Meager Expectations

If you look back on some of my blog posts, you will learn that I have tried to "start-over" more times than one is allowed for a lifetime. And I can't say that I really adhered to my rules and resolutions, so I'm not doing this new slate business anymore. We all know where I end up, anyway. Back on my couch, caged for days at a time living on television and tacos. It's just hard to run away from who you really are. That said, I'm still making a big change in my life without compromising myself. I'm just welcoming few additions. Taking the right step forward. Two days ago I signed up to be a student at the Upright Citizens Brigade. Yesterday, I got my hands dirty and fixed my haggard of a bike. Tomorrow, I'm going to get hired. Finally, things are swinging my way. Who knows what the rest of the future holds?

*Speaking of welcoming additions, I'm putting down another name on my celebrity crush/geek favorite list. Zachary Levi of Chuck fame. He's like a love child of John Krasinski and Justin Long (?)

"oh god cum in me (e)yes"

Today, I'm not going to bitch. I mean, I might bitch but who knows where this blog will take me. First off, I'd like to do a little bragging and say I SAW DEMETRI MARTIN LIVE and IN THE FLESH. It was needless to say "totally orgasm inducing for comedy geeks (like myself) everywhere." The moment he stepped out of the curtains, my heart just melted. It was like the time I was crossfaded at a party and found myself strangely enamored with the man on the turntables, only known to me as "DJ Boy." He is a living example of how cool people that make their own clothes really friggin are. Like Molly Ringwald in Pretty in Pink or Ghandi.

FML: 원더걸스 미국진출

Sorry to burst your bubble, Korea, but the word "ghey" promptly comes to mind when I hear your American version of "Nobody". I am actually dying from embarrassment.

Just because you inject easy Korean 101 phrases into your song does not mean it will catch on with xenophobic tweens in America. Nice try, though. Maybe in 50 years they'll ease into your hackneyed pop-Engrish bullshit.

WHAT THE HELL MOTHER

10 o' clock is hardly a suitable curfew for a COLLEGE STUDENT.

Chris Cain asked me out on a date, and then I woke up from my dream. Why am I fantasizing about 31 year old heavily mustachioed men with wives? Is there some sort of sick message underneath it all?

When shit hits the fan

I don't think there's anything I can do now to mend my dignity. I've fucked up in every way conceivable. I'm starting to believe that I'm the real problem. At this point in my life, I want nothing more than to crawl out of my skin and die over and over again in a remote island far, far away from Santa Barbara...

I'm starting a new life

Do-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-overDo-over

What Would Gordon Ramsay Fucking Do?

I always take all of my frustrations with boredom out by picking up a new obsession and spending hours invested in it. This Spring Break, ninjavideo.net did the right (or wrong) thing by introducing me to the likes of reality cooking television or just Hell's Kitchen. Who can resist Ramsay's chin wrinkles deepening ever so profoundly as he spouts bigotry at poor defenseless souls?

Note to self: RESIST AT ALL COSTS

"Jane Kim is full of self-loathing."

At the present moment, I can't find a single fiber of being within me that I find worth existing.

SUCK IT, WORLD HISTORY.

I mean, WHAT IS THE POINT

jane: i was watching "waking life" today and in the beginning this random guy talks about how everyone is given crayons in life. some are given the cheap six packs and some are given all the colors of the world. his point is that basically life is what you make out of your colors and blah blah blah
torii: haha, i got the two crayons they give out to children at restaurants before dinner.
jane: and they're both brown

Dylan Moran: inspiring pessimism in all corners of the world.

Granted I am in college and am therefore allowed one truly shameful and humiliating night every now and then. Last night, I was the epitome of emotional wreckage. Never ever make friends that are legal to drink and when you do, never ever seduce them into buying you as much alcohol as you can afford.

After taking six large swigs from a handle of Sailor Jerry (chased with questionable cranberry juice), my feeble self couldn't hold any of it gracefully. I was already stumbling before we had even left the dorms. On the other hand, my dear friend Erin possesses a much higher tolerance for alcohol and was hardly persuaded. She, unfortunately, had to be the one in the front seat to my spectacular shit-show. I really felt bad for her.

By the time we made our way to Del Playa, we realized we really had no plans for the night and would probably have to bum addresses off of other people. But I was feeling lucky. In my drunken confidence, I told Erin to quit her fretting and that we would have the time of our lives. Afterall, I had a phonebook fat with party enthusiasts and surely one would prove useful in my situation. I texted a handful of people and waited for their replies as Erin and I continued our way up DP. By this time, I'd unknowingly crossed over to the dark side and I never came back that night.

My first grievance of the night was Drew. My feelings for him had been colder than tepid and the way he constantly begged for attention was starting to grind at my patience. But desperate times called for desperate measures. Drew was my final resort, since people were either sleeping or too drunk to respond. Meanwhile, Erin and I found ourselves a little party on Sabado, small talking with Matt. Drew showed up a few minutes later with Eugenia and Clara at both of his sides, smug as ever. That son of a bitch. He wanted Eugenia. Hard. I knew this not because I could see that Drew was really bending backwards for her attention, but because I caught him ogling lustfully at her multiple times, back when he was steadily hooking up with me. Thinking I've analyzed enough, I marched over to the bar and had a shot of cheap vodka.

