jeffrey + upstairsloft

So if you’re like me and you get overly frustrated and tear the bejesus out of your moleskine weekly planner, then you might need this. Bad side: I seem more like an ass for taking my frustration out on an innocent Moleskine and blogging about petty, stupid frustrations. Plus side: My moleskine is going to look better than yours because it’ll be tore up and put back together again. This will be fun.

>>> DIY Binding Repair

This house is turning into dust and clutters galore. Kate and I haven’t spent the weekend here in decades. We’re either at my parents’ sac house or in Milpitas. With a schedule like Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday being all days to work on projects ’til the nick of morning before class starts, there really isn’t much time to maintain this place.

And I’m getting pissy because of the following: It’s 2:30am and I still have a shitload of work to do (thought I did a shit load this weekend). This house is dusty and cluttered. Despite countless hours of homework, I am never near completion or ever satisfied with my work. There has been laundry on my bed that needs attending to. It hasn’t been folded in almost two months. My bed is mine and Kate’s closet. There’s less than a month of school left and I don’t have any silkscreen projects finished. I am not being lazy. I am constantly moving. It’s just all too overwhelming and if I see your cat, I will stomp on its tail because I am grumpy Jeff.

…yeah. Then they often lose sight of what matters more. Should I “be myself,” independent or bend backwards to comfort my partner who loss somebody significant? Decisions decisions. I never imposed for any “chick” to do my laundry, wash my dishes and wipe my ass. She watches too much TV, witnesses too many hoes and she applies that principle of not being one into our relationship, when that isn’t an issue at all. It’s like she’s living her perception of womanhood and independence through some Girl Power tv show rather than realzing what’s real and what’s in front of u. I am not your stereotypical male or sterotypical counter male. I’m a mixture of whatever dynamimc of influnces that have been engrained in me—awesome parents, a bitter past, a chill-ass friend and an I-don’t-give-a-damn attitude with courtesy mixed in with that.

If it has the word Bubble, cup, Q, Tapioca, Sunshine or Rainbow in the title, your best bet is that you’re in a bad scene with backwards-parked import cars, carefully disheveled hair, hotshots and I-smoke-because-it-makes-me-look, type of guys. The kind of people who recklessly stare because you walk in to get fried calamari with a white friend. The kind of people who pass you by and rev their engines for no apparent reason. The type of guys where the car you drive determines your status. Complete and utter superficiality.

But no, that wasn’t the problem. While June, Chach (he’s white) and I chilled outside, 50ft away from the entrance to some joint with the word “Bubble” in its title, we were bullied by some assholes like we were mutants from table 9 and they were the cool jocks who can crush cans with their heads. Anyways, these guys weren’t bubble gum Asian. They were just some Filipinos who target themselves to act ghetto black, who are probably in junior college, who graduated high school in 1998 (if they even got that far), still trying to get into the nursing program, not knowing that they will exceedingly fail, and fall miserably hard because they just don’t know how to mind their own damn business.

It’s assholes like them that events like Columbine happen. It’s asses like them that push the neurotic ones over the edge.

So I ignored it. I shrunk up like a scrotum in cold air, and just brushed it off. I just laughed it off. They continnued to provoke us, even alluded to violence, but we just stood there, amongst our 3-man circle and just continued talking about watching pitbulls rape each other. That’s pretty much what will happen. Guys who act hard, will get raped hard. There’s always somebody on top of us waiting to take us down. But you know what, I’m not putting myself on top to be taken down. I’m going with my own flow, surfing the waves and if I fall, it’s because I shifted my weight wrong. Why? Because I’m surfing away from everybody else—the assholes. And if I happen to get in the waters with unexpected company, I’ll just ignore it and not act on it. I’ve grown up. Apparently these guys haven’t.

That was also a perfect example of what the three of us were discussing a few hours prior.

Tuesday was the medicine I needed. Kate and I drove home to visit my parents for a couple of hours. That was awesome. The drive home was about how long I got to chill with them. Nonetheless, it was way worth it. That pretty much put an end to the almost sporadic, melancholic moments I’ve been experiencing. Then we made our way to Frisco to watch the Sia show at Bimbo’s. It was awesome. The chills up and down my spine were like seizures. Her composure is so jolly and her music is so soothing, sometimes pretty sad—but all very beautiful. It’s one of my best shows.

Afterwards we chilled to meet her. She asked if she remembers me from somewhere. That’s fucking awesome. We never met. Hopefully she wasn’t referring to some weirdo, asian stalker. We gave each other a couple of hugs and we were off to a dangerous drive back to Sacramento. I love rain but it’s April. Stop.

>>> Paul, Sia and me

Just posted 4 sets of pics. I’ll probably be slowing down on the film right now. I’m reaccquainting myself with the digital stuff. Gotta keep flexible. But nothing compares to film. Film is gorgeous. If you scan negatives or slides and you don’t dust them—brilliant.

And my parents are home! I haven’t seen my pops in 3 weeks. I haven’t seen my mom in 2.5 weeks. I guess this is where I can pick up my pace. It will be much easier to cope with things. Almost 23 years old but I don’t like being apart from my family. How did my dad cope with living in the US for 24 years, being the only Tanhueco sibling in America?

After weeks of rollercoasting life, well, at least I get to welcome a Canon Rebel XT. I’m selling the Sony 717. I wish I had a better lens. The XT lens is crap. 55mm at f3.5. Boo.

My Lola visited Kate and I. I was driving to school alone this morning and out of nowhere I smelled perfume for a few good seconds. When I met up with Kate, I asked if she smelled perfume around the same spot as me. She said “No but that’s funny. I didn’t smell it there. I smelled it when I was walking at school and it was illogical. It just came out of nowhere but I didn’t make anything of it.” Well, I told her it was probably my Lola. My parents got her Jessica McClintock perfume some years ago and she always sprays it on when she “goes out.” Why else would I be smelling potpourri-like perfume? I miss her. We were tight.