When life gives you shit, make shit juice.
It's gotten to the point where my lack of will to write had led me to post my unfinished writings, in chronological order. If you look closely, you might find a well-constructed story. But, probably not.
My first two days here were relatively uninteresting. On Saturday, I said goodbye to my cats and moved down to Olympia. Surprisingly, I was rather perky for only acquiring one hour of sleep, however, my attentiveness started to drain when my parents ignored my quirky commentary. Actually, my Dad was quite a drag - he decided to act like an uptight, uncaring ass the entire day. The fucking goober didn't even listen to me when I said that he was making me miserable. Fucking goober. Anyway, I felt a tad bit better when I finally moved into my amazing dorm room.
Apparently, I’m an art film. Yesterday, when I was hanging out with Timothy in his darkened dorm room, he said that I am an art film. He said that I’m beautiful and entertaining, yet confusing. A little while later, he said that I was wise, like Gandalf the wizard. After pondering these statements for a few moments, I realized that they were the most accurate descriptions of me that I’ve ever come across. How strange that someone I barely know could see right through me.
Time does not exist here. A few days ago, I stayed up until 8:30 in the morning. My refusal to retreat to bed stemmed from a common ailment: boredom. It all began when Aimee and I, bored with our bad game
of badminton, decided
If I die of some terrible stomach ailment within the next few hours, I’m going to blame it on the fortune cookies. This afternoon, I returned home to find two wrapped fortune cookies sitting on my side of the bathroom counter. Though initially perplexed, I decided to forgo my inhibitions. The cookies themselves were less than delicious and the fortunes were far from the truth. Once I had completely devoured my
Oh ho ho
To the library we go
Fuck, a bug just hit my face
When there's a gaping hole in your heart, sometimes all you can do is to try to fill the void with utterly meaningless observations. Instead of focusing on a lecture about eating disorders in class today, I decided assume the role of a casual observer and note the quirks of my fellow classmates. The guy next to me rolled a cigarette during the lecture. In front of me, a woman donned a hideous pair of golden lizard-shaped earrings. Then, I noticed that a girl sitting across the room resembled a hyena that desperately needed orthodontic surgery when she yawned. As I hopelessly dissected the mannerisms of my classmates, I attempted to analyze why I was feeling so empty. Of course, it wasn't until I listened to a few songs by Tom Waits before I fully understood the root of my recent emotional paralysis. Apparently, Tom Waits has all the answers.
For the last seven months, I had passion. I experienced my first encounter with that crazy little thing called love.
Entry 2: Karma put a hit on me
The concept of “cool” is synonymous with happiness.
Back When I Was Cool
1. Intro detailing how people long for the days when they were cool. Buying cars, partying, vitality.
2. Sixteen: The Age Where I was cool. How I went to concerts by myself, meticulously memorized a concert routine, felt comfortable with myself.
3. Short paragraph explaining why I hadn’t gone to concerts lately.
4. The Showbox/Helio Sequence: some naïve clumsiness, yet I started to feel comfortable. To move. To notice silly things, like how the drummer’s face looked at he pounded away at his instruments.
5. Mercury Rev: Amazing. The lead singer’s grandiose gestures. The images of statues, manta rays, and The Little Prince. All those quotes. Multi-sensory. I took off my ear protectors, just so I could fully experience the amazement. My body moved without hesitation. I looked at other faces, I closed my eyes freely, I didn’t care: I felt alive.
6. I had a severe headache and ear damage, and I was hearing things differently, and I didn’t even care.
7. Back when I was cool, I was comfortable with being alone. Whether being alongside others at movies or shows or walking across the city, I thrived in my amazement. For over a year, however, I lost my grasp on myself. I let my concern for others cloud over my perception of self. Well, I’m not going to do that anymore.
8. This feeling won’t last forever. Days will be hollow. Further depression is inevitable. But, right now it just feels so goddamn fantastic to be alive, that I don’t care. The end.
When you’re old, all you want to do is look at the scenery.
The sky was phenomenal that night. An almost full moon stood out against the myriad hues of lavender, apricot, and azure. Scenery on earth was equally as enchanted. A sickeningly sweet scent of mashed plum and flowery laundry detergent tainted the air. Children played and inevitably argued in the street. Caged canines barked at me as if I was some glock-toting gangster. As I looked up at that chiseled face of luna, I found myself struck with a sensation of longing - I longed to have someone walk alongside me, some soul whom with I could share such beauty. I only allowed my heart to harbor that loneliness for an instant. Determined to defeat desolation, I aligned my spine, stamped a smile to my face, and took each step with confidence. And I thought to myself. Until I can walk eight miles with someone without speaking until we stop to discuss all the amazing things we had seen, then, I’m content to walk alone.
