Bitter-

I realized this is very well the last Christmas and New Year's we'll be spending in this house. It's kinda sad. Just about everything I remember about growing up happened while we lived here. I think I've been somewhat denying the fact that we have to leave eventually.

Voyaged to the mountain house. But knowing we'd be leaving that house as well is more tangible at the moment.

While there, I paced around the place and realized with musing interest that three different girls I've liked have walked through these halls and rooms: one I never admitted any affections to, one where I did so as a means just to get things off my chest from the year previous, and one where a relationship had actually been established (and was good while it lasted). Meh heh, interesting days...

Quite a good bit of snow still remained, probably somewhere between 3-5 inches. It was still soft but retained just the right amount of moisture, perfect for playing in. But I didn't have the desire to frolic in the snow and didn't join my siblings as they ventured around the property. 1) I was feeling too cold and 2) I just feel somewhat disenchanted (huh, that's something that seems to keep popping up consistently of late...) We're at the house to figure out what we're keeping/selling/getting rid of. I felt like I needed to help our mother organize this info. I just feel some sort of pressure these days to grow the fuck up and get with reality. I oddly still feel like some dumb kid, but it's high time I start assuming responsibilities. There's just so much to plan and do in the upcoming months. It's stressful. It's hectic. It feels unfair that our father had to do this.

I recalled all the times I spent sweating underneath the summer sun driving the tractor cutting the fields of grass, the cold, brisk winter evenings and nights spend with family and friends outside on the deck around the fire pit making smores. I remember that ridiculous year our entire family was there for Christmas and just about EVERYONE got a stomach flu and spent hours in front of a toilet at one point. That place was basically a quarantine.  I remember the first all nighter I had there Christmas morning when my brother was snoring too loudly so I couldn't sleep and decided to toast a bagel and watch Rent instead. All the times we spent on the lake boating and wakeboarding.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just being fucking sentimental. Another ya-don't-know-what-you-appreciate-'till-it's-gone moment? I need to stop having those.

-sweet

It's a brave new world...or something like that.

Music dump time!








^This song never fails to put me in a better mood, regardless of how shitty I've been previously. 'Dern you Clara, what with your contagious songwriting, voice, and cuteness.

Weak Sauce

Ciao.

So it was a little pretty different this year, I suppose. Everything's seemingly out of order and Christmas itself didn't feel the same, but we made it as best we as could. I tried a mac 'n cheese recipe I found online I've been meaning to try. It's pretty good. Gruyere cheese, or whatever 'dem Frenchies call it.

If what I wanted for Christmas was to find inner peace/a state of content-ness (because asking for happiness is a taller order than content-ness), is that selfish?

I realize I have a habit of thinking too much about the past and future, but never about the present. Maybe I should change that. I smell a new year's resolution.

Like last Christmas, I pulled and all nighter and watched RENT in the morning. Good tradition.

So my thoughts aren't exactly coherent and organized at the moment...

I'm beginning to think I might be bipolar. Isn't that it, flipping so rapidly from state of severe depression to a content, more energized state, or back and fort again? Maybe it's like a wave, what with its peaks and valleys.

It's not that I dislike you. I'd like to think one day we could be friends, but I don't think we'll ever be as close/good friends as we once were. Do I need more time? Probs. I don't even know if it matters to you anymore. Didn't think it would...what is this, I don't even.

I'm literally falling asleep at my computer. That's probably a sign to go to freaking sleep already.

My hair is starting to reach another awkward length.

Also, bitches aain't shit. haaaa, so sleepy.

Christmas 2010

This year, Christmas spirit is pretty lost on me.  Forcing myself to play/sing Christmas songs through the days is fun and all, but I'm still stuck in such a funk. 

Anyways, I mentioned earlier how "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" is my favorite Christmas song, this year. So, I decided to finally record a multi-track and do an accompanying video, using this song. 

yay for mediocre vocals...

It was pretty fun though. I've been meaning to attempt a project like this, but I haven't had so much spare time on my hands. I realize recording the music, video, and editing it all together takes quite a number of hours. This endeavor has made my respect go up even more for the various youtube artists I follow. I wonder what song I'll attempt next. 

