*sings* Oh Meg-oneechaaaaan... *niko* I. Want. My. ExT. Lemooooooon!!! XD XD XD Or else I'll kill you ^_^. And Eriol agrees, neeeee?

Eriol: Neeeeee!!! XD

And let's hear it from Tomoyo-chan! Neeeee? XD

Tomoyo: . . .
Eriol: *pouts* Aw, come on, Tomoyo-san... Neeeeeeeee?!
Tomoyo: *mutters* Ne.

And I'm pretty sure Shi-chan and Jin (not to mention Sakura-san and Erin) are ne-ing *lol*, too! So *screams* WRITE!

Hmm... web logs as nagging boards XD. Cool.

November 1, 2000 // 1:35 A.M.

Meg and Amy, I'll email you soon XD. Or track you down in AIM, whatever. Oh, and Meg. How dare you end the fic there? >.< *shrieks* Write!

Shi-chan, never thanked you properly for that really entertaining chat we had on AIM a couple of days ago ^_~. Did you post the transcript in the Duckie blog? XD I really liked your ideas on that KeroxSuppi thing *lol*.

And Mei-san, thank you once again for that ION summary! ^_^ If my Kino wishlist ends up being stock full of requests for ION manga, it's your fault! XD

I think I need to archive... >.>

October 31, 2000 // 8:59 P.M.

And V-chan, yeah, I agree. It is cultural. Mostly. The thing about guys sleeping around to prove their masculinity is oh-so-true >.< And there's the culpability factor. In Philippine law, a woman committs adultery when she sleeps with a man who's not her husband; in fact, she can be accused of adultery the same number of times that she has extramarital sex (so fifty lovemaking sessions, for instance, would result in fifty counts of adultery -_-).

Glen: Honestly, Ate, do you have to be so--graphic?
Tin: Shut up.

Whereas a man can only be proven guilty of adultery when 'conclusive' evidence is presented that he financially supports his mistress (buys her a house, car, the works >.<). So no one, particularly the judge, really cares if he has sex non-stop with fifty different lovers as long as he doesn't waste an appreciable amount of income when doing so.

Oh and let me qualify my post about Filipino guys as usually being mama's boys before Mark and Glen come up with more colorful adjectives to describe my, ah, stance on the entire gender issue =_=.

As is the case in most Asian (and maybe Latin American) communities, male children are generally preferred in Filipino society. Not to say that daughters are any less loved simply because they are born with the wrong sexual equipment, but that sons *are* valued, more so than their female counterparts. Anyway back to the question of male imbeciles.

Glen: O-b-j-e-c-t-i-o-n.

Just joking >.>

My father, though he loves his children dearly, has much more pronounced expectations on his one and only son's achievements because Glen is the *only* heir to the Mandigma name *snoooort* and because he's a guy period. As a result, while they're pretty close for two men *snicker*, their relationship contains a quality of tension *and* fear which my dealings with my father sorely lack *fufufufu*. It's not Dad's fault any more than it is Glen's any more than it is my paternal grandfather's. They were all raised to uphold an unfortunately outdated ideal of male behavior: love your family, but don't show it. Filipino men in general are not very big on displays of affection, especially when the object thereof is their male offspring >_>. So sons usually turn for support and loving parental care from the people who literally delivered them into the mess they're in in the first place. Their mothers >_>.

Tin: There. If you still do not understand what I'm getting at, then how dare you ask me why I think you're an idiot? >_<
Glen: I do *not* depend on Mom for loving concern and support. Are you crazy?
Tin: . . .

October 31, 2000 // 8:31 P.M.

Trust Kuya Mark to react violently to my earlier post >.<. No, Kuya Mark, I am not a female chauvinist pig. Where the hell did you get that idea? Take it back, you lowlife.

Um, anyway, Rhys, about Japanese goddesses... I think the one you want is Yamanokami. She's considered the goddess and caretaker of wild animals in Japan; scholars believe that she's extremely ancient, prolly from pre-agricultural times. In fact Yamanokami (or "divinity of the mountain") shows considerable similarities with the goddess of hunters and animals in the Caucasian regions so there was probably, according to Carmen Blacker, a prehistoric Caucasian admixture in the Japanese ethnic inheritance o.O;;

The cult of Yamanokami is confined only to the mountain districts in Japan and her primary worshippers are the so-called mountain people: kikori (woodcutters), sumiyaki (charcoal burners) and particularly the matagi, the hunters ^^. The matagi are considered as special people, set apart from the agricultural folk by a host of traditions and customs. Before Japan opened its doors to Western influence in 1868, eating four-footed meat was considered a "polluting sin," primarily because of the overwhelming Buddhist strain in Japanese culture. But matagi, being hunters, eat meat and with probably considerable enjoyment ^^;;;;.

Yamanokami guards her domain with jealous intensity, and yet at the same time she protects the matagi, her hunters, to whom she has given special permission to hunt on her mountain by virtue of their descent from an ancestor who aided the goddess during childbirth (or so the legends say) o_o. Otherwise, no ordinary human being could set foot on the goddess' mountain unless he or she wanted to be afflicted with a tatari (or curse).

However, Yamanokami has a very, uh, volatile temperament, and the matagi must follow and observe special conditions if they are to keep the goddess' favor:

1. Like most Japanese divinities, Yamanokami is a shape-shifter. She has a true form (shotai) and numerous temporary forms (keshin). She may choose to appear as a white bear, wolf or deer; she could also show herself as a dragon, demon, goblin (tengu) or even a pair of figures, a man and woman together, with red faces =_=. Anyone who treats Yamanokami's keshin rudely or with aggression will almost certainly die or be reduced to a doddering idiot for the rest of his life.

Yamanokami's shotai, however, is always that of a woman, though the form varies considerably. She can be a young beautiful wonderfully compassionate woman; at the same time, she also appears as an old malicious hag, the yamauba or the "old woman of the mountain," a particularly hideous aspect of Yamanokami that haunts Japanese folklore.

2. Yamanokami nurtures a virulent dislike for women for undisclosed reasons =_=. Thus, bringing women to a mountain on Yamanokami's territory is an absolute no-no. Matagi should also take care *not* to take any item of a woman's belongings on the mountain, even something as inconsequential as a towel. Including women in conversations is also strictly prohibited, so much so that newly-wed men are not allowed to join the hunting parties, lest their thoughts run too much on their wives.

3. Yamanokami also has a very strong attachment to the number twelve. Her feast day falls on the twelfth day of the twelfth month, she is believed to bear twelve children a year, and in Gumma prefecture she is called Junisama (Mistress Twelve). So hunters must be careful that their party never numbers a dozen. And if they *do* number twelve men upon arrival at the mountain, they must create a doll, or effigy, called Sansuke, which will bring their number up to thirteen ^^;;.

4. Also, while on holy ground, the hunters must use a special vocabulary of words, the yamakotoba (mountain words), which used to be a secret language known only to matagi. The 'yamakotoba' is a variety of imikotoba, or words which you must avoid using in a sacred place because they will pollute and weaken, or result in a supernatural curse. As early as the ninth century, the Engishiki records fourteen words which must not be used in the Grand Shrine of Ise.

Most of the special 'mountain words' refer to animals; they vary according to district but some are common to all parts of Japan. Examples include seta for dog, wakka for water, hedari for blood. Such words have been recognized as derivative from the Ainu language, so there may be a connection between the cult of Yamanokami and the aboriginal Ainu people.

In other cases, using 'foreign' or 'substitute' words is not done. Instead, people simply use the name of another animal for the one which is to be avoided. In Akita prefecture, for example, a bear is not called a bear (kuma), but a weasel (itachi). In Echigo prefecture, a bear is called a shishi (four-legged animal) and kuma is used to refer to a saucepan o_O.

The hunt itself is governed by strict rules. The season for hunting is specified, as is the process of killing and dismembering an animal. The chief quarry of the matagi is the bear, mostly because kumanoi, a medicine usually used to treat stomach disorders, is concocted from its gall bladder or liver. However, no parts of the bear's body must be wasted, lest Yamanokami's wrath be aroused. Any body part which could not be used as medicine are eaten by the matagi. These include bear's entrails, genitals, brains (raw -_-) and blood. Heck, if I read Blacker's account right, they even eat excrement, particularly that of herbivorous animals, which they call fun >.>

I'll try and type up my spiel on Philippine supernatural beings tonight. BTW, Rhys, dahling, you sure have good timing -_-;;. And, oh, just so you know, I'm keeping track *insert evil grin*.

