I had a strange craving for the end music for The Empire Strikes Back, so I searched it up on my iTunes library and now I got it playing.

The other day I purchased a 5.1 sound system for my iMac, and life sounds "oh so pretty!" I swear, even the IM message sounds display a vibration of audacity that only a well tuned symphonic orchestra could emit.

Japanese IV is wonderful. Gone is the old bitch Takako and in with Sensei Aki! I feel like one of those smart kids in the back of the classroom learning while Dickinson would yell at me for something. Life feels so grand! Plus, I have such a kickass schedule, Piano, Japanese, Creative Writing, Psychology. The day goes by so fast, and I'm not sure why.

In Creative Writing and Psychology, I use my time wisely to write my epic Drama Room memoir. Though I've pretty much fictionalized all the people I know (including myself), I consider it a memoir for all the experiences I'm putting into it. It's perfect timing too, considering I am now officially a performing arts dropout, so anything I write now has little or no moral value to it. I'm working on the second chapter right now, and it's developing quite smoothly, basically getting the characters set up (the protagonist/antagonist/supporting characters lineup). I've pretty much described only three characters right now (myself, now under the name of Whit Stevens, the teacher, Rose Zeppelini, and the drama club president and pain in the ass, Stevie Lee). So that's what I'm doing now.

Oh, and if all goes well, starting next week we're making another Pleh movie. Something has to be made to save my reputation as a good writer/director after that last piece of shit I did (see YouTube for more), and this new one took me two days to write five short scenes the will ultimately rebirth my characters with a darker tone (I'm going back to the style of the first two films).

Other than that, nothing else to report. Watch "The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou."

I've yet to find out why I think the names Steve and Kevin are so amusing.

We go back to school after a three week vacation tomorrow.

Tomorrow is Friday. School is followed by a three day weekend.

The Hawaii Board of Education not only fucked my logic skills but apparentely their own.

For the past few days I've taken the bus to work in the morning or early afternoon. The bus stop is a quarter-mile or so from my house, so my journey to work is half of that of a pedestrian. The walk is complicated, as 85% of it is without sidewalks, and I am walking on the side of a two lane highway. Nevertheless, I make it every time to catch my bus, and spend twenty minutes or so on public transportation.

However, this simple task is not left to think of things, and one that has been developing in my mind for quite some time. This current thought sparked my interest a few days ago when noticing a car go by on the opposite side of the road, and as I watched it, the frightening breeze of an enormous trash truck zoomed by me. I paused for a moment at the feeling of the chills go up and down my spine, scared and nervous that the automobile didn't hit me.

And then I thought, "What if it did hit me?" From that moment on, my mind began to process the thought, "How does someone know they've died or not? For all we know, the afterlife is a continuation of what it would seem like if we survived such incidents." This started to scare me, thinking I could actually be dead, and that everything around me isn't real. Later in the day, I started to develop an idea that no one really knows if they're dead or not, Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da. Life just goes on. It would explain so much, as to why people survive accidents, things like that. Eventually, I tossed the entire idea out and continued on with my day as lively as I could be.

However, the next day I was a little more cautious walking the highway to the bus stop, also being cautious of my thoughts. While it was a safe trip to the stop, it was a road-block-massacre-thrown-several-hundred-feet-from-the-wreckage style of accident in my mind. Fortunately, my iPod calmed me down as I listened to a mixture of legally and illegally downloaded music. But the thought remained in my head, thinking that when you're dead, you never experience the death you were subject to, for instance, the enormous trash truck would have collided with me, rendering me dead (and in several pieces), but since I am dead, it just passed right by me as if nothing happened. Life goes on.

More complex thoughts began to unravel in my head, such as, only those who are subject to an accidental death experience this "Life Goes On" phenomenon. Suicides and natural deaths just go on into the afterlife because they knew it was time. Accidents, like the one that triggered this thought, don't know that it was time to go and go on.

Purgatory. Life is purgatory.

