A Long Day's Journal Into Night

Just because this song is so cool:

As i walked along
the supposed golden path
i was confronted
by mysterious spectre
he pointed to the graveyard
over on yonder hill
I paused in cosmic reflection
confused and wondering
of how i came to die
hm...hm..
i was confused
coz if i was dead
how and why did i die
but i composed myself
and decided i should face it

but i stood paralized
on the supposed golden path
and i was confronted
by a powerful demon force
and he said he was the devil
and when he spoke
his words flowed like glowing lava from the mouth of a volcano
and i said:
help me, lord!!
i found myself in some kinda hell
but i did not believe in heaven and hell

world in opposites kind of reality
but i gained control of myself
and decided to press on

as i walked along
the supposed golden path
I was trembling with fear
all the lions and the wizards yet to come
i seen in the distance
silver mountains rising high in the clouds
and a voice from above did whisper
some shining answer from the moon

please forgive me
i never meant to hurt you

Holy Gee, Batman, it has been an entire week since I have written in my blog. And the funny thing, or maybe not so funny if you know me, is I have chocolate on the mind again. There is a bowl of yummy Halloween chocolate in the lab. It is a magic bowl.

It is magic, I know, because when I am working here at this computer it begins to sing to me. I will be deligently plotting my data, when suddenly a very SWEET sounding aria will drift over from the other end of the room. It sings to me like the Sirens, luring me up and away from my work station, to the candy bowl again and again. The madness must stop!

So yesterday I was eating a Hershey's chocolate bar that I had received in the mail, along with a sheet of "Frighteningly Funny" jokes. As per usual, there is a contest associated with this particular candy bar and the grand prize is apparently a mini cooper filled with Hershey's chocolate. What a great prize! A car filled with chocolate! I just hope the car hasn't been sitting out in the sun too long, especially these days, because it would end up being a prize of a mini cooper filled with chocolate mush.

I noticed that the website for Hershey's is advertised as not www.hersheys.com, which is a website (I checked), but www.hersheysHAPPINESS.com. Hershey's happiness? No one asked me, but aside from the use of aliteration, this does not seem to be the slickest add campaign in the book. Chocolate it will make you happy. I am not denying the truth behind this statement, but rather wondering why this statement needs to be made at all. Does this chocolate company really feel it is necessary to reinforce the connection between chocolate and happiness?

I suppose I do not understand the advertising industry, in which they try to sell you a concept like happiness, rather than an object llike chocolate.

What is wrong with just selling chocolate? So simple, but it is tasty. When you try to start selling me happiness I begin to doubt and have questions. I wonder how happiness can be bought so cheaply, how it can be bought at all. And that leads me to wonder if I am so shallow that my happiness can be fullfilled with a $0.99 candy bar and if we live in a a socitey in which we are indeed all that shallow. What strings are attached to this happiness sold in a brown and foil wrapper that is so easily gotten? What strings are attached to the people who are producing, marketing, and shoving this edible happiness down my throat? If the puppet master pulling these strings can give me happiness so easily, cannot he just as easily yank it away!

No, you see, better just to sell the chocolate. Don't worry, I will still buy it even if it is not wrapped in the flag of the state of euphoria. Because C is for chocolate, that's good enough for me.

In the words of the immortal Kermit T. Frog, "How about 'Ocean Breeze Soap, it will get you clean?' "

Incidentally, there is no cent sign on the keyboard.

You Know You Are Growing Up When...

You become addicted to public radio. Or maybe that should actually be you know you do not have a television when you become addicted to public radio.

My new favorite show is "Morning Becomes Eclectic." I usually listen to this when I study in the morning. It lasts from 8-12, so when it ends I know its time to pack up. One day I was listening to this in my room and my old roommate Megan asked me if I was listening to Coldplay. It wasn't, but I suppose the music has a certain coldplayful quality to it.

I have heard some really cool acts on here like Belle and Sebastian and Damian Rice. You can listen to it online here. They have lots of archives of bands that have played live on the show. One cool show I just listened to was Beck with the Flaming Lips. They tell a really funny story about seeing a nuclear missile together.

They have live performances nearly every day and I think they record them at Santa Monica College.

