cinderfallen: (Default)
( Aug. 11th, 2008 08:15 pm)
Continuing my Japanese food craze lately, I'm eating spicy tuna rolls again. My dad brought home a salmon/tuna/? sashimi mix so I picked out what tuna was left and had enough to make two rolls. The fish was freshly caught today and mhmm.

It was super easy to make (all to taste):
A base of Japanese mayonnaise (Kewpie)
Sriracha chili sauce (tomato-garlic based)
Shichimi/Japanese 7 spice
a finger of the bulb of green onion (the white bit), chopped
a bit of wasabi to give the sauce some zing

Also good as late-night snack was leftover Korean spicy pork made into tacos with corn tortillas. It was one of the best midnight *cough* snacks I've ever had. <3 pan-culture bastardized cooking. And yeap, I prefer Panda Express's orange chicken to authentic Chinese any day. (Especially if that means I don't have to worry about eating more sea slugs. :( They are cute and should not be eaten.)
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cinderfallen: (bucket hits the panda.)
( Aug. 9th, 2008 08:49 pm)
The Olympics have come around again, and yet again I feel no compulsion to pay attention to any of the happenings.

It's all right; two of my friends' parents won Olympic medals and they don't seem to much care, either. (Gold in tennis for one friend's mom, and silver? gold? in judo for the other friend's dad. Haha, come to think of it, I think he tried to pick me up with that line way back when; the same friend with the awesome Batman-watching kid sister.)
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Am not even going to try the book meme as I fail as an English major. (My psych major is attempting to analyze that as I speak.)

My focus is probably going toward staring at all the things I could buy as a consumer-whore American. I'm trying not to buy more makeup? But it's really hard, you know, as I really really like colors and Shespace offers lots at 4.00 for a pot of eyeshadow, .50 for samples....

Speaking of American culture.... It's always kind of amazing to me what people overseas do or don't know. Here in Australia, they have Days of Our Lives (wtf?) and Two and a Half Men (?), and pretty much everything that comes out of the tv has an American accent. It's easy to forget that they'll know about LA from watching the L Word but not have a clue what the Daily Show is. (I felt really embarrassed about bringing the Daily Show up in conversation to blank looks because hello--comedy news show about American politics. That is, until the next day when my friend from Norway was like, "The Daily Show, yeah, of course." *throws up hands*) Anyway, I guess the point is that I'm surprised that I'm so surprised that "the industry" is such an industry, churning out entertainment for the entire world.

I was thinking of staying here for another semester, but honestly, I realized I want to go back to my home school and wring every penny out of the outrageous tuition. At current 10% tuition increase, it would take my father two years of my father's full wage to pay for one year of school. Isn't that a little ridiculous? Just a tad? My mind can't really comprehend how I'm going there in the first place because somehow, I am. And it makes me guilty to buy useless crap like makeup.
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I have a paper due tomorrow and a book to read to write said paper tonight. (But it's Interview with the Vampire! I just wish I didn't hate whiny Louis!)

SO of course I am wasting time updating LJ to inform the world that apparently, I know people who attended Exeter and DEERFIELD ACADEMY. The only thing I can think of is that SNL sketch with NSYNC, Deerfield edition. My friends, I knew them not. (Also, wtf Exeter prep. I am never going to let them live that down.)

...okay, ETA possibly I am jealous of said Exeter-grad as he is amazingly multi-lingual and in the sparkliest, most functional, most ADORABLE relationship with his boyfriend. Like. It's fluffy just standing near them. Also! He must keep the relationship secret! Because he is from a strict and traditional family! But they are so adorably happy to be near each other and have mostly moved in together. (I WANT A RELATIONSHIP LIKE THAT.) They live the slash fangirl's dream of happy domesticity from the updates I get from Exeter. (Actually, not me personally, but a friend has stated she found them excruciatingly hot and wished she knew them better. Uhm. I took that as proto-slasher behavior. I think she told me her deep dark secret that she once was into Savage Garden RPS [LOLS]?) Anyway.

...and I guess I know another couple that parallels the Pete and Patrick dynamic, except that the "Pete" in this scenario is a lot hotter than the OG: He is Tom Welling levels of pretty. Maybe even prettier. He and "Patrick" are bitchy co-dependent best friends, to the point you never see one without the other, except that "Pete" is straight and "Patrick" is oh-so-not. But, in one intense instance, "Pete" told "Patrick" that if he *were* flaming, "Patrick" would be absolutely first on the list despite the fact that he's pale, skinny, and slightly balding. They're kind of famous for their bitchy, girly, screaming-and-then-ignoring-each-other fights, which are frequent. (I did say co-dependent, yes?) Also, they get jealous of each others' relationships and hookups. (And they've shared a room since freshman year. By CHOICE. They could have gotten singles anytime after the first year.)

Uh. So. I am almost tempted to tell myself who needs slash when I've got RL gossip? But I would be sorely, sorely mistaken because I think I just get really good gossip.
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cinderfallen: (Default)
( Jun. 3rd, 2008 03:16 pm)
ANOTHER OLD MAN HIT ON ME TODAY.

Seriously, what is up with this phenomenon? Not even in his 50s old, grandfather old territory. He started chatting to me at the bus stop and asked if he could sit with me. I said sure, thinking he was probably lonely. And it was okay; I made polite conversation thinking longingly of new music on my iPod. And then I noticed he persisted in talking about marrying his girlfriend, their happy marriage until she died, how American women are too liberal--women in general are too liberal these days, and you haven't been to the beach yet? Why don't we go together and he'll show me around sometime? And oh--did he mention they'd had a happy, happy marriage...which I took to mean a good marriage that we could have?

