Coachella

In the Acacia 305 dorm room all we talk about is Coachella. Coachella this, and Coachella that. Needless to say, I am excited for the 4 day adventure that I will be experiencing in about a month.

On April 16th I plan to (1) take a Sociology midterm and (2) drive myself and 2 others to Indio, CA arriving at Coachella Music Festival at approximately 7:37PM followed by a 3 day experience that I plan to never forget. Yes, I am excited for portable showers. Yes, I'm excited for porta-potties. Yes, I'm excited for 100+ degree weather. Yes, I'm excited about sleeping in a tent for 4 nights. Yes, I'm excited to get sunburnt. Yes, I'm excited to have to deal with obnoxious people. Yes, I'm excited for a possible heat stroke. And YES, I'm sad that Amy Winehouse canceled.

Of 150+ people/bands that are playing, it is of no question that I am super excited about Paul McCartney. I think I'll be among those running through the gates on Friday when they open at 12:01PM and heading directly for the stage Paul will be playing at 7 hours later. But other than the ex-Beatle, there are many others I really am dying to see. Here's a list of the people I want to see:

Friday-
Franz Ferdinan
Girl Talk
Leonard Cohen
Morrissey
Paul McCartney
Silver Sun Pickups
Steve Aoki
The Hold Steady

Saturday--
Atmosphere
Band Of Horses
Blitzen Trapper
Calexico
Fleet Foxes
Jenny Lewis
The Chemical Brothers
TV On The Radio

Sunday--
My Bloody Valentine
Peter Bjorn and John
Public Enemy
The Cure
The Kills
X
Yeah Yeah Yeahs

As Borat would say, "I'm So Excite!"

I Want To Pop The Pimple

         It has recently come to my attention by a very close friend of mine that my posts have been extremely angry and full of rage. It is true. I'm not going to lie about my rage problems. Everyone has them, and I just happen to be vocal about them. Hopefully, everyone will understand that my dry sense of humor is somewhat funny to myself and not to be taken in a negative way. However, please, let me take this moment to bring to your attention a thing I like to call venting. 

        Various people, various assignments, various actions, and various altercations make me want to punch certain people in their faces. I want to dig my half-inch nails into different people's backs sometimes, squeeze their throats until their eyes pop out, and sabotage every aspect of their insignificant lives with my heroic sense of underdog-ness that seems to prevail around my ever growing ego.  I have become a maniac. 

         Certainly in my everyday far-from-average college student life I won't be seen violently tearing into annoying people's backs leaving a puddle for the cute little Asian man to clean here at the dorms, nor will I be seen actually lunging across a meeting table to squeeze the brains out of anyone. NO. Not me. I care too much about my reputation. 

         You see, I can be either the crazy white girl that is annoyingly straight forward about life, or I can be the passive asian that lets the world's problems build up inside of her. When I sit on my couch at home in Torrance I become the crazy white girl who has the 'I don't care' persona, but when people who I haven't known for my entire life come into the picture I tend to be the passive asian. Great. Just what I need be--a passive asian when I look entirely white and act entirely white 99.5% of the time. Two words for myself-Stress Ball. 

         And this my friends is why I will probably explode on you, or one of your friends, within the next month. Let me apologize in advanced, but you have been warned. 

I was so much older then...

Why do I feel so much older these days? I'm really only one day older than yesterday, but society has now labeled me as an entire year older. Why do I have to grow-up? 

This year has really been remarkable. I have gone through so much stuff that I'm not sure anyone can understand, but I'm glad it all happened. I have become a stronger person in 2008. Saying good-bye to the past has never felt better. I feel like I'm saying good-bye to the self-proclaimed mature Kacie and hopefully welcoming a more youthful version of myself. What I'm trying to say is that I think I grew-up really fast in 2008. Let's just say I experienced a lot of firsts that weathered my soul. I'm glad those experiences happened, but I'm just going to take a step back this year and realize that life is way too short for me to be worried about things bigger than myself. I'm pretty sure I was older in my past, and I'm so much younger than that now.  And that my friends is why Bob Dylan is amazing. 

"I was so much older then. I'm Younger than that now." 

-Bob Dylan, My Back Pages 

Imitations of Life

My journal title says it all. This journal is essentially an imitation of life. Quite literally, journals should reflect how terrible and miserable our lives are at some points, but 'blogs' have disgraced the whole idea of self-expression through journaling. How often do people censor what they publish in hopes that their friends don't see how they really are affected? Bloggers often propose their 'imitations' by predicting their selfish goals of losing weight that they have gained by eating too much yams, turkey, and stuffing. As for me, this is not a blog, nor a tool to satisfy or keep readers entertained. This is literally a journal. A journal to be looked upon as a type of self-expression that I cannot possibly obtain through anything else. However, since I (like many other bloggers) care what everyone thinks of me, I guess I will censor some of my thoughts, and become a little more like you. Maybe I should just rename this entire journal Limitations of Life. That, my friend, would most likely be a better name for my new censored type of self-expression on this blog.  

"California dreamin' on a such a winter day..."

         Today in Fullerton, unlike the song, the leaves are not brown and the sky is not gray. The weather has been far from unenjoyable.  It seems that every year California gets a little further away from truly experiencing a winter. However, I have no complaints other than my inability to fully enjoy the winter's lack of winter.  I have been cooped up in this dorm room for what seems an eternity plus a few years. 

       I am a Resident Advisor which basically means I have surrendered myself to a year of nothing-ness other than busting up marijuana-infested parties with ecstasy-popping nineteen and twenty-something year olds who have absolutely nothing better to do than make me irritated. I have seen it all: locked out drunks at four-thirty in the morning, fire alarms at three in the morning, mysterious smells covered up with cologne coming from various rooms, and the indisputable most irritating event-2AM parties which lead to five arrests that lead well into the five o'clock hour when I should be sleeping.  As an RA you either join in on the fun that some residents have or take a step back (and then forward) and turn against even your best of RA friends who have fallen victim to other resident's demise. Yes, it is true, even RAs must rat out their own RA friends.  

       I, however, don't fall into either of these two categories. I am not, for lack of a better word, a 'bad' RA, nor am I a 'good' RA. There are times when I truly do try to be good at my job, but I must admit sometimes I wonder if I just flat out suck at this way of life. I simply supervise my residents rather than take power trips. I will suggest that my residents, however, not tell me when they will be drinking in their dorm-it makes for a better night for both of us. 

      Today, as the day progressed into a night that is just as enjoyable, I have realized that the summer-felt day could have been better. I could have actually done something other than sit in my living room with my laptop under my hands. I could have gone for a walk through the Hollywood. I could have went to the beach back home or written a few uninteresting songs about how great the weather was, but I didn't. Instead of taking full advantage of this summer day in the middle of winter, I sat on my couch and watched the television, and that my friend is why being an RA absolutely sucks.