My new DOUBLE room is so fabulous it, I think, deserves both a name and adornment. The view is radder than Jams in the 80's. You can see the glittering lights of Westwood at night. Many times however, like last night, the fog billows and it is like looking into a cloud. Maybe Misty Vista is an appropriate name for my new estate?

As far as decorations go, I would like to get a nice art poster. There is a good poster store in Westwood that I shall have to peruse.

I think I spelled altar wrong.

Is it hypocritical to eat sushi one night and see "Finding Nemo" the next?

Maybe if only done in reverse.

Am addicted to this song.

Shake it like a polaroid picture!

Desperately want to:

Get hair cut.
Go to Barnes and Noble.
Buy autumnal articles of clothing.
*Make Spooky Halloween Brownies.
Watch scary movie.

But trapped under something heavy.

Halloween is the only time of year I crave scary movies in style of "Halloween," "Psycho," and "Exorcist." What a great holiday it is when we can come together to celebrate having the bejeebus scared out of us. Oh and also to worship at the alters of Snickers Bars and Satan. No folks, I was just kidding about that. Of course it is the alter of Smarties-And-Other-Candies-Picked-Off-The-Street-During-The-Western-Welcome-Week-And-Heritage-Village-Fourth-Of-July-Parades.

*Note on Spooky Halloween Brownies: I do not necessarily endorse the use of this particular Spooky Halloween Brownie recipe. In reading over it, I see no correlation between the actual ingredient list and the recipe instructions. Furthermore, I find it physically impossible to make brownies, whether spooky or not, from the listed ingredients: flour, sugar, baking soda, salt and eggs. Rather, I am inspired by it to make Spooky Halloween Brownies in this fashion:

1. Buy box of Brownies with one of those recipes on the side for the cream-cheese marbelized brownies.

2. Buy some orange food coloring and use common-sense to adapt recipe on side of box to create the spooky effect of orangy-brownies.

3. Eat them. Preferably with a glass of milk and a copy of "It's The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown."

In World News

Apparently there is no 'n' in Kruschev.

In Local News

No news to be found locally.

In Sports And Leisure

Have not been to gym in 2 weeks. Pooh.


In Arts and Entertainment

Saw "Lost In Translation." Rating: v,v,v,v good. 4 "v's"

ALso, was twiddling my thumbs and stranger's cell phone rings this tune.

Opinion and Editorial

Cool, neh? I highly suggest anyone with Nokia et al to use this ringtone.

This has been an news briefing.

Lates Kates.

From They Might Be Giants:

In 1844, the Democrats were split
The three nominees for the presidential candidate
Were Martin Van Buren, a former president and an abolitionist
James Buchanan, a moderate
Louis Cass, a general and expansionist
From Nashville came a dark horse riding up
He was James K. Polk, Napoleon of the Stump

Austere, severe, he held few people dear
His oratory filled his foes with fear
The factions soon agreed
He's just the man we need
To bring about victory
Fulfill our manifest destiny
And annex the land the Mexicans command
And when the votes were cast the winner was
Mister James K. Polk, Napoleon of the Stump

In four short years he met his every goal
He seized the whole southwest from Mexico
Made sure the tarriffs fell
And made the English sell the Oregon territory
He built an independent treasury
Having done all this he sought no second term
But precious few have mourned the passing of
Mister James K. Polk, our eleventh president
Young Hickory, Napoleon of the Stump

I want him:



I think I will name him Madmartigan.

Man, Blogger just ate my last entry. I will type again.

Its Not Easy Being Green

So I voted. I went the way of Kermit the Frog, Oscar the Grouch, and other muppets of a more emerald hue, because I am fed up with this bipartisan crap system. I am fed up with this whole election and do not know if I can face another one in another month. On the flip side, people are suddenly politically aware and active. But I'd like to know: Where were ya'll last year? If you all showed up then, we wouldn't have to re-do this now. Ach, why does California feel like High School?

Actually this entry is better than the last, so many thanks Blogger, old buddy, old pal.

My journal is N-O-T confusing. It is very simple. The days go down, the hours go up. Or rather vice versa. Simple, yeah?