October 31, 2000 // 1:48 P.M.

Amichi, thanks for the liiink! ^____^v I played the song in the Internet cafe, turned my unit's Winamp to full volume, and I think the security guard still wants to kill me ^.^. Oh and Megplease send me copies of "Lie To Me" o.O . Damn it, I need some cheering up! *pouts* I'll try to catch you and Amy on AIM when my account's been normalized... maybe November 1? -_-;; In the meantime, I'll just fill up pita entry after pita entry.

And lol V-chan, yeah, I did read your diary entries ^^;;;;;. It's really mind-boggling how Filipinos everywhere in the world could live such parallel lives... no, let me rephrase that. It's *funny* how Filipino males in general seem to be afflicted with the Multiply Illegaly And Still Be Merry syndrome >.< There's a logical explanation for this, I'm sure ^_^. Something about Fiipino men in general being mama's boys and there's the macho double standard which plays an oh-so-prominent part in Filipino socialization processes... >_< I'll get down to this in depth when I'm less frazzled, but what do you think? ^.^

October 30, 2000 // 9:44 P.M.

And God, oh God, I went to my ISP office and found out that Yes Sorry Ma'am We Think You've Been Hacked. I got a copy of my online usage sheet and it seems that I've totaled 300 hours of Internet use from October 20 up to October 28. Yeah, well, I love the 'net but not even going online 24 hours out of 24 could produce 300 >.< Well, okay, it could, but the freaking point is I don't use my damn Internet account for Twenty Four Bloody Hours! *shrieks* At most, my brother, sister and I average six hours a day and then not everyday because I only came home, what, a week ago and Glen and Bai are illiterate geeks.

Glen: >_< Kill.
Bai: You hold her head and I'll pour the spaghetti sauce.

Oohhhh... >_< I'm going to kill the little bastard! The techs at the office are trying to identify the phone number which dialed into my account and when they do, the Idiot Had Better Duck! Squeak! Grovel! >_< And pay for the 250 odd hours he/she has used up of course (which, according to the receptionist, cost around twelve thousand pesos--something like $240 >.<;;;;) Otherwise, I will perform Chinese nipple torture and... *brightens*

Bai: She's not thinking about her book on Aztec sacrifices, right?
Glen: Get the fucking sauce! >.<
Bai: *wails* No meatballs!
Tin: . . .

October 30, 2000 // 9:21 P.M.

Rhys, I tried sending this to your mail address but the damn thing bounced (why oh why don't you get alternate email addies, you big idiot? >.<) Anyway, here's the stuff you want; I hope it's okay. I basically wrote everything from memory (which isn't too reliable, to say the least ^^;;) so just check out the details by your lonesome, 'kay? And you owe me a free dinner, goddamnit.

The word banshee is a derivation of the Gaelic 'bein si,' translated in some texts as "woman from the Otherworld." The banshee is considered as a death messenger in Irish lore, whose shrieks and laments of anguish foretell the death of a member of the family which she guards. Banshees are often venerated as ancestress spirits of a particular clan, but some scholars point out that banshees, far from being perfect benevolent beings, also act in their capacity as malevolent harbingers of death. The banshee is said to be an aspect of Morrigan (Mor + Rigan = Great Queen), the ancient Irish goddess of war. While portrayed in some old Irish epics as a tall beautiful woman with incredibly long fair hair, the banshee also appears in the guise of a horrid old crone who washes mangled body parts by the riverside in full horrified view of the people she wishes to, ahem, warn of their impending deaths (and the banshee is never ever wrong in her prophesies). An interesting article about banshee lore in modern Ireland by Kathleen MacKay discusses the link between belief in the banshee and the colonization of Ireland by the English ^^;;. It is often held that banshees only guard the aristocratic Irish families (those whose names start with an O' or Mac) who are of pure Irish/Gaelic descent. Thus Puritan settlers in Ireland didn't receive the, um, attentions of the Otherworld women (I don't know if this is such a bad thing ^_^;;), though it is said that banshees continue to haunt their old stewardships, despite being destroyed, decayed or even occupied by people other than their original inhabitants.

On to Scandinavian shape-shifters... Um, far as I can recall, they're called "mara" and do not refer to the people who transform exactly, but to the emotions which provoke transformations, most especially envy. Mara are generally considered as witches, though punishment to confirmed offenders is not as harsh as those meted out during the Inquisition in Europe, maybe because said offenders are not often aware that they *have* offended o.O. Mara are usually women (we all know that women define jealousy *snort*), though Norse gods like Odin and Loki have the power to transform themselves at will. I recall reading an article about how the concept of "mara" is intimately intertwined with Scandinavian conceptions of personhood: a human being is 'made up' of an outer person, an inner person, and the soul. Like I said before, it isn't the woman exactly who transforms, but her feelings (or her inner person ^^), which may assume the form of a cat, a dog, a large bird, or even a fire-breathing horse. I'm not sure if Scandinavian society actually believed in the existence of maras, or if the latter are just personal-social metaphors ^^. But if you read the Poetic Edda *wincewince*, you could see references to actual sightings of 'mara' (a farmer put scythes on his horse's back to protect the creature from evil forces;the next day, he found his neighbor impaled on the horse's back by the scythes >.<), though there is no account by a 'mara' describing the transformation process.

And, uh, Meg, did you know that "meg" is an Old Scots term for 'wench?' ^^;;;; I found this short article while rooting my files on comparative religion. It described the megalithic cult of Long Meg and Her Seventy Daughters in Cumbria(?); basically a mysterious structure of huge stones, the tallest of which is referred to by the locals as "Long Meg." Some scholars have put forward the thesis that Long Meg is an actual historical personage; she came to London during the reign of Henry VIII and basically wreaked havoc in the city, facts which account for her notoriety. Others insist that Long Meg is a Scots goddess, patroness of fertility and thwarted lovers. The stones are actually petrified offenders who provoked the goddess's wrath o.O . More speculations continue to abound ^^;;.

Niways, Rhys, I'll look up hunting divinities tonight; I think I have a couple of notes on the topic... mainly about Caucasian hunting goddesses (Dali, I think) and the Mistress of Animals in Japan (now *she's* a scream >.<). So just check tomorrow. And remember that you owe me, guv! ^_~ (j/k)

October 30, 2000

And yesterday, I couldn't access the 'net because some asshole hacked into my account, changed user name and password and is probably having the time of his or her pathetic life using up my alloted hours >_<. To add insult to the injury, no one was at my ISP office yesterday to help me hack the lowlife into bloody little pieces because there was a really really big storm and towards mid-afternoon, the power went out and was only restored this morning. I'm typing my pita entries on a rented computer because I really have to let my frustration out (I've literally screamed the house down yesterday and I'm hoarse *mutters*) otherwise, I'd borrow Tita N's knife and decapitate the first person at hand >_<. Anyway, the office is open tomorrow, I could ask for their system logs and I could finally hunt the bastard down and God help him when I do so *snarl*. I rarely get angry, if ever, and my little bursts of temper do not last for more than a minute for what they're worth. But if there's one thing which triggers me off, it's unaccountable rudeness and inconsideration and generally asshole behavior from another person whom I don't even know >_<. Add idiocy to that list (the goddamn fuck who hacked into my account didn't even have the good sense *not* to touch my user name *and* password; if he had, I'd still be unaware of him or her, hence he/she would still have a longer lifetime to look forward to) and I'm on a homicidal meltdown. And, oh, thought. According to a couple of tech-savvy friends, most of the big ISP companies here in the Philippines usually have a couple of rackets up their sleeve, one of which involves selling customer information to other people for slightly cheap(er) prices. The other is using the information for themselves or their relatives. If so, god help them, too because I would be royally pissed off, and so would my parents and probably the rest of my extended family *grin*. We may all be ditzy idiots at one point or another but we could get violent when provoked and God am *I* provoked >_< >_< >_<.

October 29, 2000 // 3:22 P.M.

