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[x-Tariraritarara-x]

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❝xxძ і ѕ с ο m αxx❞

✗BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANK Hαʑαгї Պօгїօӄα----❚ ❚ ❚----

⌊x-x-x-x-x-x-BLANKBLANKTWO✸BLANKBLANKTWOx-x-x-x-x-x-x⌋

U p ԁ а т є TWO•TWO ℰѕℂÅp℮

ʟøɢɪč BLANKxx•••

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The past two days had been hectic, to say the least. Hazari found himself staying long hours in the Fame building, working on a variety of designs and outfits that needed to be completely put together. With Alena's enhanced work productivity, he himself had pressure placed on his shoulders. His boss was already churning out work for the next issue, and so Hazari needed to keep up. He had to work on new designs with the new "serious" tone in mind. Despite it being Rainie's idea, he had still yet to meet up with her somewhere and exchange ideas. Things came up, and as much as he hated missing appointments (for the sake of staying in good favour with the person he had planned it with), he simply couldn't make anything work out with the younger designer. He had little free time, and whenever he scheduled a meeting over lunch, he always ended up working through it. On top of that, Alena had requested something new for the upcoming Editor's Ball, but with such short notice, he had to, with some difficulty, decline. Alena hadn't seemed too upset with him, but he felt that he should repay her regardless. And so he opened up one of his closets, which contained items not yet revealed to the public, to her to dig through as she pleased. It was the least he could do-- an obligation, he felt it to be. She had chosen a lovely dress in a brilliant shade of red. It was a personal favorite of his, and before Alena had even picked it out, Hazari envisioned her filling it out. After all, red was a beautiful color on her. Before she took it home with her, he helped tailor it perfectly to her body shape, and, of his own accord, he embellished it with what he thought would make it the most stunning gown on the floor. That was how he treated every one of his creations, no matter how rushed (although he preferred to take his time). Each outfit he hand-crafted to be purely one-of-a-kind and absolutely astonishing-- in both senses of the word. And it was with such meticulous care that he fitted this dress for Alena, so that he, as well as the rest of the company, could feel proud to work under such a great woman. He had no doubt that she would outshine the others regardless.

Hazari had only heard bits and pieces of the rumors circulating through the building over the past three days, but eventually he collected enough to formulate a story that at least made some sense to him. But the most staggering news was the news of Devin's abrupt departure. Fired or left on his own, Hazari was not sure, but it had certainly taken him by surprise. The photographer had been a friend of his, back when they worked for Vogue. After all, Hazari had called him before deciding whether or not to accept Alena's offer to change to Fame, so it was a shocking fact that he had not heard of Devin's exit sooner and in more detail. Sure, the two had grown apart since working under the Fame label, but Hazari had expected maybe a call or a text of some sort. But he hadn't the time to worry over it. Not even in the evenings when he usually reflected on the events of the day. With such long hours the past couple of days, Hazari usually went straight home to sleep, most of the time skipping dinner as well. It was safe to say that he had probably dropped a few pounds (not that he needed to), as he had the terrible habit of sacrificing food and sleep-- which one would think a necessity for survival-- for anything else in the world. Neither had much importance to him.

The day of the Ball, Hazari spent as much time working as he could. Most of the women had left early to get ready-- to do nails, hair, makeup and such-- and so Hazari thought he would stay, with a few other staff, so that the building was not completely deserted. Hazari couldn't say he wasn't feminine-- even if slightly-- and he couldn't deny the fact that he often spent more time getting dressed and fixing himself up than most other men did, but he could not imagine himself spending half a day readying himself for a party, no matter how huge. But when he finally did return home in the early afternoon, he only spent the usual amount of time. Perhaps just slightly longer. He needed to touch up his hair-- to cover up the silver again, which he had previously let shine through his bangs and the longer parts in the back. To be more professional, it needed to be a solid color. And he straightened it, which was something he did only rarely, and lifted it at the roots with a strong hairspray to give it body so that his face did not look so long and gaunt. That was always a problem, especially when he was as sleep-deprived as he was, as flat hair typically made him appear sick.

His clothes came next, which typically didn't take up as much time as cosmetics. As much as he spent choosing and coordinating outfits for others, Hazari spent less than half that time picking out his own. He hadn't even bothered making something new for himself, but he had altered a few of his existing items to create a unique outfit for the party. He hated re-wearing things to public events like that, especially when he was there to impress or to represent Fame. Representatives from Vogue would be there, no doubt, and although he still maintained a few old friendships, he certainly did not want to appear unfashionable or slovenly. So then why did he choose something casual rather than something elegant and classy? Simple: Hazari had never liked conforming to social norms, and he had never been too fond of suits. His outfit was primarily leather, a mesh shirt beneath, a few chains of jewelry... Not something commonly seen, if seen at all, at a ball. He completed it with a pair of black boots with thick, heavy heels. Regardless of other opinions, he felt he could still pull off class and elegance in such an outfit.

He was on his way then. He snagged his keys from the key hook in the kitchen and went down to the parking garage where he retrieved his sleek black sports car. The place where the Ball was being held was a bit farther away from his flat than Fame was, and he hadn't the desire to deal with the paparazzi and cameras at the front entrance. So he would drive himself. Hazari slipped into the driver's side of his car and cranked the engine while simultaneously withdrawing a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket with his free hand. He took one between his teeth and found his lighter with the hand previously on his keys. It was not until he had a flame gently smouldering did he pull out and start for the party. Automatically a CD picked up where it had left off with the last drive and Hazari turned up the volume. It was a good night so far. The weather was nice-- he could feel the crisp breeze through the cracked window-- and he was in generally good spirits for such lack of sleep. He even felt a smile on his mouth for no reason at all. Lifting his cigarette to his lips, he took a deep breath and returned his hand to the window. He let the smoke diffuse slowly rather than forcing it all out with one exhale and hummed along with the song playing from his radio.

