Jul. 22nd, 2012 11:07 am
chu_totoro: (random-- green tea)
I will lose my journal, so here is the madness, in all its entirety.

storage )
chu_totoro: (random-- knowledge is evil)
essay )

I can't believe I cited Angelic Layer in an academic paper and got away with it. Also, no, that's not the title I turned the essay in with. (HAHA if only)
chu_totoro: (Chobits-- winz0rz)
(June 16, 2009)

Dear Adela,

Congratulations! Your initial application has been accepted for the Lincoln University - KCP Intensive Japanese Language and Culture Program offered in Tokyo, Japan for this Fall term.

I have attached a registration packet with some additional forms for you to complete. The only exception is the Arrival/Departure Form-- this form does NOT need to be submitted at this time. Please try and complete the forms within the next two weeks. Only after complete receipt of these forms, and payment, will your acceptance be finalized.

(Note: An invoice will be sent by Lincoln University. Payment for the program will be made directly to Lincoln University.)

Please REPLY to this email letting me know you have successfully downloaded our Registration Forms. If you should have any questions, please feel free to email me at or call me direct at 360-441-1800.

Best regards,




Jun. 22nd, 2009 11:51 pm
chu_totoro: (random-- knowledge is evil)
So this conversation isn't all that impressive, really, except that I clarified some thoughts on society and identity and sexuality and am once again at peace with myself. Kind of like - the stuff you always knew but never really sorted out until you, well, sorted it out.

I should organize this into a more coherent essay sometime. With more background than we bothered to cite to each other because, I mean, we knew each other well enough not to...

AIM storage log )


edit: So I think I just may revoke that statement because when I think about in SHS (orchestra at least) (now at least) (now that I think about it, maybe that isn't exactly true either) (I should stop going back and adding comments in parentheses) I hang out with girls more than boys! Maybe Korean boys are just cooler. Or maybe Korean girls are just too different, who knows.

Although, it definitely happened on the SJYS trip too. And to some degree in Australia... no okay that doesn't really count. That was more like co-ed with pervertedness meter to the extreme.

Also, I loved hanging around the tech room back when the Asian gamer crew was still around (sophomore year?) (they've been replaced now! by... the white gamer crew lmao) and that was all male. Also I love frisbee and half the time that's all male. That's when Lilith first started calling me a manwoman & I first started calling her a pansexual white freak! hahaha Vincent your girlfriend is pansexual.


So back to conclusion #1: I am androgynous! Except I like boys, and I think a truly androgynous person would be bisexual.

ahahaha fuck it. It all boils down to semantics anyways.
chu_totoro: (Kenshin-- I can fly)
As such, I will fill in today with a story I wrote ages ago and for some reason never posted!

I basically forgot about it until it came out again (a week ago? three?) in Soundings.

Kinda raw around the edges but if I'm too busy to write up real posts I'm obviously too busy to polish my writing.

And so...

story )

addendum-- let's throw in a poem while we're at it!

(this is also old/from Soundings)

poem )
chu_totoro: (TRC-- flowers)
story 67

once there lived two squirrels together up in a tree.

one day the boy squirrel heard tell of a group trip to acorn heaven. he became very excited and raced back to tell the girl squirrel , but she wasn’t interested. the boy squirrel had to make plans himself.

throughout the week he scurried about, packing up and preparing for the big trip. the girl squirrel watched in silence.

the watching began to make the boy squirrel uncomfortable. he began to worry about the girl squirrel spending so much time home alone. would she manage? he fussed over this, he fussed over that. finally, the day before the trip, he went to the travel group and announced he wasn’t going. he would go next time.

feeling chipper, the boy squirrel scurried home. the girl squirrel wasn’t there, which was strange, but that’s okay, he would tell her later.

twenty minutes later, the girl squirrel came home. nose-twitching and teary-eyed, she admitted that she had signed up last minute to join the trip so she could be with him.

so the girl squirrel ended up going to acorn heaven with the travel group. she saw many cool things, had many fun experiences, and, above all, ate many acorns. the other squirrels were friendly and helpful and she made many friends. but she could never completely enjoy herself. every time she saw something new, tried something different, tasted something exotic, the one that she wanted to share it with... wasn’t there. and her heart hurt.

when she finally returned, she was startled to discover that the boy squirrel, in the monotony of days alone, had moved in with a different squirrel.

because those who follow always find themselves chasing... and chasing... and chasing...

and those who decide always... find it easier to walk away.




