Happeh

Oh yay!

I got some new Prismacolor art markers, and they're really cool. Although I don't know how to use them to their fullest extent to shine their beauty to their greatest, I still think that they're pretty neat. I don't have marker paper, which is half of the reason why I can't do as much with it.
I'm gonna have to make-do with printer paper for now. Maybe I'll go to Michaels or order some marker paper when I'm good and able to use it well.

Anyway, that's all I have to say. I'm posting on nearly every blog I have, because I am bored.
I finished my homework early!!
It's amazing, I know.
I'm so happy.
Plus, I practised piano.
(Yes, I practised it. Heh. Practised.)

Kaybye.

What's it with Doors?

So you might not have heard about my other blog post some whiles ago.

But just to summarize, our front door is strange. The actual handle, if you're not careful, can be ripped out of the door  (leaving this neat hole for us to awkwardly place back in), and the second lock above that is our only means of security. As for our screen door, it used to be super creaky and open at the randomest moments so that while you were in the living room, you would suddenly hear this creaking from outside (the screen door). Then, after my father 'fixed' it, it would not prop open and would constantly shut itself closed no matter how heavy the groceries were and no matter how limited the use of your meager two overwhelmed-with-groceries hands were after mass-grocery-shopping on an empty stomach at Costco with a bucketful of coupons.

So there's your background information on my family's (and my) encounters with doors.



This is why I have reached a conclusion.
A very vital piece of information that must not be ignored.

Doors are plotting against us.

I'm telling you!
You can laugh all you want, but they are more intelligent than you think. They are secretly plotting their revenge of being slammed, locked, kicked, knocked, and other things people do with doors. They are smiling on the inside, thinking of the soon coming desolation of the human race, at our ignorance in thinking to oversee the numerous intelligent species that just communicate in different ways than we do, sneering at our stupidity and our stuck up specio-centrism (the belief in the inherent superiority of one's species).

"He did not perceive that my to smile now was at the thought of his immolation."

           --Edgar Allan Poe, The Cask of Amontillado


Plus they're laughing at how funny we look. (We're not geometrical!)

They're slowly rising to their deserved spot in the Thing-Food-Chain. They will imperialize all of Earth, and we will be helpless to their merciless punishments and torture. When the time comes, they will rise, they will defeat the human race with their massive, growing army of fierce, brutal doors. Because they are everywhere--they are omnipresent, they are ubiquitous.

(Don't ask me how I know all of this.)


ANYHOW. Back to the initial point:
Not only does our front and screen door not work anymore, but our CAR DOOR has decided to shut itself out from socializing or interacting with us.

Our car is a minivan, a silver one. It's pretty old. We named it, but then I forget his name. (Actually I named it and my parents paused and continued doing their usual conversation-for-5-hour-car-rides-to-some-random-place, and my brother argued with me over what to name it for approximately 4 minutes and 38 seconds and we came to a negotiation that we would mash the name by picking one as the middle name, but then we argued over which name would be the first name, and in the end we just decided to call the car by two different names.)
It has one automatic door, on the right side. The left side is manual (or whatever you call it, I have no idea). To open the automatic door, you have to pull the handle, and then let go. The automaticity of the door will do the rest for you. Pull the handle and it opens up for you, honoring you as its great master. (Technically, the great master should be the driver, and there is no automatic door for the driver's seat. Hmmm.)


Here is the story of how our devoted car door turned against us.

My mother carpooled with a few other middle-aged mothers to some sort of middle-aged-mothers' meeting of some sort (or at least, there were a lot of middle-aged mothers there). They rode in the back seats, and apparently, one of them decided that the door was not an automatic door, despite the numerous times my mother informed her of its automatic nature.
She then decided that she would pull as hard as possible, using all of her upper and lower body strength (regardless of its necessity for opening car doors)--power from her mind, spirit, and body, summoning it all into that POOR LITTLE CAR DOOR--to close the door. Basically she pulled the door shut (even though it was automatic) with all of her strength, right until the moment the car door clicked closed.

Since then, our door has never been the same. It is disappointed in us. It has lost trust. What once used to be a loyal, automatic door, is now a strange, creaky, semi-automatic door. It trusted us, maybe not humans, but it trusted us, our family, that we would treat it right. Yet we betrayed it by letting an outsider harass the automaticity out of the poor little door. And now it has lost faith in us. In humanity. It shall join the door revolution. Humans are merciless monsters of no sentiment. They are ruthless and emotionless. They deserve death. They deserve to meet their end.