Hazari drove to the back entrance of the building, completely bypassing the cameras and flashing lights. He stepped out and paid the valet, who took the car with deference and motioned to the door. Hazari thanked the man, took another long drag from his cigarette, and then put it out in a nearby ashtray before going inside. He had no doubt that he probably smelt like smoke now, but with so many people in one room, it didn't matter. There were bound to be other smokers. As he stepped through the doors, his eyes swept over the crowd. He saw many people he knew, both from Fame and from other companies. And there was Alena, in her beautiful ruby gown. Hazari smiled at the sight. She certainly stood out. He looked over the rest of the gathering, noticing Devin was there as well with a few employees from Vogue that Hazari recognized from his own life there. And Phoenix and Ben were there as well, together it seemed. Hazari had always admired the model. She had a beautiful body, and a beautiful face to match. He always loved to see her in his designs. And even when she wasn't wearing them, he still thought her irresistible. But there she was with Ben. Hazari shrugged it off. They were both models. Karera wa tsuriai ga torete iru to omou. His gaze lingered only a moment longer before he went to searching out something to do. He made his way to the outer part of the dance floor and leaned against the ornate wall, wishing he hadn't put out his cigarette.





* * * * * *
*karera wa...to omou - "They go together, I guess."


((I took so long to post. Sorry! I'll try not to be this late again. ))







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[x-Tariraritarara-x]

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ϒσυ ɑɳɗ Ί : ɑℓℓ Ϯђϵ ʄɑɱϵ
[ Loki ] and what's her name !?

§ħαrє Tħє §ταgє !!

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo§ταηđїηg Ovατїoη

♥ » sign HERE please !!
________ Loki Shea Young

♥ » but PLEASE call meee
________ Just Loki - - -
___________ How else can you shorten it?

♥ » its time to CAKE someone !
________ November fifth •||• Twenty-two

♥ » can i have a trip down your pants?
________ I'm pretty sure I'm a guy

♥ » That trip down my pants will lead to some sexin!
________ I like women, without a doubt.
___________ ( wish they would like me... )

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoMαgαzїηєs

♥ » once upon a time...
I'm going to say this first: I'm adopted. My birth certificate says Min Kyung Hwang, but obviously I don't go by that name, nor can I pronounce it. John and Linda Young are my adoptive parents. Aren't those extremely white names, huh? They're both pretty white, and I grew up in a white community, so aside from my obvious (and unfortunate) Asian appearance, I'm entirely white myself. I can't speak another language-- hell, I barely know English-- and I'm definitely not smart. You may think I'm being too harsh on myself or too modest, but I'm not kidding. When I was little, I had to have my IQ tested not to see whether I could be considered a genius, but to make sure I wasn't retarded. I'm not, but I still made Ds in general algebra during my senior year in high school. Actually, I made bad grades in nearly all of my classes, and my parents, although pretty laid-back about my schoolwork, had to hire a tutor to help me so that I wouldn't fail out of school. Pretty bad, huh? I guess it's not surprising that I didn't go to college. So for the past however many years it's been since high school (did I mention I'm not good at math?), I've worked and lost many jobs, none of them particularly glamorous or high-paying. For the last year though, I've been working in stocking and inventory at the grocery store near my apartment. It's one of the better jobs I've had, but unfortunately I've had to quit in order to do this television show.

I guess I'll rewind a little and talk about my history. I don't know who my original parents are, but my uncle, who used to live down the street with my cousin and her parents, said he knew my birth mom, but had never met my dad [note : Loki's "uncle" was actually the man married to his mother, but is not Loki's actual father. Loki's biological father is either his biological mother's own uncle, or an unknown traveler. Loki's "cousin's" mother is his "uncle's" sister.]. He told me I was born in some third-world country in lower China and that my mom died after I was born because of the poor medical sophistication there. That explains how I ended up in an overcrowded orphanage in Thailand. And it wasn't until I was almost three years old when I was adopted, which is kind of unusual. Most kids are adopted at younger ages. Apparently I was stupid then, too, because I didn't know how to talk until after I was adopted. And my parents knew I had trouble with academics pretty early, but I guess I'm lucky that they were always supportive.

School life was not very easy for me. Not only was I not very good at academics, I was also outcasted because I was Asian. The community I grew up in was one of those isolated, well-kept types. Almost everyone was wealthy and white. I'm sure you're wondering how there can be an all-white community in California (what with its diversity and things), but mine, like I said, was one of those isolated ones. You lived there because you were white and wealthy. It even had its own school system. My family was one of the poorest though, so that gave me a second disadvantage. In school, I didn't have many friends although I always tried to fit in. Even kids can be racist, so I was subject to most of their prejudice. There was only one other Asian in my grade, but he had Asian parents and he was definitely the smartest kid in school. Well, he was much smarter than me, at least. He was bullied, too, but most just made him do their homework. I was laughed at because, at the time, I had a stress-induced anxiety disorder that made my hair thin and fall out, and, of course, I was stupid. I never went bald though, but I was always afraid I was going to. Later on in middle school, I had anger issues. I hated everyone and I was sometimes violent for no reason at all. Needless to say, I just pushed people away. I had one friend at this point-- he was my best friend because he completely understood me-- but he moved away when I was twelve. That's when I took an interest in photography. My mom bought me a camera to get my mind off everything. I really enjoyed it, and because it wasn't academic and I couldn't technically fail at it, it was one of the few things that made me happy. I still do photography in my spare time, but I don't like showing off my photos. They aren't very good [note : Loki is just being modest. His photos, as well as his skill with Photoshop, are actually quite impressive.]. I guess you could call it a really serious hobby.

As for how I got signed up for this television show, it was completely unintentional. My parents were trying to sign me up for some sort of "financial aid," but my mom filled out a contest form for the show instead. I don't know if she did it intentionally or not. I wasn't there. But it surprised me when I received a letter in the mail saying that I had won some year-long trip to Vancouver, Canada. I don't know if I'm really excited for it or not. It's a reality show, so there are going to be cameras everywhere. I hate being in front of the camera. I don't think I'm all that great to look at. But I get a chance to go out of the state-- out of the country, even!-- and to live in a huge house. Maybe that's worth it.

♥ » can you handle me the way i are !?
I guess I could be considered an extremely tolerant person. It's really hard to bother me. When I was little, it was different, but I've gotten used to dealing with just about everything. Insults, hyperactive children, rejections, cold shoulders, problems of all sorts... You name it, I probably can handle it. I've learned that most things just aren't worth the time and energy to stress over them. I just let things happen now. Que sera sera. There's nothing else you can really do about it. Contrary to what others might think, I'm not actually all that shy. Quiet, maybe, but not shy. I'll talk if I have to. You would expect, with all the ridicule I've had to endure, that I would be scared of people... or something like that. But what's the point of that? I just live my life, and I've grown to learn to ignore what other people say or think. Of course, as pathetic as it sounds, if I said I didn't get nervous around women, I'd be lying. Women scare me shitless sometimes. I never know what they're going to do, or how they're going to react to what I say to them. When I'm around women, that's probably when I'm the shiest.