Apr. 27th, 2009 05:26 pm
chu_totoro: (FMA-- exhale)
Supposed work progress--
1. First draft (rough)
2. Second draft (heavy revision)
3. Final draft (last tweakings)

Adela's work progress--
1. Half-assed outline
2. Half of an essay
3. Other half of essay//no revisions


However! At least it was better than Tiffany's work progress--
1. First draft (doesn't like)
2. Second draft (doesn't like)
3. Scrap this topic new essay!!! (with 4 hours to go)

Oh boy.

So glad it's over. :] Now all that's left is some Bio tests and APs...

essay as follows )


Jan. 23rd, 2009 01:40 am
chu_totoro: (random-- bookworm)
not at my best at one in the morning. I can't honestly say where this came from, except that I have a lot of cats, I had been thinking about a boy and his cat (although in a very different context), and I read [ profile] iggyzzz's story here, and all that somehow combined with late-night anti-insomnia (as in, it's not that I can't sleep, it's that I can and in fact quite want to, but for some reason don't) to give rise to this.

mmmmmm )
chu_totoro: (Miyazaki-- Tales of Earthsea)
this was my original intent; I realize the story is written somewhat vaguely and could probably be interpreted differently (or not interpreted at all), but here goes.


Vera: derives from Latin/Slavic, a name that means "faith; truth"
Themis: greek goddess of justice


Honey: love
Vera: faith
Themis: justice/good judgment/an understanding of things
Apple Street: derives from the concept of Adam and Eve and the forbidden fruit, which is most commonly said to be an apple (though nowhere does it say that in the bible?); it is the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, and as this is a story about good and evil (of sorts), the street is named Apple Street
turtle: in Eastern mythology the turtle is good, in a lot of Western mythology it's bad, as such the turtle wasn't really intended to symbolize anything in and of itself, though...
star-shaped pattern on turtle's back: what's a five pointed star put inside a (roughly) circular shape? A PENTAGRAM!!! DUN DUN DUN


the general idea is that love and faith (you could think of it as belief) must needs be tempered with justice/good judgment, or else they walk blind. and blind love and blind faith are quite scary to behold.

subideas that love/faith, WHEN combined w/justice/judgment, are extremely powerful as a whole and can achieve the seemingly impossible (i.e. miracles).

also that blind faith does not believe itself blind, and while the two think they can see they can't, actually, and end up doing more harm than good because they do not perceive correctly (the sea)

errrrrrr I think there's other subideas but they're all pretty similar so I'll stop here.


Dec. 30th, 2008 11:06 am
chu_totoro: (random-- green tea)
Essay Option 3. Chicago author Nelson Algren said, "A writer does well if in his whole life he can tell the story of one street." Chicagoans, but not just Chicagoans, have always found something instructive, and pleasing, and profound in the stories of their block, of Main Street, of Highway 61, of a farm lane, of the Celestial Highway. Tell us the story of a street, path, road - real or imagined or metaphorical.

assignment: uchicago supplementary essay
comments: this isn't really an essay. and I really should edit it more, but I don't think I'll be able to before the deadline, so whatever.

The Tale of Apple Street )

original intention/interpretation here unlinked for the time being. relink later.
chu_totoro: (xxxholic-- sweatdrop)
The assignment was to write a definition essay (of sorts). Two hours before the deadline, Adela realized that she had naught but a very sketchy BS rough draft, and - it was a lovely night, she was just about to finish off the last of her hot drink and toddle off to bed, and really, the last thing she wanted to do was write an essay.

