Entries for August, 2004

On the way to drop off my sister at her class, I was drinking some Jamba Juice. [For those of you who are unfamiliar with the drink, it is the culmination of Valley-ness, the epitome of Southern Californian mediocrity, and the best damn fruit smoothies on this side of the Western hemisphere, although highly overpriced.]

My sister was in a pissy mood. And my sister has the uncanny ability to pass on her aforementioned pissy moods to people within close proximity. And today, I was sitting next to her in the car, which would be considered fairly close by. So I wasn't really all smiles, hugs, and rainbows, either. I parked the car and reached over to take a sip of the juice.

I was swirling the cup around to get some of the icy goodness to mix with the liquid sexiness. I guess the cap was loose, because at that moment, the contents of the styrofoam cup decided to practice its high jump for the Summer Olympics and lunge at me.

So naturally I freak out, jump out of the car, and stare in awe at the pile of purple goop that was already beginning to seep its way between the seats. I use my God-given shovels to scoop the stuff off the seat, dump it outside, and run into the building to get some paper towels. My hands were sticky, my car seats were sticky, my clothes were sticky, and even my sandals were sticky.

I was angry.

On the drive home, I noticed a tiny little fruit fly buzzing around inside the car, trying to get its filthy little mouth on the banana-berry flavored car seats. That little insignificant insect pissed me off immensely, so I proceeded to chase it around the interior of the car while shrieking like a maniac. While driving. Finally, at a red light, I saw it land on the driver side window, so I furiously began to slap at it, cursing its posterity for generations to come.

Smug and content that I had smashed the little bastard to a pulp, I looked at the car next to me. Inside were two very cute Korean girls about my age who were staring at me like I was the most interesting man on the planet.

At first, I thought that they were admiring my sleek physique, my toned body, and my dazzling smile. [Yeah, I'm narcissic - DO shut up.] Then I realized what I had just been doing a couple seconds ago.

From their point of view, a profoundly insane guy was banging on his window, making grotesque faces at them, eyes bulging out, sweating and foaming at the mouth, and punching his steering wheel with his head... all for no apparent reason. Maybe they thought I was trying to hit on them with some aborigine summer mating ritual, or maybe they assumed that I was on my way to turn myself into the nearest asylum and inject myself with enough horse tranquilizers to keep me down for the safety of the public. All I know is, two beautiful girls out there in the city think I am insane.

And that is why I will never drink Jamba Juice again.

Written by jihwan at 07:56 AM.

3 x 0 = 0

Considering I'm the kind of person that doesn't stick with anything for longer than the time between haircuts, I'm surprised that I've written in this thing for 15 months and manage to write two hundred pieces of mindless blather.

If you remember, for my 100th entry, I let you in on a little secret of mine. For my 200th, I surveyed some of the stereotypes that I've bashed in the past regarding this journal. And doughnuts.

But that comes later. Right now, I'm angry because I lost my #1 standing on google. I blame you.

On a related note, meet my girlfriend.



---

Jim Sox, star quarterback
Yeah, man, this journal is like the chillest of the websites out there, man. Except for, y'know, the Sports Illustrated site... hyuk hyuk... swimsuit models, biatches!! Hell yah!! Huh? Doughnuts? Yeah... I guess you can have sex with doughnuts...

Tiffany and Kimberlee!! <3
Journals, huh? Wait, do you have gum? Okay! Journals!! Yeah, like those are the coolest! Yah, they sell em at the store three stores down from The Limited, between Abercrombie & Fitch and Wetzel's Pretzels, on the second floor of the south side of the Promenade Shopping Center, like right next to the Mrs. Timberlake trucker hats and the $40 VonDutch shirts! Donuts?! Ummm.. no. Those are fattening!

black archsage, tortured artist
..as my hopes flutter out the barred
..window... like the incessant wails of..
the caged... raven.. journals are the medium..
..through which our souls become siphoned by
the expression of inexpressible
pain... this doughnut.. round. circle.. like the unending
cycle
...of my misgivings.

xaZnQtxPrnc3sSxSw33t13x4eVaXoXo
h1ee!!11 ^__^V
jOurNal??? rOfLzZ!! @__@
wUtz a JoUrNaL? O.O;;
oH nOeS!!1 iTz to hArrdD tUh uNduHsTaNd!!! >__<;;
dOnUtz?!?! y giT doNuTz wEn u kEn GiT bObA lOlz!! XD
wUt r mAi cRosS sTreEtz?! LmAo!!11 xp~*

---

Thanks for reading.

Written by jihwan at 04:44 PM.

8 x 0 = 0

After prep class today, I was on the way to pick up my sister from the mall. Someone had thrown a cinder block into the street, and I, making a right turn, didn't see it.

Boom. A flat tire. I pulled my car into the nearest parking lot and just sat there for a few minutes, seething. what kind of insane idiot chucks a brick into a busy street? Then I sighed, called my sister and told her to wait, and changed the stupid tire.

On the way home, I almost got into two or three accidents because the car wouldn't go where I wanted it to go, due to the spare tire.

Then, of course, was the search for new tires. Took me about two hours, tired, starving, and stressed. Minus $160 for the Kim household.

I finally got home, ate some cheese danish with some milk, and took a nap. A couple hours later, I awoke to the most excruciating pain I've ever experienced.

I crawled to the bathroom, where I sat on the toilet for a good ten minutes. I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't move. The pain in my stomach got so intense that I gave up and vomited all over the bathroom. I somehow got into the shower, ran steaming hot water, and just squatted in the stall for a while. The pain was blinding. After about ten more minutes, I got out and drank the honey lemon tea my dad made me to sooth my throat from the burn of stomach acid.

