Tsaiko's neat, nifty URL of the day is: Eversummer Eve
On Tuesday, October 23, 2001 at 02:16 p.m. Tsaiko was slowly going insane. This is why:
Because I cannot pimp this site enough.
My life was so much easier before I had real friends. It was cold, it was lonely. I hurt like you wouldn't beleive. I still carry the scars on my soul from those times. But my life was very simple. I had one goal: make it through school. In order to do that I needed to interact with others. So I learned how to do so. And somewhere along the way I made friends. Good friends. Friends that I'm still talk to and go out with every once in awhile.
These were not really close friends. Oh, I knew them and they thought they knew me. I showed them what they wanted to see. I hid myself behind a facade becaue I needed them. Deep down people are pack animals. Give them an option, and even the most solitary of people will find others to hang out with. So my friends and I came together to form a group of outcasts, friendship born out of mutual need. But deep down I knew they didn't know me.
Because deep down, I was still the Wolf. Born of cold logic and bitter self-hatred, that was who I was for many years. I wanted to change. I wanted to be different. No one was willing to give me the chance. I was an outcast, lowest in the pack, circling others waiting for a chance to belong. The chance came in the form of my highschool friends. And I began to change.
When I got to college, I found people who were as different inside as I was. Some hurting, some fractured, some lonely, some wanting to belong. Suddenly I went from someone who nobody wanted to hang around with, to the pack leader. Why did these people congregate with each other? Because I was there. I did my best to make sure everyone was welcomed. This was my pack and I would be damned if I would let it become what I had seen in highschool.
Eventually, the group split up and reformed, a hudred a thousand times. Schedules changed. Interests waned. People graduated. New people were invited. Groups go through that and I never tried to stop it from evolving But the core ideal I planted remained. All are welcomed.
Most of all, I changed. The Wolf is still apart of me. He/she still reflects his/her birth. Cold logic and bitter self-hatred but time has tempered the sword's edge. There are other's to balance out the Wolf. The Dragon and the Unicorn. But he/she is not my core anymore. I walked through Hell, and with the help of myself, my friends, and my aspects, I made it.
Yet sometimes all those things aren't enough. Sometimes I mistep, say the wrong thing, step outside the boundaries. And when I do the Wolf is there circling, ready to rake his/her claws against my soul. Ready to send me into the small, shivering heap I once was. The Wolf is darkness and hate, logic and a betrayal of self. But he/she is also a part of me, and I will never forget that.
So if I hurt, and don't want to talk about it, please understand that it's just the way I am.
Tsaiko's neat, nifty URL of the day is: The Prime Number Sh!tting Bear
On Monday, October 22, 2001 at 10:10 a.m. Tsaiko was slowly going insane. This is why:
This little program is making the rounds on blogs. Just don't leave it running too long. Someone over at Technomancy had it running all night and had to have someone telnet into their computer to kill it. Fun, fun. Sounds like something I would do. My roommate informed me that the algorithem for finding the next prime number is especially complex and will suck up sustem resources like there is no tomorrow. Here's a hint: don't leave it running all night.
Speaking of computer, let's speak about mine. I sitll don't have one. I almost did, but alas, it didn't work. Saturday evening my roommate Miome (who hosts my GW fics over at Miome's Maxwell House) was working on installing Windows 98 onto what will become my computer. She got it done on Saturday and asked me the all important question. What did I want to name my computer?
Understand I have been tired all weekend long. Saturday (Em, Dan, Cneko, Jag, Miome and I were all supposed to finish an RPG we started playing on Friday. Only I was so tired, that I fell asleep. So Miome took me home and woke me up for dinner and then asked me, while I was still tired, to name my computer. So I named it the first thing that came to my mind.
I called it Tanako.
In retrospect, it would have been better if I named my computer after Cthulu. Or Loki. Certainly naming my computer Loki would have invited less trouble. I can just see the conversation now.
Tsaiko: Hey, I think my computer is possessed by a malevalent Elder God.
Random person: Why do you say that?
Tsaiko: Because it keeps throwing errors, crashes at the worse moments, won't boot half the time, randomly eats programs and/or files, and works perfectly fine when I get someone here to look at it and tell me what's wrong.
Random person: Oh that. That's just Microsoft.
Tsaiko: Like I said, my computer has been possessed by a malevalent Elder God...
But no, I had to go and name my computer Tanako. For those who are going "Who the Heck is Tanako?" I'd advise you reading Ani. For those of you who have read it, feel my pain. Because tanako is the kind of character that get's stuck in your head and makes a pain out of himself. He's done it to me and to the wonderfully talented Ms. Miko, demanding that we do what he wanted when he wanted and pitching a fit when we didn't listen.