Which resulted in this:

who cites facebook? honestly )

I think this is proof that I have long, long since passed the point of no return.

(by the way [ profile] cougarfang THAT FRIEND WAS YOU and that meme up there is total BS because god knows I don't remember the first meme I ever saw but hey, it's an essay, I have artistic license to make stuff up, right?)


Jul. 26th, 2008 09:10 am
chu_totoro: (random-- green tea)
this was something I wrote in the first week, supposedly a first-person adaptation of story 57 except halfway through it totally died and ended without my intending to end it, which would have made me angry and foot-stampy, only I was too exhausted by then to care (oh deadlines). so yes.

I still hold a certain penchant for the... original. The people who read this first don't like the original v. much, but I s'pose each to their own.

unedited - beware )
chu_totoro: (TRC-- lol)
A random assignment from our CW class.

Disclaimer: This is in no way meant to be politically correct because I suck at politics, and yes, I know bricks are rectangular and not square. Whatever.

Dear Brick,

You look very bricky today. I wonder why that is. Perhaps it is because you are a brick. I’ve always had a penchant for bricks. They’re very… red. And cracked. And shiny. Besides, they’re square. Who doesn’t love a square? Square things fit so perfectly together. All the lines and the corners and the ninety degree angles – no silly curves, like a circle. Gosh, those circles. They’re positively nonconformist. Put a circle with a circle, a circle with a square, a circle with a triangle… no matter what you do, they always find some way to leave a gap. I mean, even oddly shaped polygons like a star, which does not fit properly with another star, can find their match in diamonds. Oh no, not the circle. The only thing a circle fits in is a hole. A sewage entrance, for example.

(I hear in Japan they have begun designing cube-shaped watermelons for precisely this reason, for a watermelon is a circle in three dimensions and more fearsome than the circle alone.)

Back to bricks, though. Many fun things are measured in bricks. Gold is measured in bricks. Cocaine is measured in bricks. Badly designed Canadian furniture is measured in bricks. In fact, the brick is so great, they named a species of moth after it. They named Newark, New Jersey after it, too, only no one cares but the crackheads.

Hey. Did you know, ‘brick’ rhymes with ‘kick’? It also rhymes with ‘sick’ and ‘slick’ and ‘pogo stick.’ I could write a poem with that.

Look, a brick!
… how sick!
That just gives me
Such a kick.
A brick's so slick,
It could be a pogo stick!

I dedicate that to you, Brick.

You know, ‘brick’ is a fun word to say. So is ‘brickwork.’ Come to thik of it, ‘brickyworky’ is even better. It’s just one of those words, like ‘Penelope’ or ‘discombobulate,’ that you can say over and over again until your friends get so irritated they threaten to knock you over the head, and still it doesn’t get old. “Why, that wouldn’t be very nice,” you could say to them. “What a brickyworky thing for you to do!” Y’see, the beauty of ‘brickyworky’ is that it isn’t actually a word, so you can adapt it to be noun, verb, adjective, anything and everything you’d like it to be. It’s almost like being god!

On top of that, bricks have personality. Scottish bricks all look large and grey and a little burnt, piled up in walls to keep out the sheep. German bricks are all identical and perfectly sandpapered down to the last nanometer, miniature swastikas imprinted on the back, while each brick in France is a different size and has its own stylistic flourishes. English bricks procreate at an amazing rate, and have completely dominated the country with their presence since 549 AD. Irish bricks, on the other hand, are made of beer, and can’t hold together long enough to achieve anything of import. (It should be noted here that Chinese bricks are made of blood, and remain some of the sturdiest stuff on the planet.) As for the United States, it decided after the Industrial Revolution that it was too lazy for the likes of bricks and invented fast food chains instead.