Feh. I didn't have a very good weekend. Went off on a totally harebrained trip with Tita Juliet and Tita N last Friday >_<. Tita J is my mom's sister and is insane in her own *glomp* HI TIN ^_^ *glomp* way; Tita N is a family friend and she's nuts period.

Anyway, back to the *koff* trip *koff*. Tita N's husband is a certified philanderer, at least based on several eyewitness accounts, only Tita N hasn't caught him in the act personally. She's chased him to as far north as Batanes hoping to actually see him with his mistress, stood in the path of his car when she saw him offering a ride to a pretty young woman, and pretty much bribed all his officemates for firsthand details. But all to no avail. Tito M is as slimy as slime and apparently as inscrutable. But then Tita N is a CIA agent in her past life, and she's a spook in the very real sense. So last Friday, having gotten word from as yet unidentified sources that Tito M was meeting his girltoy before lunch in Manila, Tita N, Tita Juliet and Tito Jun (another family friend) dragged me out of bed at 5 AM to drive them to the city in hot pursuit of Tito M. Only Tito M was smarter than we gave him credit for. He didn't take his car, damn him, and chose to ride buses, jeepneys, tricycles and what-have-you >_<. And trying to follow public vehicles in Manila where the Rule of Drive Like Hell And Run Over The Fucking Jaywalkers Yeah! prevails is frustrating to say the least. And as if tailing a bus whose driver apparently doesn't believe in letting his foot off the accelerator wasn't enough, Tito M had to ride the fucking MRT. After ten minutes' worth of hysterical screeching and threats by Tita N to bomb the station (and To Hell With Tito M Let Him Die The Male Bitch), Tito Jun agreed to follow Tito M into the train and update us on his progress via cellphone -_-. I should have brought a freaking satellite dish, come to think of it.

Anyway, either Tito Jun wore a disguise or Tito M was just particularly dense, the latter didn't get a clue that he was being, uh, shadowed and went off at Guadalupe station. Tito J then gave us a frantic call, exhorting me to "floor it!" lest the quarry escape. So I floored it and after nearly running over a really stupid policeman who was conducting traffic right in the middle of the freaking road =_=, we arrived at our destination safe, sound, shaken and shriekingly triumphant and, hurray, Tito M *was* there but the Mistress was late for their, ah, clandestine appointment so we had more than enough time to take our places.

We got out of the car, met Tito Jun and separated ways. I stayed with Tita N because Tita Juliet had this really weird notion that I, being young and healthy, could control her >_<. I should have told her that Hell Hath No Fury Than A Woman Scorned And Multiply That By Infinity Why Dontcha? but then Tita N dragged me away. The Mistress had arrived and she and Tito M were performing their salutations in sappy but utterly discreet and irreproachable ways. Tita N went grr, I said "calm down, auntie, damn it" and she really would have listened to me, I think, if Tito M didn't choose to drag his girlfriend towards where we were standing, the MORON. And to top it off, he had to buy her fruits *and* flowers, in full panoramic and colorful view of Tita N.

Tita N: Oh. My. God.
Tin: *nervously* Tita, tita, don't do anything. Wait until he kisses her or something.
Tita N: The. Shameless. Sluts.
Tin: Now, Tita, you're going to have a nice cool drink and we could follow them later into the cinema if you want and then you could strangle them there but for heaven's sake, exercise some restraint, we're in a really public place and--

Of course, Tito M had to put his arm around his girlfriend's waist, the moronMORON. And Tita N, needless to say, finally lost it.

Tita N: *shrieks* I'm going to kill him!
Tin: Tita!!! Tita, noooooo....!

And to my horror, she took out a lean mean and altogether wickedly sharp jungle knife out of her bag. Both she and I were screaming at this point; I was trying to figure out how I could restrain Tita N without her inadvertently chopping my head off when she pushed me, young and healthy though I may be damn it, and took off, still screaming bloody red murder, after Tito M and the Mistress who had, by then, finally realized the danger they were in. The girl ran off *also* screaming, Tita N hot on her heels, and Tito M torn between flinging himself at Tita N's knife point to protect his hysterical damsel in distress and saving his own already doomed hide -_-. And everyone else, of course, was just looking on.

In the end, a couple of kinder passersby managed to jump Tita N and, I dunno, to bonk her or something because when we caught up with them, she was relatively calmer, not to mention saner (the notorious Weapon of Doom was nowhere to be found =_=). Tito M and his girlfriend were predictably gone, though I can't say I symphatize with their plight, what with Tita N swearing bloody vendetta on them and all ^.^

Tita Juliet and I had a good if slightly hysterical laugh about the entire thing when we finally got home at about 12 MN, only my mom wasn't too happy with me for leaving her behind so she didn't see the drama unfold =_=. God. We live such soap opera lives here in the Philippines it *is* funny, only I wish the punch line wasn't so--tiring, not to mention utterly deranged, at least in Tita N's case >.<

October 29, 2000 // 2:06 P.M.

Hidoi *ears flop*. Jin is closing her site ;_;. It seems that she's really busy with school, and I can relate to that (two weeks more and *I'm* going back to uni and psycho hell >.<), but... but... I really loved visiting CM.com and Jin's a very nice person (aside from being a fantastic artist ^_^). Mou, Jin, you'd better get a blog, ya hear me? Keep us all updated on you and your stuff! ^_^v Ganbatte kudasai!

And on to happier news... Charlene updated Shizukesa. Lord, that girl sure knows how to design a web site, and she claims she's only a newbie at it! Suzaku-sama looks gosh damn hot! o.O I'm jealous! ^_~ Niways, visit Rapture, Charlene's anime/manga couples site ^^. She's already featured Kenshin and Kaoru (RKen), Sano and Mizuki (Hanakimi)... and currently up at Version 3.0 are Yukino and Souichiro from Kare Kano! *hearts* Oh and I know you're reading this, Charlene ^_^. Thanks also for, um, featuring my poor fics T_T. I appreciate the support ^_^.

Mark: Is it me or aren't we a bit... touchy-feely today? Whatever happened to your leatherwear?
Lloyd: Wishy-washy, oniichan. Wishy-washy. Poke her. Can't you just *feel* the sap crawling under her skin, the little buggers? o.O
Tin: . . . .

October 25, 2000 // 12:13 A.M.

I still can't get over my connection booh-boohs >_<.

Oh and Amyyyyyyy, I am begging you to put up that sound file at SK.com o.O I'm beginning to have really weird visions of Sei and Subby in a beach chasing each other like a bunch of... Never mind -_-. I just need a background track, is all. And it was fun talking to you and Meg. Only...

Bai: If you start griping about your connection woes again, I'll whack you over the head with the modem.
Tin: o.O;;;;;;;; Haiiiiii....

And I had fun preparing lunch earlier! First time in a long while my family allowed me into the kitchen ^_^.

Bai: Spaghetti sauce and butter cookies do not constitute 'lunch.'
Tin: But they're such a fun combination, ne? ^_^
Bai: No they're not! >_<
Tin: Yes, they are.
Bai: Not.
Tin: Are too! >.<

*crashing modems, rolling heads, flying sauce*.

. . . .

Sexbomb. Sexbomb. You're My Sexboooooomb. You can give it to me when I need to come along. Sexbomb. Sexbomb. You're. My. Sexbomb!!! And baby you can Turn. Me. On. *howls*

Eriol: I'll drink to that! *niko*
Bai: >.> Perfect song for the Perv's layout.
Tin: *shimmer*
Eriol: You need to work on your delivery, though *strikes a pose*.
Syaoran: No.
Eriol: *croons* Sexbomb, sexbomb...
Syaoran: No. No. No.
Eriol: You're my seeeeeexbomb!
Syaoran: Noooooooooooooooo.....
Eriol: And baby you can turn me on (sing it with me, honey! ^.^) And baby you can me turn me ooooonnn....
Syaoran: . . . .

October 25, 2000 // 8:19 P.M.

Meg,I had to reboot my computer and when I got back on again, my connection was working perfectly but you were gone! *wails*

Eriol: *pouts* And we were in the middle of a very interesting discussion about me and my throne and Tomoyo-san and strip chess >.<
Tin: . . . .

