sleeping early

for the first time in, what? 4 months? i slept before midnight.

now i have a headache.

sleeping early is not good.

sleeping for more than ten hours straight is not good.

garrh damn headache.

haven't had a headache since... uh.. whatever.

:(

too personal, or not?

Initially, I didn't want to share this essay because it was a bit on the personal side. But since I found out that faceless, identityless people have read it and all, I figured, what the hell, let's go full monty. Crash and burn, baby. Crash and burn. Comments are, as always, very welcome.

You can find my personal account below. But because reading it might distort your own perception, I advise you to read the essay first. Your call.

Personal Experience Essay

Publish at Scribd or explore others: Essays Academic Work english literature

This is an essay I'm supposed to write for college, titled "Personal Experience Essay". I didn't like it much, because it put me in a rather difficult position: I didn't want to write something too personal (yes I admit my definition of 'personal' is very different from yours), I didn't want to overly embellish my experiences, and I didn't want to lie. But the experiences that really matter, I don't want to share. The experiences I can share, don't really matter. So I compromised :(

This essay is an outrageous mangling of a precious childhood memory. The night was definitely much more beautiful than how I described it, that bloody song had nothing to do with me, my house didn't have a balcony (I put it there because I know the aesthetic rationale of Disney directors) and I wasn't even close to autistic.

It was just a moment in my life when I realize that the damn stars don't grant wishes. That means a lot for a 5-year-old, okay! I didn't need all those stuff about catharsis and faith to make it meaningful. But unfortunately, some people just do not know how to read between lines and into a kid's mind.

This is what students do to get their grades - distort their own reality. This is a small reminder to myself that I might do anything for grades, but I must never ever forget and I must never ever stop beating myself up over all the lies I weave into my words. Lies are lies, even if they get you the A.

if you do not like my essay, i forgive you. i don't like it too. but anyway, interesting sidenote! google brillo boxes! :D

striking a chord

whispering the serenade

of a blue guitar

cold and at peace

with you

indeed

things are 

changed

upon the blue guitar

one day 

i must show you

carnations

and their

brilliance

on acs and anemones

I am currently staring at the brown pages of my 4th-generation American Cultural Studies textbook and wondering why, over 4 generations, no one bothered giving the poor sod a plastic cover. Seriously, in terms of book-years, this book of mine is a great-grandmother already. You know the discolouration old people develop on their skin? My book has them. Plenty of them. I feel like I'm paging through my grandma. Why do I need to learn about America when I am already having America shoved at my face everyday? But I don't really mind. ACS is pretty interesting and has boundless possibilities for fun.

I think I need a haircut. Nowadays, the verb 'look' no longer applies. suiying does not look at people. suiying does not look at her laptop screen. suiying does not look before she leaps. She peers. Her eyes do the visual equivalent of hacking through the jungle of tall grass and vines. No, really, I'm serious. My vision is constantly blocked by curtains of stringy black stuff. I wear my glasses like swimmers wear goggles - to stop stuff getting into my eyes. Gaaaaaa. Price of vanity. Amy says it'll be 3 more weeks before I'll stop looking like a sea anemone. Oh look, Nemo.

Which reminds me. I lost my uber cool nerdy glasses. It's probably in the library. If it is not, I am so doomed. Why do I keep losing my glasses. This must be the seventh one I lost. Damn.

And I've begun to sleep in weird places at weird times in weird positions again. Weird being 1) not on a bed. 2) not from 12 to 6 am. 3) not completely horizontally. Well, of course 2) has never really happened before, but I thought I had everything under control already. Guess not. Oh, and Amy's having fun taking unflattering photos of moi, her one and true love in this world. She is so in love with me :D

There. a long string of, in Beluga's squeaky cartoon voice, memememememememememe.

love is

a catchy title for a blogpost, no? :) especially since it's Valentine's Day and all.

February 14th. A day when the human population artificially increases its pheromone production and conduct courtship rituals that are predominantly red, heart-shaped and sappy. A day Kenya depends on to feed its country and corrupt bigwigs. A day cynics like me are told to stand aside because I cannot empathize with the dizzying throb of being madly in love.

Let this be recorded as my view on Valentine's Day when I am 17 and one quarters.