You know what, screw it. It's Christmas, I'm gonna try to enjoy the day and the meanings surrounding it. 

But first, a nap :P

Perspective

Supposedly unnecessary? I say I'll decide for myself what's necessary and what isn't. 

I find myself overwhelmed with a storm of emotions that has persisted over the past two months. The cause of the tempest boils down to three things, though I'll admit some have more precedence over the others. 

For one: 

Was I fooled, earlier? Did I kid myself into thinking I was ready? 

A ghost. 

A fucking. Ghost. 

I'm fucking tired of dealing with goddamn ghosts. 

I realize I'm still unbelievably injured. A fucking shitton of salt got dumped on me after the laceration. So, I will take all the time I damn well need. 

I was only fooling myself. I saw the remains of a bridge and I cautiously inched my way across only to make it maybe a quarter of the way before I was blown by a gale that ripped beams of charred wood off the structure. I jumped back, realizing my folly. 

Do I set fire to the remains, completing its destruction, or do I simply gate off the entrance: Closed due to inclement weather? 

If it's closed temporarily, then boy, am I in for a fucking blizzard. 

And all the while I gaze across the abyss to the other side of the bridge and observe clearer skies and warm sun. This storm is pretty fucking prejudiced. What an ass. 

5 Hour Energy

What it says on the side of the little bottle:

Consumption of product may result in side affects which include: 


>Disappointment by still being dangerously sleepy/tired


>Sudden outburst of rage escalating into a 30-40 minute emotional breakdown of tears, hysterics, further rage, depression. 


Advisory: consume when driving alone in your car so you may try to use loud music to muffle crying and screams that result in near-destruction of throat.


-----

I was at my friends' wedding today, and instead of enjoying myself and being happy for them, I was feeling depressed and bitter throughout the ceremony and whatever part of the reception I stuck around for. I'd still call myself something of a romantic, but I'm hopelessly disenchanted with marriage/weddings now.

Cassie and John, I wish you happiness and the best of luck in your marriage. May you find eternal joy, understanding, and support in one another.




I'm so tired. So. fucking. tired. Just...tired, of everything.
I'm physically, mentally, and emotionally drained.
I don't know what to do anymore.

Do you like pancakes?

YEAH WE LIKE PANCAKES. 

I like pancakes. I've recently discovered how easy they are to cook, though I've yet to make the actual batter from scratch, heh heh.

It's great that I just had the privilege of a stress-free morning where I could prepare myself pancakes and sausage. Today, I went with blueberries, and made the cakes larger than how I usually pour so that they filled the bottom of a small pan (maybe 7-8" diameter). So good. Shame that I don't wake up early enough to appreciate a great breakfast, but in the past couple of weeks, my all-nighters consequently run into the mornings and I'm able to fiddle around with breakfast/brinner.

I appreciate the simplicity breakfast can have, to prepare a meal of pancakes, eggs, and bacon. A glass of cold milk and/or orange juice. End with coffee. Nothing fancy, but very filling and satisfying. I would just love to prepare this, or just any type of breakfast, for a girl during the morning-after...wait what.

So I've been trying to work on a food blog, except I think putting it on tumblr was a mistake. I did it mainly to try tumblr out, but I feel tumblr is more of a journal/diary style blog system. It's fun and simple,  but almost juvenile. And I'm not finding some kind of save system that works well. I'd written up an entire post a few days ago, except my browser froze and when I reopened, my post was gone. Nothing was saved. I was pretty pissed. I maybe just start my food blog over using a different blogging server.

And I seriously need to get back on a normal sleep schedule.

Que Sera, Sera

Felt like I'd kinda given up several days ago. I'm not expecting good results. It's been a rather...off...semester. 

But meh. What'll happen'll happen, yeah? I'm just glad I finally have a breather. Sort of. 

I had a little celebration in mind, buuuuuuuuuut I wasn't sure if it's too early in the day to celebrate (or is it ever too early to celebrate?) Point being, passing out into slumber seems much more appealing at the moment. 

