I bought a deck of Tarot cards today.

It’s not that I don’t know ABOUT Tarot readings before (that is, I have the knowledge of how to read a spread), but because of my religious ties in the past, I’ve never had the guts to get myself a set. Ironic, isn’t it? Someone who had left the faith of an almighty God to trust his hands on a deck of 78 cards, no more, no less.

Actually, as of late, I’ve been relying a lot on divinations, usually in the form of a dice or a coin flip. There has been many, many random decisions that I have to make, and it seems that only a random roll of chance would deem appropriate for situations as such.

Of course, Tarot is no game of chance; besides its strange ties to the occult AND biblical symbols at the same time, I consider it more as an associative thinking exercise. Afterall, your reading of your own cards is your own; each card has more than one interpretation and chances are you’ll be able to associate SOMETHING about the question you asked with ANY of the card that you draw. Of course, there’s always the future part to it, but I won’t take it as what is going to happen as much as what I’m planning and its consequences. Afterall, if the consequences of a reading is unavoidable, there’s really no point in reading the cards at all – might as well just wait for the inevitible to come, which would bring us back to ground zero.

If you are interested in knowing, I had a seven card spread for my burning question as stated long ago in coded messages. The last card in the spread is The Hermit. I really need a change in attitude or else I’ll not have this issue resolved.

Those are really nice drawings…

You represent... loneliness.
You represent… loneliness.
Always alone and always sad about it… unlike
angst, you don’t have to look for a reason to
be miserable. You want to be in the company of
people but aren’t sure how to act when you’re
with them. Sometimes you have to make an
effort. You can’t always wait for others to
come to you.

What feeling do you represent?
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Ahh, the many flavors of life.

After not being able to find a job (because I have no hope of qualifying for work-study) for the last two weeks, I’ve finally been dragged – unwillingly – by my father to go to work with him. But now that I’ve had a full day of work under my belt, it really doesn’t feel as bad as before – maybe a year ago – hopefully because I’ve improved on my rather dark and unforgiving weakness…

Which brings me back full circle to the tale that I was going to share a long time ago. See, I have a serious problem about meeting strangers. Beyond nervousness, I can end up being completely frozen, not being able to speak, as if I’m about to throw up or have a panic attack. It hasn’t shown up in quite a long time probably because I frankly haven’t been forced to spend time with strangers for the better part of these past few years. It’s noteworthy to mention that this weakness had rendered me impossible to find new friends on my own effort – a reason to back up my claim that I had NO friends in Junior High (and only one or two trusted friends in High School).

So during the crazy summer of 2001, two weeks before I went to Baltimore for Otakon for closure on one group of friends, I went to Seattle for closure with another group of friends that I met on the internet (together they officially ended my involvement in this former artist community). Appropriately, I had another friend whom I met on the internet (who lived much closer to my house) to go with me on this trip, and he literally saved my ass in more than one way: I booked the hotel, but he helped me check in; when I’m lost, he asked for directions. I, with all the knowledge about Seattle in my hand, wouldn’t be able to ask anyone for directions if my life depends on it.

Anyway, we went there to meet two people (both of them girls, for your information), one of which I met up with my travelling partner, and the other I went solo on. It’s the second trip that made me conviced I have problems – and one that creeps up at the most inappropriate moments in life.

First of all, this girl is Catholic. Being the perky Christian that I was (back then), I was already scared of her ideas of God and faith, which she isn’t afraid to blabber on about; second, she’s with company. Lots of company. All of them Catholic. It’s really the second part that completely did me in. See, when I’m completely alone with a stranger, cicumstances usually force me to at least chuck out a greeting or some nonsensical talk about “where do you go to school/work” or “what have you been doing”, but when everyone else seems preoccupied, I sink back and simply do not know what I can do to become involved in the discussion. Obviously, she was clueless about my problems, so the entire trip that I took that day basically involved me sitting in the back of the car, silent and looking out the window, while the rest of the group chatted to no end about whatever topic that they wanted to talk about.

I was scared shitless that night. I shivered, I woke up the next day with a bad headache and I realized I forgot to pay the tap that I promised the night before (that was decided long before we actually met up). Needless to say, that ended a friendship before it started.

So at least now you know why I’d like to sit in dark corners alone when everyone else seems to be talking about something important. The more you know.


There’s quite a few things that I’m suppose to put down here (yes, the law requires me to do so), so let’s see how many of it can make its way in before I retire and call it a night.