I have low self-esteem, or a low self-image... or whatever you want to call it. I honestly don't think I'm interesting at all. And I definitely wouldn't consider myself attractive. I don't really think I have any talent, even if some people like to say otherwise. Photography is just something I like to do. That doesn't mean I'm good at it. My parents tried to push me to go to a fine arts college for photography, but I really didn't think I'd make it that well, so I declined. I am a hard-worker though, even if I think what I'm doing will never turn out good. I might as well try, right? At least then it won't be total trash. Besides, I can get raises at work by putting in some extra effort. Some more money never hurt.

I'm not really one to open up my life story and tell everyone about it, but I won't hesitate to warn people that I'm not necessarily the most competent person in the world. Might as well get it over first, right? It's better than making an idiot out of yourself later on and having people realize then that you're stupid. If people still like me after that, then good for them.

♥ » this is the song of the century!
________ tadaima. - cali≠gari ---& lyrics
________ Walk You Home - Passenger

♥ » money can buy happiness...?
________ ❖ Expressive photos
________ ❖ Playing around with Photoshop
________ ❖ Music
________ ❖ Homemade food
________ ❖ Watching movies
________ ❖ Getting raises
________ ❖ Wintertime
________ ❖ My old camera, a Nikon D50
________ ❖ Fried calamari
________ ❖ Cloudy weather

♥ » keep away, i tell you!
________ ✘ Mushrooms
________ ✘ Eggplant
________ ✘ Chick flicks
________ ✘ Loud, obnoxious people
________ ✘ Rich snobs, or just snobs in general
________ ✘ When my photos turn out badly (which is pretty much all the time)
________ ✘ Academics
________ ✘ Shoppers who make messes in the aisles, but don't bother to clean up after themselves
________ ✘ Alarm clocks
________ ✘ Politics

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoAηđ Tħε Oscαr Gσεs Tσ . . .



♥ » you win the part of
________ The Photographer

♥ » really deserving of the award ...
________ x-Tariraritarara-x

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

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┅┅xx┅┅xx┅┅xx┅┅xx┅┅xx┅┅xx┅┅xxxxxx

【xxʟ o ƙ ixxʏ o u ɴ gxx】

Summertime in southern California was always hot and always dry. The sun was a merciless ball of fire that Loki greatly disliked during these months, especially when something in his apartment malfunctioned. This morning, it was the AC. He groaned loudly, despite no one being in the room to hear him, and kicked the sheets off. It was just his luck. He knew he should have taken note when his heat stopped working during one of the coldest days of the year. Of course, that was never too terrible in California, and fate must have come to that realization with a desire for vengeance. "If I can't bother Loki during the winter," it probably thought, "I can burn him up during the summer." Loki wiped the sweat miserably from his face and sat up on his futon, hating summertime even more than usual. The thick mattress suffocated him. He couldn't stand it in this heat, even as scantily dressed as he was. Yet, at the same time, his eyes burned from his fitful sleep. He wanted nothing more than to just close them and fall back asleep, had it not been so hot, of course. Reluctantly, and with his meagre energy, he forced himself to his feet and went to check the thermostat. 91℉, it read, with the air conditioner set in the ON position. Loki sighed heavily and leaned his head against the wall beside the box. The wall lent some relief from the heat, and he drifted. Until he felt his face beginning to stick, that is, and so he removed himself and returned to his futon. With this kind of start, the plane is either going to crash, or I'll be suddenly lucky and miss the one that does, he thought, climbing onto the bed to reach the window -- he was too short otherwise -- and push it up, with some difficulty, so that the outside breeze could enter his bedroom. It wasn't too much better, but it was cooler, and Loki welcomed anything that alleviated the oppressive heat. He poked his head outside and looked down at the shaded alleyway below. Even outside was easier to bear.

Loki took a breath of fresh air before pulling his head back in. Although he hadn't planned to take one before leaving, he definitely needed to shower now that he was sweaty. And a cold shower would be enjoyable, he decided. He hopped down from the futon and scooped up a couple of clothes from the floor. He had never been one to keep his room clean, though he did a decent job with the rest of his apartment. It was an old habit of his just to throw his clothes around, dirty or not, and wear whatever he happened to pick up that wasn't too wrinkled or smelly. His mother had always harped on him for it, but it had never made much of an impact. Loki looked down at the clothes he had grabbed, sifting through them to make sure he did indeed have a complete outfit in his hands before crossing the hall to the bathroom on the other side. Unfortunately, that room was even more unpleasant, as it was small and stuffy and lacked any windows. Loki put his clothes aside and ran his hand down the length of his face. He was really looking forward to a cold shower, for the first time in his life. Usually the temperature of the water was never his choice, but today was different. He even felt himself smiling slightly in anticipation as he turned the faucet on and cupped his hand beneath the stream of cool water. He could already tell it was going to be one of his most enjoyable showers.



Several minutes later, Loki emerged, accepting the thick air a little more cordially. Despite it being difficult to breath in, the heat was actually pleasant now in comparison to the ice-bath he had just taken. Without hesitating, he dried himself and threw on his clothes, which were simply a pair of cargo shorts and a light T-shirt. Of course, he had not even considered how cold it would be up north compared to southern California. And that was the farthest thing from his mind. All he cared about was staying cool. Loki slid the bathroom door open and stepped out into the hallway. The breeze from the window was circulating throughout the small apartment now, which made everything slightly more bearable. And Loki's hair was still wet with the cold water. It was good enough to keep him cool for another twenty minutes. He made his way down the short length of the hallway to the main area of his apartment -- a dining room and living room combination -- glancing at the bags by the door and remembering that he still needed to pack up his camera. It was charging on the dining table, so he easily unplugged it, rolled up the cord, and put both carefully into his camera bag. He certainly wouldn't want to forget his camera on such a momentous trip. Although he certainly didn't consider himself a professional, he knew he would be taking loads of pictures while he was in Canada.