"People say life is short and that you could get hit by a bus at any moment and that you have to live each day like it's your last. 


BULLSHIT. LIFE IS LONG. 


YOU'RE PROBABLY NOT GONNA GET HIT BY A BUS AND YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO LIVE WITH THE CHOICES YOU MAKE FOR THE NEXT FIFTY YEARS."


------

Oh the things I stumble upon on stumbleupon.

WALLACE: Maybe you can move in with Ramona.
SCOTT: She's with Gideon.
WALLACE. Oh, man. It's probably just because he's better than you.


I feel ya, Scotty. I feel ya. As easy as it seems to just be stark-raving angry, all ya feel is depressed.

Say goodbye, and just fly away

This semester/year seems to have me utterly beat. It's been phenomenally shitty, so to speak. I am at my knees in complete defeat. 

...interestingly enough, I really didn't intend for all of that to rhyme. 

I've concluded life would be unbearable without two things: music and booze. I know squat about Nietzsche, but I love what he said about music. Then I've gotta hand it to Brick, the misguided character from the Williams play. 

Something I absolutely love doing is finding songs that express things in life or emotions experienced. Wailing to that one song that speaks volumes about a gloomy vibe when you can't, or dancing wildly with the tune that emulates unimaginable joy that does wonders: perfect. 

Which also brings me to say, driving alone in one's car is the absolutely perfect place to perform the described actions (but please be safe in doing so - this is the road, for crying out loud.) Sometimes I imagine cars are like confessionals where people can let loose taxing emotions and unbearable feelings, both the good and bad. I know I do when I'm in good ol' Carla. 

So I'm on my way to everyone's favorite SLC, and what comes up on my ipod? Why, my all time favorite Maroon 5 song, of course. It's probably one my favorite songs ever, even. I immediately begin jamming out in my car. I can seriously listen to this anytime during any emotion I might be feeling. Super stoked I aced that one paper? Rock out in celebration to this song, of course. Indescribably depressed, lonely and then that nervously-nearing-empty handle of rum  gleams at you from its corner? Why, just wail as loud as humanly possible with this song. 

Words can't describe how much I adore this. Maybe if I said I'd probably go gay just for Adam's voice in this song, would that help? 

...wait, what. 

I absolutely love how the end of the first chorus goes: 

There must be someplace here that only you and I could go, so I can show you how I -- dream away, everyday, try so hard to disregard the rhythm of the rain that drops and coincides with the beating of my heart. 

Then the second chorus pulls a fast one with: 

There must be someplace here that only you can I could go, so I can show you how I -- feel, feel, feel. 

Oh man. Gotta love it. 

Maroon 5, you guys make everything better. 

Brain Dump.1

Because it's a jumble of musings that aren't exactly connected but are noted here anyways.


1.

A poem should not mean

But be.

~Archibald MacLeish

I came across this quote while studying for my Script Analysis final. David Ball references it in his book Backwards and Forwards: A Technical Manual for Reading Plays. I absolutely adore this book because Ball puts all the intricacies of analyzing the way plays function in a humorous, easily accesible method.

But I like this quote because it really does emphasize why some/most poems are written. Why do scholars spend eons analyzing poems or literature? What if the authors just wanted to write a damn poem and didn't give a shit if they were trying to have some underlying message? Geez people.


2.

"Whatever you give to a woman, she's going to multiply. If you give her sperm, she'll give you a baby. If you give her a house, she'll give you a home. If you give her groceries, she'll give you a meal. If you give her a smile, she'll give you her heart. She multiplies and enlarges what is given to her. So -- if you give her any crap, you will receive a ton of shit."

I stumbled. I read. I laughed. I contemplated the truths in this saying.


3.

While studying bio, came across this sentence: "...whereby the cellular membrane invaginates and engulfs..."

invaginates.  teehee, lollerskates, I'm so mature.


4.

Feelin' awfully bitter so far about this Christmas season. Maybe it'll blow over when finals are over. Or not. In the meantime, my favorite Christmas song this year seems to be "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas." There's something so sentimental about the lyrics that I find brutally ironic yet strangely comforting.