First, let’s address the big gap between this entry and the previous one. My cable connection went down for awhile and consequently I have to live without internet for four to five days, which makes me wonder: about half of my life is still lodged on the internet. What would my world become if one day I lose it completely?

Or, in other words, if I died and stopped doing anything on the internet, would anyone (who only knows me on the net) even notice? They could have just said “oh, he’s not online much anymore” and be done with it. That kind of impersonal apathy scares me to death.

If it comes to me, I think that what’s worst than dying painfully is dying painfully without anyone knowing, as if you’re simply being forgotten, your existance eliminated from the memories of those you love and care for.

Not that I have much to love and care for anyway – switching topic.

Next comes the non-coded version of the coded topic. Since school is out for the summer I’ll have to put down any chance for romance for a few months. It makes me feel rather lonely, deserted, and desperate, but luckily at least I have normal friends that takes the pressure away somehow; for that I’m glad. So, as far as I know, next year will be the last chance for me to score anything if I plan to score anything at all – the situation is pretty grim, actually.


Which brings me to the topic of my view toward finding “love” so far in life (or, currently in life). I think I’m only trying to find it as sort of a search for a unique experience, like how you’d want to go bungee jumping or skydiving someday. In that regards, I don’t feel that I’d be fair to whoever I’d be partnered with should that happens; it’s rather selfish but still, it could be fair if the other party isn’t seeking anything in return either. This is how relationships can actually work out, right? I mean, I alreay know that two people desperately searching for someone to fill the void would only jointly increase it four-fold; but two people who are in essence complete will not seek but instead compliment each other.

Or something like that. Back to real life.

Without a job, I really don’t know what I’m going to do this entire summer – I’m not doing any soul-searching like I did a few years ago; I’m not up for crazy trips like 2001; I’m not up for leisure trips either like last year, since I’m flat broke. I refuse to sit on my fat ass (okay, thin ass) and do nothing, but there isn’t much that I can actually do right now. If anyone has any connection to any campus jobs back in UCI, I think I’m willing to stoop as low as cleaning toilets — or else, my father is going to drag me to work with him, and that’s… bad, in many undescribable ways.

I still haven’t talked about that other trip I took in 2001 yet, have I? I promise I’ll write later.

Vietnamese Wedding Dinners.

Today, my family and extended family went out and had dinner at this Chinese/Vietnamese resturant. Luckily, we ran into a Vietnamese wedding dinner, complete with their marching band.

WARNING! graphic imagery/strong language/racist comments ahead. Parental discretion is advised.

Let’s get this straight: I don’t like to discriminate against anyone. I’ve been the victim of discrimination, I understand how it feels to be on the recieving end of a racist comment. That being said, Vietnamese wedding dinners fucking sucked. I’d pay a handsome sum of money for anyone who can explain to me how anyone can appreciate random music blasting at over the top volume (We’re all the way across the room from the speakers and I’m still so dizzy right now I can throw up) and call it some sort of “celebration”?

Here’s how the music is being played. They pick a random note on the keyboard. Then they MUST make the next note off key. If they run out of off-key notes, they start repeating one of five random prerecorded sequences over and over again, or play the same note for about 50 times. Okay, repetition is okay, I for one used to love pop music so I have no right to judge the lack of creativity; but I can’t stand the notes going all off-key.

See, whenever you listen to music, even though you might be listening to an unfamiliar piece, you have a sense of where the music is going and can appreciate the next note fitting into place even if you don’t see it coming. Something becomes a master piece if the notes can take you to a full journey of sorts in a single song. Now, Vietnamese music – traditional ones – would take you a few steps somewhere and then hit a sour note and send you spinning, then take you to another direction for a few steps and spin you again.

This kind of crap makes me feel agitated, angry, and plain want to kill something – in fact, all I can think about when I was eating my dinner is how I can take a butcher knife and fucking kill everyone in that wedding and stuff maggot into their open wounds and rape the bride’s ass until somebody can put a stop to this fucking piece of mind raper they call music (you’ve been warned). The level of agitation is right next to Mexican folk music – but at least I’d skip the maggots and ass raping in that case, at least those music have rhythms.

Finals are Over! Plus: Apparently, I’m not geeky enough.

39.64497% – Major Geek
Uso! Lies! Lies! I am much more geekier than that! I have to be! But in general American standards, I guess Sci-Fi knowledge is geekier than anime related knowledge. Good thing that I’m a Trekker when I’m off from watching anime, or I would have scored even lower.

