Don’t Stop Believin’

Soooooo, auditions for MCIA are tomorrow. They’re a non-competitive dance group, but nonetheless they’re still dope and they’re a great opportunity for growth and making friends.

I don’t know how I feel about the three audition pieces and my group performances, but I’m not panicking. After this blog I’ll be practicing for sure though until late and some more tomorrow before the auditions.

Really though, I just want...I just want it...to be...yes, over. I want it to be over. I’ve said that phrase probably like a million times the last four weeks regarding auditions for Common Ground, CADC, and MCIA. And another million times the week leading up to the Funksters Summer Intensive Showcase.

I’ve said it so many times that I don’t even really know what I mean by it because, in reality, it’s never over. It never ends and I know it. If I don’t get into MCIA, I know dance is still going to fucking rule my life and I’m going to continue emptying my wallet and sacrificing school for it (but hopefully to a less degree because I need to not get on academic probation). And if it’s not dance that will be bugging me all the time, it’ll be something else. I don’t give myself breaks, and even if I try to, the world will just throw something else at me.

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“What the Hell Can I do?”
Written December 26th, 2004 (Excerpted)

[Should I call] 911? Slim’s in fact planning on doing illegal things (breaking and entering... planning to destroy [a lot of shit]) and terrorizing people. But it’s just getting involved a police case that already sounds hard. And then ~I’m afraid~ that Slim may so stupidly and absentmindedly think I betrayed him for the worst and start trying to mess up by [fucking with] me the same way he did with Miranda.

I’m basically stuck with the burden of this knowledge, all this knowledge on my shoulders, and I want a dump it somewhere, like on the police. But I’m not to sure how I can without too much complications. Maybe I can’t get out of this with too many complications. There’s no easy way out anymore.

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“Just some small news...”
Written December 27th, 2004 (Excerpted)

I’ll be lacking some transportation to places (such as the mall) for a few weeks.

A thing I didn’t mention was that on Sunday [the day of “What the Hell Can I do”], when my brother was on the way to the mall to pick me up, he got in a car accident. >.> It was around 5:45, and it was pretty dark and rainy and wet. I shouldn’t go into much detail, but the accident happened because another person just had to run a red light on Leen when my brother was already going through an intersection (Leen and Santa Teresa), which was already green on Santa Teresa.

Bam. The car was totally totaled, especially the right passenger side and the back too. Good thing the only person in the car was my brother, and no one else got hurt/exploded.

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“That Silly Santa”
Written December 28th, 2004 (Excerpted)

[During dinner at home with my family,] when my attention was turned to the TV, I heard some plates shattering, and I thought my stupid ol’ dad dropped some plates, but before I could fully turn around to see what was happening, I heard more shatters. I turned around to face absolute shock. The dishwasher rack was apparently slightly stuck or something, but my dad took out all his anger and completely forced the rack back in with all his puny weak Asian might and caused some massive dish damage. Then with a few more cups in his hand he just hurled it with all his fury into the dishwasher, causing more glass breaking. At this point, my mom and my brother and I were just like, “WTF?!” and my dad reached for the glass of orange juice (which he freshly squeezed just for us before dinner) and was about to add it to the shattered glass collection but my brother yanked it out in time.

Then my mom and dad started bitching, and it was mainly a blur from there. Vietnamese words I never heard before were thrown in with some “Stop it!”’s But the craziest part was when my brother joined in. Never before had he done anything, and neither had I. Usually we just sat there eating our dinner tuning it all at, but today, my brother took off. He yelled “Stop it! Both of you shut up!” and other stuff like that at the top of his lungs. His efforts were vain, as they kept on going off. Finally, my dad went upstairs to his and my mom’s room, and my brother followed. Up there I heard stuff from my dad like, “SHUT UP YOU BITCH!” and, “I can throw you out of your house right now!” (Though I believe American law says that you can’t truly ban a child from the house until he or she is 18. Maybe it’s different in fucking shitty Vietnam.)

After things went quiet upstairs, my brother came back down, and he went on about how annoying it is when my mom and my dad fought. Everytime it’s so annoying. That left my mom in silence, and he finished his dinner and went upstairs. Then I finished my dinner and went upstairs. At that point, my dad was in his room, all the lights turned off, bedroom doors wide open, and the TV on with the highest possible volume setting. Probably so my dad could pay attention to something else, and also to piss of my mom because he knows she gets horribly bad migraines from loud noise.

Then my mom went shopping, and I started typing this entry.
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Yeah. Don’t even get me started on the Decembers of 2005 and 2006 and the winters that followed.

All in all, I don’t let myself get comfortable. (Though I’m glad to say that the things that are keeping me from getting comfortable presently are rather positive as opposed to all the shit in December 2004.)