Then I've also taken a liking to "Grown Up Christmas List," preferably the Michael Buble version (because hey, who doesn't love Buble's voice) The lyrics feel as equally heartbreaking as the above mentioned song. Good grief, what is up with my liking less-cheery Christmas songs?


5.

I am most, most nocturnal. It's unbelievable. I can't even change it. Tried going to bed one night around 4AM, ended up sleeping a full 14 hours, which I've never done before. WTF SERIOUSLY. 

THE MOST IMPORTANT FACTOR WHEN DECIDING TO DATE SOMEONE

Oh goodness, why didn't I think of this sooner.

CAG:

Can.
You.
Make.



AWESOME.



SANDWICHES?

The Funnies

I admire comic artists who write their own scripts. I feel like the people who can accomplish this possess talents for both drawing as well as writing. Kudos, comic artists, kudos.

In recent years (or maybe in the recent decade,) I've noticed webcomics have become a pretty big thing. Readers can get weekly doses of about 4+ panels to make them laugh, ponder, or just keep up with a story arc that's been progressing over recent days. Webcomics also foster a community among artists as I've seen guest artists take over updating someone's series for a day as they draw and sometimes write in the original characters but with a twist on style.

But now there are numerous cases where a webcomic doesn't need a refined style or where the artist doesn't have to be super-talented in a drawing sense. Take for example Cyanide&Happiness,  xkcd, or TheDogHouseDiaries. I wouldn't say any of these comic series blow me away with fantastic drawing skills. Instead, their success lies in the writing, or the punchlines, I suppose. What these series have in common is the ability to peak readers' interest in the simple, clean format of their panels, only to slap them in the face with a witty/sarcastic/clever ending. I feel that CH is notorious for this. The language in xkcd is more or less science/math based with references to some current events, and added with a dash of romantic-wittiness.  I imagine not everyone who reads xkcd will pick up on all of the artist's humor, but I admire just how smart alot of the work is. The people of TheDogHouseDiaries use a style that I feel is kinda similar to xkcd, except their range of topics and punchlines are more rounded than the former's.  Sometimes less is more, simple is better, and there's no denying that these three webcomic series embody that idea.

And as for series that I feel DO display a certain talent...

I've long been following VGcats, for one. It used to be updated every Monday, but well. Busy people are busy and it gets updated irregularly. This series is heavily videogame inspired. So granted, knowledge of the game each comic alludes to would be important. Something I also enjoy is going back to the first comic uploaded and observing how the artist's style changes over time. VGcats is definitely an example of that. Another interesting thing is Scott Ramsoomair also updates another series on the side (that is still accessible from the main VGcats page) titled SuperEffective. It's basically a parody of Pokemon, what's not to love?

Foxtrot is a series that reminds me of being a kid, probably because I must've been around 10 or 11 when I first read one of the Foxtrot books that belonged to my friend. The humor greatly appealed to me then: crazy family of five, youngest, mega-geek supersmart brother likes to harass somewhat self-absorbed middle-sister while the oldest brother whose lightning-fast metabolism prevents him from gaining muscle mass to impress chicks can't care less and meanwhile the dad is pretty oblivious to his kids' antics but tries to understand anyways while the mom, who appears to be the only sane one, is the linchpin that keeps the family together. Bill Amend will also semi-frequently allude to things geekdom like Star Wars, computers, or Dungeon and Dragons, which is pretty cool. Today though, he runs a webcomic of the same series which I enjoy checking up on every now and then. He still continues referring to pop culture things; one strip he alluded to the double rainbow guy! I laughed pretty hard. He still continues writing comics for Sunday papers and occasionally releases Foxtrot collections, or anthologies. Books, basically.

And finally, something I've recently discovered: GirlsWithSlingshots. This series revolves mainly around  two best friends and their friend group as they all deal with life, love, and everything else in between. I'd definitely describe the series as raunchy since most of its humor draws from sex, relationships, and alcohol, with a little bit of homoeroticism and some things girl-related mixed in. I think it's a clever, witty, and hilarious webcomic that Danielle Corsetto (artist) also releases in buyable book collections.

