I should do statistics. I waste time instead. I blog, like it's any other day. Two weeks left, no, less. That's all I have. I hope I won't fail. Sigh, failure. Maybe I should go play Starcraft.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Stories from Grammar
There we were in grammar class, sitting around, and doing nothing. I picked up my pen and started to write. The result was... interesting.
A world is created. One where Sami plays Starcraft and dresses up like a hydralisk. Yes, she loves the game that much. Then Jeff appears. he sees her. "AAAAAAHHHH! A Hydralisk!" he yells. Then, he realizes its Sami. Awwwwwwwww. He commands her to "make me a sandwich bitch." Jeff was never seen again.The last hint of him I had was a peanut butter jar. Sami? She became a lurker. I'm afraid. Very af...
A world is created. One where Sami plays Starcraft and dresses up like a hydralisk. Yes, she loves the game that much. Then Jeff appears. he sees her. "AAAAAAHHHH! A Hydralisk!" he yells. Then, he realizes its Sami. Awwwwwwwww. He commands her to "make me a sandwich bitch." Jeff was never seen again.The last hint of him I had was a peanut butter jar. Sami? She became a lurker. I'm afraid. Very af...
ARRRGH!
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Word Play
I always think in words. I find words beautiful. Even the simplest can carry a deep meaning.
I think it’s because words are little packets of memories. Each one has its unique flavor. Those associated with special memories have a richness that beats out the rest.
I love making a concoction of words referring to a mixture of memories. It’s heavenly.
Other people don’t understand this. They prefer roses, chocolates, or teddy bears. A well written message beats them all. Bought gifts carry no memory. They’re bought manufactured and cold.
Too bad we’re all shallow capitalists.
I think it’s because words are little packets of memories. Each one has its unique flavor. Those associated with special memories have a richness that beats out the rest.
I love making a concoction of words referring to a mixture of memories. It’s heavenly.
Other people don’t understand this. They prefer roses, chocolates, or teddy bears. A well written message beats them all. Bought gifts carry no memory. They’re bought manufactured and cold.
Too bad we’re all shallow capitalists.
On Snow
It’s weird how things change. I was so disappointed yesterday. I upset myself to the point of failure, and today, I’m happy enough to enjoy a bleak April snow. There’s just something captivating about a white, misty blanket covering our world. It feels close, intimate even, like Mother Nature tucking us in. The light flurries create mystery, mystique, and makes me feel like I’m in a movie.
The thing I love most about snow is how pure it is. How white, mindless, blank it is. It starts off as a tabula rasa. I love these little wisps of nothingness.
The thing I love most about snow is how pure it is. How white, mindless, blank it is. It starts off as a tabula rasa. I love these little wisps of nothingness.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Synonyms, sympathies, and smiles.
I'm very extreme. I'm blissful one day and downcast the next. I love my name Sunny, but I also love the word melancholy.
When something bad happens, I brood over it. When something doesn't go my way, I twist and turn and fumble around trying to get a feeling of failure out of my brain. I let depressing thoughts wash over me, and it's regenerative. It's an outlet, but it's also a hole. My thoughts dig my grave as happiness shrivels up in my mind's casket. The reason I escape is the reason I write this post.
I want to thank my friends who pull me up, by the collar, and force me out of that mindset. I kick, scream, yell, and whine, but they pull me up anyway through the sheer strength of their words.
As a whole, they are much wiser than I. I'm lucky they share that wisdom with me. I'm delighted they care about me.
Thank you.
When something bad happens, I brood over it. When something doesn't go my way, I twist and turn and fumble around trying to get a feeling of failure out of my brain. I let depressing thoughts wash over me, and it's regenerative. It's an outlet, but it's also a hole. My thoughts dig my grave as happiness shrivels up in my mind's casket. The reason I escape is the reason I write this post.
I want to thank my friends who pull me up, by the collar, and force me out of that mindset. I kick, scream, yell, and whine, but they pull me up anyway through the sheer strength of their words.
As a whole, they are much wiser than I. I'm lucky they share that wisdom with me. I'm delighted they care about me.
Thank you.