And... *mutters* I put up a new layout for Niaiserie. Though I really loved the Tomoyo layout, the pink was starting to drive me up the wall.

Eriol: ;_;
Tin: *sigh*

October 25, 2000 // 5:22 P.M.

Maa, Sakura-san, daijobou? o_o Niways, hope everything turns out okay.

And Meg and Amy, good luck on your move ^_^v.

Now I think I need to log in to my other pita --. The gram errors in my last entry are... >.< Reminder to Self: Do Not Write When Your Mind's Obviously On Other--Things.

MM: Things -_-.
Tin: Isn't your love life--
MM: Shuddup.

October 24, 2000 // 4:32 P.M.

Kuya Mark and I hit the malls yesterday after nearly two weeks of heroic abstinence. I bought some stationery at National Bookstore and Kuya Mark went insane buying You Want Mush? I'll Give You MUSH CDs to complement his disgustingly lvoesick mood after one of his newly-acquired babe-targets told him off for still unexplainable reasons ^^;;. Blah. The men in my family, when not being stiff-necked assholes, are a bunch of overly melodramatic ninnies.

Mark: It's our sensitive temperament!
Tin: Whatever.

We also made quite a bit of a ruckus while strolling along Pavilion Mall -_-. Let me elaborate on this. Kuya Mark is six feet tall, weighs two hundred sixty pounds, sports a really mean crewcut and likes leering at people in the most hideous manner possible. I am five feet two, I weigh one hundred pounds flat and I've been told that I radiate a really disgusting Am I A Moron Or Am I A Moron? aura. Needless to say, Kuya Mark loves hauling me around like a piece of dilapidated trash. In a nutshell, he picks on me. Literally. Once when we were standing by the road side waiting for a ride, he was arrested by a passing policeman because the latter thought Mark was strangling me, which he was, but only because I'm his favorite cousin or so he said contritely at the station later on =_=. Not that I don't fight back of course *insert malicious grin*. Being small _has_ its advantages and I have a really nifty collection of very sharp equipment to keep my cousins (and my brother) in line when they're being too--affectionate. However, familial displays of love and concern notwithstanding, we do tend to make spectacles of ourselves, especially in public settings. Yesterday was no exception. I nearly broke a shop window (I, uh, miscalculated my aim), Kuya Mark kicked a security guard in the groin by accident, and I crashed into the arms of a freaking skeleton display head on when Kuya Mark oh-so-kindly pushed me out of the way of a wandering shopping cart. All in all, we were lucky we didn't break anything, though my head still hurts after that skeleton incident -_-;;. We went home in relatively intact condition and spent another delicious half-hour listening to exasperated parental lecture. Apparently, a family friend saw us while in the middle of a walking wrestling match in the mall -_-. It obviously wasn't a pretty sight.

Mark: It was your fault. >_<
Tin: Who pushed whose head into whose stomach? >_<
Mark: You didn't have to punch me so hard >_<.
Tin: Reflexes >_<.

October 24, 2000 // 4:24 P.M.

Eriol: White sheets. Candlelight. Sultry Music. Cherry Glace. Honey Milk. Chocolate Syrup. Ribbons. Lace Garters. Velvet Boxers. Tin: >.> Eriol: *happily* And Tomoyo-san's V8, of course.
Tin: Have you been talking to Meg again?
Eriol: *niko*
Tin: . . . .
Meg: ;_; Why do I get blamed for what Eriol suggests in the first place?
Eriol: *reproachfully* See, Tin-san, you've hurt Meg-san's feelings!
Tin: *stares*
Eriol: You're not blaming *me* now, are you? *_*
Tin: *stares*

October 24, 2000 // 1:10 P.M.

I dropped by the PO chatroom earlier and fell to chatting with a new guy (well, new to me at least but he's really nice ^^;;) *waves to Ken-kun ^_^*. Invariably, we ended up asking each other about our respective civil statuses, out of sheer morbid curiosity and the usual conventional polite byplay ^^ (in a nutshell, friendly flirting). So I told him, no, I am not romantically attached (attached being the operative word) to anyone though "... I would really like a couple of playthings *wistful sigh*." Ken-kun, apparently unable to believe that a twenty-year old girl who is as--interesting as I am *insert nyerk* could be single and loving it (and playthings be damned), observed that I was probably one of those Picky, Picky types. I told him that such types were extinct, given the altogether too limited choices at hand, though if I were to categorize myself, I'd say I'm the Converted type.

In my teens, I was pretty much your standard adolescent misanthropist; I hated all men, impartially and quoting a favorite literary character, "... quite without prejudice." It wasn't really a personal matter, meaning it's not as if I had my heart broken in kindergarten or anything. My misanthropy was more like a (misguided) philosophical crusade. Caught between teenybooper-ing and transmogrifying geekness (read: your standard adolescent soap opera stereotypes =_=), I settled for a course of objective (but inwardly sneering and utterly self-righteous) detachment. Boys, unfortunately, were in my line of fire. They couldn't be classified as teenyboopers, and the boys in my class certainly weren't, heaven help us, geeks. They were just this particularly weird species of sweating (oftentimes smelly) loudmouthed obnoxious and libidinous jerkasses--the Adolescent kind, which as we all know is the worst type, though you never really know with men -_-. I couldn't see myself swooning over them, and I couldn't ignore them then either (I was the only girl in my row ^.^). At that point, I was really into that radical feminist thing, at least reading-wise, courtesy of an English teacher whose favorite words are "patriarchy" and "gendered oppression" and whose favorite quote from Shakespeare is "Kill the men." o.O;; Since I didn't bother reading beyond the title page of "Henry IV" until I hit freshman year in college, I fell for her crusade hook, line and sinker and I thought, "Hell, yeah, why don't we?" I did realize that 'we' couldn't, so I settled for the next best thing, at least in my teacher's book, which is: "If you can't kill them, hate them."

I have, of course, realized the error of my ways since I watched nine butt-naked men run around Palma Hall waving bouquets of roses in freshman year. In retrospect, I guess *that* experience should have led me to start dropping bombs on the men's CR but epiphanies usually override homicidal sentiments and "Men Are Human Beings After All (And Ohmigosh Look At *That*)" is an epiphany to end all epiphanies.

So do I still hate men? Hell, no. In fact, I love 'em. Impartially and quite without prejudice, like I told Ken ("Damn you, Tin, you boggle!") ^_^. There's an equally puerile fable like the one I just doodled above to go along with that assertion but I think I'll spare everyone the agony. Especially the Look! Purty Boys! Purty Boys! He-Babes! He-Babes! part.

Am I a late bloomer, what? o.O

October 24, 2000 // 2:00 A.M.

Well. I had an--interesting day ^_^. Interesting. Now I adore that adjective. It's so, ahem, connotative of many many things ^^. Mother Teresa, for instance, is interesting but then so is the guy selling newspapers downtown and he's a really peachy nympho (he calls my brother 'baby motherfucker' and gropes our dog -_-). Mark tells me 'interesting' is an amoral term; neither good nor bad nor tacky, just--interesting ^^. I think 'interesting' is more like a Go Figure adjective; when I describe a person as interesting, for instance, I'm really saying "X is a . . . being." Dot, dot, dot. Fill In The Blanks, Boyo, Because I Sure Can't.

October 23, 2000 // 12:34 A.M.

Oh, and a couple of things before I retire to my chambers with Fufu ^^. I put up a web log for Niaiserie (my fanfiction site) at eriol.pitas.com *niko*. Tomoyo-chan also, uh, decorates Version 1 but then it's all about Eriol-service.

Eriol: Now, how 'bout a--restricted photo gallery? ^.^
Tin: . . . .

Sakura-san, You. Are. Fantastic! ^__^ Thank you very much for the artwork! *GLOMPS* And you're right: Eriol *is* a babe. He is a horny nymphomaniac, too, but he is a babe ^_^. Meg,glad you liked "Turn," though I'm really beginning to have my doubts about that opening scene -_-;; I mean... sex in a forest? Is that believable?

Eriol: *niko*

Or should I scrap the leaves thing and use a more, eh, conventional and credible setting? ^o^

Eriol: White sheets. Candlelight. Sultry Music. Cherry Glace. Honey Milk. Chocolate Syrup. Ribbons. Lace Garters. Velvet Boxers.

