Cake > Pie

My parents bought me a banana cream pie for my birthday. What's the point? Pies are just cakes with crust and who likes crust? Communists do... communists eat the crust on their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches...

Really, they put candles in it and everything. Every time they buy dessert pies like this I never eat them, so why would they think I suddenly like them?

Saying grace.

My Thanksgiving Day completely transcended my already insanely high expectations of it. Sure, I didn't glutton myself or park on the couch to watch two football games I could've predicted the outcome of, but I saw Twilight (finally) and talked to my cousin Yvonne, whom I hadn't seen in nearly two years!

It seemed as if almost everything significant in her life had happened in just that short period of time. However, after a bit of conversation, I realized that I didn't really care for her at all before she left. Still, I was remarkably impressed by how greatly we had both changed since then. It wasn't like meeting a stranger; The pretense of family quickly buried any awkward greetings. Yet, it was hard to believe she had belonged to this family, my family, for fifteen years and I'd just begun to know her. I wondered what I'd been busy with during the childhood I had shared with my cousins because I didn't have anything to show for it, but I let my inner turmoil go unspoken. Without a word, I was forgiven.

After showcasing to her a few crude sketches I'd finished on the drive up to her house in Sacramento, we wandered off to the local creek. Now, I wouldn't say her neighborhood was entirely hidden from the rest of the city; There were a few kids riding bikes or scooters, working on cars, shooting pool in their garage, or shooting hoops into portable baskets held by sand or water. But when we got to the creek, not a soul could be found. Only a railroad suggested civilization but Yvonne told me that it hadn't been used in years, that it was abandoned just like this old farm shed that seemed to stare at you so intently that you felt it bore through your forehead. Yvonne occupied the space between the shed and I, blurring my vision, and I noticed I was staring. Then and there, I was certain of a creator and I suspected it had designed the shed, the railroad, the grass, the creek, the rocks in the creek, all to produce a resounding sense of panic and distrust. We agreed that neither of us would want to stick around at night, that it would be a cool spot for a horror movie later and an even better spot for spontaneous photos now. We gathered some photo-evidence and, after a quick game of "let's see who can throw a rock the furthest down this railroad" and a classic spitting contest (distance obviously), headed back to her house.

As always, a complication is what keeps a story moving forward. If the evening went by as planned, Yvonne and I would have promptly boarded her minivan, drove on to the theater nearby, and relish the directorial wizardry of a certain film involving vampires, humans, shiny, silver Volvo's, rainy beaches, sprawling meadows, and romance, romance, romance. Time complicated this simple plan. We had plenty of it before we started trying to figure out how we would all be returning home and she had asked to go, before we went to the creek and she had asked to go, and even while we were planning the entire day a week before and she had asked if she could treat me to a movie, sort of like a gift because she wouldn't see me on my birthday. But, then it was our faulty planning skills that prevented us from seeing the dream realized. So my mom and I made a compromise: we could still see the movie, but, I would not have time to be background scenery at another cousin's party, I would have to leave as soon as the movie was finished, and I had to pay back something to every one of my cousins who didn't get to tag along. I had no trouble missing the other party, we watched the movie until after the credits were done rolling, and as for my cousins, they're all about seven or eight years old and would get the same joy out of a blockbuster as they would get from a tootsie pop. So I was out seven dollars, assuming they haven't already forgotten something that they were only associatively involved with...

And after the smoke faded, everyone was satisfied. My sister made it to her job on time with thanks to the traffic being so light, my parents made it to a Black Friday sale at The Great Mall in Milpitas with thanks to coffee, and I enjoyed probably the most exciting Thanksgiving I'd ever had. No complaints.

I am Jack's cold sweat.