Finals are over. Yea. The score, on the other hand, is something I’d rather not discuss about. I think you catch my drift: let’s just say that I will deal with the consequences later. A few months later. Right now it is my intention to sit down and play video games for several hours.

Ahh, before that, as promised, I’ll talk about my first trip that I took in that crazy summer of 2001. As I have mentioned before, I took two trips during that summer: the first one, I will cover shortly, and the other one I have described in full length. For the most part, the two trips together ended my ties to all the web artist communities that I previously had known. I also discovered my other devestating defect during this first trip.


Sleepy ~__~

I’ll talk about it tomorrow.

Oh finally, an entry about what’s happening in my actual life.

Rather interestingly, I met the creator of the 10K Commotion today. Interesting because from the looks of it, I had no idea she would be who I think she is. Not that she is particularly famous (or un-famous, since I did know her by her works), but it’s just one of those things where “hey, this stuff [on the internet] that he (so I thought) is pretty cool, but I think he’s probably living somewhere else right now… and even if he lives around Orange Counter, no way in hell would he be showing up in Zot Zone in finals week just for the heck of it.”

It’s a small world afterall.

Other things in a nutshell: Rosalind seems more troubled that she described, and I think when the complaints goes from a side note in a blog to something spoken, it’s serious. I’m getting a better grasp on how to beat the Magician – still far from it, but his bar is like 4/5 by the time I die now, getting there. Don’t know if I screw up my math finals but let’s not get God involved in this mess. A strange “feature” was added to George’s trusted laptop; I blame it on months of pad pounding and table shaking. Still can’t pass anything worth passing on BeatMania. I’m stuck being able to do the songs I was able to do and fail the songs that I couldn’t do before. Rather tempted to try Capcom V. SNK 2 but… no. I’ll get my arse handed to me. No progress on the commission art – good thing Justin doesn’t read this.


After my oldest brother who came back and cleaned his stuff before moving back to Singapore left, I found a deck of “bishojo cards” that I’ve made a long time ago – God knows how long – and you bet he knows – from the stashes of things about to be thrown away. Basically, it’s a deck of 52 cards made from 2.5″ x 3.0″ cards (3×5 index cards halved) and each card has a unique drawing of a girl in it. I was inspired to start another deck – only this time to draw all girls facing right, since I have a weakness for not being able to draw them facing that way.

The deck also bring back memories – remember that crazy Summer of 2001 (I’ve also recovered by Otakon 2001 pass; the correct chronological order is that I’ve met Daisy in Fall 2000, hooked up and broke up with Shari in Winter 2000, disappeared from the internet from Spring 2001 to Summer 2001, and went on the fateful life changing trip during that crazy Summer of 2001) that I covered over the last few journal entries? There’s another fateful trip that I took that summer, and I handed one of my bishojo decks to a friend that I met during that trip. (For the record, I made three decks: one incomplete deck that I recovered from the soon-to-be-trash bin, one deck that I no longer possess, and one deck that I’m currently working on)

That trip is far less interesting than the Filthy Slut Whore/Maniac Depressive/Mr. Duel Personality that I get to meet on the other trip, but still, it’s really worth talking about.

After finals though, since that’s yet another long story.

… and I think I should shut up afterwards.

There’s an obvious reason for me to try and belittle myself whenver I remember that I need to do it. No, it’s not because of my Chinese heritage; that part of me ‘died’ when I became mostly Americanized. It’s because deep down in me, I love to brag about myself. And I still do it, whenever I stop catching myself doing it.

Every day, every moment, it seems as if I can’t live without telling someone something good about myself. Partly because I think it eases my insecurity about how I’m not a productive member of society and needs some justification for existance; but mostly it’s about me, and nothing but how good your amazement is suppose to make me feel when I show you what I can do.

Of course, as life run its full course, I realize that trying to brag about everything isn’t exactly a very good idea. If you’re lucky, the other guy simply ignores you and continues whatever thing he was doing; worst yet, someone can challenge you at something that you’re good at and you can LOSE fair and square. Now that hurts. And it has been done to me before. Numerous times.

That’s why you should never, ever try to say you’re good at anything if you can; chances are someone nearby would hear you and then beat you at your own game. You’d be surprised how many people can easily beat you at anything you attempt to accomplish in life.

But even as I realize all these facts, sometimes my tongue would slip and I would start talking about how great I am. When that happens, please be a pal and slap me on the head for it. Any physical trauma to rid me of this curse would be much appreciated.