Tin: >.>

Eriol: *happily* And Tomoyo-san's V8, of course.

Tin: Have you been talking to Meg again?

Eriol: *niko*

Tin: . . . .

And Meimi has a pita! ^.^ The CCS and X Movie Drinking Games were a riot, Mei-san XD, though if I *were* really into the game (read: I was drinking, uh, seriously), I'd have been riproaring drunk and crooning endearments and/or old Tagalog love ballads to the dog by number... seven in the CCS portion at least *nyerk*.

October 23, 2000 // 12:50 A.M.

And I finally updated Niaiserie after, what, three weeks of neglect? o.O;; Though I didn't put up as much new fiction as I wanted to -_-. I *have* made considerable headway into three or four stories, but I need more time to polish the text and to type them ^^;;. Yeah, I usually write stories by longhand, or at least I write detailed story outlines by longhand ^^;;. I rarely if ever write complete paragraphs, but I love penning fragments which I put together in, ah, final rough drafts (an oxymoron if I ever heard one -_-) like tacky literary jigsaw puzzles ^^. And I only use the word processor to code the FDRs; the rest of my stuff stays on my favorite five-subject four-hundred page black Mead notebook (with the most ancient ring binders -_-) which goes by the monicker of Fufu. I carry it around like a damn respirator, meaning, of course, that I live in morbid fear of losing it o.O;;. But who wouldn't? Drafts of entire fanfics, stories and about a quarter of "The Miracle Merchant" live and breathe within the confines of Fufu's lines. And my essays, parts of submitted papers, my journal, pictures, layout plans... Hell, my entire life is dependent on Fufu's continued existence -_-. Yeah, so the most important thing to me right now is a black notebook. Go figure o.O;;.

And speaking of security blankets... I'm currently in the middle of an H.P. Lovecraft biography and, hello, is *that* guy--weird -_-. I'm really looking for a more appropriate and elegant-sounding adjective as would befit Lovecraft's literary status, but, well, he is weird. Certainly weirder than the weirdest of his tales and probably more troubled than all of his characters combined ^_^;;. His mother vacillated between showering him with claustrophobic affection and calling him ugly, stupid and contemptible in front of complete strangers, all aside from the fact that she liked dressing the young H.P. up in feminine attire to 'prettify' him. Needless to say, Lovecraft grew up in a mentally deranged household, and his own intellectual precocity didn't help advance his maturation a single inch -_-. He was terribly antisocial and eccentric, preferring to stay up until dawn reading books and going around the house in the afternoon still wearing his nightshirt and slippers. He also harbored a really manic fondness for 18th century England; as a kid, his favorite hobby was composing ponderous tomes of Georgian verse and going out in antiquated suits from the same period. He also collected Georgian and Baroque furniture despite its often decrepit condition; when his aunt berated him about it and told him very very gently to 'grow up,' the thirty six-year old Lovecraft responded with a pretty hysterical letter about how he couldn't live without his furniture and how his entire sanity was dependent on cultivating an environment which for all intents and purposes should resemble that of his childhood -_-. Lovecraft was terribly afraid of novelty and diversity; he was probably one of the most paranoid racists/xenophobics ever born. It's no surprise that he also had a really antiquarian point of view to complement his other charming and un-literary traits ^^;;. He idealized the past; it was *his* security blanket. I read Lovecraft's Ctulhu stories along with a few of his horror tales for a couple of lit courses; the man's imagination is simply astounding, so I was quite, uh, surprised to learn that for all his expansive creativity, his personal outlook in life was sorely lacking in depth and any real substance. Or... maybe not. Maybe his fantasy *was* his life, and everything extraneous to his writing, including his social personality, was just a product of real-world perversion o.O;;

I remember reading something before about how people kept separating themselves from their dreams and their fantasies, and how this led to contradictory ways of living. My English teacher in high school once told me to only "write what I know," and that anything beyond "what I know" is not real or true or relevant. But thinking about it now, well, aren't my fantasies part of "what I know?" I think that one's fantasies are as meaningful as real-life experiences, maybe even more so because there are some things which you can never ask from RL but which you can demand with impunity in your fantasies o_o . I mean, take the case of literature right now for instance. Most novels I see in the bookstore are stories about broken marriages, feuding families, career problems, financial choices... Not that there's anything wrong with them but could you just see that middle-aged housewife in a Danielle Steele novel from, say, New York, sitting down in a crowded restaurant and telling all and sundry: "What's my life about? What am I existing for? Why am I alive?" Those are questions you could hardly ask in RL situations without someone sneering at you or telling you to get a life, preferably without all the extra angst. But these are the themes that are usually and directly addressed by fantasy novels, and without any appreciable sense of constraint or hesitation. I guess my point is that fantasy is as valid a statement about life as so-called empirical truths ^^, and that a person's dreams are never any less than his or her 'realities.'

Now that *points up* is what I call a tangential discussion -_-. And it's all Fufu's fault :P. I think I need a drink now o.O;;

October 22, 2000 // 11:48 P.M.

Hmm... Upated Niaiserie -_-. Bai and Eriol *grin* are driving me crazy ^^;;. The layout is sickeningly PINK so, um, please be warned? And it's viewable in Netscape but it looks real funky in that browser -_-. Best viewed on a 800x600 resolution ^^;;. I kinda like this layout, even though it *is* pink. First time I actually used image maps, though I didn't splice the stuff too well o.O;;. Ah, maybe next time ^_^. I bet I'll get tired of this one soon enough -_-.

October 22, 2000 // 10:30 A.M.

I wasn't able to go online last night because of my stupid connection >_<. Damn thing kept disconnecting every three minutes or so and when I tried to use AIM, well, I never got past the 'connecting to remote computer' stage *stamps foot in frustration*. I'll try again later on, Amy, Meg, Sakura-san ^_^. And if anyone else wants to chat, just !ping me ^^ (if I ever get on for more than ten minutes, that is -_-).

Oh, and Sakura-saaaaaaaaaan... *smiles sweetly*.

Eriol: *waves arm frantically* Duck! Duck!
Tin: >.>

How. Could. You. Torture. Me. Like. That?! ;_; Haven't I suffered enough with Meg dangling Icebreakers and Hedgehog merrily in front of me since like a month ago? Huh? Huh?! Finish that base sketch. *shrieks* Now!

Fuuma: You want I should persuade her for you? *evil grin TM*
Tin: Just try not to... well what you do with Kamui =_=
Fuuma: Oh, don't worry. I wuv Sakura-san *beams*
Tin: >.> And you don't love Kamui?
Fuuma: Do you really want me to bare the innermost feelings in the chambers of my heart?
Tin: Are you quoting my high school work ed teacher?
Fuuma: I wuv Sakura-san! I wuv Sakura-san! ^_^
Tin: . . .

Seriously, though, it was great ^_^. Eriol looked SO cute! *shrieks again*.

Eriol: *preens*

I really think Meg should see it, too. So we could, uh, encourage you together *niko*. More! More!

October 22, 2000 // 9:40 A.M.

Meg, I read your ideas about that Tomoyo-and-Eriol musical, ah, session and I say go for it! ^+^ I was planning to email you but Redrival.net wouldn't let me in (server upgrades again? -_-). When are you on in AIM? o.O;; And Sakura-saaaaaaan, that Syaoran/Sakura pic of yours was Just. Too. Cute! ^___^ *hearts*. Me wuv your sketches! Um, mayhap you could do an EriolxTomoyo quickie? =^_^= Just asking.

And I'm nearly through with the latest version of Niaiserie ^^. All I can say is, I'm pretty happy about it and so is...

Eriol: *NIKO*.

Yes, well, I don't know when I'll put it up, though ^^. I want to post a comprehensive update but to do that, I need to finish more fics and the Ficcated web site, otherwise I'll be faced with broken links all over the place. Mou ^^. So if I don't make it this Saturday, I guess I could always do a surprise update on Sunday or Monday. Not long now, ne, Charlene? ^_^ Oh, and Crimmy-chan, if you're reading this, I'll be on AIM tonight. PakingSyet is my screen name >.>. Or

Arianna: PakingSyet.
Tin: It's Mark's planned domain *niko*.
Mark: *patronizingly* Paking Syet is a bastardization of--
Arianna: I don't want to hear about it.
Mark: Or do you prefer wearehenatai.com?
Arianna: Let me guess. Your and Tin's portal? =_=
Tin: *niko*

October 21, 2000 // 2:11 P.M.