I've never heard about this series until several nights ago, and now I'm completely hooked. Damn you, stumbleupon, damn you.

Now I should be studying for my final instead of writing an essay about webcomics. Crap.

Totally looks like...

Watched Scott Pilgrim for the SIXTH time now ohmygodsomeonestopme.

And I noticed Envy Adams (Scott's ex) during her performance on stage looks ALOT like Misa from the Deathnote series. I tried searching for a picture of both characters so I can compare them, but as it turns out, someone's beat me to it:

Whaaaaaaaaat. Trippy. But yeah, there they are. 

For more humorous look-a-likes, check out totallylookslike.com. It's great. And uncanny, I might add. 

Nocturnal. Yep.

So here's the screenplay I wrote for my theatre history class. Description at the bottom, after the piece.

...

So what I don't mention are my thoughts on the scene between Sam and Rachel the second time he takes King, the part where Rachel tells Sam she can't be the only one to save him. 

When I wrote those lines (I think this was around 3 or 4AM,) I freaked out. I wondered where the hell did I get the idea to start using near-direct quotes from my personal life. I had to stop writing to take a walk around the SLC. Sure maybe my brain was fried from the lack of sleep and it got desperate and just started using whatever ideas it could come up with to put on paper. And yeah, mostly the things I write creatively have influences from my personal life, but never, ever have I used lines that are pretty much directly referring/almost plagiarizing things that have happened to me.  

****edit* :NEVER-EFFING-MIND, I'm not quite sure what  I was thinking. It's the nights, you know, I think too much PLUS my sleep schedule is all effed. Granted I feel Rachel's lines are kinda eerie to me, but they're not say, verbatim, of things. I don't know. wth am I doing. Move along now, nothing to see here. ***

But in the end I figured what the hell, no one's gonna know this when I present in class, so I let those lines be. I suppose the ones who would know are the ones the events pertain to. 

Sometimes I wonder, can one ever be a good writer if all he uses for inspiration are personal feelings? 

To be continued. 

The Night Starts Here

There's something inexplicably alluring about the wee hours of the night. Or is it the wee hours of the morning? You know what I mean.

So begins my biannual camp-outs here in the SLC. Gotta love its 24 hours of operation, JUST for us students who study like this during finals. Woohoo. The silence and near-emptiness of the building is eerie and uncanny, but I just love it so much. Because usually, there are kids walking around all over the place, it's noisy, it smells like sweat and coffee, tables are crowded, bathrooms are crowded, computers are occupied. But at a time like this, it's...peaceful. Calm. I kinda wish the SLC were open 24 hours most of, if not all, the time.

Call me crazy, but I kinda like spending the nights in this building. It's brutal. I'm probably inches away from contracting some volatile illness every time I do this. But something about arming myself with coffee, energy drinks, food, layers of warm clothing, and a steely determination make the experience so pleasant. Meh.

But hey, I'm not as bad as some kids. The SLC has quite a number of group study rooms scattered throughout its floors. These have lock-less doors and large floor to ceiling windows so you can see in/out of the room (wouldn't want people doing illicit things in these rooms behind lock doors...meh heh heh).  During the day and until about 12AM, these rooms are high in demand just because they provide some isolation from the busy atmosphere. So last year during finals time, I made my nightly visits, and after several returns, I noticed one or two rooms always had the same group of people in them. I realized, these people were rotating out so they could always have this room! They had some blankets and even pulled in some of the lounge chairs, sometimes boxes of take out and pizza were strewn across the floor and table. These kids took turns staking out this room to ensure they always had a place to study, since it's damn near IMPOSSIBLE to find even a place to sit in this building during the day during finals. Seeing these kids go to lengths to keep this spot was so sad to bear...and yet I felt unusually envious. I wish I had a group of friends that would camp out with me in the SLC during finals time. They just think I'm crazy I even come to the SLC at such late hours. Hmph.

So I spend nights in the SLC. Go to class/take my final, go home, sleep until about 6-8PM, wake up, eat, repeat. Fun times.