With that safely put with the other two bags by the door, Loki grabbed the last bagel from the kitchen (and the last bit of food left in his apartment) before taking a final sweep of the place. He tidied up his room, cleaned up the bathroom, and made sure he had gotten all of the trash taken care of. After all, his apartment would be empty for an entire year, and he wasn't particularly fond of the thought of returning to a house filled with rats or roaches. He checked to make sure all of the lights and electrical devices were turned off, and he closed the window in his bedroom. He was certainly going to miss his apartment. Although it was small and cheap and occasionally something inside it malfunctioned, it was his. And he loved it just as much as a person loved an old car or an outdated iPod. He wondered about the house he would be living in for the next year. The papers had said it was large enough to accommodate twelve people, but Loki couldn't even begin to imagine it. Maybe there'll be enough to fit two people to a room? he wondered, giving his bags one final check. It was hard to believe Loki's entire wardrobe (most of it, anyway) could fit in one suitcase and still have enough room for a few of his magazines and a book or two. He had never been too interested in clothes and fashion, and so he typically didn't spend much money on them. DVDs, however, were another story. He doubted all of the movies he had rented in the past year could fit neatly in one suitcase. He had bought a couple for the trip, and had enough room for them, as well as a portable DVD player his parents bought him for the trip, in his carry-on bag. That would keep him occupied for a while.

Loki gave one final look at his apartment before picking up his bags and stepping outside. He locked the door and made his way, with surprising ease, to the landlady's office.
"Good morning, Mr. Young," the girl at the front desk chirped jovially. Loki always thought it strange when he was addressed as such, but he couldn't deny that it was somewhat pleasant. In normal situations, he was never the one with a high enough status to be spoken to so politely. Those simply words made him feel a good deal less pathetic than he typically felt.
"Good morning," he returned, a small smile on his lips. He placed his keys on the desk. "The AC's out, but everything else is good."
The girl nodded. "Yes, we've been getting calls about that. A specialist is on his way--" She paused suddenly. "Oh, you're going on that trip, aren't you?"
"Yeah. The reality show."
"I'll be sure to watch for you," she promised, grinning brightly.
Loki forced a laugh. "Uh... okay." He would have preferred her not to watch, as he wasn't sure how the show was going to go, but he hoped she couldn't tell. "Tell your mom thanks for the gifts."
"Will do! Have a safe trip."
Loki smiled and waved over his shoulder as he exited the office. He had always enjoyed talking to the young woman, and that was yet another thing he would miss while in Canada.


After a short bus ride, Loki arrived at the airport where he was surprised to find his parents waiting for him.
"You're going to freeze to death up there, kid," his mother said with the same burly voice he had grown up hearing. "Canada's not like Cali."
Loki put his suitcase down and shifted the weight of the bag on his shoulder. He hadn't considered the temperature difference before. "Well..." He thought about the clothes he had packed. "I packed up almost everything. I think I'll be okay."
"You'll be landing in Canada, won't ya?"
"Yeah."
The gruff woman lifted a corner of her mouth and motioned to Loki's clothes. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked down. Suddenly he realized what she was talking about. "Oh. I guess I'll get out a jacket or something."
She grinned and stepped forward to place a strong arm around his shoulders. But she couldn't bear it and quickly pulled him into a complete bear hug. When she finally let go, Loki noticed a trace of sadness on his mother's strong features. She tried a laugh to hide it. "Don't do anything too stupid, okay?"
Loki smiled. "I can't make any promises." His gaze lifted to the man looking quietly on. Ever since middle school, he felt like he had disappointed his father at some point along the way, but the taciturn man rarely said anything. "Well... I guess I should go now." He picked up his bags again, but his father stopped him.
"Here," he said, holding out a few crisp high-numbered bills. "You can exchange them when you get up there."
Loki took the money respectfully and looked up to catch the flicker of a smile.


A few hours later, Loki found himself in front of a house that made his jaw drop. He had certainly not imagined something that huge. Two to a room? Two to a wing, maybe. Loki dragged his bags inside, in complete awe of the place. His eyes were everywhere at once, taking everything in. He barely noticed how many people were already there. He was too busy digging in his bag for his camera.




((It's long, and the ending is kind of rushed. Sorry! My other posts will be better, hopefully. ))



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BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKA little or a lot, people can't help but change
BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKthat's why they long for things with such pain

BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKNo matter how much the cruel ones may laugh at me
BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKI still believe I'll see the sky

BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKI live my life and I also die
BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKAnd I think it should never change, the blue sky
BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKJust that, that's my only wish


BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKIxxxwxx ixxx sxxxx hxx •xxx •xxxx •

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

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✸BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANK✸

❝xxძ і ѕ с ο m αxx❞

✗BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANK Hαʑαгї Պօгїօӄα----❚ ❚ ❚----

⌊x-x-x-x-x-x-BLANKBLANKxx✸BLANKBLANKxxx-x-x-x-x-x-x⌋

U p ԁ а т є TWO•TWO ℰѕℂÅp℮

ʟøɢɪč BLANKxx•••

BLANKBLANKBLANKl o n l i n e s s

Hazari went with Phoenix to the bar and took a spot next to her. What she ordered surprised him, as he had never been particularly aware that she didn't drink alcohol. He wondered why she had offered going to the bar as opposed to something she actually felt comfortable doing. He would have been more than happy with whatever she had wanted. But he decided not to say anything. "Mai Tai," he told the bartender, who gave a nod of his head and went to work. Hazari turned to Phoenix and placed his elbow on the counter. He watched her return her cellphone to her purse and noticed that something was troubling her. But before he could ask what it was, she politely dismissed herself. "Of course." He smiled kindly. "Please feel better."

Hazari heard the soft thump of a glass being set down on the counter, and so he turned around again to thank the bartender. It was disappointing news to hear that Phoenix was not having such a wonderful time at the party. He had hoped to spend a little more talking to her, as he didn't always have the chance during work. Only when there was a photoshoot and he was coordinating the wardrobes to be worn by the models did he actually speak with her. Then, Hazari had work on his mind. He lifted the short, round glass to his lips and took a sip, enjoying the sharp taste of the alcohol that kicked all of his senses awake. He had a feeling that he would be spending most of his time at the bar, but he had to be careful how much he drank. He certainly did not want to become too intoxicated to drive himself home. It was a fear of his, as he viewed it as the tarnishing of his reputation. He couldn't be seen like that. He wasn't a drunk or an alcoholic, but the one who drove the drunks and the alcoholics home in the early hours of the morning. He couldn't be caught in their position.