Ah, blast it. The online pre-enlistment form is still down due to the fact that the server is operating on low power. I really hope things normalize soon; the university administration extended the online registration period until Tuesday, but the traffic to the site once it's back up will probably be horrible to put it mildly *_*. And I haven't chosen my courses yet or even worked out my schedule for the next semester -_-. And I don't think I will graduate this March; I want to take additional subjects on qualitative and quantitative research, along with higher courses on historiography and comparative literature. I'm really starting to like Comp Lit, and I'm thinking of getting a degree in the field.

MM: Tin, damn it, you're already gonna graduate with two degrees. Stop. It.
TIN: But it's not as if I couldn't use Comp Lit, too--
IDA: No. You can't.
TIN: And there's Anthropology. I like it muchly!
IDA: Getta hold of yourself! >_<

Maa, I'm just grateful my parents are very patient with my, hmm, proclivities. They say they'll happily support my college education for up to eight years, and I've only used four of those *beams*. My friends are not as enthusiastic though =_=. Ida in particular thinks that I have this subconscious fear of working because then I'll be living the life of a staid professional and that really wouldn't do, given my too erratic temperament. She scolds me about it all the time, telling me that I couldn't spend my days in blissful scholarly isolation because then I wouldn't get rich or famous or married and "... how else do you think you could buy that house by the sea with the floor to ceiling library you've been mooning about since freshman year, you moron?!" MM just says I'm being my usual megalomaniac self: "Tin has to know everything so she could conquer the world. We should kill her now. Right now."

Personally, I think it's a mixture of both, along with a few other--things ^_^;;. You know, paranoia, megalomania, eccentricity, a touch or two of masochism. It's not that I don't want to work WORK (I really want to do research, maybe teach at uni ^^) but I *am* afraid to work, mostly because I think I'd really suck at it if I'm not adequately 'prepared,' and preparation for me means six to seven years of university education o_o. Yeah, I'm anal. Also, nyerk if you will, but I do love school. Tremendously -_-. And I love sociology and history and comp lit and anthropology and I could swing political science and economics, too, if I were a billionaire and I had ten years to spare languishing at the library. I'm incredibly voracious, even frighteningly intense in that respect ^^;;. I'm a very curious person; I have this enormous need to KNOW things. It's frustrating, sometimes, and in (rare? ^_~) moments of insecurity and negative introspection, a cause of self-derision and confusion. But most of the time, I guess I love it (or at least have come to terms with it *lol*). Not that I don't think I could learn anything outside school; it's just me being single-minded about my, ah, educational pursuits. Now when I start working, I expect I'll be even more, like Ida says, erratically focused on my chosen profession/s (am I a highly-fragmented personality, what?!). And, yes, MM, I plan to conquer the world. Who doesn't? ^+^

October 21, 2000 // 1:45 P.M.

There was a huge power outage throughout Luzon which lasted for most of the morning until late evening. Needless to say, it was stiflingly HOT, not to mention boring -_-. I basically just lay on the couch for around five hours, fanning myself with my favorite tacky pink and violet ostrich plumed fan (bought at Divisoria ^_^), and reading Neruda along with sneak peeks at the latest Tagalog romance novel my brother loves hauling around. Glen is the only guy I know who publicly acknowledges his fannish devotion to Mills and Boon, Harlequin, Sillhouette and Valentine novels. The things accumulate under his pillow like a tacky Tower of Babel; once I caught him actually crying over a Flora Kidd romance... I think it was "Passionate Pursuit?" o.O;; Not that Glen isn't a stereotypical male in all other respects, of course; he has a really extensive Playboy collection and some Swallow videos...? And the tabloids! *whistle*

Glen: Ateeeeee.

Right. Anyway, the latest gem in his literary collection is a really morbid story about a guy falling in love with a spitting image of his dead wife. A spitting Gay I'm-Really-In-Drag image.

Tin: Where the hell do you get these things? o_o
Glen: From Kuya Mark.
Tin: Oh. I knew it. I kneeeeeew it!!!

So of course said Spitting Image (who goes by the euphemistic name of Rebecca) fell in love with the guy (named Dan), too, and everything would have ended happily once Dan got used to the fact that he loved Rebecca for, ah, himself and not because he looked like his wife, etcetera. But, no, Dan had to find out about Rebecca's secret from the latter's very own MOTHER, and after punching the hell out of poor Rebecca, he stormed out in typical macho guy fashion, straight into your generic beerhouse and into the arms of a luscious waistress -_-. Rebecca saw all this, of course, and got the really silly notion that Dan would come back to him if he had the proper equipment. So he went and had a sex change operation and the operation didn't go well because the knife slipped or something and he woke up in the Intensive Care Unit after a two-week coma =_=. Figures. But! Dan was there, appropriately apologetic and loving after a drawn out heart-to-heart session with Rebecca's mother and his dead wife o.O so everything *did* end happily, after all, and the operation was successful, huge hospital bills notwithstanding, though the doctor said Rebecca couldn't have sex or experience orgasm. Ever. Again.

Tin: *shrieks* And the moral lesson is?
Glen: The entire notion of Proper Equipment is a bunch of hookey shit.
Tin: >.>

October 20, 2000 // 9:25 P.M.

It seems I've been ignoring a lot of people -_-. I just checked Niaiserie's message board and found at least six messages waiting for me there o.O;; Must visit the site at least more than once a week *bonks head*. I keep promising myself to hit Niaiserie each time I'm online and I always end up laughing my head off over--things I found in some obscure corner of the web.

Mark: Like dancing pigs?
Tin: >.> Well, they're cute.
Mark: And I don't think 'obscure' is the right adjective. How 'bout dirty? Or degenerate?
Tin: Now, Niichan, be kind. You should talk.
Mark: I am not the maniac in denial here.
Eriol: Tin-san! Maniacindenial.com ^.^
Tin: *NIKO*

October 19, 2000 // 11:10 P.M.

Talk about wholesome animation *nyerks* XD. Not recommended for nursery viewing ^^;; though my ten year old cousin claims he's seen more, ah, educatonal web sites.

Tin: Your mom would kill me if she knew _I_ was giving you a guided tour to the Internet.

Pat: I'll try very hard not to cry when I see more naked men.

Kids ~_~.

October 18, 2000 // 3:51 P.M.

I watched Detective Boy Conan the Movie (courtesy of Clone-chan *hugs*) last night. I took one look at Shinichi a.k.a Conan and decided that he's my guy. He's intelligent, cute, sweet, cool (in a word: kickass) and has the most delightful relationship with his girlfriend Ran ^^;;. And so what if he's trapped in a fourth-grader's body, wears a Voice Transformer Posing As A Huge Red Bow Tie, has the tackiest white rubber shoes and is living undercover with Ran as her otouto wannabe? o.O;; He's a detective, and I loooooooove detectives.

Narutaki: Kid detectives ~_~
Tin: Aw, come on... Does that really matter, Narutaki-chan? ^.^
Conan: I should think it does -_-.
Eriol: Tin-san has a thing for cute little boys *niko*.
Tin: *stares* At least I don't corrupt 'em indiscriminately.
Eriol: *blinks*

I joined the mailing list, am on a manic hunt for subs and the manga and give me a few more weeks and I'll probably start fanficking. Or put up a page, whatever -_-.

And I still can't make up my mind about the domain thing. I don't think I want niaiserie.net after all. It's too... well, I want something more, uh, personal? Maybe Eriol.net? Or Shinichi.com? Or Narutaki.nu? Or Hayama.net? Or Kouki.com? Or Syaoran.org? Or--

Narutaki: How 'bout imapedophilesosueme.com?
Shinichi: Dirtymama.net is better ~_~
Tin: Oh. Me like! *niko*

October 18, 2000 // 12:12 P.M.

Aside from that bit of a fiasco at the restaurant where the waiter stole our money -_-, overall... we had a nice day.