I think I've come up with the answer that can pretty much explain how I feel about things people know I'll have a problem with:

"Why yes, it does bother me." (Conversation ends there)

I suppose it's better than, "Why do you even tell me things you know will just get me fired up?" and, "Oh fuck you." (Conversation gets deeper in thought)

This space is in loving memory of a bland New Years, how "When Harry Met Sally..." is always on whenever it's December 31st, and how I blame black gangsta culture for the creation of the white-thugga flick "Alpha Dog."

I've always been curious as to what Maui is like to a tourist. Do they see it as the same old island as I do? Or paradise? Or something in-between? I want this sense of something new as they do with this static ocean rock. On occasion, I think to myself, "When I leave for a given amount of time, upon returning, will it be the same? Or is it going to be a new experience?" I know that I have a sense of excitement when I see Kahului from the airplane window after returning from a trip (I did NOT get this feeling upon returning from the Oahu trip...), so if perhaps I left for a great amount of time, this new exciting sense of seeing the old would be magnified.

Or I'll just see everything as I remember it. Which would suck and make the concept of my new exciting old sense invalid. If that is the case, I suppose the only other way to get this effect would be to have my brain undergo some kind of memory loss accident on purpose (a planned, plotted, and purposely-unprevented accident) in which the brain only experiences loss of all knowledge of the island of Maui (such as geology, historical facts, coordinates, the address of Kelsey Grammer's private residence). That way, I could see Maui in a new light.

The only problem is that if I were to find my memory somewhere, I will likely suffer psychological damage, leading up to me seeking mental help.

"So how do you feel about all of this?" The psychologist will ask me. I'd like to think of him as a brown haired man with a small beard and rectangular glasses. He will sit at his chair holding a martini rather than a pen and notebook, and will ask me before this if I feel comfortable calling him Jose.

"Jose (I will feel comfortable calling him by this name, it won't be his first name, and he will be married three times prior, under the name of Aaron), it's strange..."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I feel like I'm in a new place, but I've already been there. It's nothing new to me now."

Jose, after several visits, will inform me of my purposely-unprevented accident (and that he will then prefer to be called Pueblo). I won't be able comprehend the idea of me wanting to forget my memories, and I also won't comprehend the pronounciation of "Pueblo." I'll toss a few chairs, but after that, I'll put the furniture back in the spots where their dents in the rug align them and shake hands with Pueblo. When I leave his office, the thought of this thought of having to go through all this just to delete my thoughts will raise nothing but a small chuckle, and I'll walk down the street craving some cheap food item.

And to think, this entire thought came from thinking about what a tourist couple on the bus were thinking about, which I doubt had anything to do with this.

Oh.. My.. God..

My mom saved the best present for last, The Beatles' new album. Love is extraordinary. All the songs officially remixed with the original music and vocals (meaning, no unnecessary "yeah, yeah" beats or anything hip-hop. what you hear is either from the original tapes or somthing the producer George Martin arranged). It's amazing to hear Blackbird's opening transform into Yesterday as if it were the same session, and a remastered version of I Am The Walrus is kickass (plus, All You Need Is Love sounds better than the mix everyone's used to).

It's all I've been listening to for the past 12 hours. I love it. It's a new way to hear The Beatles.

I wish tabs were allowed when blogging. Sometimes I feel that putting an indent in my online paragraph is completely necessary. Who knows where this will be published. And to think if it is, it's indent-less. This makes me worry, not as much about who is stealing my work, but for the correct punctuation it wouldn't have.

This day felt too odd for me.

I've been going through a week of always getting up precisely at 6:51 AM (minus Wednesday, where I got up at 6:53). This gives me nine minutes to take a shower and twenty minutes to get out of the door. No matter what, I haven't arrived at school any earlier than 7:40 this week. I am wearing jeans that have my length two years ago. Subconciously I warned myself to wear longer socks, to cover up this jean catastrophe, but I settled for a mix and match of low cuts (with one having "Fubu" embroided on the sole). I also told myself that I needed to take the "Virginia is for Lovers" sweater today, since it was slightly chilly. I forgot to take it with me. So here I am with a small white shirt and small jeans that clearly don't match me. Amazing.

