This is like having mind-blowing, intensely satisfying, simultaneously raunchy and passionate, climatic, teasingly edgy, and simply magnificently orgasmic sex.  There’s no jokes here; I swear I felt like I had the bext sex in my entire life.

Though we might not have evolved from monkeys, as many would like to contest, our ape relatives aren’t far from our genetic pool of fuck-ups and the occasional weird looking oddballs.  Just a few hours ago I finished my first final; I’m officially done with physical anthropology, done with studying lineages and confusing geological time scales, and definitely done with memorizing obscure African localities.  Oddly enough, I’m a little sad. I’ll miss these lectures and the sadistic glorification after vicoriously raping the essay questions.  Talk about Homo cultural traditions from Habilis to Sapiens Sapiens?  Bend over right now!

Alas, my final didn’t exactly go like that.  With increasing crescendo, this girl right next to me started crying…and crying…and crying some more.  I might be understating this, but it’s a little (only a little) disheartening and saddening to take your final next to someone who witnessed her grade being pummeled by her fossilized ancestors. I wonder if this is suppose to happen.  Am I suppose to see people cry everytime I take a test?  Not exactly something I aspire to.

And though I’d love to say that I spent the last few days of freedom wisely and efficaciously, I actually stayed up until 3 or 4 with my roommates talking about food and watching Samurai Champloo.  About the ending: I don’t get it.  I feel simultaneously satisfied yet really sad.

“What was this trip for?”

“Bye.  See you someday.”

To a very sentimental girl who still clings onto happy endings (the unromantic ones, of course) Samurai Champloo might as well have been the apex of torrents of “What the fucking shit is this?!”  It made sense…and a nonsensical way.  Whatever.  You just have to watch it.  And admire how Jin looks SO sexy at the end when his glasses are ravishingly taken off by a sword.  …And the plot.  Oh yes, the plot.  Admire that, too.  But most of all how hot Jin and Mugen look. DDD

And instead of studying for my Psyche final, in which a question will quintessentially be: Why the fuck are people so screwed up?  I’m blogging.  Maybe this is cognitive dissonance.  Maybe I’m bargaining here.  Why are people so screwed up?  Please don’t deny it.  You’re extremely guilty of being a fucked up individual, too.  But hey, revel in camaraderie; there’s plenty of equally, if not more so, screw-ups in this world, too.  So, I’d love your input.  Please and thank you.

Again.

Why are people so screwed up?!

My dorm is so old I can hear the heater crying just to crank the temperature up to 60 something degrees.

As I snuggle underneath my fluffy blanket at 1:30 in the morning, my sinking slumber is all of a sudden interrupted by some prepubescent voice shrieking the American anthem from the laundry room.  Okay, not like I understand your undying love for America, but 1:30…really?  And on dead week…really?  And when EVERYONE is studying…really?  And who is holding that magnifying over my head to put me right next to this laudry-room by day, kareoke and all things detrimental to entertainment by night, sort of thing?

For the next…1 or 1.5 hours…I laid in bed effervescently wishing violent, violent death to that man singing next to me, the man so fervently careening to a nation —and for once the misconception of singing louder doesn’t necessitate singing well applies here.  I now hate that song as George Bush hates atheists.  So exercising my right to petition, as every American should [not to the extent of abuse, of course], I wrote a very polite letter, taped it on the laundry room, and secretly prepared rusty nails and a chainsaw for the next son of a bitch who dares interrupt my beauty sleep.

Thanks for listening.

Love, your neighbor.

Isn’t it so funny, when you hear a familiar voice on the phone?  You’re in tune with its familiar valleys and hills, the light laughter or hearty guffaws.  You know, even without looking at the caller ID, at the first intake of breath and the first “Hello?”, who’s calling.  And then you’ve internalized these vocal idiosyncrasies until they’ve become so distinguishable from everyone else’s voice that, eventually, you know it’s your best friend calling before you even hear her voice.  Excluding the fact that you might have a separate ring tone for this person.

Upon hearing about an incident quite separable from myself yet so tragically ubiquitous to every single person existing on this pale little blue planet, I really have to take a step back.  And think.

Everyday I wake up, go to class, sleep through class and if I’m lucky my professor won’t smile devilishly at me and quietly mark me down, run, eat lunch, maybe go to more class, come back, eat dinner, study [usually this is the exception] and then sleep.  I use the convience that AIM gives me to talk to my friends, but these never go beyond “How are you?”or “Dude, I saw this hot guy/girl today.”

So today, or rather tonight, I just want to take time off from memorizing where Homo Habilis remains were found and if Australopithecus garhi really means Gandhi to say that I really, really, really appreciate my friends.  Here’s your typical shout-out: I LOVE YOU GUYS.  LIKE A FAT KID LOVES CAKE.  Oh, let’s poke fun at those suffering from obesity, shall we?

