i'm writing this from the rhs career center. these g4 imacs are fucking sexy, yo.

today was filled with a lot of cinematically extravagant running scenes. during one of the times, i was running with my violin slung over my back in an awkward, yet "cool" (like in anime, when the heroes have weird-ass swords strapped on to them, or mech's with all sorts of gizmos and guns attached to their backsides) position. with a little braggadocio in mind, i think i'm pretty good at maneuvering, with great speed and agility, around and through moving crowds of people.

with a little braggadocio in mind, of course.

afterschool, i ran after my dad's van so i could get a ride home, but he had already left with my brother. i saw brad walking towards his jeep, and so i walked with him to the parking lot. while walking through a thick and mean-looking crowd of 'azn-pryding' degenerates, i unknowingly said out loud "freakin' asians." i rarely ever think to myself "out loud," but this was one of those occasions. i got a bunch of weird stares, and then i walked over to anthony's car, frantically pulling the doorknob, forgeting that i was going to get a ride from brad. at that point, brad, like the group of clustered asian people, looked at me funny as well.

i hope no one tells john cruz, 'cuz i'd like to think i'm on good terms with that guy - otherwise i'd get lynched.

FREAKIN' ASIANS! i'd rather fit the stereotype of a conscious racist, than a stupid bitch-ass racer/raver/idiot.

or maybe, i'm just jealous that i can't drive a honda.

or not.