After little deliberation, Eugenia came up with a better plan for all of us, "CALL ELAN, DREW." She had been trying to make it happen between Elan and me for weeks. I didn't object, of course, because I had a fat crush on him that was bordering "stalkerish". Eugenia had been egging me on AND if I remember correctly, he had, on two occasions, asked about me to my friends. So, more or less, feelings were reciprocated. Drew, catching on with what's about to happen, pretended to act cool, although I could tell he was seething with jealousy. "You should TOTALLY hook up with Elan," he suggested, dripping with fake enthusiasm. As I normally do, I ignored his stupid comment and had him get down to business. He made the call and soon we were staggering our way into the seedy depths of Isla Vista.

Erin was irritated with us. She hadn't had enough to drink and she could tell she was going to have to be our sober caretaker really, really soon. We reached the party, overcoming our difficulty with the latch on the front gate. There were about a dozen people sipping and conversing calmly despite overwhelming drum and bass and strobelights. I decided to stay out of that unwelcoming environment and stick close with the crashers. We continued to look conspicuously out of place. Erin and I were starting to feel slightly uncomfortable with the circumstances. She started to talk about leaving when I noticed two familiar figures behind her, about to kiss. I tapped Erin urgently and she turned her gaze. Surely enough, Eugenia and Drew were passionately making out in the kitchen where Eugenia left us for more drinks. Our jaws automatically dropped. Erin let out a laugh to ease the tension. Eugenia, finished with Drew, joined us and asked me about Elan. I replied tartly with, "It's not going very well."Feeling a little apologetic, she decided to talk to Elan on my behalf, even though I didn't ask her to. In fact, I tried to stop her, but I couldn't completely reject the possibility of a hook-up. She kinda owed me, anyway.

While she was off playing cupid (and I guess, doing me a favor), Clara began to feel nauseous. She was downstairs puking and I was upstairs busily fetching her water. I passed Elan, Drew and Eugenia, pretending to be a good friend and pretending not to know what was being discussed. In retrospect, I must've looked like a complete ass. Eugenia came back with information, "I have bad news." I could feel the disappointment coming on. "Elan has a girlfriend." I raised my eyebrow. I didn't buy it. She tried to lessen the blow with, "but he still thinks you're hot?" I remained skeptical. I mean, it would have been nice if he'd let me down on with the truth, but to have come up with an excuse? He must've found me repulsive at the very least. My night was ruined and my heart was broken. I had to stay poised, however, because we were leaving the party with Elan. There was no way I'd let him know he had the slightest effect on me. I had to act nonchalant. Drew was on the side reveling in my humiliation. God, how I hate him. As we walked towards campus, I got the usual drunken text message from Eric. "Hey, you should know that you're pretty and I don't think you should be so self-deprecating all the time." Wait, that does NOT spell: How drunk r u? I stopped in my tracks, "WHAT THE FUCK?!" There was a follow-up text from Mark, "You and Eric would make beautiful babies. Lolz." And finally, Eric called me. Cutting right to the chase, I asked him, "Do you like me or something?" He replied with "I don't know. Do you?" I couldn't believe my ears. He had the nerve to try to get me to engage in some sort of flirty banter with him. I was revolted. In my still very drunken state of being, I saw this a perfect opportunity to make Elan jealous, so I threw a fit. I wanted to show him that if I'm such hot shit, I could never ever settle with a goon like Eric and Elan would be but a minor kink in my otherwise riveting love life. That was my fucking logic. If anything, he was probably as turned off as ever, and whatever slim chance I had evaporated fast with my self-respect for the good of humanity. "Fuck my life!" I repeated over and over again. So much for being poised. At one point, I squatted on the pavement screaming bloody murder, still making a fuss about the Eric situation. Alcohol, of course, only enhanced my dramatic acting. I was putting on a show.

Needless to say, brunch the next morning was the hardest thing I ever had to do. The worst part is that I remember everything, and recalling the night detail by detail in the cold light of day

Is this thing on?

It's been a while. But I'm back for good and now I'm staying. If it's any consolation to you, I haven't gone anywhere. I've just had nothing important to say.

I am just rekindling that blog flame. This time revisiting as a responsible(!) and fun(!!) and interesting(!!!!!!) college student. I've finally turned eighteen and now the weight of the world is delightfully on me. By law, I'm old enough to make my own decisions. I'm an adult, for fuck's sake. Now the world may sit back and weep as I abuse my newly granted rights. 

But nothing's really changed. Of course in my rosy vision of college, I'm sitting on my desk diligently highlighting papers, befriending bearded anthropology professors and balancing an array of extracurricular activities. The sad reality is, I'm still the same procrastinator-extraordinaire that I was 7 years ago and I pretty much retained 100% of my awful habits. God, I'm grim.