So I tried to boot up my computer on Sunday. Threw an error. Tried again. Different error. Yet again. Yet another error. So I went and got Miome to see what the problem was. She assured me it booted just find Saturday. I wandered into her room to play on her computer while she fixed mine.
The first sign that something was wrong was the cry of despair that emanated from my room after about an hour. But I though, "Hey, it's MS. Cries of despair are normal when dealing with it." Then another hour went by and Miome wandered in and started banging her head against the wall. That's when I knew. My computer was down and would not be coming back up that night. So I went and consoled Miome telling her that it was not her fault. Then I wrote stories the old fashioned way. By hand.
So I am still without computer. When will I be able to churn out the fanfics and short stories you all know and love? I don't know. But I will always accept donations in the for of comments to keep me writing.
And money. Money is alwaus good.
Tsaiko's neat, nifty URL of the day is: Second Chance Pet Adoptions of NC
On Friday, October 19, 2001 at 01:36 p.m. Tsaiko was slowly going insane. This is why:
I now have kitties! Beautiful torteshell kitties. They are bonded sisters who really needed to be adopted together. One is a long hair named Kira, the other a short hair named Nadia. We got them last Sunday after a whole run around. But they were worth every second of it. Beautiful, wonderful cats. I love them!
I was going to do some social blogging. You know, where you respnd to stuff that others have said in their journal while pimping their sites so that they will link to yours. But by the time I got around to doing it, the things I wanted to comment on have already been archived. Sigh. I am such a procrastinator sometimes.
Though I can link to Maystation by Nangke. They have a link to my pitas page. Someone actually linked to my pitas page. Someone I don't know. Katyism has a link to my pitas page (or she mentioned me because i mentioned her) but I know her in real life. I don't know Nangke. So I have my first official link. I am so happy. And as soon as I get the new layout of my site up, I will be a'linking. Yes, yes I will. And these two will get a link back.
My counter says that I've had over 1000 hits. My webpage has been up for over four years now. My pitas page has been up for about four months. I have gotten more hits on my pitas page then on any of my homepages. Maybe its because I update this thing more. Maybe it's a sign from the almighty internet gods that I should get my but in gear and update my site.
Seriously though, the realization that people actually read their stuff is the most wonderful and terrifying feeling an author can have. On the one hand, you know that people are reading your stuff. They are interested enough to live through what your characters are going through as they read the words upon the page or screen. On the other hand, unless they write to you, you have no idea what they are thinking. Do they like it? Do they not? What could you have done better?
Don't get me wrong. I like that people read my stuff. But sometimes the temptation to write for the audience instead of for myself become to great. I want to be liked. I want recognition. Heck, let's be honest, I want money. For me, writing is not the way to get it. I forget that sometimes, forget that the words I put down upon these pages is unltimately not for others. It's for myself. For my characters, for my thoughts, for my feelings, for a way to keep me sane in a world that keeps trying to drive me crazy.
It's easy to forget that. And so tempting. I've seen it happen a hundred, a thousand times. Authors who write a story because it has to be written. The sotry becomes so popular, that they write another. Then another. Then they are writing because they need the recognition, need the money, need their audience to remain their audience. They forget why they started writing in the first place. They forget how to put time and skill into their works. They just... forget. And because of it, they lose the audience they are striving so hard to keep.
I don't think of these people as sell-outs. I understand that they need to make a living. Or for those who write non-professional stuff (aka fanfiction), I can understand that desperate need to belong. To keep the comments coming. I don't think of these people as sell-outs. More like those who have lost there way. They are lost and cold, stumbling in a dark wood without the benefit of light. Maybe they fell off the path of their own accord. Maybe they were led astray by will o' wisps. False ideas or false dreams that disappear once its too late.
Don't get me wrong. I get angry at these people. Not because as a fan I want (nay, demand) high quality writing. I get angry on behalf of the story. The characters. Because they deserve better than what they're getting.
I've wandered off the path. I have been lost in the woods. I am glad that each time my characters and my stories have been a latern in the night, guding me back t the path, to why I write. I write because I must. I write because it is what I do.
I write for me. I hope I always do.
Tsaiko's neat, nifty URL of the day is: Mooncalf Noises
On Tuesday, October 16, 2001 at 09:49 a.m. Tsaiko was slowly going insane. This is why:
Sorry folks, looks like this one is going to be depressing. First off, I love Mooncalf's filk. Some happy cheery stuff before the depression. Second of all, I read the posts before the smut song. I know how she feels. I've never been thin, but I'm not fat either. But I do know what it feels like to be the outcast, no matter where you go or what you do.
Reading what she went through not only royally pissed me off, it made me want to go and rip the throats out of whoever did it to her. I've watched humans for almost (takes a moment out of her rant to attempt mental math) eight years, in a cold clinical kind of way. I know exactly how to fit in with people I don't like. I know how to defend myself against them. At when I read things like that, I can't help but empathize. Do you remember everone you ever made fun of? Do you remember ever mean word you said, every hurt you inflicted?