The cool outside of the old-fashioned glass was already beginning to chill Hazari's fingers, so he returned it to the small napkin that had been placed as a coaster on the polished mahogany before him. He leaned on both of his arms against the counter, looking down at the wood, trying to sort out some sort of schedule for the evening. If he was going to go home on his own, he knew he didn't need to spend much time at the bar, as he did have the habit of drinking when drinks were offered to him. Perhaps look for a few of his old friends from Vogue? He hadn't seen them in quite some time, and he knew at least one or two that didn't harbor any cold feelings for his quitting. Hazari lifted his head and turned around to look out at the steadily-growing crowd. To say that he didn't recognize anyone would be a lie, but nearly everyone he knew looked to be busy. He didn't feel like interrupting anything, especially someone from an opposing company. It wasn't exactly accepted to have any other type of relationship aside from competitive ones with other companies. Hazari sighed. He wished it didn't have to be like that, but that was almost inevitable when magazines were fighting for popularity and the money that went along with it. He reached his hand back to grab his drink and hold it as he watched, occasionally taking sips from it. With his free hand, he idly ran his fingers through his hair to undo any knots that had managed to make homes in it. He was almost positive that he had the longest hair of the male guests. Not that it bothered him, of course. He liked it that way.

Hazari heard a familiar voice farther down the bar and cast a glance in that direction. He smiled lightly to see it was someone he knew. Gemma Clancey, another employee from Fame. He was beginning to wonder where all of them were. He had seen Alena and Ben, and Phoenix had just left, but it was such a small number that he was worrying whether or not the others would make it at all. And it appeared James Thompson, the photographer who had become the photographer for Fame since Devin's leave, had just arrived as well. Although Hazari had to admit that he was not particularly fond of the man -- he used women only for his carnal desires, which Hazari found completely despicable -- he could accept him as cordially as he accepted any other member of the Fame staff. He had never been one to intentionally make enemies.

So Hazari decided to move closer to the two, smiling politely and offering a disarming greeting. "Good evening." He nodded to both, but his dark eyes trained themselves on Gemma the longest. "You are both having an enjoyable time?"








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[x-Tariraritarara-x]

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【xxʟ o ƙ ixxʏ o u ɴ gxx】

There was something quite mesmerizing about Mei-Lin that Loki couldn't even begin to describe. He loved looking at her, especially as she was standing right in front of him. There was so much about her that the camera couldn't capture, and that made his photo album seem like a collection of worthless images. His dark eyes lifted to examine her face, but he couldn't make eye contact for one reason or another. Whether it was because he didn't feel worthy enough to look into her eyes, or because he didn't want her to think him strange or frightening, or just because he himself lacked the confidence to do so, he still couldn't do it, despite their enthralling beauty. Not while she was looking at him, at least. He did notice, however, that she was staring at him, and he shifted uneasily. He didn't like that. He didn't like when anyone stared at him, really. It always made him feel self-conscious, like there was something gross on his face but the other person was too polite to say anything. Loki wiped a hand over the lower portion of his face anyway though, and then below his nose -- discreetly, of course -- just to make sure that there really wasn't something on his face. How embarrassing would that have been? Loki didn't even want to think about it. He was already feeling uncomfortable enough, especially with the encompassing silence. He didn't know what to say though. Glancing away, he swiped a hand across the side of his head and then pushed his bangs to the side in an attempt to move them from in front of his eye, but to no avail. He hoped he hadn't offended Mei-Lin with his question. He didn't know how sensitive a topic it was to talk to others about their nationality. Then again, he had never been too fond of it when the question was directed to himself, primarily because he didn't know what he was and he regretted not being born white.

Mei-Lin's voice turned his attention back to her. Good. She wasn't offended. That was right? he wondered, not able to entirely believe it. He had expected her to laugh a little (perhaps; then again, she didn't seem much of a mean type) and correct him. That was almost always how things went for Loki. But that answer made him brighten considerably, even more than he had expected. "Really?" he wanted to clarify, just to make sure that he hadn't heard it incorrectly. He smiled, whether or not he wanted to, and felt a wave of relief. There was already that comfortable feeling beginning to fight off his overall discomfort, especially when she greeted him so enthusiastically. She seemed so happy -- so natural. She wasn't trying to cover up anything or restrain herself. At least, not in any way Loki could tell. But he had been wrong before, especially with girls.

"So ohayou is the 'morning' part, right?" He thought about the phrase for "good morning." But there's another word for 'morning,' isn't there? he asked himself, but he shook the thought away. He wouldn't be able to remember it right now even if he had tried harder. Mei-Lin's offer to study Japanese together widened his smile, as much as he tried not to seem too happy about it. He didn't want her to think he was some kind of pervert. But he really was happy to hear the offer, even though he didn't care that much about learning the language. It was like an academic class, and he knew he'd go nowhere with it. Loki was just about to answer with an eager affirmative, but he suddenly stopped himself. She's just being polite... he told himself and visibly deflated. He didn't think she'd want to be around him longer than she had to. She'd much rather hang out with her actual friends, I'm sure. But Loki wasn't going to be rude either, so he answered, Sure, that sounds good," but with less enthusiasm than he had built up at first. And then her compliment only made him feel even more like she was just trying to be overly nice. A small, quiet sigh escaped his lips and he looked down so that Mei-Lin couldn't tell that what she said hadn't exactly had the intended effect. "Thanks. I don't really think I'm anywhere close to being 'good' or even 'great,' but I guess that's just me." He lifted his eyes and smiled slightly. "It's really good you aren't Japanese. I would've felt like I needed to speak Japanese with you or something. And, yeah... I'm not that good."