Wow. Busy, busy day. One of those stressful, rewarding days: tests, construction, walking, waiting, guy bumps into you, "Oh, hey sorry-" he continues without pause. Step, step, step, step, stop. Sit. Gather required materials for the day. Hey what are we doing? I don't know. Enough sedative to lay a rhino to rest. Pack your things and prepare for departure. Ringing, shuffling, shouting, numbing... grinning, hugging, talking, laugh-- ringing again. Goodbyes are too soon, but hellos come sooner.
Hallow!... Wait where's -censored-? Drama- Oh yea. Slight disappointment... over. It's sit and stare time. Rummage through your stuff. Pull out something. Slight grin. All too interested in everything again. You were staring at something but that has moved. Now, nothing's there but that's all it takes to hold your interest. Shake head awake. Click, click, click, high score. Okay, I'm done with this now. What's this? Oh yea, I remember that. Yea I'm playing it again. I flew to Uranus once. Ringing, shuffling, shouting, numbing... grinning, hugging, talking, laugh-- ringing again.
Squish, squish, squish, squish. Should I, or shouldn't I? No, you shouldn't. Whatever. Casual Friday. But they canceled that two weeks ago. And it's Wednesday. Turn left two whole turns, then right to first number. Turn left, pass first number once to second number. Go directly to third number. Click. Feed something that's already full. Squish, squish, squish, squeak, squeak, squeak. Stop. Sit. Is he looking? Cover me. Cell phone clicking thunders. Okay, you can move now. Participation. Dribble, dribble, shoot. Missed. Catch, shoot, miss, catch, shoot, hit, pass. Please return the equipment to their designated containers. Running. Click. Shut door. Ringing, shuffling, shouting, numbing... grinning, hugging, talking.
Laughing and dancing and spinning in the rain. I am six years old again. Oh, quit it you guys, so immature, I'm gonna laugh if you guys all got sick- Good. I'd laugh if you cared at all. Hiss, stare back, shuffles away. Ringing. Goodbyes are too soon, but hellos come sooner.
Squish, squish, squish, slouch in your chair. Why are you guys drenched? Pause. It's raining? Shake your head dry. Work is given. Work done. Fiddle with, chew on, toss your writing utensil. Catch. Think, think, think, draw. It's a monster. Doo dee doo dee doo RAWR! Giggle and everyone's staring. Blush and again face forward. Ringing, shuffling, shouting, numbing... grinning, hugging, walking and talking. Quite nice, actually. Did you? I did! And? Yea! I told you so!
Settle down, settle down. Now, before we can get to the movie, we have to get through- Dig, dig, dig, aha! here we go.. It's a monster. Doo dee doo dee doo RAWR! AND IT EATED YOUR NOSE! Giggles. Well recieved. Shh, Listen!- gonna do them today but I decided I didn't want to. So be ready for everything on monday. Flip on the tele'. Mayella Ewell was beaten savagely by someone who led, almost exclusively, with his left. Tom Robinson now sits before you having taken the oath with the only good hand he posseses, his right- lowly, are you asleep? Shakes head. They didn't even show his hand, he just said it was crippled. Yea... On and on. Such and such. Boy cries, kids awe. Clicks off. That's all for today. Remember to finish the book by monday. It should be only about thirty pages so you should be fine. Ringing, running, laughing, dancing.
All I need is you to be fine. Suspended in a moment of fulfillment, we are twirling and singing and hoping and forgetting it all. They just don't see it. Soon, I am empty again.

I am Jack, hollow inside.

I am Jack's raging bile duct.

A bile duct is any of a number of long tube-like structures that carry bile.

Bile, required for the digestion of food, is excreted by the liver into passages that carry bile toward the hepatic duct, which joins with the cystic duct (carrying bile to and from the gallbladder) to form the common bile duct, which opens into the intestine.

The biliary tree (see below) is the whole network of various sized ducts branching through the liver.

The path is as follows: Bile canaliculi → Canals of Hering → interlobular bile ducts → intrahepatic bile ducts → left and right hepatic ducts merge to form → common hepatic duct exits liver and joins → cystic duct (from gall bladder) forming → common bile duct → joins with pancreatic duct → forming ampulla of Vater → enters duodenum

[source: www.wikipedia.com]

Though I don't think that's what The Narrator in Fight Club really meant.

So today, something really got me mad and it reminded me of this quote from the movie. Really, whenever I think of something interesting, the first thing I do is hop onto my computer and look it up on Wikipedia or Google, though I prefer Wiki because when I read the pages in my head I sound smart to myself.