I do. I remember all the pain I heaped on others. There wasn't much, but there was some. Long after the names have faded from memory, their faces remain. That hard glimpse of pain and betrayal. I wonder if those that tore me down remember what they did to me? Does my face still haunt them as others haunt me?
I often wonder about myself. How I seem to remember the good and the evil, the pain and the joy of various stages of my life. Other sseem to be able to forget, to gloss over the painful memories and retain a much happier view of their life. I've never been able to. If I want to remember the good times, I have to remember the bad times.
I know I can just forget chunks of my life. I've done it before. I don't like doing it. The gaps in my memories and conciousness make me uncomfortable. I'd rather retain my memories, rather feel the double edge of their sharp blades against my mind than lose them to the calls of time. I think that sets me apart from most, but I can't be sure.
I can still remember what it was like to brake my arm. The stunning impact of the ground knocking the breath from me. The dried stickiness of my bathing suit. That one stunned moment of incomprehension before the pain hit. Agony. Watching my wrist flop limply as I realized both bones were broken. They say you can't remember pain. I don't believe them. I can remeber what it felt like as I lay in my mom's truck, seat laid back, tired, and having to hold my wirst. Because everytime I didn't, it flopped around and it hurt. A twinging pain that ran up my arm and ached in my bones.
What's really amazing is that this happened 13 years ago. What's even more amazing is I can remember how it felt to have a golf club imapct with my head. That happened almost twenty years ago. I can remember the tile that was in my bedroom when I lived in Anaheim CA. I was two when we moved out of there. I can remember the layout of my schools and playgrounds. I can remember the places where you didn't want to get caught because the older kids would beat you up or harass you. I can remember who would defend the littler kids, and how the teachers only gave you special priveleges if you looked and acted sweet. I remember learning, sometimes painfully, who was alpha and who was the weakest of the pack.
The survival instincts of a wolf in a child's body.
Sometimes my close friends will hear me refer to myself as being "the Wolf" today. I have an almost completely split personality. Divided into three distinct aspects with a central me as a general combination or two or more. The balancer of three extremes. The Wolf is one of them. I always thought he/she arose during Middle school, because that's when I started to draw into myself. Maybe the roots for that side of my personality can be found sooner, farther back. Maybe...
...or maybe not. I don't know. I'd beleive that I was crazy and making my personalities up if others didn't confirm that when one is dominant over the others, I speak, act, and move completely differently. I know I can tell the change over in my head. It's kinda of odd to realize that that change is reflected on the outside as well.
Anyways, part of this post brought to you courtesy of the Wolf. The last post was also about the Wolf. My internal timing mechanism gone awry. Hopefully, I'll be a little more cheerful next time I write.
Tsaiko's neat, nifty URL of the day is: Japanese Ghosts
On Thursday, October 11, 2001 at 01:11 p.m. Tsaiko was slowly going insane. This is why:
It's getting close to Halloween, so I bring you something educational. Japanese ghosts! Nifty site which has inspired me to attempt some Yami no Metsui (no japanese spelling skills required) fanfiction. Yaoi YnM fanfiction. Cneko will be absolutely thrilled. Heck, if I can pull it off I'll be absolutely thrilled.
Somehow or another my roommate's keys wound up in my purse. We're still not sure how this happened. I think she put them in there. She thinks I put them in there. We argued. Then I suggested that they somehow fell in my purse. It was agood enough excuse for us to drop the argument without either one of us admitting that they were wrong.
Though personally, I still think she put it in my purse ^_^.
It's funny how people remember stuff like meetings, assigments, birthdays, parties, etc. Or smaller stuff, like the factthat you have to get up early to finish a project before 8:00. I have this internal reminder system. It's great. Most times I don't even need a pocket calender. In fact, I went for three years in college without one. I got my assignments done on time. All my projects done. Always knew when my club meetings were.
I love my reminder system. It works like this: I'll have something that needs to get done. About a day or two (or sometimes an hour depending on how much lead time it thinks I need)I'll hear this little ping! sound in my head. And then I listen for the message. It generally goes something along the lines of "You have a test tommorrow in Business Law. Or something to that effect. I am reminded and all is good.
But it can be annoying too. For instance, if I decide that I need to get up at 6:15 to take a shower instead of at 7:00 (which is what I do when I take a shower at night) this is what happens:
ping! You were getting up early to take a shower.
It's 4:30 in the morning! I don't need to get up this early to take a shower.
Yes, you do. Otherwise you might go back to sleep and be late.
That's why I have the alarm set.
You've slept through your alarm before.
