Back to the blogger! I always come back to this thing eventually.
These past two months were tough. Didn't have much time to blog as a result. With the whole moving situation, there was a lot to stress about. So I'll vent on the point I'm pretty much most adamant about.
1: I.HATE.REALTORS.
Manipulative, money grubbing, dirty sons/daughters of bitches, who colors beautiful pictures for potential customers, and plays their clients like fools. Well, Mrs. Realtor, I'm no fool. My parents may be, but I'm not. So while you're counting your dollars behind that fake fake smile, you can bet you ass that I'm plotting your untimely demise with every one of mine. It's only called recon if your target doesn't really know you're looking for information, bitch. Luckily, I DO know, and there's a little thing called misdirection to make things fun and interesting. My parents tell me to respect her. Fuck respect. The only way she's getting any of my time is if I'm using it to kick her sorry ass.
But I think I should get to the actual point in hand (in spite of my love of bashing her). She tells my parents to remodel the house. They do. She tells them to replace the counter tops. They do. She tells them that they need to move all the furniture out for staging. They do. All this will cost us X amount of dollars. X is the amount that's currently being taken out of my potential college fund. It's not a college fund per se, but it IS where they're getting the money to pay for my college tuition. The amount of money spent on the house is equivalent to 2 and a half years of my tuition at UCI, not including housing and other living expenses. These remodeling bits are also highly unnecessary and downright pointless. The staging of the house (where all the furniture is moved out, and "stagers" move their own furniture in) leaves us, the family, unable to occupy any real living space. We sleep on the floor. We can't use the tables. WE CAN'T EVEN WATCH FUCKING TV. I'm being kept sane because at least they decided that they don't need to remove my computer in order to stage the house. If they did, I would have flipped a complete bitch. In the end, these things are all contracted, under the Realtor. If the house is sold, she gets commission, and an advising fee, meaning we have to pay extra to her because she told us to do these things, "helped us" and we did them. Just so she can make a several thousands on the side.
Putting her clients in a miserable state, where even they know that they're being cheated out of their money, preying on their inexperience and willingness to cooperate, overall subterfuge and manipulation. All of this makes me condemn, with reason, Realtors. You all deserve to burn in hell, you motherfucking bastards/bitches.
2: The State of the Dance
Hiphop is growing to be more and more a gray area for me. I love dance, I really do. From the core of my being and all that good stuff. At this point in time though, I'm not sure if I want to do it seriously anymore. Dancing is fun. It relieves stress. It allows me to express myself. However. Seeing the drama, the hate, and the idiocy (mostly brought on by mainstream TV, like ABDC), degenerates this art that I used to love so much.
I got to meet awesome people like Lando Wilkins, Jason Magsuci, KJ Gonzales, and Shaun Evaristo this past week, and I got to learn from each of them. Each of them had a different way of thinking about dance, and in general, they want us to have fun. Obviously, they're parts of really great teams (Supergalactic, Press PLAY, and The Camp). But all in all, they're not edgy, hoity toity ignoramuses that overly stress about their art (except maybe Shaun, but he's just tough, like any coord usually should be). The attitudes of a lot of different dancers I got to see this summer makes me rethink the kind of community I'd like to associate with (I saw some reeeaaaal idiots these past 2 months, with your assortment of haters and bigots mixed in...)
Add to the top of that, my lack of basic skills. I know I'm not very good at weight distribution. My footwork is only passable. I'm not very proficient at popping. I hit everything the same way. I lack serious control. These are all things I know about myself. It's demoralizing and encouraging at the same time. It tells me that I know my weaknesses, and what I need to do to improve, but it doesn't really help me train properly or effectively, since my personality prevents me from forming any serious drive to train with everything I've got. I'm really frustrated right now. I'm going to choreograph some more, even though I need to lay off choreographing, and focus more of improving those basics.
Ugh.
3: The Car, the Car, it's ALWAYS the Car.
My parents are idiots. I think I've mentioned that. I finally got my car, I'm so happy. But I don't actually have it yet. I'm so sad. It's a 2001 Blue Acura CL Coupe. My parents gave me a catch 22. They want me to "get more experience driving." But they REFUSE TO LET ME DRIVE ALONE. Hm. So I'm getting experience by having you sit next to me, I see. How's that really experience when you're just barking out idiot instructions? I hate it when people nag at me. They're nagging to me as I drive. I don't need that at all. I need them to shut the fuck up and let me do what I need to do.
My car's also pretty sweet, but my dad's having so much fun tinkering with it that he refuses to actually give me the car until he's done having his go at it. Damn dude, my car's not a whore. Ride her some other time. Fuck.
4. Sell Me Cell-y.
I went phoneless for roughly 2 weeks. Why? The Asian place we got our phones at was trying to rip us off for some Blackberries. Yea, they're not that great, so I'm not all that angry about that. It's that they LIED to us about it, and basically took forever to actually GIVE us service (I only got my phone number back today, fuckdammit.) No human contact via phone for that many day drives the average Generation Y teenager insane. It fucking drove ME nuts. As least I got a snazzy Samsung SGH X834 for it. Flick! Win.
The parents were real bitches about the numbers though. They basically insisted that I take our current Fremont house's number and put it as my Cell number. FUCK YOU parents. Shove your "smart planning" up your ass. How do you expect me to call the 200 something numbers on my phone to tell them all I've changed my number? The house is also blessed with Telemarketers, which I CAN'T have calling me in IRVINE. Brainless idiots.
EX: The World Ended With Me.
July 3rd, 2008, I purchased The World Ends With You. I've been OCDing over getting 100% completion since I got it. After 22 days, I finished said game at 100% completion. I'm still playing the game. I don't know why. Massive OCD case...
EX2: Aid at AIDS Walk
AIDS Walk was fun, sorta. Lots of volunteer work. This makes the 4th year I've done this. Fun stuff. Oh yea, all you other bastards went to watch the Dark Knight without me! I hate you all. At least I helped out a good cause, and got a custom made hoodie at Buffalo for 32 dollars (original price 250USD). Booyah. Haight Street and new friends ftw.
Now I shall return to choreographing Feelin' It, by Sammie, cuz it's fun.
Later Days.
And the wind brought Clive @ 5:42 PM
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Tuesday, July 29, 2008 |
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