jeffrey + upstairsloft

Emo is like punk-country. My dog died. My wife left me in her Chevy drove off the levee and died. Just mix up the strum pattern, toss in a few major chords, and whine out the lyrics. Don’t forget to dress in black.

I feel unemotional, indifferent to anything and everything that goes on. It’s the genuine “I don’t give a damn” mood. It’s been like this for a few days. A guy could jump off a bridge, commiting suicide before my eyes, I’d feel apathetic. It would probably hit me later, but I’m just trotting along feeling no emotion whatsoever.

I also feel like strings have been cut with people that were closest to me a few months ago. I haven’t talked or chilled with Jay for a while. I barely see Paul. Every weekend I come home and chill with Kate and Jun. I swear, it’s like back in the Ohlone days where we just did nothing, and had fun doing nothing together. We got our own lives.

O yeah, I can’t forget to mention the perils of puberty that grasp my little freshman brother. The kid neglects everything but the computer. But that is so much more on a personal note. If I were an emo kid, I’d paint my nails black and write songs on the guitar, playing major chords, with the same strum pattern, about my brother.

Test me. If you see me, throw a brick at me. A blow dryer will fall in your tub while you take a bath, but afterwards, I’ll still be in Mr. Roboto mode. God, I hate this phase but I am so peaceful. Adding with an H is at a low.

Jun finally got a copy of The Nightmare Before Christmas and I just want to watch the whole Tim Burton line to sleep. So what dvd to watch tonight??? My friend Edward with the hands of scissors. = )

I started a project that is due sometime in October. Anyhow, here’s what it
looks like.
       >>>Postcard
Project on Adobe Illustrator

Everything, finally, has arrived–my books, the 3 SLR cameras…everything. 
Well, we’re waiting for 2 more things that I never added to the list, as soon as
Kate’s camera came in, time just seem to stop (in terms of waiting for the
mail).  I swear, I felt like a dog waiting for his master.  IF it
didn’t come in the day I expected it, I was frustrated and sad.  When it
did come in, I was playing/reading it.  I did my homework early so I can
play with Kate’s camera when it came in.  It’s called dedication. Haha. 
Anyhow, the completed post-it.  I can now resume life.

Lately I’ve been nothing but a walking information-sucker. I’m at school for at least 30.5 hours/week and I’m just excited about all the new things I learn and all the things that I’ve learned before come back up to the surface. I have no real opinions to discuss or comment about unless I’m talking out of my farthole.

It’s funny when I hear the people who declare their major as “Graphic Design” and they don’t know what the hell to do to get into the program. Yesterday, while eavesdropping (listening in on other conversations just comes with the package of attentive listening in class) and he was talking about how he was going to apply for the Graphic Design program for Fall 2006 so he will start in Spring 2006. He bullshitted a passion-mask when he was telling the teacher this and Kate just gave each other a dull stare.

Applying for the program only comes once a year, every spring, because the program is impacted.

Of course there are other instances where I cannot help but to judge the obvious, not crucial judgment like thinking they’re horrible people, i just question their willingness to expand. Graphic Design is pretty competitive. Seriously, “Eye of the tiger.” I can’t help but to compare myself and Kate with other people who are passionate and seem unpassionate of what we do; I admit, it’s a flaw but it makes things a lot more interesting. For all I know, they can be freak future art directors of America or something. I highly doubt it but you never know.

I’m sorry if I seem dry.

I thought, why not try. So, as usual, surfing the web and typing things in eBay’s search bar, I entered Apple Powerbook G4. I found a deal and I bidded $700. There was 10 hours left and it was some sort of…well…I trusted it for what I want it for. Anyhow…thing is, I don’t have $700. Oops.

Woohoo! I bought a box of 100 Ilford MGIV photo paper. It said [buy one box get one free (a box of 25)]. It came in today and they shipped me 2 boxes…with 100 each. Kate’s jealous. A box of 100 cost 60+ at a store. I got $220 worth of paper for $41.28. I rock.

And today…we were assigned to go the the library during our critique and check out a design book. All I knew was it was on the 3rd floor. I beat everybody there, had no clue where those books were but I found em simply by looking for the “prettiest” books on that floor. The simple joys of life. It’s like 2 toys in your cracker jack box. School is great.

11:30pm

Kate, Jun and I were wrapping up our long day (Jun and I have
been out since 4am to reserve a picnic spot for the family @ Newark Park) and we
were walking back to the car after unwinding at Santana Row–the typical dumbass
conversations we have.  Anyhow, at the parking lot, as it ascended to the
2nd floor, we saw an older couple, about late 30s, making out madly in their
car.  I stood right behind their rearview mirror just to be an ass and hope
they’d notice me.  Jun continued to make loud horny sounds.

So, inspired from the atmosphere of raging hormones, I took off my coat and
shirt and just rubbed my nipples as people got back into their cars.  We
thought that was the end of our fun for the day.

Before the freeway entrance, at the stoplight, we ran into the car with the
"make-outters."  The woman’s eyes were glaring towards the guys crouch. 
Her body was turned, her shoulders were turned and she had her right arm
preoccupied with some sort of slight motion (from my point-of-view).  I
peeped out more, considering my window was wide open, and the guy caught me
staring.  I quickly turned around for 2 seconds and looked back at them and
they had this giggly demeanor like they were caught doing something nasty.

Yes my friends.  The make-outters were giving/receiving a hand job in the
car, at the traffic light, in front of Valley Fair, before the 880 freeway
entrance.  She must have slipped a roofy or a blue pill into his drink.

I didn’t hang out in Mr. Maples room during lunch. Some black eye makeup-wearing and black-painted fingernail freaks took over the room.  You know, the kids that got good grades in middle school who turned all "weird."  Plus, Mr. Maples doesn’t even know who the hell they are.  They just invaded his room.  So Jun and I ventured off and ended up hanging out across the flagpole.  We hung out with Kate and her group of friends.

They’re pretty cool.  I don’t think the red-faced guy likes us though.  I think Jun and I are too hyper for his kind.  We started throwing empty milk cartons at the other groups.  Roland, my middle school best friend, was laughing his hysterically.  Jun accidentally threw a carton with some milk left in it.  It bounced off the rail and splattered on Mr.  Queenan’s highly-polished leather shoes.  We got detention.

After detention, Jun and I went to Great Mall and we ran into his cousin, Kate, again.  I have a crush on this girl.  I was Wondering what it would be like to be with her was such a mystery; see, I had a girlfriend, but our relationship was pretty much on a decline since the summer going into senior year.  Anyhow, Kate and I shared and laughed at a few stupid jokes.  I was just acting like an ass and she was just laughing her ass off.

Jun was in background, just disgusted with the whole thing, probably thinking, "Weird, Jeff hitting on my cousin."  But we enjoyed ourselves; we had really great conversations.

3.5 years later, I’m still being an ass, Kate stopped laughing, and Jun is probably thinking, "O God…they’re fighting again.  Not arguing, FIGHTING."