IDA: The fuck we did.

MM : We had a funny Can It Get Any Worse Than This? day.

TIN: Arianna laughed.

MM : She was hysterical.

Okay, so let me qualify that. We took a cab to Greenhills at around 2 in the afternoon.

IDA: And the car upholstery was avocado green with red stripes. I told you that's a bad sign.

MM: And the cab driver said he was the reincarnation of Helen of Troy. Hello?

ARI: I thought that was cool.

IDA: You would -_-.

And when we got there, we spent around thirty minutes looking for this little Chinese restaurant that Ida really really liked because despite the fact that it's "... dirty, smelly and the waiters are sadistic bastards, the food is great."

MM : >.> We could have eaten at Totoy's.

Ida: The last time we ate there, Totoy put chloroform on our table napkins.

MM : Aw, come on. It was just a mild dose. And he was joking.

IDA: You keeled over and hit your head on the waiter's solar plexus. And Totoy never kids around. His sense of humor was castrated at birth,

ARI: You could not castrate what wasn't there in the first place.

TIN: Is that a song?

MM : Hmm... Point.

Come to think of it, I think I'll spare everyone the gorier details -_-.

October 18, 2000 // 9:43 A.M.

It's a really beautiful day outside. You know, glorious sunshine, twittering birds, blue blue skies? *niko* Magandang umaga! (literally) ^____^ Really wish I could enjoy it at my leisure, though; I have to go back to Manila today because I really have to get my computer and see a couple of friends. We're planning to go out and paint Greenhills red as our sem ender activity *niko niko*. Probably gonna watch a movie and buy some books or clothes and maybe pick up some men to boot as long as the price is right *ohohohohoho* ^_^. Seriously. Mou, it's been a long time since I've even had time to shop! Dashing into the convenience store to buy chewing gum and newspapers does not count -_-. Be back later in the evening... and I really have to take a shower now. I'm meeting MM and the others at 1:00 P.M. "on the dot, huh, huh, HUH?!!!" (damn control freaks -_-).

October 17, 2000 // 9:25 A.M.

Waiiiiiiii!!! ^_____^ Shi-chan finally updated Cerulean *glomps her imouto big-time* And she also has a blog *cackles*. I'm not yet linking to it, though, because Shi-chan's moving to Pitas.com? *cackles again*

And, Meg, I tried joining blogspot but, um, they have ads ^^;;;. I loathe ads; I think I've been spoiled by Redrival and Envy.nu -_-. So I think I'll enjoy my stay at Pitas.com for the time being and Shi-chan's here for company *cackles, cackles, cackles*.

And... *evil grin*

Suppi: *sweatdrop* Um...

Where's my Icebreakers, Meeeeeeeg?

October 17, 2000 // 9:15 A.M.

Whee! Amy has a hit sluts ring?! *lol* Great idea; I'm so definitely joining (fun, fun, fun *nyerks*)! ^___^ (though why didn't I know about this till now? *bonks head*)

And... *reads further* I see that the ring was also created as a response to the Stylistic scheme? The elitism/originality issue in anime web design has really taken off, eh? Personally, I don't understand why originality has to be incompatible with generating hits or wanting to be a popular web site. They're not exactly mutually exclusiven concepts; the need to be popular, however contemptible and disgusting, can drive a person to be tremendously creative. And I don't see why that should be judged negatively, if at all o_o. There's nothing wrong with being original or with idealizing originality, but I've always thought that originality is an essentially pragmatic concept especially in web design, not only in terms of generating counter hits, but also in terms of available time, space and material to actually be creative. Meaning, originality should also be balanced against practical concerns. Like Amy says, there's only so much you can do with HTML; thus, using templates and sourcing HTML codes do not automatically make you the rankest and the most detestable commercialist ever born. Plagiarism is, of course, another matter, but I'm not touching on that just yet.

On the other hand, there are those who say that following trends, original or whatnot, is annoying and puerile, not to mention positively hateful and just smacks of mediocre thinking. I've read so many, um, rants against web cliques, design web rings and fancy layouts et al I've lost track of what the hell they're really ranting about o.O . I mean, what's wrong with joining web cliques? Or using the latest graphic and javascript tools on your site? I think that for most people, it's not just a matter of being considered elite or popular, but it is mostly about, I dunno, improving one's skills? That feeling of satisfaction that you have done something to the best of your (limited) abilities even if only in terms of using an otherwise incomprehensible script, or editing an already pretty picture, is reward in itself for most site owners. Again, you may not have the most original layout in the world, or people would insist that practically everyone else could do whatever it is you've done, and you would probably be considered as just another wannabe groupie to the *sigh* 'elite' web designers, but to hell with that. The point is, who's to judge?

I think the main problem is everyone is just _too_ fixated with the notion of being original or innovative or different from everyone else ^^. But that's missing the point. No one is truly different from 'everyone else.' A person is only judged 'original' or 'different' relative to what people in general believe is 'normal' or 'conformist,' and even that could change over time. As Goethe says: "Those who remain imprisoned in the notion of their own originality will always fall flat of what they might have accomplished." When you start thinking you're too unique, or that you're utterly above and beyond the slavish instincts of the rest of the herd, well, now, isn't *that* being elitist? Isn't that selling yourself short? o.0;;

Just my nyerk's worth ^_^.

October 16, 2000 // 5:19 P.M.

Ne, Sakura-san, daijobou desu ka? o_o I just read about your computer fiasco; that really sucks -_-. Anyway, I'm glad you feel better now ^_^. Good luck on your linguistics debate tomorrow! And "Hey, bitches?" *lol* Fuuma could definitely pull that off (he's got the looks, the style, the glasses and the I'm The Ultimate Whore Numero Uno So Listen To Me, You Maggots charisma ^^;;), and I could see said bitches swooning in delight when he does *snerks*. Come to think of it, why don't you put up a list of pick-up lines by the CLAMP men? That'd be fun:

ERIOL: Hi! Do you mind if I borrow your lace garter? I seem to have misplaced mine *NIKO*.

Or something... ^.^;;

And ganbatte kudasai on "Icebreakers" again, Meg! *niko.niko.niko*. I'm looking forward to that Shopping Trip.

And I'm wondering... what *is* Eriol up to, the little schemer? >.>

ERIOL: ^o^

. . . .

October 16, 2000 // 4:03 P.M.

I'm STILL awake o_o. I'm not yawning intermittently, I'm not pouring battery acid on my computer and/or my sister (whichever's nearest) and I've gone through lunch without nyerking aloud even once (you know I'm out of it when I go nyerk-nyerk-nyerk-nyerk faster than an express train goes chug-chug-chug-chug). I slept from 6:30 A.M. to around 10 A.M. and when I woke up, I felt so freaking wired! Antsy, hyper, BLOODY WIDE AWAKE. I tried to knock myself out again to satisfy my mother who is a firm believer in the If You Don't Sleep For Eight Hours You Have Little Pink Dots For Brain Cells philosophy, but it didn't work out -_-. Once I'm up, I stay up and nothing short of a headon collision with the bed post (or the bathroom door) could render me sublimely unconscious. I do take cat naps (or siestas, as we call it here) but that's only because I have this vague notion that sleeping in the afternoons means I have an excuse to stay up until dawn again ~_~, never mind the fact that my 'siestas' never last more than three minutes and two of those are occupied with thinking about things totally unrelated to the pursuit of relaxation *snorts*. Is that a screwed philosophy or what? -_-;;

Hmm... I realize I've been blogging consistently about my sleeping habits. I guess the novelty of being an insomniac (for that I belive I definitely am) hasn't worn off yet ^^. And I've been in a state of denial for the past month or so, which is probably why I've been making public my very ardent desire to, ah, sleep seriously, even just once ^^;;. I've always thought that insomniacs are born, not made, and the realization that I have, somehow, through my degenerate ways of living, completely altered my sleeping habits so as to resemble a really screwed-up vampire's is not a very--comfortable one ^^;;. It's not a source of personal pride, contrary to what a couple of friends belive (they say it's a prime example of Freakishness Over Nature... hello? o_o;;;;). Right now, I. Just. Want. To. Sleep. *wails*

Sei-chan: Is that your one true wish?
Tin: Go. Away.