From MSN:

Oct. 3 — No TV show was hotter in 2002 than “Trading Spaces.” All viewers could talk about was, “Did you see that lady crying when Doug covered up her fireplace? What a loon!” or “Can you believe that Hildi actually glued hay to the walls? What a loon!” But in 2003, no one really talks about TLC’s preeminent home-design show anymore. What went wrong?

YEAH Hildi's a loon.

Catherine Found Birdy

Last night as I was stopping by my fave vending machine for a study treat I found a black bird that been attacked in a manner reminiscent of the way Officer McGruff fights crime. The poor birdy was cowering against a wall with his poor wing draped over his poor bloody body. This was so sad I almost cried. He was making no noise, just sitting horribly still. Almost, but not quite deathly still.

After a quick council with Laura I rushed to my lab to try and find help. Let me tell you, it is not easy to help a hurt animal in Los Angeles. Animal shelters are few and far between and most would not take any more animals. Finally, me and my friend I-Hsiang located an animal hospital in Santa Monica that would take him, but we had pay a $35 fee. Such is the price of being a good Samaritan.

Next we had to get the bird into a box. This was so sad, because how do you let an animal know that you are trying to help him. The first time I-Hsiang tried he attempted to fly away, but of course he couldn't. The second time he got him in and he remained relatively calm for the trip.

So we handed over the bird with the fee, and the hospital said if they could save him they would, if not they would make him more comfortable. So sad. Hopefully they did not just toss him in a dumpster after we left, but that would be a quick way to make a few bucks.

This brings up two questions:

1. Why didn't the bird fly away when he was attacked?
2. Why are there open fireplaces on the veranda of the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf in Santa Monica?

I think I need to clarify the second question. In typical I-Hsiang and Katie fashion we left for the hospital without really checking the exact address. This finds us standing at the corner of 9th and Wilshire, with a box full of injured bird wondering where the hospital went. I went into the Cofee Bean to ask the barrista if he knew. This particular Cofee Bean has a patio in the front with tables and chairs. In the center of the patio is a sort of kidney shaped rock counter/table with maybe 10-12 little tiki-torch-sized bonfires on top. It looks like a cross between a ski-lodge and luau, in ridiculous contrast with tables full of latte-sipping yuppies typing on their i-macs. Very strange, very random, and very LA.

So today while I was waiting in line to buy Michael Moore tickets it suddenly dawned on me that I am now the the type of person to wait in line to buy Michael Moore tickets. What type of person is this? Well judging form the people around me it involves lots of scarves, tote bags, and tortoise rimmed glasses. An aura of my-aren't-we-culturally-and-intellectually-conscience permeated the air. I am hesitant to associate with such people for they probably listen to Tori Amos as opposed to Mandy Moore. Though now that I just typed that how cool that I like both Michael Moore AND Mandy Moore. The more Moores the merrier, ha cha cha!

As I was waiting I played a little game I like to call "Spot the UCLA Sweatshirt." No, this does not involving stains on laundry, but rather counting the number of UCLA logos that pass by. While I do not look for sweatshirts exclusively, the number of sweatshirts far out weighs hats, t-shirts, and back-packs.

Time I commenced game: 8:55.
Time I stepped up to the ticket window: 9:03.

Number of UCLA emblazoned articles: 29.

(Please note that I was standing in line longer than this, but as "Spot the UCLA Sweatshirt" was not invented until approximatly 8:55 this morning, there was no way I could have been playing it earlier)

Sigh. Sometimes playing "Spot the UCLA Sweatshirt" hurts one's eyes in much the same way one's eyes hurt when counting cars on a train. Too many, too fast. And though I did not keep track, I would wager that 75% were the same block-lettered hoody that everyone apparently owns and pulls out on cloudy days.


Last night I dreamed I had to teach mom's MDO class because she was sick. Poor kids.

Why do the Brits rock?

Because when they are slicing vegetables they ask you where the to-MAW-to scooper is.

In reviewing pictures of the new house in L-Town, I must say, "Where did my house go!?!?"

But seriously folks, it looks very spiffy and just a few items stood out against this spiffinesss, which I think should be replaced:

The green couch
The yellow chair
Rooney