless, and it was easy to often forget that I was flying at all. I could see nothing out the window but pitch darkness and some odd blinking lights on the wing. Maybe we were actually standing still inside a massive teleportation machine. I don't feel as if I flew here... I feel like I teleported here, magically, and it just happened to take six hours. That's technology, though. It's just... magic. Effortless. The world is just getting smaller and smaller.
My music helped me pull through it all. I brought my notebook computer on board as well, but wasn't able to use it as I simply did not have enough space between my lap and the back of the chair in front of me. Whoever is sitting in front of me always tilts their chair back--Murphy's Law, leaving me with my knees pressing up against the back of their seat because I have nowhere else to put them. I ordinarily don't consider my body build to be that 'big,' but when flying in an airline, I feel like Shaquille O'Neal trying to squeeze himself into a miniature go-kart. Mentally conditioning myself to tolerate sitting still (who am I kidding... I fidget and shift about like crazy) actually takes more energy than would getting up and doing 25-metre dashes up and down the aisle. I'm simply not cut out for it.
Fortunately, the likes of Wolfsheim, Orbital, and The Cure were all on my side. The three top songs of my flight would be "A Forest" by The Cure, "Everyone Who Casts a Shadow" (**shivers gleefully**) by Wolfsheim, and "One Perfect Sunrise" by Orbital. The lattermost song I listened to while the sun was indeed rising above a beautiful snow-capped peak and another nearby mountain range. Something about flying through the air, taking in the aesthetic beauty of a sunrise, and listening to a stellar song all equates to a strong sense of euphoria. The fun has just begun. We've got our Ford Explorer and our hotel room, and things are looking top-notch so far. Later today, though, after we get sufficient rest to cure us of our current zombie-like state, we must buy some clothes and electronic items. Currently, though, I am positively famished. I haven't seen much of Seattle yet, aside from a precursory glimpse of the city along a rapid cruise down the freeway, but I shall, tomorrow!
The air is so nice and cool and crisp... and I have missed that. Then again, after a month, I'll probably miss the tropical air.
...I still can't believe it's only 10:20 in the morning. **Turns out the light and crashes**
I am sitting in a fourth floor hotel room at the Courtyard Marriott in Lynnwood, Washington. It is only 10 in the morning, but it feels much more like 6 in the evening. Jet lag, I adore thee so. The normal check-in time is 3 pm, but we wanted a room earlier than that. The best they could do was give us a smoking room, which we quickly settled for. The entire room possesses a slight foul odor of stale cigarette smoke, but it's tolerable, and quite frankly, I don't think I would have been up to running around town for hours before getting some sleep in. The building is very proximate to a freeway, but it cannot be heard with the windows shut. The view of the townscape is nothing to be excited about; it's the typical American town landscape, full of dull-coloured concrete compiling major chain stores and restaurants. The verdancy of this city, however, I immediately took to. There are so many trees and lakes and greenscapes... something I am accustomed to, and would be disappointed not to find in a place like this. We drove right through Seattle on the way up here from the airport, and it was truly a delight to see tall buildings and impressive urban landscapes up close again, for the first time in what seems like a great while.
The 2,800 mile flight over here was not entirely pleasant, though, and I was not expecting it to be. I was sandwiched in on a middle seat, and I could swear that these jetliners just get smaller and smaller every time I step onto one; the aisles narrower, the seats even more unfathomably constricting. I barely had room to move my arms, with both passengers on either side of me silently insisting on using both their arm rests. The leg room, of course, was null. A fidgety wolf who is too often as energetic as a flea on a sugar high has a difficult time staying in one place for five and a half hours. I'm surprised I can deal with these situations as well as I do, considering there is absolutely nowhere I could go short of the shoebox closet commonly referred to as the lavatory (remember, don't tamper with the smoke detectors!) should I decide to oh, say, lose it.
It's strange, though, when the flying is so smooth that the aircraft seems not to be moving at all. The journey across the globe has become virtually effortless, and it was easy to often forget that I was flying at all. I could see nothing out the window but pitch darkness and some odd blinking lights on the wing. Maybe we were actually standing still inside a massive teleportation machine. I don't feel as if I flew here... I feel like I teleported here, magically, and it just happened to take six hours. That's technology, though. It's just... magic. Effortless. The world is just getting smaller and smaller.
My music helped me pull through it all. I brought my notebook computer on board as well, but wasn't able to use it as I simply did not have enough space between my lap and the back of the chair in front of me. Whoever is sitting in front of me always tilts their chair back--Murphy's Law, leaving me with my knees pressing up against the back of their seat because I have nowhere else to put them. I ordinarily don't consider my body build to be that 'big,' but when flying in an airline, I feel like Shaquille O'Neal trying to squeeze himself into a miniature go-kart. Mentally conditioning myself to tolerate sitting still (who am I kidding... I fidget and shift about like crazy) actually takes more energy than would getting up and doing 25-metre dashes up and down the aisle. I'm simply not cut out for it.
Fortunately, the likes of Wolfsheim, Orbital, and The Cure were all on my side. The three top songs of my flight would be "A Forest" by The Cure, "Everyone Who Casts a Shadow" (**shivers gleefully**) by Wolfsheim, and "One Perfect Sunrise" by Orbital. The lattermost song I listened to while the sun was indeed rising above a beautiful snow-capped peak and another nearby mountain range. Something about flying through the air, taking in the aesthetic beauty of a sunrise, and listening to a stellar song all equates to a strong sense of euphoria. The fun has just begun. We've got our Ford Explorer and our hotel room, and things are looking top-notch so far. Later today, though, after we get sufficient rest to cure us of our current zombie-like state, we must buy some clothes and electronic items. Currently, though, I am positively famished. I haven't seen much of Seattle yet, aside from a precursory glimpse of the city along a rapid cruise down the freeway, but I shall, tomorrow!
The air is so nice and cool and crisp... and I have missed that. Then again, after a month, I'll probably miss the tropical air.
...I still can't believe it's only 10:20 in the morning. **Turns out the light and crashes**
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