Loki looked up when Mei-Lin described the warehouse as "amazing." He certainly wouldn't have used that word, and so he laughed a little at it. "Yeah, it was pretty expensive. For me, at least," he answered, idly rubbing the back of his neck. He looked over at the light stands. "I still owe a lot of money for it all though." He didn't want to tell her outright that he was poor, or that he held a dead-end job at the supermarket. If she had any preconceived image of him in her mind at all, he had no intention of ruining it. It was probably better than reality anyway. "The weather?" His gaze returned to her beautiful face. "Yeah, it's nice, I guess. I haven't really been out there long," he answered. "Maybe we could go out today and get some outside shots? Or we could stay in here if you want. As for the project itself..." Loki thought about how to answer her. Part of him didn't want to tell her the details. If she thought it too strange, she might cancel on him. But he worried that she wouldn't trust him if he didn't tell her. "Uh, well... I still haven't completely decided what it's going to be, but I have the basics." It wasn't completely a lie. He just hoped it wasn't a bad answer.




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BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKA little or a lot, people can't help but change
BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKthat's why they long for things with such pain

BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKNo matter how much the cruel ones may laugh at me
BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKI still believe I'll see the sky

BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKI live my life and I also die
BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKAnd I think it should never change, the blue sky
BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKJust that, that's my only wish


BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKIxxxwxx ixxx sxxxx hxx •xxx •xxxx •

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

» Ƙ A Đ Ɛ | Ʈ Ɛ ʟ ʟ Ø Ƥ Ɛ A | Q Ư ℹ И И «
One day the butcher suddenly flies into the sky
Like this and like that and tra-la-la-la

→ iD3NTiFiCATi0N CARD

× Kade, K.T. (sounds close enough, hm?), Hatter, or anything else that fits
× march twenty-fourth
× twenty-six
× sometimes I'm not too sure myself; I'll say male and we'll move along, yes?
× the mad hatter
× miss alice

i D0N'T ACT MY AG3 ←
two cups eccentricity ×
a spoonful of absentmindedness ×
friendliness added to taste ×
a pinch of nosiness ×
a hint of volatility ×
half a spoon of mischief ×
three parts happy-go-lucky ×
one heaping cup of loyalty ×
a dash of madness ×
and a bit of dry humor for good measure ×
makes one particularly mad hatter

→ MY LiF3 ST0RY THU5 FAR
Where to begin? Not from the beginning, for I have no beginning to begin. So open up a book from the middle and see what pulls you in. Did you catch all of that? Oh, what a rhyme! Keep up. I'm not going to repeat myself. But with all jocularity aside, I suppose I ought to say something worth the time (after all, we've still not made up). I was rather happy in Wonderland, you know. But this world -- Alice's world -- is true madness! No more hatters? What kind of place is this? Why don't the animals talk? Why are all the chess pieces miniature? Not even Cheshire is himself! And everywhere I go in this place, someone insists that I "must be mentally ill." Ill? My mind? It is they who are mad, not I!

But enough of that. Let's rewind, shall we?

I suppose I came into the world exactly as I am with a tolliker in my hand. I've been a hatter for as long as I can even remember. I know everything there is to know about hats and hat making, I can assure you! After all, in Wonderland I was the hatter. In this bizarre new world though, I'm not quite sure what to do with myself. There aren't any hatters around, much less the tools a hatter needs to make his hats. Not even Alice is quite sure of this place. Oh! Speaking of the girl, I remember precisely the time and day we met. She remarked that my pocket watch was useless! Such a strange little girl she was. Intrusive, too, and with a disregard for others (she had, after all, interrupted the fine tea party we were having)! But what a little girl... I couldn't see her off. I like to think it was I who had convinced her to stay in Wonderland.

And so she came about living here with us -- the Cheshire Cat, Dormouse, and I, as well as Wonderland's other inhabitants. I have always noticed this tension between Alice and the Dormouse, however, but it is no particular concern of mine. They are both my dear friends, but I am certainly not a meddler in affairs such as that. They can mend it if they so choose. Since being thrown into this new world though, I have noticed that they aren't quite as hostile to one another. For the time being, at least.

THiS G3TS M3 THR0UGH TH3 DAY ←
Total Eclipse or Maguro

→ MY PUPP3T33R ←
x-Tariraritarara-x

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

xxxx●x●x●xxx利益は ．．．

text goes here
text goes here
text goes here

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx．．．と言ってるよxxx●x●x●

今、利益は．．．

テレビxxxxを見てる。

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✯xxxxxxxxx✯xxxxxxxxx✯xxxxxxxxx✯xxxxxxxxx✯

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[x-Tariraritarara-x]

❝ xxa r a r axx k o r a r axx❞BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANK

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BLANKBLANKLBLANKBLANK❝ xxi k e n a i n ' d axxx i k e n a i n ' d axx❞

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【xxc ӓ ʟ ʎ ҳxx】

The countryside rushed by outside, simply a smear of greens, browns, and greys. Calyx's abyssal eyes watched the old houses and the trees in the distance without actually seeing them. He wasn't paying any attention. His mind was on other things, though that was a light statement. He had never been adept at focusing on anything, and now he merely let himself think about nothing at all as he watched the calming landscape through the window. He didn't know where he was going or what was happening, although Miss Marcioni, the young woman driving the car, had explained the situation as thoroughly -- yet simply -- as she could to him. He would ask again later as if he had never asked in the first place, and the nurse would reiterate with gentle patience. That was how things went for the boy. Some thought him not completely developed for it. He was always asking questions, never quite grasping the answers, and words circulated. "He's mentally challenged," one might remark, tone sympathetic, or in some cases, dismissive or patronizing. "I can't imagine living with autism," another may say in a voice filled with pity. But Calyx was neither of those things, and there were IQ records to prove that he was quite gifted. No one ever bothered with him though. They assumed one thing and did little to truly know the subject of their assumption, who was quite literally a genius. But he bore a lifelong curse-- the curse of an Axis-I mental illness; a mental illness causing a deterioration of function; a mental illness well-known, but not quite as well understood; a mental illness by the name of schizophrenia.

That was, unfortunately, how the young man ended up institutionalized. His parents -- though the idea was pushed primarily by his mother -- had sent him away when he was only ten years old. They didn't understand. They didn't help. They didn't know how to care for a mentally ill child. His mother was frightened of it, the illness. Of him. When he was diagnosed with childhood schizophrenia, she slowly detached herself from him. She had read horror stories about schizophrenics who slaughtered their families, their children, or their friends. It made her a nervous wreck. She took up smoking. Violence was rare, she was told, and Calyx was certainly not a textbook case, but she couldn't help worry for her own life, and later the life of her newborn daughter whom Calyx couldn't leave alone. He loved her too much. What his mother never seemed to grasp was that he was, in fact, a rather gentle boy. He would never even dream of upsetting another living being, much less physically harm one. And the voices and his "ghost friends" never told him to do anything bad, with the exception of the Nameless one, who he has always made a point to ignore.