He asked where I lived, so I just named the suburb we were in, but he kept pressing and I got the feeling he wanted a street. Dude, I live three houses down from this bus stop! D: He was also very distressed and put out when I told him I'd only be here for another month. I should study here another year! he said. Well, I said, I have been here for a good couple months, so I don't feel too bad about it. Then he says that *he* hadn't known me since February, and there's only a month left before I'd leave. Really? Really, grandpa?

The thing made me uncomfortable more than anything is I couldn't help but think that he had this mental image of me in his head, cooking and cleaning and waiting on him, being the model of a nice, young Asian wife. And of course, since I'm Asian, I'm not American whose women have those silly liberal ideas. *shudder* Even despite--hello, my lip ring.

He was very dapper, a dark suit and a red tie, old generation Australian which made him sound British--named Gerard. That was his only saving grace because I felt really skeeved out by the idea that he was trying to court me. =/

He touched my hand before I left, telling me I should tap him on the shoulder if I see him again. Uh. NO. Just--no.

At least he doesn't know where I live like the other old man who hit on me. D:
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cinderfallen: (caught time)
( May. 31st, 2008 02:14 pm)

I usually have really cinematic, epic dreams, with plot and eyecandy. I'm pretty sure there's novel-style narration a lot of the time.

This time. Uh.

I dreamt my housemates and I were going to a theater show, in which Rodney Mckay from SGA was the...emcee? Ringmaster? It was very experimental and he was wearing silver...80s style alien-jumpsuit cut into pieces. There weren't enough seats although the place was almost empty, so I and a couple of others were standing on stage. (Part of the action, whoo!) But the show wasn't...very good? It was very conceptual and there wasn't real singing, just tons of circus-style gesturing and blustering and I couldn't make out what was being said--apparently, this was a visual kei thing.

And then Panic shows up. Naked. As part of the show.

They kept popping in and out of the stage show, taking direction from Mckay, wearing (even less) of the ludicrous silver jumpsuit or nothing at all. Brendon was very proud to be out and about. Spencer was like a CAT; he just casually did his thing in the periphery with Ryan. Also, there might have been giant prop daisies at some point. I just remember thinking, huh. WEIRD. I know some people on my flist would be more appreciative of being in my position.

I don't know, brain. I blame this on sleeping in my contacts.

(BTW, the nudity was very edited for TV--lots of buttcheek action and back shots, long-range shots, artfully concealed full-frontals. And they were very pale. Evenly pale. My brain is a prude, what.)   

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I'm in Australia. I've been in Australia for the past two weeks or so. (!!) So far, everything--and I mean everything has been amazing. I live two blocks from the beach and away from most of the Americans in a spacious house with four other girls. My roomie is a complete sweetie and she indulges in my strange sense of humor. How the hell did I luck out into that? There's one girl who's MIA--all she has in her room is her bedspread and growing pile of letters outside her door. We are Not Fond of this girl. All in all, it's much nicer to dislike someone in the house who's disliked for never being there. *g* Only one housemate has actually caught glimpse of this girl.

So. I am alive and well, if not tan. I've somehow yet to actually go the beach. It would help if I owned a swimsuit.

What's crazy is that mid-semester break is next week and classes start today. My friends, I am off to New Zealand for a bit of hiking, hanging out and such--unless I forgot to mention the EXTREME BUNGEE JUMPING AND SKYDIVING AND LUGE-ING AND RAFTING that is also to take place during adrenaline-charged days of fun and leisure.

I want to throw myself off as many high, high places as they'll let me. SKYDIVING, you guys. <333 The bungee is also apparently the world's...second? third? largest and all I can think about is that episode of Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. You know, the one where Hillary demands Trevor propose to her in the most amazing way possible and he prepares to jump off a bungee and yells, "Hillary, will you maaaaaaarryyyyy---KERPLAT"? And Hillary gets to be a widow instead of a divorcee? Yeah. Awesome.

A guidebook also mentioned SCUBA diving like weightless flying in space with strange aquatic creatures. I really want to do that before I leave.

And uh. I want to take an art history class while I'm here? School. Scholastics. Studying. Very Important.

But I'm so glad of the change. I was stagnating at school. The new environment and new challenges is thrilling. I haven't been this happy in years.
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Keira Knightly pulled up next to us last night and I have to say the first thought I had was about that Patrick Stump/Keira Knightly story I read last month. Bandom has for serious eaten my brain.

And now I recommence trying not to fail out of school.
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Working on a story based on my public middle and high schools, and one thing that was kind of darkly entertaining: There was a widespread rumor that our high school was designed by a prison architect (prisons actually look sleeker: ours looked more like a beige concrete prison bunker) so I looked into google to see if there was any truth to the story. I found, if not true proof, no less than 400 hits for the following search string: "high school full name" + architect + prison.
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cinderfallen: (Default)
( Nov. 4th, 2007 01:10 am)
So I am failing at life. Harder than usual.

I haven't done a single piece of work for about three weeks, and I can't dredge up an ounce of motivation to do...anything. My to-do list has been steadily, exponentially growing--if I bothered to actually keep up with an actual list. Seriously, it's more than a little distressing, and the state of my room is reflecting the state of my mental state.

I mentioned this to the doctor who supplies me with teh drugs, and he says, "Hmm, but it doesn't sound like you have the signs for clinical depression...?" And I'm just, "Hahaha, no. I'm just a lazy whore who has misplaced her motivation and has no idea how to get it back." Good luck with that, he says.

In other news, my fiction workshop class is fucking phenomenal beyond words, and I am wasting my precious time with my National Book Award finalist professor. Jesus crap, self. Get yourself together, will you?
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