Well, Brick, it’s been a long day, and I think I’ve spent enough of it discussing with you the bricklical nature of the brickiness of bricky bricks. Farewell! I hope your brickiness stays with you for ever and ever to the last days of your bricky life. :)

Adela Chang
chu_totoro: (xxxholic-- sweatdrop)
wow do I feel obnoxious using second-person direct address. and a bit egotistic hypocritical too. like, who am I to say? but it sounds better without the self-doubt. >>; esp as I'm already over word limit...

In other news, SF today. post on that later.

practice write #9 )
chu_totoro: (random-- aww bunny)

By Ogden Nash

Belinda lived in a little white house,
With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,
And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,
And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.

Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink,
And the little gray mouse, she called her Blink,
And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard,
But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.

Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth,
And spikes on top of him and scales underneath,
Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose,
And realio, trulio, daggers on his toes.

Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,
Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful,
Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival,
They all sat laughing in the little red wagon
At the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.

Belinda giggled till she shook the house,
And Blink said Week!, which is giggling for a mouse,
Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age,
When Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound,
And Mustard growled, and they all looked around.
Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda,
For there was a pirate, climbing in the winda.

Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right,
And he held in his teeth a cutlass bright,
His beard was black, one leg was wood;
It was clear that the pirate meant no good.

Belinda paled, and she cried, Help! Help!
But Mustard fled with a terrified yelp,
Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household,
And little mouse Blink strategically mouseholed.

But up jumped Custard, snorting like an engine,
Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon,
With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm
He went at the pirate like a robin at a worm.

The pirate gaped at Belinda's dragon,
And gulped some grog from his pocket flagon,
He fired two bullets but they didn't hit,
And Custard gobbled him, every bit.

Belinda embraced him, Mustard licked him,
No one mourned for his pirate victim
Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate
Around the dragon that ate the pyrate.

Belinda still lives in her little white house,
With her little black kitten and her little gray mouse,
And her little yellow dog and her little red wagon,
And her realio, trulio, little pet dragon.

Belinda is as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chase lions down the stairs,
Mustard is as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe cage.
chu_totoro: (xxxholic-- wut?)
...I could have sworn I got like. a 9/35 on that test.

I guess I dreamt it or something.


Not that, y'know, 26/35 helps that much. Actually it's bringing grade down more! but well, not to an unsalvageable point.

I'm letting way too much depend on the finals. watch me faiiiiiiiiil.

1150 edit: storage )
chu_totoro: (Kenshin-- I can fly)

I just had a big long ramble here on how computer addictions are really unhealthy for me, then deleted it.


It's not a one time thing, though. Despite my periodic abandonments of all usage of computer at all (indeed, all desire to use the computer, because I can't abandon it any other way), eventually I slip back.

'sbeen like this since. hahahaha. ever since I can remember.

I think I'll resign myself to a longterm addict.

hahaha I can't believe I turned into a fangirl over spring break, though. that cracks me up.

anyway, small memo here to myself:

and the phoenix flew on wings of fire
through a cyclone
to a pinecone

go joe~

and while we're in the spirit:

and the demon creeped up through the pipes
in a sector
of a vector
to a Rector

hahaha Rector. They spelled his name wrong. Unless they were right and it's Erik and I'm wrong. y'know, Erik looks cooler. Maybe I am wrong.

Ultimate conclusion: lack of sleep makes me make very little sense, even to myself. or more like especially to myself. Maybe I make sense to everyone but myself. but I'm sure you all knew this already

In other news, Ninad visited today. I walked right past him. AGAIN. How many times has he done this to me? It's always "hey Adela!" "hi" *five seconds later* "WAIT what???"

His college is OUT already. So unfair.