So why was he institutionalized at all? The simplest reason: his mother wanted to get rid of him. With her new daughter, and the desire to start over raising another child, she watched Calyx carefully for any reason to send him away. And that reason finally came when he was ten and Alice only three. He took her to a pond he had found, and when she ventured near the edge, he pushed her in. He wanted her to play in the water. He didn't understand that she couldn't swim, and when she thrashed her arms around and cried out to him, he thought she was playing and enjoying herself. Had their mother not been following them, Alice would have drowned that day. Calyx didn't understand, and his mother didn't even bother to explain it to him. She filled out his commitment forms and sent him to Meadowtree Psychiatric Hospital as soon as she could. She didn't want to see him again. She didn't want any reason to take him back again. So she sent extra money to the hospital every month to ensure that the staff would keep him there. The Miura family was quite a wealthy one.

Eight years later, his mother filed for a transfer. Alice had come a little too close to the hospital on one of her own escapades. And that was how Calyx ended up on his way to Fleetwood Rehabilitation. His mother wanted him to be moved far away.

But Calyx didn't know about any of that. He even still believed that his mother loved him and that she was going to visit him as soon as she stopped being so busy with her work. Needless to say, he was quite the optimistic young man. But today he was quiet. Miss Marcioni looked over at him. He usually enjoyed talking, but he hadn't said anything since the trip began.

"What color is the sky today?" Miss Mariconi asked him, attempting to strike up a conversation. But when Calyx didn't answer, or even acknowledge her, she tried again. "Hey, Calyx? What color is the sky today?"

Still nothing.

The nurse sighed and looked back out at the road again. She thought momentarily that the boy had gone catatonic on her, as he had done on some occasions, and so she reached her hand out to gently touch his small shoulder. "Hey, Calyx."

Calyx jumped at the touch, and Miss Marcioni laughed. It was a soft, bell-like chime. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." She glanced to him again. "You're quiet today. Are you nervous?"

Calyx twisted around in his chair and pulled his legs up with him. After a moment's hesitation, he shook his head.

"You're not? Then what are you?"

He looked at her carefully and when she glanced his way again, she chuckled. "How are you feeling today?" she repeated.

"Green."

"Green?" She smiled. Had she not known the boy for so long, the answer would have baffled her.

Calyx nodded.

"Going to live in a new place is exciting, isn't it? Oh, speaking of... we're here." Miss Marcioni slowed to a stop at the guard house. "Angioletta Marcioni. Nurse."

The guard waved her through without a second glance and Miss Marcioni continued inside. Calyx looked out the window again. He didn't know what to think of the place. He still had yet to grasp that he was going to be living there now, and so the entire ordeal didn't faze him much. When the car pulled to a stop in front of the main building and Miss Maricioni shut the engine off, he didn't notice. His mind had wandered again, and it wasn't until his door opened that a spark of light returned to his dark eyes. He looked up at the nurse and then down at his seatbelt. His fingers fumbled clumsily with the buckle for a moment until it clicked and he was released. He didn't travel much.

"I've got your bag."

Calyx owned so few possessions that everything he had could fit easily into one bag -- clothes, trinkets, toys, etc. That was typically the result of spending most of one's life in a mental institute. Reluctantly, he stepped out of the car and followed Miss Marcioni to the front doors. His eyes were on the huge building though.

"Look how big!"

Calyx glanced back over his shoulder at the small, blond boy who had suddenly appeared there. A broad grin decorated his round, innocent features and his bright blue eyes shone brightly as he stared up at the building. A small smile formed on Calyx's own lips -- the first all day -- and he looked down.

"You're not going to go away, are you?"

"Of course not!"

"Calyx, come here." Miss Marcioni led him inside where they were both greeted by a grey-haired nurse with powdered, sagging skin and cold grey eyes. Small black glasses rested at the end of her hooked nose and her thin lips pulled back into a weak semblance of a smile.

"Good morning." Her gaze shifted to Calyx. "Ren Miura, is it?"

"Yes. I'm assuming you received his paperwork on time?"

"We did."

"Good." Miss Marcioni smiled down at Calyx. He was a small boy for his age. Suddenly, she lifted her eyes again. "He's taken all of his medication this morning."

The elderly nurse nodded slowly and then reached out her wrinkled hand to Calyx. "Ren?" Are you ready to come with me now?"

Calyx acted as if he didn't hear as he looked about the large entrance.

"Ren?"

"He goes by Calyx, actually," Miss Marcioni explained.

"Calyx?"

Calyx looked curiously to the old woman when he heard his name.

"Are you ready to come with me now?"

He turned to Miss Marcioni. "Annie?"

She smiled sadly at the boy and gently brushed her fingers through his wild black hair in a way a mother would to her own son. In a way, that was what Calyx was to her -- the son she couldn't have. "You'll like it here," she assured him, giving him a little push towards the other nurse. "We stopped giving him the pills that offset dyskinesia. But if you notice that he's shaking more than usual--"

"Ma'am, we know what we're doing, I assure you."

"Okay." She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. When she felt that she could, she smiled and said her last goodbye to Calyx, and then it was just he and the older nurse remaining.

"If you've already taken your medicine this morning, then we can go straight to the cafeteria. Follow me, please."

Although he didn't particularly want to, Calyx did as he was told. He already didn't like the place. Annie was gone and in her place was a strange older woman.

"Here we are. After you eat, I will show you your room." And she left him alone again. Though he was sure she was watching him from some concealed place. He was positive there were many people watching him from concealed places. He didn't like that thought. It made him nervous. But here he was at square one again, after he had worked so hard for his privileges at Meadowtree. He was back to being watched and followed. His black eyes took a sweep over the cafeteria. March had disappeared, but Calyx didn't really notice. He was certainly more absentminded than usual this morning.

The first empty place Calyx found, he went for it, which happened to be at a table completely empty save for one young woman. He didn't care much about eating -- one could tell by how small he was -- so he sat down at the opposite end of the table without taking any food. He looked around and then down to the girl at the other end. Without thinking much about whether or not it would freak her out, he stretched himself across part of the table and stared fixedly at her. Although he had not been very social with the other patients at Meadowtree, he wished he could be in a room of familiar faces again.