I am Jack's inflamed ego.

waka waka waka

I just saw that Alyssa added Pacman to her blog!

Pacman and Galaga are two of my favorite arcade games. In fact, if I ever met a girl who was as passionate about the two as I am, I'd probably be all, "Burt wants to battle!" and she'd be like, "bring it on!" And the sun would rise and set until only one remained. And we would probably both cheat and get into a huge fight...

But it's not forever. But it's just tonight. Oh we're still the greatest. The greatest.

Kings of Leon - Sex on fire.
Just one of those sort of sexy songs that has a nice, rock sound. Of course, it's about sex but, what I really like about it is not only the descriptive language, but that the singer's voice truly personalizes it in a way that cannot be replicated. Also their sound is unlike any you hear today. The order of the song is pretty plain but what I mean is, well most bands either go really "heavy" or they try to be punk or whatever; They aim for predetermined genres of music instead of just playing music they like to play. I would embed the video but it's been "disabled by request"...

When I was young we used to play a game of hide and seek. Someone go hide and count to ten.

In To Kill a Mockingbird, Jem wants to be a lawyer; I think when I was his age I wanted to be an assassin. I asked my friend about this and he said that it was fine and that it was "a hell of a lot better than 'garbageman' (apparently, that was all he thought of when he was a child)." Then, we started fantasizing about, if we ever split apart after high school, how an assassin and a garbageman might end up crossing paths. Eventually we decided on this: I would end up working for China's military and he'd be taking out the garbage for the white house, obviously the peak of either proffesion. China would assign me to kill the president of the United States while, meanwhile, Evon is driving his daily truckload of garbage out to the nearby plant. I would lock my sights on Mr. Pres with my sniper rifle and instintcively take the shot but, just as I pull the trigger, his truck backs into the bullet's line of fire. He had left it in neutral without pulling the handbrake and it was on a slope. Frustrated at my error, I would have to move closer, as they surely would be closing in on me and I was NOT ready to just give up on this mission. I ditch my gear bringing only a pistol, ammo, and throwing knives as I board a sleek, invisible motorbike a la Die Another Day. The humiliation of missing my target still ringing in my ears, I'm too distracted and I nearly collide with Evon, but quickly recognising him, I powerslide to a halt and backtrack to say, "Hey! Dude it's been soooo long!"
"Burt? Woah, yea I didn't recognise you there in your kick-ass ninja gear!" [editors note: ha. ha.]
"So..... how's.. garbage?"
"Good, good. Pays great but still working nine to five you know?"
"Yea man, that's rough."
"How's the.. assassining?"
"Not so great, actually. Today, they had me all over friggin Europe. I don't even know how I'm still walking."
And then Evon had to walk to Chemistry and I had P.E. :[

I am the cause of, and the solution to, all of your problems.

You love me, and you hate that you love me. And you hate yourself and I hate myself. And you won't let me help or even look at you. With a monopoly over the space around you, attempts at reconciliation are quickly destroyed before they even start. Yet, you miss me. Or maybe, someone like me, only better. Better to you because, to you, I couldn't ever be them. You find solace in familiarity, things you know you know. And I was the unknown. What we had is what could not be simplified, no matter which way you looked at it. And you looked at it over and over, analyzing and reanalyzing. Until you saw nothing. Until you could not see anything. And at last, you had the answer to the problem: it isn't there.

I'm not a racist but-

-Queen Latifa kind of scares me.. I don't think I've ever liked her and can't even think of a movie with her just being a side-character that I liked. I don't know, does that make me a racist? Maybe I just don't like 'feel good' movies. After all, they always left me feeling bored, envious, or just generally sick. Actually I do like kids movies like Finding Nemo or Wall-E because they actually have jokes that lead to moments I would define as heartwarming. I wouldn't define Queen Latifa trying to ski down a mountain as heartwarming. It's like, "Hey I'm in this whacky situation. Watch me get hurt, then laugh at me." [insert bland story with obvious message]. "I've learned [movie's message] and I'm sorry." Oh yea, and don't forget, they all have to cry at some point. No 'feel good' movie is complete without a tear-jerking feel good moment. :D