I've never slept through this alarm. You made sure I bought one I couldn't sleep through.
But You might start. better to get you up now then risk it.
Have I mentioned that sometimes I hate you?
Sometimes I lend my reminder system out. Especially to my roommate. She is the world's worse for forgeting stuff. Appointments, meetings, classes, where she puts things. So I've gotten in the habit of reminding her when stuff is. Unfortuneately, it's not as lenient as it is with me. So often five mintues before she has to be somewhere it will kick in. ping! Tell Miome she's got five minutes to get to class. Which inevitably leads to the her making this squeaking sound and running around frantically much to the amusement of my reminder system (sadist that it is).
My little reminder system always makes a ping! sound. Always. I'm not quite sure how it pulls it off. There is only one time when the ping! is not present. When I'm late. Then I get a nice, snarly voice. Full of growls and teeth and annoyance at the fact that I once again have messed up.
Hey dimwit. You do realize that we were supposed to have that paperwork done by 3:00. Check the time lately?
CRAP! It's 4:00. Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap.
You forgot? This paperwork is necessary for us getting a job. And you simply forgot about it? Are doing this deliberately?
Look, I got busy. I didn't remember. Besides, you're suppose to remind me.
Too late for it to do any good.
If you had done this earlier, instead of waiting till the last minute we wouldn't have this problem, now would we?
There's a big disadvantage to arguing with yourself. You always know exactly what to say to win. Now my roommate has this other reaction to the realization she's late that drives my reminder system batty. Miome decides that she's already so late, that it doesn't matter and she doesn't care.
I can't do this. I don't see how she can do this. I am one of these people that even if it's just for the last five minutes, I will go to a clas if I am late. I am the kind of person that feels guilty if I call in sick to work and I am not about to die. I spend all day thinking about how I should be at work, all the things that I need to get done. I will stare at the clock and go bonkers. My reminder system will drive me nuts, frothing at the mouth about how we'll have to work three times as hard to catch up.
Miome doesn't have this problem. She simply forgets about it and moves on.
I don't get it.
But I still think she put her keys in my purse.
Tsaiko's neat, nifty URL of the day is: Muffin Films
On Monday, October 8, 2001 at 08:11 p.m. Tsaiko was slowly going insane. This is why:
Muffin Films. Do I know where I dig these things up from? No, not really. But these are pretty funny. I love the Psst.. one. Peer pressure at work people. Everyone is watching the muffin films. Don't be left out. Go! Click on the link! Don't be a loser.
So my roomie and I went to a new resteraunt tonight. A chinese place called neo-china. My roomie thought she had eaten there before. She was wrong. The price were expensive, but the food was good. There was only one little problem. The decor.
Either the owner of the resteraunt had issues about his masculinity or the decorator was one horny lesbian.
I shoudl never walk into a resteraunt and be greeted by the site of some random woman's boobs. Not unless I am at a strip club and I know what I'm getting into. But tonight I saw an entire wall covered with a plaster scupture of a naked woman. Okay. fine. some epople's taste in art is different than mine. I can appriciate that fact. Personally, I don't mind looking at naked people as long as it's in a museum or the privacy of my own home. But while I eat is not the time nor the place.
but I think "Hey, one nude peice of artwork isn't so bad. I'm being seated at the other end of the resteraunt. I won't have to look at this thing all night long." Then I look aroudn me. On the walls, carved on pillars, filling the entire resteraunt. Nothing but nude women. Boobs and butts and legs, oh my.
This did not bode well for dinner.
We sat down at the table. I was facing this absolutely wonderful fresco of two naked women lying down next to each. they had no head and no arms. Which is good because if they did I swear they would look like they were going down on each other. This freaked me out until I begged my roomie to switch places just so I would not have to look at that during dinner. So instead, I got to stare on a pillar with a woman's torso and most of her upper thighs carved into it. Again, no head.
Then we got the menues. And of course, I swear, the following pieces of food could be found on the menu:
Did I mention melons? Because there were a lot of naked women statues in the resteraunt. Anyways, we ordered are food and attempted to have a normal conversation. Except I kept getting distracted by trying to find any place to look in this resteraunt that was not covered by a anked woman. I gave up. At least the woman weren't anorexic. They were realistic, a little plump. Kinda flat chested. It was really well done.
The fact that I had to look at these pieces of art long enough to notice all that disturbs me. But not as much as the painting that took up an entire wall. One where naked women hered water buffalo and rams. Can we say issues? Sure, I knew we could. Otherwise, we can say beastiality and just don't want to go there.
Fionally our food comes. We eat. I pay. We are getting ready to leave the land of T & A. Avoid looking at the suggestive poses. Avoid the thrusting pelvises. Avoid looking at anything. Wait. What's that sign over there read?
"Please do not touch the artwork."