I just function better during the night. Walking outside through campus where there isn't a single person around nor a car that drives by is quite calming. I can think better, more clearly.

And because I think more clearly, I can rationalize myself. Nowadays it almost seems like I'm bipolar. I'll go from super content, happy, life's good/I know what I'm doing and it's alright everything's fine one day, to depressed, mopey, god-why-do-I-do-this-what's-the-fucking-point on another day.

In recent days, I'm surprised at you. I realize I didn't need your condescending pity, your hypocrisy. I can't stand arrogance. Your fakeness. Which I find cruelly ironic because fakeness was something you used to be adamantly against, but I guess people change. And, I didn't think you were that type of person who would do something like that.

I know I'm being extremely passive-agressive about this. But I guess some people don't change.

Also now that I've had time to think about it more, I feel I wasn't given the whole truth, that there was something you failed to bring up that night, but it's ok because maybe you didn't realize it then, and maybe today you still don't, but now I do. I guess people change.



Well this has been a mildly interesting spectrum of feelings. Let's end with a song, shall we? If you're expecting the song I've aptly used as the title, I'm afraid I have unfortunate news for you: it's not gonna be that song. Instead, I've lately been in a Ben Folds groove, and I just dig his recent album.

Ben Folds, with Nick Hornby (lyrics), "From Above"

Isn't this music video just grand?

"If you don't like the Beatles, then we can't be friends."

I wondered about this, CAG. Do you listen to The Beatles? Please say yes.

"Fuck You"

Ok, I'll admit I'm the kind of person to hear a song for the first time and then like it after seeing it performed on a popular TV show.

Obviously I'm talking about Glee. And the song I'm referring to is when Gwyneth Paltrow did "Forget You," by Cee Lo Green. Honestly, the original artist that came to my mind was Michael Jackson. I was found incorrect. And since it's the first time I heard the song, I didn't know this is actually the clean version. The song is aptly titled "Fuck You."



And for some reason I felt it'd be funny to try to re-write the lyrics into something more fancy, like that internet meme that's been going around, showing a picture of a classical-style painting of a guy smiling with his fingers pointing out at you. For example:

Obviously this is pretty epically-overkill. 

So here we go: Cee Lo Green's "Fuck You," fancified lyrics! 

Chorus: 

I notice your operating of your automobile around the local residences with the woman I adore sitting in your passenger seat, and I say, "I sincerely wish you perform intercourse with yourself." 

I then ponder and conclude what little currency I possessed was unsatisfactory, and I say, "I sincerely wish you perform intercourse with yourself," and, "I sincerely wish she performs intercourse with herself, also." 

I declared, "If I did indeed posses a monetary amount that would make me vastly wealthy, I might have been in a committed relationship with you, to this very day." But I jest, for is that not a laughable matter comparable to a pile of feces? 

And although I am currently experiencing a sensation similar to a mild cardiac infarction, I still desire that you remain in the best health possible, and I will give you this blessing in the form of my saying, "I sincerely wish you perform intercourse with yourself." 

Verse 1: 

Yes I indeed apologize for not possessing the monetary wealth to purchase an extravagant, luxurious Italian sports car; however, this does not indicate that I am incapable of providing you with transportation to whichever destination of your choosing. 

I speculate that the man could be something comparable to a piece of advanced technology licensed by Microsoft, while I, on the other hand, can be something comparable to a much more outdated piece of technology with a similar function, manufactured by an older, now French-owned company. However, the way you carry out your methods of entertainment seems to be a cheat to the rest of us. 

Pre-chorus:

I will express my greatest sympathies for the next imbecile who decides to adore you. 

(Alas! She only desires a man for his exorbitant financial standing!)

Well, 

(I just speculated you should be aware of this information, my African-American friend)

I possess some new information that I intend to relay to you. Yes, leave and hasten to your new, but shorter man so that you may tell him everything I have declared. 

(Chorus)

Verse 2

Now I am fully aware that I had to request items with a promise to return them, tearfully plead for them, take them by force without one's consent, and use methods that would give me an unfair advantage. 