October 16, 2000 // 2:14 P.M.

My brother just left for his final differential calculus exam. Thank God. He's been smoking so much the past couple of nights the atmosphere in our house has assumed that Blink And You'll Go Blind, Breathe And You'll Die Of Asphyxiation quality so characteristic of beer houses and/or dung pits. My sister has taken to going around the house with an oxygen mask on (fake, of course) and my mother keeps making snide remarks about my brother's nicotine intake of the Chain Smokers Are Disgusting Kissers I Should Know Look At Your Dad So Pity Your Poor Girlfriend variety >.> Not that one could really blame Glen, of course. The poor boy is so stressed out; just this morning, I saw him maniacally tearing pages out of his textbook (prepatory to chewing them perhaps o_o;;). He claims he's simply too tired to jot down "... more fucking notes for this shithole of an exam and if you ask me to define triple integrals in spherical and cylindrical coordinates one more time just because you like the pretty words so help me, Ate, I'll kill you."

October 16, 2000 // 1:26 P.M.

The day I stop being a sucker for TheSpark.com will be the day I shall cease nyerking -_-. And I'm still having way too much fun looking up my, ah, intelligence quotient, or lack thereof ^^;; to stop--sucking up.

And the results:

You have a knack for greatness. For the record,you are:

69% Un-telligent! which is significantly higher than the current average of 60%

Here is the custom report of your personality that led our team of geeks to conclude (with confidence) that you are resourceful and sly woman:

"The subject shows a serious lack of intelligence, and her sense of observation is weaker than normal; in a lot of ways, her brain capacity is similar to that of a gorilla - she couldn't find her own ass in an empty room! Not that it isn't big enough.

"Also, as much as we hate violence, an occasional mauling is one way to solve day-to-day problems like unpleasant coworkers or pesky door-to-door salesmen; she just isn't tough enough, sir, and she avoids any solution that involves violence.

"Finally, the subject displayed a healthy (better than most net freaks anyway) sense of humor, a decent and respectable sense of morality, and a hot shot self-confidence. The balance of these three traits is important; high levels of confidence, medium levels of morality, and a good level of humor make for the strongest individuals."

Am I a genius, what? *preens*

GLEN: Does that mean we could disown you now?
TIN: Fufufufufufufu...

October 16, 2000 // 12:39 P.M.

So I've moved -_-. I will continue updating Idiosyncratic, but I'm planning on using it as some sort of repository for story ideas for my fanfiction and the like ^^. I must register my domain first, though; I'm going crazy looking for a free web server with reliable FTP *sigh*. Personal news only at Nyerk!

So a couple of people have asked me: What The Hell Is Nyerk? It's my favorite (verbal) expression, ever since I was a kid in fact -_-. Don't ask me where I got it. My dad told me I was born nyerking. It's really embarrassing sometimes, especially when I'm at school and the new professor asks me to describe myself and I blurt out "Um, nyerk?" ~_~ Bad, no? It's also the reason why I'm so unrelentingly fascinated with characters, anime/manga or otherwise, who are cursed with oros, aras, hoes, nyas, aku-zoku-sans and you-ass-ass-ashole, among other things -_-;;;; (though 'nyerk' doesn't sound as nice as Kenshin going 'oro,' for instance; I need to work on my delivery). Semantically-challenged people of the world, unite. My parents have tried to cure me of nyerking, but I think it's hopeless. At least I don't resort to it when I write, though it slips out at the oddest moments. I remember answering the last question of an algebra exam with a "Nyeeeeeeeerk!!!" Needless to say, my teacher was despondent, my father asked me if "nyerk" is a new algebraic expression and what-the-hell-is-UP-teaching-you-kids and my mom told me patiently that I really really need to see a shrink. Nyerk -_-.

October 16, 2000 // 10:56 A.M.

Nyerk. I've been mirroring my posts at Blogger.com -_-. Right now, Dencity FTP is working amazingly well, but I'm not hedging my bets ^^;;. Tomorrow is another day. And I'm beginning to like the table layout at my pita, even though tables and I usually despise each other. It looks, uh, neat; the idiosyncratic layout at blogger.com seems very--cluttered though I'm really loathe to give it up because of Mizuki (that pic is really cute ^^). But still... It's cluttered.

MOM: Off to bed with you.
TIN: I'm doing it again o_o
MOM: Your anal retentive act? PMS, is it?
TIN: Mo--ther... -_-
MOM: Or you're pregnant?
TIN: How?
MOM: It's 6 AM.
TIN: I'm going to bed. Okay.

October 16, 2000 // 4:45 A.M.

God, I can't sleep >_<. I've read the newspaper from freaking cover to cover, surfed the 'net silly, chug-a-lugged ten glasses of juice, cooked breakfast (at 4 AM, for chrissakes) and watched Kare Kano eps 1-13 for the umpteenth time and I am still disgustingly chipper. I want to sleep, damn it! >_< I don't want to crash at 7 in the morning, wake up at 10 and end up throwing things around by 12 in the afternoon because Damn It I'm Grumpy And Cranky And I Want To Go Back To Bed But I Can't Because It's MIDDAY *again*. My brother, quite overcome by fraternal concern (and perverse malicious glee at his oneechan's predicament, damn him >_<) volunteered to sing me a lullaby tomorrow night and I, God help me, agreed. That's how desperate the situation is -_-.

October 16, 2000 // 4:28 A.M.

Thanks, Benja ^_^ (god, I love these lists):

1) If you yelled for 8 years, 7 months and 6 days, you would have produced enough sound energy to heat one cup of coffee.(Hardly seems worth it)

2) If you fart consistently for 6 years and 9 months, enough gas is produced to create the energy of an atomic bomb. (Now that's more I like it)

3) A pig's orgasm lasts for 30 minutes. (In my next life I feel like I want to be a pig...) (But how'd they figure this out, and why?) Banging your head against a wall uses 150 calories an hour. (Still can't get over that pig thing) (Don't try this at home...maybe at work?)

4) Humans and dolphins are the only species that have sex for pleasure. (Is that why Flipper was always smiling?) (And pigs get 30-minute orgasms? Doesn't seem fair)

5) The strongest muscle in the body is the tongue.(Hmmmmmmmmm........) Right-handed people live, on average, nine years longer than left-handed people do. (If you're ambidextrous do you split the difference?)

6) The ant can lift 50 times its own weight, can pull 30 times its own weight and always falls over on its right side when intoxicated. (From drinking little bottles of...?) (Did taxpayers pay for this research??)

7)Polar bears are left handed. (Who knew....? Who cares? How'd they find out, ask them?) (Would they live longer if they were right handed?) The catfish has over 27,000 taste buds. (What can be so tasty on the bottom of the pond?)

8) The flea can jump 350 times its body length. It's like a human jumping the length of a football field. (30 minutes...can you imagine?? And why pigs?)

9) A cockroach will live nine days without its head, before it starves to death. (Creepy)

10)The male praying mantis cannot copulate while its head is attached to its body. The female initiates sex by ripping the male's head off. (Honey, I'm home. What the....) (Well, at least pigs get a break there...)

11) Some lions mate over 50 times a day. (In my next life I still want to be a pig...quality over quantity)

12) Butterflies taste with their feet. (Oh, geez) (That's almost as bad as the catfish)

13) An ostrich's eye is bigger than its brain. (I know some people like that.)

14) Starfish don't have brains. (I know some people like that, too.)

All I can say is... lucky pigs -_-.

October 16, 2000 // 2:22 A.M.

Goddamn you, Dencity! >_< For your screwy FTP, for your even screwier downtimes and, most of all, for forcing me to switch to pitas.com and to use tables! >_< And goddamn my ISP, too, for disconnecting every damn five minutes and waiting until I'm ready to throw my sister into the computer before it would re-connect (and then fucking disconnect again *snarls*). Most of all, goddamn Redrival for taking a month to upgrade when the goddamn admin promised it would only take them a freaking week! If they didn't upgrade, I wouldn't move to Dencity. If I didn't move to Dencity, I wouldn't move to Pitas.com! Not that it's a bad thing but...

I want my Blogger >_<

Quote of the Day:

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!

>_<

October 16, 2000 // 1:26 A.M.