Man. I feel horrible.

Written by jihwan at 10:06 PM.

8 x 0 = 0

I'm hating myself right now. I hate being utterly unable to do anything to help a friend in need. I hate not being able to support a friend who's 200 miles away and in distress. I hate having to blurt out a hackneyed line of consolation via AOL Instant Messenger. I hate not being able to show her my concern, not being able to give her a hug, not being able to offer a shoulder to cry on. I hate how I feel pain when she feels pain.

You know what they say: "Just being there to listen to a friend when they're in trouble is helping."

Bullshit.

When you haven't been in her shoes, when you haven't experienced what she's experienced, when you haven't a remote idea of the kind of pain she's going through, then you can't help. Not even close. The simple fact that you can't imagine what thoughts are spinning around in her mind distances the two of you. You're out of reach. All you can do is try to scrape up all the idealistic Hollywood consolation lines: I'm sure everything's going to be all right. Don't worry, you'll get through it. I'm here for you.

Garbage. That's what those words are. Trash. You can't be sure everything's going to be all right. You don't know that they'll get through it. And no way in this side of hell are you there for them.

What does listening to them do? Does it rid them of their troubles? What does "Hang in there" do? Does it diminish their pain at that very moment? Comforting words aren't like novocaine shots that immediately numb sensation and feeling. They're more like the motherly pats on the shoulder that you get as you get your teeth ripped out of your mouth.

I hate feeling like an inadequate friend.

Written by jihwan at 12:43 AM.

5 x 0 = 0

It's final. It's the kind of thing that happens to you and it doesn't hit until you get over the initial shock. Why does it hurt inside? I didn't realize I cared this much. No chance for a formal goodbye, no chance for a last-minute change of heart, no chance for shared classes, shared concerts, or shared memories.

It proves my point. It's all futile. She's over 200 miles away, and she'll stay over 200 miles away. Now she's gone, and all I can do is support her because that's what will make her happy.

I wish you the very best. Visit often. Don't forget that I love you.

Written by jihwan at 05:12 PM.

1 x 0 = 0

You know those days when everything goes right for you? The girls wink at you, you find ten bucks on the street, and on the way home, all the lights are green?

You know, those days when the warm sun shines a spotlight on you, the cool breeze ruffles your hair, and roses and daisies curtsy as you pass?

Those days when there isn't a care or worry in the world, where kitty-cats and puppy-dogs frolick in the meadows while butterflies flit from flower to flower, and that lady from the Claritin commercial prances along the grass, occasionally bending over to pet a cute little skunk... you know those days.

Well, I'm way over due for one of those.

Written by jihwan at 04:25 PM.

1 x 0 = 0

Why do women get cowed into buying stupid products because they get lassoed into the corral of bovine-crappy advertising? [Yeah, that was an extended allusion, for all you English buffs.]

Take that God-awful Venus commercial, for one. I mean, they're trying to sell shaving cream and razors, right? Why not just sell it? Why does the company have to fool the easily fooled, clearly [physically, logically, and emotionally] inferior species of homo sapiens, also known as women, into thinking that they'll be someone they're not?

I mean, do they really believe that if they shave with Venus(tm) products, their fat [which probably accumlated over the years of trying to fool themselves that they're on diets and that the fried chicken and pizza that they're shoving down their unwilling throats are so that their bodies can stabilize their metabolisms and that they don't have to feel guilty for being failures at keeping any amount of self-control and self-exertion over their daily lives] will just slide off with the hair?

Hah! Welcome to the wonderful feeling of realizing you've been played for a fool. Moo. MOOOOOOOO.

Don't listen to Venus. You aren't Goddesses. You're just gullible.













Note: I was kidding. Don't kill me.



















Note: I was only half kidding. Kill me halfway.

Written by jihwan at 10:25 PM.

5 x 0 = 0

A fart is your soul trying to escape out of your butt.
The sound it makes is the sound of your soul grunting as it tries to get out.
The wind factor is the soul exhaling after another hard but futile attempt at fleeing.
The smell is because you ate too much bean and asparagus salad for dinner.

Written by jihwan at 12:20 AM.

I disagree!

I'm discovering more and more that words, no matter how fake or insincere, have the power to sway people. As I hold conversations with different people, I've found that it is way too easy to say the right words at the right time, to let the words just flow out of my mouth and into their hearts.

I'm not trying to be manipulative or controlling. It's just that if someone seems stressed or insecure, I say something that will make them happy again, even if I don't really mean the words I say. Is that so bad?

But then there are times when I'm talking to a friend [mostly girls in this case] and they get all mushy and sappy because I told them that their new skirt really brings out the color in their eyes, or because I complimented their new hairdo. A lot of times I really do mean it - they DO look good, and I want to compliment them. But sometimes, I just feel terrible telling them something that I don't really believe.

Then I just want to scream at them. "Can't you see I'm being insincere?! Can't you see through this flimsy facade? Don't you realize that you're being flattered by empty words?" What's going to happen when some jerk comes up to you for all the wrong reasons and tells you that you look pretty? Are you going to give up all dignity and throw yourselves at him?!"

Maybe I'm doing all this for the wrong reasons. Maybe I'm trying to get people to like me more. But it's just discouraging when someone you thought was a strong person goes weak at the knees because of a few gilded words.

What the hell's going on?

Written by jihwan at 11:26 PM.

9 x 0 = 0