Jokes aside, I want to live through each day knowing my friends and family are here to make my life the awesome, spectacular mess of spiraling entropy it is today.  Seriously, I wouldn’t be the messed up, perverse, and overtly egregious perosn I am today without the love of my friends; they make every single miniscule moment…magnificent.  I don’t want to hold back or hold onto petty grudges because I’m filled with spite or anger.  Because…every moment deserves something new, each new day or hour or second is another new one filled with potential for wonderfully devious things.  Why ruin that with trivial frustration and anger?

To live up to the conventional platitude, “Live like there’s no tomorrow.”  I want to love you guys like no tomorrow. Of course I mean that in a totally non-creepy and conspicuously copacetic way.  Cause…what happens if…

If something truly terrible…[something like Twilight displacing Shakespeare and Tolstoy] should happen?

Whoa, okie, so I totally left this thing open-ended.  But to recapitulate all this gooey goody PC stuff, I love that you’re in my life.  I love how you’ve influenced me in ways that God would shudder in horror.  I love how you’re there when I need rides, or how I can creatively combine any cuss word and it’d still be awesome.  I love how we make the stupidest jokes at the stupidest moments and come off as insentitive and egotistical assholes, but a the same time how you can be the most empathetic individuals I have ever met.  Who else would stand one of my tantrums?  So here’s to a couple of people who’ve made such impressionable and everlasting footprints in my life.

Roughly speaking, I spent—more like wasted—2 and a half hours watching my friend play Assassin’s Creed II.  And it wasn’t even like he was killing the Pope or anything; he was looking for feathers…that look like mutated alabaster DNA sequences.

I wasted 2.5 hours of my like watching a rugged Italian man defy the laws of physics and jump from 30 story tall buildings into haystacks.  There has got to be something wrong with me.

Moreover, watching my supposedly angelic friend stab a civilian with a poisoned knife and participate in pseudo-rape has convinced me that Freud’s theory of sexuality and aggression as prime motivating forces—nonconscious as it may be—is completely true.  It seems like these “PC gooey yuppies” are the most susceptible to the pervasive ramifications of sex and violence.

Not to sound like a total sex/gore obsessed nutcase, and not to belabor my studying anymore, I want to interject with a meandering.  I ran today.  And it was certainly a beautiful day today.  As I ran up and down the hill, dodging colorful yellow leaves and shivering against Berkeley wind, I’ve never felt so…complete.  Sure, maybe this holistic integration comes because I want to believe healthy dieting and exercise makes me into a wealthy, healthy and wise individual.  But sometimes I can’t help but feel happiest and most …sentient of my surroundings than when I’m running.  I’ve never noticed the skies were so blue, the clouds stark and white streaks, and the uneven concrete with tiny weeds poking through the random cracks.  As lactic acid races down my legs, my lungs almost collapse from lack of air, my breathing turns to panting, my eyes stare at the most brilliant sky as I run…well, towards nowhere. There’s something beautiful in that, going to no destination but just for the sake of going.  Of course I don’t recommend doing this in high heels or stripper stilettos, but you should try it sometime.  Just put on some shoes, open that door, and take the first step outside.  See where it takes you.  Who knows, it might be spectacular.

I find this strangely hilarious and insightful.

In the name of loooove…

Before you breaaaak my heaaaart.

Then again, I seriously doubt Californian law punishment would drop their guns and night sticks to dance to Diana Ross.

After watching Fantastic Mr Fox, a movie which heavily compensated for Ninja Assassin’s trippy and quasi-Kill Bill gore effects with witticisms, humor and Black Panther references, I went to Communications Hill…and for a long while admired a middle aged man climb dozens of flights of stairs for his rigorous exercise routine.  We bounced back to immaturity and tried to stomp on the dry crackling leaves on the ground—Calvin has gotten it right: the best pleasures in life are the simplest.  Of course, getting an A on my human evolution and cognitive psychology class wouldn’t make me unhappy.

Alright, I’m about to sound cheesy for a moment, but I absolutely love the stark difference between the cloudless azure sky and the rows and rows of red, orange and yellow trees.  This is whay makes San Jose so amazingly beautiful in the fall, and its lack makes Berkeley devastatingly ugly.  We get dead shit colored leaves without the colorful transitions.

Sitting next to you on those dirty park benches—not even touching—and just talking about really, really random things makes me kind of smile and laugh inside.  So there’s the answer to your question: I’m just really happy and blatantly amused when we’re together, unless you act like a jackass and I have a valid excuse to laugh.

These adventures make me regret telling my mom I have a boyfriend, because she puts major time restrictions on me now.  I mean, if I wanted to have sex, I would be smart enough to use a condom.  And if I REALLY wanted to have sex, I could have done it in 1 or 2 hours.  Do you honestly think that my raging teenage hormones would care if it’s 2 hours or 7 hours?  I didn’t think so, either.