I did my absolute best to ensure you remain with me and to ensure everything I did was satisfactory, because being in a committed, adoring relationship with your buttocks is quite expensive. 

Pre-chorus

Oh, at this very moment, I find myself absolutely despising your buttocks. 

(Chorus)

Bridge: 

Now, little new born, little new born, little new born, why would you desire to inflict physical and/or emotional pain on me with such cruel intentions?

(Cruel intentions! Cruel intentions! Cruel intentions!)

I attempted to speak to my mother, but she simply replied, "this is one for your father."

(Your father! Your father! Your father)

Yes, indeed my mother did state that.

And I loudly interject!  And I wonder aloud "why!" I loudly interject again, and wonder aloud "why, female person!" I continue on my outbursts and cry aloud, "I possess feelings of adoration for you! Yes, I still possess feelings of adoration for you!" And I finish with one last, prolongated interjection. 

Chorus: 

I notice your operating of your automobile around the local residences with the woman I adore sitting in your passenger seat, and I say, "I sincerely wish you perform intercourse with yourself." 

I then ponder and conclude what little currency I possessed was unsatisfactory, and I say, "I sincerely wish you perform intercourse with yourself," and, "I sincerely wish she performs intercourse with herself, also." 

I declared, "If I did indeed posses a monetary amount that would make me vastly wealthy, I might have been in a committed relationship with you, to this very day." But I jest, for is that not a laughable matter comparable to a pile of feces? 

And although I am currently experiencing a sensation similar to a mild cardiac infarction, I still desire that you remain in the best health possible, and I will give you this blessing in the form of my saying, "I sincerely wish you perform intercourse with yourself." 

Change

1. Times I've watched Scott Pilgrim vs. The World: 5.

2. First time I've watched the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show (what? so judge me). And I'm rather curious about one thing: if these extravagant costumes and outfits aren't for sale in any of their stores, then why bother having a show? I did think at first maybe it's to sort of feature and accentuate the bras and underwear worn by the models, but then at most times, the outfits don't even have a bra. So my question still stands. Maybe I'm missing the point of fashion shows, in general. It's ok though, I didn't dwell on this issue so much. Just sit back and enjoy, I told myself.

3. I don't really know how to explain this change. Maybe I'm over it. Maybe after beating the issue to death to ears that would listen, I realize it's not worth freaking over. It's not my problem, and I should just move on. Of course it's not all gone, it's not all entirely good and low thoughts of frustration and sadness slightly lurk about, but I suppose that's expected, after all. Fuck you, Time.

4. Maybe it's because I've found a new objective to keep me focused and busy/stressed enough. Honestly at times I feel totally alone on this campus, and in terms of my relationships with whatever few friends I have here, I don't see any improvement but I feel...better, somehow. Maybe better in the sense that I just don't care anymore. The only explanation I can come up with is because now I'm so hell-bent on/stressed the freak out about med school.

5. I think I finally realized the word I've been looking for to describe how I currently feel about love and marriage: disenchanted. Why the hell didn't I think of that word so many months ago, I don't know. But I do know it's the word I've been searching for. I've been wrestling on and off with the question how do married people stay married, and if humans, as species, as organisms on this planet, are meant to find a mate and procreate, then why is the process of finding one so damn hard?

But then, oh wait, the actual act of procreating isn't difficult at all. You don't need any sort of connection, other than primal lust, to procreate for your species. So finding and committing to one mate is the difficult part, then? Fantastic.

6. Now that there are numerous people I know/know of who are engaged/getting married, I have to stop and wonder, holy shit, why are people getting married at such a young age? I sure wouldn't want to enter grad school as a married guy. There's so much more to life and the world that I'd want to experience before even considering marriage (but oh wait, disenchanted, remember?). But I don't want to come off as I'm bashing those people for getting married, no. If they're certain of their love and connection, then hey, more power to them. It's just not for everyone, right.

7. I have things to say/ponder aloud concerning friendship between guys, between girls, and between guys and girls. I did write some shit down here, buuuuut it's rather scattered. TBPAEOAAT (to be polished and elaborated on at another time.)