So apparently. In his college. They convinced someone who was sober that he was drunk. Everybody congregated on him until the poor guy was so confused- at first they were cracking joke about this guy who lives underneath him on the 1st story or something that he's apparently never met throughout the school year (the guy didn't actually exist, they were just poking fun @ him), but they were dead serious, and then the guy started getting really confused. And then it was,

"Aw, don't fret about. You're just drunk, that's all. You'll remember him when you wake up."
"But I'm not drunk! I'm absolutely sober! I swear I haven't touched one-"
"You are, you are, trust me. We just had a party... *etcetc insert lies here*"
"...what. I'm sober. I'm sober!"
", they're just pulling a trick on you. Don't listen to them."
"......" *suspiciously* "Now YOU'RE trying to trick me!"
"....." *gives up* "Yeah, OK man, you're drunk. Sorry about that." *joins everyone else*

that sounds like the most hilarious prank to play ever. XD

edit: I just remembered that I was planning to write the LA trip stuff in installments. except my weekends have been so ridiculously filled that I haven't been doing so.

and what happened to the two awesome stories I wrote while on trip wtf?

I'll at least post them when I find them.

hahaha the longer I delay, the more I forget. ohwellz.



it took me half an hour to find my rosin.

obviously, I haven't practised cello for far longer than I'd thought.

edit3: ow. my back hurts.

how long has it been since I honestly practiced cello anyway?
chu_totoro: (FMA-- chibi Ed)
The Biography of Dr. Watermelon King, Jr.

Once upon a time,
a watermelon was born. It was different from all the other watermelons. Even the ugly duckling could not help him in their therapy sessions. The watermelon was so desperate that he even sought the counsel of Rudolph, Ph.D., but it was all to no avail. The watermelon was alone.

The watermelon decided to travel to Africa and maybe find different species of watermelons. So, he hopped on a plane. However, the watermelon was too round and squishy to fit in one seat, so he had to take up a whole back row of the plane. It was a little hard, but he managed to fit. The plane rocked back and forth battling the African winds that blow in both directions. The watermelon felt his squishy insides flow and slosh all around. Finally the plane landed in the Sahara Desert.
The watermelon rolled out and almost immediately withered in the heat. Quickly, desperate, it rolled back into the plane and ordered takeoff to somewhere, anywhere. Unfortunately, the pilot refused. No gas, he said. The watermelon began to weep.

"No! No!" He cried disconsolately (is that the right word?). His tears gushed from his tiny watermelon eyes uncontrolled, each drop splashing to the sandy ground. Soon enough, his tears formed a small lake and bore him away into the ocean!

The watermelon had many adventures, enough to rival Odysseus. However, It was a pity that Homer did not speak watermelon. On one of these adventures, it met Mr. and Mrs. Smith. They taught him how to be cool, but most importantly, they taught instilled in him a new confidence. The watermelon had changed – it he was no longer the introverted fruit of his past. Now he h He had metamorphosized – now he was a watermelon WITH SHADES!

He felt so cool with new shades. Most importantly, Mr. and Mrs. Smith taught him/recruited him to work for the African Watermelon FBI. Watermelon felts so cool and excited that he would get to work with other watermelons. Mr. and Mrs. Smith brought watermelon in their top secret Hummer and they sped across the desert to African watermelon headquarters.
There he was given top secret missions, mostly assassination because nobody suspected a watermelon to do any harm, even if it was shaped like an octagon. It trained itself how to smash and kill without harming itself. In this fashion it assassinated president Bush, whose case remained a mystery ever since.

Soon enough, the watermelon grew restless. There must be more to life than assassinating presidents. In the personal armed helicopter he received as part of his upon completion of his mission, the watermelon donned his cool shades and set off for home. He wondered how he would be received there after these many years. Would he be recognized? Would he be accepted after becoming so cool like Mr. and Mrs. Smith? Shrugging off his worries, the watermelon flipped on some Asian rock music and took off.