I went to my cousin’s house, played some psuedo-Taboo game, watched Mulan, and drove home to eat an amazing dinner…AND HEARD ABOUT HOW ONE LUCKY MAN GOT…REALLY LUCKY.  And while playing Mario Kart with my brother and cousins, I’ve realized how my brother manifests his sadistic desires.  He picks incredibly hard maps and laughs as I fall off gorges, get run over by various trucks and cars, fall into volcanoes, get hit by fire balls, and get crushed by ginormous anthropomorphized metal balls.

Then I had an adventure.  Complete with The Man up there.

So I had a fantastic Thanksgiving.  How about you guys?

Let’s start out with a scene so full of love::

First, an intro:  My brother and I are lying on the ground listening to music on my laptop.

Me:  Sicne it’s Thanksgiving, you should kiss me!

Him: No, thanks.  I’d rather go.

Then he left.

But really, now.  Today is Thanksgiving, and whether you are Christian or Muslim, a Freudian or Seussian, a believer in mismatched socks and sock monkeys or indulger of epistemological ideologies, we can all find something to be thankful about.

I think I step on people a lot— trample on them, ride my enormous ego over their flailing fetus bodies; I take everyone I know for granted.  But lucky for people like myself [hopefully there aren't too many of them], Thanksgiving gives me a pretty great excuse to be a good human being…for once.

But rather than thank all of you individually, I combine you guys in some weird flesh conglomerate and start from there.  Because I’m such a lazy ass like that.

Dear friends and family:

You guys have been there for me.  You have always been there for me, picking me up from the Bart station, giving me rides to school, standing there and not knowing what to say when I cry—because I appreciate you just listening—listening to all my teenage, hormonal angst, and tolerating what kind of inappropriate and obnoxious behavior I have.  I know I can be a bitch sometimes—well, actually a lot of the time—and it means such a great deal that you guys love me for it.

But you already know that.  At least I hope you do.  I love you guys a lot.  And I doubt saying it one more time would actually make a difference.

So I’ll start my letter again.

Dear…the human race.

I know we have gone far, but maybe not in the direction we wanted to go in.  Thousands of years of genocide, wars, misogyny, hate crimes, discrimination, and so many other manmade evils existed in the past, and they still exist to this very day.  We’ve killed in the name of love for country, for religion, for hate against out fellow man.  We’ve been successful at manufacturing biological weaponry, at chemicals that alter mental states and possibly sex, at deforming and mass producing crass art to the unweary public.  Our governments have been dicatorships, monarchies full of incest loving queens and kings [I wonder why they didn't look like one-eyed STD carrying freaks earlier], tyrannies masquerading under the name of democracy and communism.  We’ve expended philosophers, we’ve argued over God, we’ve touched almost every possible aspect on the spectrum of moral and ethical boundaries.  I don’t think we’ve come to a concensus.  Our history has been tainted by so much blood and destruction.

Yet, we harbor something so intrinsic and spectacular, a capacity to endure and move beyond the realm of just blood and gore.  Not to sound majorly corny—wait, I just did—but you do, you have to admit, that despite what horrors we are capacle of, we are also capable of so much wonder.  Being overarching right now would just be stupid and make me pull out my psuedo-wisdom.

I’m thankful for strangers who hold doors open for other people, and say “You’re welcome” after a thank you, of strangers who pick up trinkets and cellphones on the floor and give them back to you, of strangers who give a child or an old woman their seat on a crowded bus.

I’m in awe of people who are willing to speak out against oppression and social norms, who fight for their beliefs, yet have the capability to listen to listen to others’ opinions, for people who aren’t blindly ignorant and cower against the authority figure [yes, I actually respect that a lot].  And I think volunteers are greatly underrated.  Not those wussy I-want-to-do-this-to-go-to-college kind of volunteer, but people who love what they do and earnestly help other people…like the second Jesus on facebook who will be going to El Salvador to establish a rainwater sustaining plant for summer vacation.

My roommate gave her dinner to a homeless man.  It made me wonder: aren’t we capable of helping complete strangers, just for the sake of kindness?

So thanks to all those little kind acts that gradually stack up like, as my psyche teacher likes to say it, a salami sandwich, they alleviate the garden variety anguish we humans have going for us.

For this Thanksgiving…

Thank you, human race.  Let’s hope our future will be better, brighter, and leave less of a carbon footprint.  And I hope we won’t have to massacre turkeys to show our gratitude all the time.

All right, HAPPY THANKSGIVING, GUYS!

I have a fever, and my attire, as quoted by my roommates, looks like I’m an eskimo.  Ah, I am so tired and sore and ache-y and miserable, and I have to do a written discourse on why this white, viscous fluid is actually semen or something.  Can you believe it?  Out of 50 minutes of talking about the major themes of this book, 20 minutes were devoted to sex symbols and homosexuality.  Teachers here are so liberal.  Haha.

And…

I CAN’T WAIT FOR THANKSGIVING.

Here is something I noticed: how often do we really help someone, out of pure altruism and not implicit hopes for reciprocity?  Hope you guys can find something to be very thankful about this Thanksgiving.