Proverb
I am constantly thrown into a sea of despair, flailing to stay alive, with only a mask as company.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Life is such a tease
I realized I had the title for this blog up since quite some time ago. I guess I just lost the motivation to actually write it, hahaha. Well, now I kind of do. Kind of? Kind of. Not 100% dedicated, just kind of.
It seems that life always pulls you in such polar directions that it seems like a tease. It sends me toward depression, then towards joy, then courage, and back to sadness. As Michael Corleone said, "Just as I thought I was out, they pull me back in." Yeah, life is kind of like that. Hmm, it just seems that I also emphasize with a lot of Al Pacino characters too. Like the devil. Yipes that's scary, but true.
We share the same philosophies... but if only I had as much power as he did. Sigh...
It seems that life always pulls you in such polar directions that it seems like a tease. It sends me toward depression, then towards joy, then courage, and back to sadness. As Michael Corleone said, "Just as I thought I was out, they pull me back in." Yeah, life is kind of like that. Hmm, it just seems that I also emphasize with a lot of Al Pacino characters too. Like the devil. Yipes that's scary, but true.
We share the same philosophies... but if only I had as much power as he did. Sigh...
Friday, April 15, 2011
Thoughts at 12AM
Yeah, it's 12 am, and I should be asleep. I should have been asleep 2 hours ago, but I'm not. I should have been studying Stats if anything, but I didn't.
No, I read JD Salinger stories instead. I didn't realize it until I read 9 Stories, but I love Salinger short stories. I loved Catcher in the Rye when I was in 7th grade too. I guess I just find Salinger to be a really good writer. He keeps this dark yet hopeful or funny tone around his stories. It's very odd but also very fulfilling. His stories also deal a lot with the confused emotions in people, especially adolescents. It really makes me think. When I see his characters interact, I wonder if I'm not like that too. I have those moments of depression, of (hopefully) kindness, of happiness that comes out of laughing at myself, and of course, of arrogance.
Looking back a De Daumier Smith's Blue Period, I really empathize with Salinger's story now. It's sad, kind of. I wish I could use melancholy to describe myself, but it's not even that type of feeling. I feel pathetic. Like nothing will go my way, and I'm the cause. I feel like I need a little escape, just a little bit of escapism, to get away from myself. Take a ride up to Canada, haha. Have that epiphany to bring me back. Or just stay here, in this useless skin, behind this cowardly mask, and walk through life as an endless cycle of boredom.
No, I read JD Salinger stories instead. I didn't realize it until I read 9 Stories, but I love Salinger short stories. I loved Catcher in the Rye when I was in 7th grade too. I guess I just find Salinger to be a really good writer. He keeps this dark yet hopeful or funny tone around his stories. It's very odd but also very fulfilling. His stories also deal a lot with the confused emotions in people, especially adolescents. It really makes me think. When I see his characters interact, I wonder if I'm not like that too. I have those moments of depression, of (hopefully) kindness, of happiness that comes out of laughing at myself, and of course, of arrogance.
Looking back a De Daumier Smith's Blue Period, I really empathize with Salinger's story now. It's sad, kind of. I wish I could use melancholy to describe myself, but it's not even that type of feeling. I feel pathetic. Like nothing will go my way, and I'm the cause. I feel like I need a little escape, just a little bit of escapism, to get away from myself. Take a ride up to Canada, haha. Have that epiphany to bring me back. Or just stay here, in this useless skin, behind this cowardly mask, and walk through life as an endless cycle of boredom.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Fairytales
We love them because they will never happen.
Think about that for a moment. We tell kids fairytales all the time. Cinderella, Snow White, Rapunzel, what have you. But why do they entertain us so? It's because they're fantastical; they're fake. Even in a metaphorical sense, there will never be a Prince Charming for Cinderella. There won't even be a Fairy Godmother, a carriage, or a shoe. There will be a rag and a house. Enjoy.
Think about that for a moment. We tell kids fairytales all the time. Cinderella, Snow White, Rapunzel, what have you. But why do they entertain us so? It's because they're fantastical; they're fake. Even in a metaphorical sense, there will never be a Prince Charming for Cinderella. There won't even be a Fairy Godmother, a carriage, or a shoe. There will be a rag and a house. Enjoy.
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