(( I got a little carried away. Sorry. xD ))

✷BLANKBLANKBLANK✷BLANKBLANKBLANK✷

BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKThat's right, that's because the dream I had earlier
BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKWas black and white and boring.
BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKDon't make such a pained face.
BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKI'll always be by your side.

BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKIf we go on a walk in the soft breeze,
BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKWe'll see the flower field red, white, yellow
BLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKBLANKAnd all smiles, so let's go out and play.

Whyx won'tx you xs m i l ex atx me ?

[x-Tariraritarara-x]

Loki Shae Young
______________________
troubled new owner


→ nineteen
→ just Loki
→ november fifth
→ male
→ straight


disillusioned . humble . diffident


→ usually solid black; sometimes with blond
→ black
→ roughly 5' 5"
→ somewhere around 113 pounds


→I'm going to say this first: I'm adopted. My birth certificate says Min Kyung Hwang, but obviously I don't go by that name, and I have no idea how to pronounce it. John and Linda Young are my adoptive parents. Aren't those extremely white names, huh? They're both pretty white, and I grew up in a white community, so aside from my obvious (and unfortunate) Asian appearance, I'm entirely white myself. I can't speak another language-- hell, I barely know English-- and I'm definitely not smart. You may think I'm being too harsh on myself or too modest, but I'm not kidding. When I was little, I had to have my IQ tested not to see whether I could be considered a genius, but to make sure I wasn't retarded. I'm not, but I still made Ds in general algebra during my senior year in high school. Actually, I made bad grades in nearly all of my classes, and my parents, although pretty laid-back about my schoolwork, had to hire a tutor to help me so that I wouldn't fail out of school. Pretty bad, huh? I just graduated, but barely. If I hadn't had that tutor, I probably would have failed about sophomore year. My parents wanted me to go to college, and so they shipped me off here to New York. They thought I'd like the cooler weather here better than southern California, and they wanted me to attend a fine arts college, but I haven't even applied yet. Honestly, I don't think college is going to be any better for me, but I guess I'll take a year to think about it. I managed to get a job as a stock boy at the supermarket near my apartment, so that's where my money is coming from at the moment. I've had worse jobs before. This one isn't that bad.

I guess I'll rewind a little and talk about my history. I don't know who my original parents are, but my uncle, who used to live down the street with my cousin and her parents, said he knew my birth mom, but had never met my dad [note : Loki's "uncle" was actually the man married to his mother, but is not Loki's actual father. Loki's biological father is either his biological mother's own uncle, or an unknown traveler. Loki's "cousin's" mother is his "uncle's" sister.]. He told me I was born in some third-world country in lower China and that my mom died after I was born because of the poor medical sophistication there. That explains how I ended up in an overcrowded orphanage in Thailand. And it wasn't until I was almost three years old when I was adopted, which is kind of unusual. Most kids are adopted at younger ages. Apparently I was stupid then, too, because I didn't know how to talk until after I was adopted. And my parents knew I had trouble with academics pretty early, but I guess I'm lucky that they were always supportive.

School life was not very easy for me. Not only was I not very good at academics, I was also outcasted because I was Asian. The community I grew up in was one of those isolated, well-kept types. Almost everyone was white and rich. I'm sure you're wondering how there can be an all-white community in California (what with its diversity and things), but mine, like I said, was one of those isolated ones. You lived there because you were white and rich. It even had its own school system. My family was one of the poorest though, so that gave me a second disadvantage. In school, I didn't have many friends although I always tried to fit in. Even kids can be racist, so I was subject to most of their prejudice. There was only one other Asian in my grade, but he had Asian parents and he was definitely the smartest kid in school. Well, he was much smarter than me, at least. He was bullied, too, but most just made him do their homework. I, on the other hand, was bullied because, at the time, I had a stress-induced anxiety disorder that made my hair thin and fall out (I never went bald though), and, of course, I was stupid. Later on in middle school, I had anger issues. I hated everyone and I was sometimes violent for no reason at all. Needless to say, that just pushed people away. I had one friend at this point -- my best friend; he actually treated me like his equal -- but he moved away when I was twelve. That's when I took an interest in photography. My mom bought me a camera to get my mind off everything. I really enjoyed it, and because it wasn't academic and I couldn't technically fail at it, it was one of the few things that made me happy. I still do photography in my spare time, but I don't like showing off my photos. They aren't very good [note : Loki is just being modest. His photos, as well as his skill with Photoshop, are actually quite impressive.]. I guess you could call it a really serious hobby. That's what my parents want me to go to college for, but even if I wanted to, I'd need to be smart in other subjects, wouldn't I?

I have low self-esteem, or a low self-image... or whatever you want to call it. I honestly don't think I'm interesting at all. And I definitely wouldn't consider myself attractive. I don't really think I have any talent, even if some people like to say otherwise. Photography is just something I like to do. That doesn't mean I'm good at it. I am a hard-worker though, even if I think what I'm doing will never turn out good. I might as well try, right? At least then it won't be total trash. Besides, I can get raises at work by putting in some extra effort. Some more money never hurt.

This next thing I'm not really all that quick to admit -- I'm actually pretty lonely. I haven't made any new friends since I was twelve, and the new people I do meet don't always last. They must disappear or something. I usually can never contact them again, or if I can, then they say something about not knowing me well enough to do anything with me. So usually I just work and then go home and watch movies until I feel like sleeping. Do I sound pathetic enough to you yet? I won't lie about that. I even think I'm pathetic. I won't say that I have an awful life though. I mean, you get what you get, right? I have a really awful social life, sure, but I'm not sick or dying or anything. I guess if I have to, I won't mind working as a stock boy until I'm eighty-something, living paycheck-to-paycheck without a wife or family. If that's the best I can get, then sure, I'll take it. I mean, it's not like girls find me all that attractive. Hell, if I were a girl, I probably wouldn't even date myself. Unfortunately though, I can't stop myself from liking almost every girl that looks my way despite the fact that I've had my heart broken more times than I can count on one hand -- maybe even both my hands. I must have too much libido or something. I don't know. As much as I'd like to have a girlfriend, or a wife, or something, I probably should just stop wishing for one. It's probably never going to happen.


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