My first two days here were relatively uninteresting. On Saturday, I said goodbye to my cats and moved down to Olympia. Surprisingly, I was rather perky for only acquiring one hour of sleep, however, my attentiveness started to drain when my parents ignored my quirky commentary. Actually, my Dad was quite a drag - he decided to act like an uptight, uncaring ass the entire day. The fucking goober didn't even listen to me when I said that he was making me miserable. Fucking goober. Anyway, I felt a tad bit better when I finally moved into my amazing dorm room.
Apparently, I’m an art film. Yesterday, when I was hanging out with Timothy in his darkened dorm room, he said that I am an art film. He said that I’m beautiful and entertaining, yet confusing. A little while later, he said that I was wise, like Gandalf the wizard. After pondering these statements for a few moments, I realized that they were the most accurate descriptions of me that I’ve ever come across. How strange that someone I barely know could see right through me.
Time does not exist here. A few days ago, I stayed up until 8:30 in the morning. My refusal to retreat to bed stemmed from a common ailment: boredom. It all began when Aimee and I, bored with our bad game
of badminton, decided
If I die of some terrible stomach ailment within the next few hours, I’m going to blame it on the fortune cookies. This afternoon, I returned home to find two wrapped fortune cookies sitting on my side of the bathroom counter. Though initially perplexed, I decided to forgo my inhibitions. The cookies themselves were less than delicious and the fortunes were far from the truth. Once I had completely devoured my
Oh ho ho
To the library we go
Fuck, a bug just hit my face
When there's a gaping hole in your heart, sometimes all you can do is to try to fill the void with utterly meaningless observations. Instead of focusing on a lecture about eating disorders in class today, I decided assume the role of a casual observer and note the quirks of my fellow classmates. The guy next to me rolled a cigarette during the lecture. In front of me, a woman donned a hideous pair of golden lizard-shaped earrings. Then, I noticed that a girl sitting across the room resembled a hyena that desperately needed orthodontic surgery when she yawned. As I hopelessly dissected the mannerisms of my classmates, I attempted to analyze why I was feeling so empty. Of course, it wasn't until I listened to a few songs by Tom Waits before I fully understood the root of my recent emotional paralysis. Apparently, Tom Waits has all the answers.
For the last seven months, I had passion. I experienced my first encounter with that crazy little thing called love.
Entry 2: Karma put a hit on me
The concept of “cool” is synonymous with happiness.
Back When I Was Cool
1. Intro detailing how people long for the days when they were cool. Buying cars, partying, vitality.
2. Sixteen: The Age Where I was cool. How I went to concerts by myself, meticulously memorized a concert routine, felt comfortable with myself.
3. Short paragraph explaining why I hadn’t gone to concerts lately.
4. The Showbox/Helio Sequence: some naïve clumsiness, yet I started to feel comfortable. To move. To notice silly things, like how the drummer’s face looked at he pounded away at his instruments.
5. Mercury Rev: Amazing. The lead singer’s grandiose gestures. The images of statues, manta rays, and The Little Prince. All those quotes. Multi-sensory. I took off my ear protectors, just so I could fully experience the amazement. My body moved without hesitation. I looked at other faces, I closed my eyes freely, I didn’t care: I felt alive.
6. I had a severe headache and ear damage, and I was hearing things differently, and I didn’t even care.
7. Back when I was cool, I was comfortable with being alone. Whether being alongside others at movies or shows or walking across the city, I thrived in my amazement. For over a year, however, I lost my grasp on myself. I let my concern for others cloud over my perception of self. Well, I’m not going to do that anymore.
8. This feeling won’t last forever. Days will be hollow. Further depression is inevitable. But, right now it just feels so goddamn fantastic to be alive, that I don’t care. The end.
When you’re old, all you want to do is look at the scenery.
The sky was phenomenal that night. An almost full moon stood out against the myriad hues of lavender, apricot, and azure. Scenery on earth was equally as enchanted. A sickeningly sweet scent of mashed plum and flowery laundry detergent tainted the air. Children played and inevitably argued in the street. Caged canines barked at me as if I was some glock-toting gangster. As I looked up at that chiseled face of luna, I found myself struck with a sensation of longing - I longed to have someone walk alongside me, some soul whom with I could share such beauty. I only allowed my heart to harbor that loneliness for an instant. Determined to defeat desolation, I aligned my spine, stamped a smile to my face, and took each step with confidence. And I thought to myself. Until I can walk eight miles with someone without speaking until we stop to discuss all the amazing things we had seen, then, I’m content to walk alone.