Later in the day, I'm forced to make a number of sadly interesting conversations, such as one that involves a scrawny boy that looks like a cancer patient.

"I'm so tired, I played Dance Dance Revolution on my PS2 all night. I'm like, literally dead," Cancer-Boy says.
"Well, if you're 'literally dead,' why the hell are you able to talking to me?" I relplied.
"I don't know, but I brought it to school today."

At that point, I gave the little boy with a terminally-ill appearance my look of disgust and a, "Why?"
"Because it could fit in my bag and it's fun."
"Look, I'm going to continue to give you this look until you really give me a logical answer, no, I'm going to inject Botox into my friggin' face so it keeps this look for forty or so years just to remind you of how much of a loser you really are."

Cancer-Boy recieved a Nintendo Wii the other day, and he was excited to have a girl over to play with his Wii. Oh how I wanted to make a crack at how that will be the only motion controlled action he'll ever get. However, I didn't want to curse him of never entering puberty.

I got home around 3:30 today. I unlocked the door with the house key attached to my wallet, opened the door, and dropped my bag on the eighteen year old Lay-Z-Boy chair that only shows it's age when it comes to the mechanical arthritis it has when trying to lift the footrest. I walk to the kitchen to find something to eat. Despite not being an avid health food junkie, I checked the fridge to see if there was anything. Nothing. This meant I had to resort to the fifth night in a goddamn row in which I was forced to have Hot Pockets and a selected soft drink. At this time in my life, not only did I have a comprehensive knowledge of random shit, but I could also recite "Crispy Crusty Tender Flaky Crust."

Later in the evening I took a shower. It wasn't as hot as I wanted it and I wanted it steamier than the hot sex scene on the Titanic... About that, the hot sex scene in Titanic, for ten years now I have always pictured it to be Rose's hand on the car door sliding down. Now with a recent viewing, I added in the logic that Rose's hand could not have done that as she was on top.

My conclusion for this week was already summed up on a Sunday, and that was that Leonardo DiCaprio has woman hands.

Total hairstyle change (ZOMFG). I decided to finally put an end to my five year engagement with the middle parting of my hair and become romantically involved with...

THE SIDE PART. *legasp*

I'm all super psyched because at first, it was like, I like this, and then I look in the mirror and I'm the spitting image of Peter Petrelli, and it was like, "OMFG I can copy abilities!!!" *Heroes fanboy giddyness ends here*

How does it look? Pictures later. But it's good. Oh yes, it is good.

Slade - Merry X-Mas Everyone

Listen.

So today I'm going out to do two things:

1. See Borat.

2. Buy new camera.

As of Monday, I'm in the holiday spirit as I make "The World of Pleh Holiday Special" a month ahead of time. The script is done and solid and I'm proud of it and honestly cannot wait to do it.

If only you could feel
the burning in my eyes,
the aching of my heart,
the thoughts inside my sighs.
If only you could feel all that,
I know you'd feel bad too.
But you don't get me anymore,
cause you're no longer you...

Guess who hasn't been updating their LJ but rather their Xanga? That's me... (shun)

So, actually, I guess I'll point out some wonders of what the hell has been going on in my life...

Pleh Blogs. Video blogs on Youtube in character of The World of Pleh. The link is on the side bar.

Job @ Sears. Yes I'm a cashier now. I... tend your money... For nine bucks an hour.

MAPA. I may be switching from the BHS Drama Club to MAPA, as they involve pay and recognition for the technical work I do. That would be somewhere around ten bucks an hour.

So, slightly busy life that does want to get away from it all. That would be tomorrow, as I have no work.

job get.

woo, now i'm a cashier at sears.