However, the home he arrived to was not the same one he had left. The watermelons were no longer their beautiful, round, deep green selves. The land of his childhood had been overtaken with hideous, lumpy, glaring orange pumpkins. Those watermelons who had once laughed at him were now either rotting or long gone. The pumpkins in their greed had driven out the watermelons, who were forced to migrate to uncharted lands and seas. Our young watermelon was now wise beyond his years. He looked up at the stars through his stunna shades, and there he saw his destiny.

He realized he was the only one of his race that survived. He realized that being different could be a good thing. His octagon figure did not fit in with the hideous pumpkins, so he decided to trek back to his hometown, Oklawaterma, Mississippi. When he got entered his small, but snug hometown, he saw that the town was deserted. Fine da dust covered all the roofs of the houses. Watermelon thought to hiMS"elf, "Oh god, not the Dust Cup!"

The Dust Cup, as they knew it, was a giant duststorm that swallowed everything in its path (you could not survive if caught in the middle of it) and afterwards left a layer of dust over everything so that nothing was accessible. The watermelon, then, would have fallen to its knees if it had had any, but being an octagonal watermelon, it merely rolled (in a very awkward fashion) in its grief, but as it rolled inside one of the watermelon huts, a sparkle caught its eye. It turned around, and saw on the table... a GIANT SPARKLING STAR. !!!

Entranced, the watermelon rolled toward the table only to realize, unfortunately, that it was too high to reach. In frustration, he knocked his head (his whole self) on the leg of the table. An inkling of stardust fell upon his head. Before he knew it, not only was he the only octagonal watermelon, but also the biggest fruit in the world. And, being so big, he burst through the small watermelon hut. Oh no! He thought. He had no protection from the horrible A Dust Cup!
But he looked around, and saw the cracked melons and shriveled plants. Then he realized that the what he had to do. Taking one last look at the night sky, he saw the constellations of his ancestors smiling down upon him. The watermelon took a deep breath and whipped off his shades. In a solemn, stentorian voice, he announced to all and sundry, "Muy friends, my foes, my family: I am the giant octagonal watermelon who once faced scorn and derision. But I have come a long ways since then, and today I will prove it. Today I will end my life; I will explode. The cool waters that flow from my giant frame will help sustain you all. I ask for n In ending my life, I ask for nothing in return, only the hope that from now on we may judge a fruit’s character not by his the differences, but of his shapes but the differences he makes in the world. I have a dream... but enough now. You have a life to live!" And as the boom of his voice faded, the watermelon flicked his sunglasses on, launched hiMS"elf into the air, and fell back down, exploding upon impact. And then –

The watermelon was no more. He had given his life so that others may lifve. All that remained were a pair of the coolest shades you’ve ever seen.


by Adela Chang, Yang Hong, Jessica Ye, Emily Hur                                                                     04.26.07
chu_totoro: (TRC-- flowers)
ahahaha I forgot to post this up last night before I went to bed x___X

AIM storage w00t. deb wrote a story AND joe did too! )

too lazy to go through and single out the stories, so if you want to read them you have to read everything. xD;; they're pretty random. It's really funny. When it's Del and Lulu, the stories are perverted as hell, and when it's Deb and Joe, they're random as hell. :D

Let's plan a gathering! Who's free... lessay... Wednesday?

btw Louis do you have a car you could drive people around with? because that would be helpful I think.

Zomg I have a car now! supposedly. My grandma bought a nice new one so obviously I get the crappy old one, but hey it's a car. Except that I can't drive people around, obv. and I don't think you want me to drive you because you'll die of a heart attack if not of a car crash, so yes. ^^

I need to make a checklist of everything I have to do over break. Otherwise I'm not going to do any of it. x______x

:] ♥♥ y'all~

2. Sasuke's back! He looks HORRIBLE and has REALLY REALLY bad taste in clothing, but he's back!! And now I'm mostly caught up w/Naruto, like only a volume behind, I'll wait for some more volumes to come out before reading again. xD
3. I beat the computer at SC lawlz~ still need to get Venuti's CDkey. :o


chu_totoro: (Default)

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