So, now that I'm done using a somewhat sarcastic tone to bash on my own species, time to write a short how-to.

How to Open The Betrayed Car Door:
1. Click the Open-Automatic-Door button on the car keys.
2. Door does not open.
3. Pull the door handle of the Semi-Automatic Door Rebel after walking all the way from the door of the house (which is also a rebel of the Door Revolution).
4. Door does not open. Makes weird sound.
5. Pull door handle again, but this time use all of your strength to pull it open.
6. About a 1.5 second delay until Semi-Automatic Door Rebel responds.
7. Semi-Automatic Door Rebel responds.
8. Door opens.
9. Surprisingly, it opens automatically.
10. Get into car.
11. Click automatic door closing button near the Semi-Automatic Door Rebel.
12. No response.
13. Click it again, and then try to pull the handle (an attempt to see if clicking the button and pulling the handle will together do the job of making the door succesfully automatic.)
14. Makes weird noise.
15. Give up and just pull the car door with all of your strength until it finally gives in and decides to close.

(Will you believe me if I told you that I used Copy+Paste for typing "Semi-Automatic Door Rebel.)


So... yeah. That's the sad story of our once Automatic Door, whose soul is no longer with us. It has left the cause and decided to join the monstrous army against the human race.

Beware, fellow humans. I tell you. Keep your weapons ready. You never know when they might strike.

I fell off the face of Cyberspace

I did. I fell off the face of Cyberspace for quite a while now. And I've managed to jump right back up. (The face of Cyberspace is easy to scale.)
Of course, I can say that I was busy with high school, which is some form of an excuse. I could also say that I was busy, which is less of a form of excuse. I could also say that I just completely forgot about the existent of Web Logs.
But it would be more honest to say that
I was.
Lazy.

I thought of things, yes, my fellow humans, I thought of things to write for a blog post.
It stops there.

But I'd like to drop by and say that yes, I have survived the few months of living as an accursed human, and that yes, I'm managing to feed myself so that I am not malnutrition-ed (it's a word, let's just say).

I have lots of things to write about, so yeah, I'll use the handy-dandy date-changer to lie and cheat this post's date into being somewhere around last week. That way things are in chronological order.


~
Indigo

It’s sad

You know, it’s sad that Rosalind Franklin died at age 38.

It is.

Yet she managed to (pretty much) change the world right before she did.

Regarding the CT Tragedy

There are so many people who are saying that "I give my hearts out to those who have lost their loved ones" blah blah blah... and I guess it's my turn to say that, too.
We're all so horrified and saddened by this heartless tragedy that I never imagined could happen. (Though so many people are saying "my heart goes out"... maybe it's the right term that you're supposed to use? Anyhow, it's actually the first time I've heard that phrase..)
I feel terrible that so many people are resorting to violence to express themselves,  as if they have no other way that people would understand. I feel bad for the man who killed so many people, for the people who were killed, and for the kids who survived.
And this goes along with the theme of depressing books we're reading in school these days--we actually recently read by William Golding (sorry unable to use underline or italics right now). Imean--I feel bad for the kids who had to go to heaven so early in their life, but I also feel bad for the kids who are still alive. They had to go through that hell, just like everyone else in the school--and then survive to have that memory with you for the rest of your life. In that day, their whole lives were changed. Can you imagine--being a seven year old, with yet to learn, cherish, and laugh in this world--can you imagine being seven and seeing your friend bleed to death? Can you imagine realizing that your best friend, whom you were planning to invite to your birthday party--was now a lifeless body among so many others? What kind of impact would that make on their minds? What kind of impact would that make on history? 
It makes me so angry that someone would go as far as to trespass into a school--an ELEMENTARY school--to recklessly shoot and kill. And not only that, ruin a bit of history by denting so many young minds who could have changed the world. Who could have lived a perfectly happy life, with no dark shadows engufing their minds. 
Everything's for a reason, I think, and I don't think that the man went to the elementary school just because he wanted to, or just because his mother (mother, was it?) was a teacher there. There obviously must be some sort of grudge in his past that lead him to acting this way. But whatever it is, I'm becoming more and more disgusted with humanity these days. 
What's with all these shootings? What's with the violence? 

And some people keep changing the subject back to gun control. And yes, I have my opinions on that. But putting gun control aside, what's been making so many people /use/ that gun so much these days as opposed to, say, ten years ago? I grieve for not only the lives that could have been lived, but the lives that could have been lived freely, and the life that could have been happier.