This is me,
I can't sleep,
nor stay awake.
I'm mad for no reason,
I do have a reason,
but,
Apparentely,
my reason is no reason.
I can't get to sleep,
because my problem,
has affected,
my normal life patterns,
and hey,
what do you know,
no sleep has pissed me off.
And what bothers me,
is that I can't get over
my problem,
and get to sleep.
I blame sleep for this problem,
as well as my problem,
for my lack of sleep.
We all want to find comfort,
in a bed.
But sometimes,
comfort gets to be...
uncomfortable.
So this causes no relaxation,
building stress,
tension,
attitude,
anger,
overemotional moments you wish you didn't have to HAVE!
And the only way,
to relieve this,
is to think,
because no one wants to hear,
a person complain,
about their lack of sleep.
Good night.

Why hello there, let's see where I am within the past time that I've spent away from this little weblog of my ever-so-uninteresting life!

Well, I felt pretty shitty on Friday, almost to passing-outage point. But that didn't stop me from doing the trademark flip with Dan at the Drama Club Parent Night (a big fucking waste of my time). After that, it was off to Ichiban where I had dinner with my parents and Meghan, woo.

Flashback a couple of days prior, I had an interesting Danterandalesque conversation with Cianna about the Baldwin Manga Anime Game Club, which has become the new fun thing to make fun of right now, as it's almost like finally giving a title to the kids who hung out in Sensei Dickinson's room at lunch, other than the traditional "You have no life for watching repetetive episodes of Tenchi Muyo!: GXP and Ranma 1/2." The conversation got a little lewd, but you can check the whole damn thing out on my Xanga blod (hint: hit ri-goddamn-diculous on the side).

Now somewhere at Saturday. I finally got my hands on Pizza Hut's Sicilian Lasagna Pizza. It was good, but a dissapointment. They tricked me into thinking lasagna, when really, it's a traditional square pizza. *letdown*

Then somewhere I found another hit at the MAG-Club, which involves Googling "Manga Anime Game Club."

This brings me to present time, where now I am writing this. I'm looking foward to the season premiere of "The Office" on Thursday, as it's been too long and I'd like to know just what the hell happened between Jim and Pam.

Oh, and I'm performing a monologue as Mel Blanc for "Voices From The Past," a shitty little production where we kids from the DS Acting class take the role of famous dead people and recite a monologue in character. How fun.

That's it.
Shit's on.

-d.j.

I yawn... Boy is senior year already getting to me. I don't like the idea of more school after school. It's almost like why even bother and just make 13th grade available to students.

And it's so weird because I hate it here so much. I'd rather be somewhere else making my life worthwhile, but here, I don't even have a job and I'm trying to find a decent way to bring in money. So far, I've tried internet scams that give me cash, but those don't seem to work, seeing that I'm not 18 yet (that's an issue too, because I want to apply for credit). I need two cameras right now and a 1GB upgrade for my iMac. I also want Pac-Man on my iPod, but with no cash comes no Pac.

And is it so weird to yearn for nostalgia? Like, wanting all the good times to come back and hit you? I agree with Kali when the "Pleh-Days" were at their prime.

I've also come to realization that I probably will never call Sony to get my Vaio fixed. That is a problem, because it leaves me stranded without Microsoft Paint, and I haven't exactly found the fun as hell Mac OS X equivelant.

And why is it that my taste in music is also changing? Suddenly Gnarls Barkley is in my playlist. And the next thing I know is that Outkast came back to iTunes after a brief four years of "I'm fucking sick of 'Hey Ya!'."

Finally, I've also come to the sad point in my life where I have to admit that "The World of Pleh" comics are dead. I've tried so damn hard to revive those daily comics and I can't. Even the urge to make a new WoP movie isn't calling my name (however, I do have two weeks to make the upcoming "World of Pleh Education Special" as a class project)...

I need to get some money and make "death." already...

-d.j.

Alright, as of now, I'm opening the LJ for everyone to see (at least as of this post, all previous entries I'm not gonna bother with, you've got to be all LJ friend to see).

With that, this entry has no signifigant value other than the pathetic milestone accomplished this evening.

This is like my Xanga now, only prettier.

-d.j.