It's okay, just ignore me

Disclaimer for all of you that follow me: this post is not worth reading to you guys, because I'm just being a fangirl.

Judge me if necessary. Actually, you judge me anyways. It's okay, because I judge you back just as hard for various other things. I'm very self concious ^^

But yay~ I'm happy, it's a Suju birthday!
Kangin~ happy bithday!
Be happy and safe~

Mist and Demons

                This mist is settling in, and the demons are coming out to play.

                I had another really creepy dream last night that involved secret agents, children with super powers, and a large hall full of people. There was this child who could turn into a “demon” (or rather, into this freaky hairy gigantic spider thing). And it spit out webs and whatever, and apparently was the child with the most awesome superpower. I don’t understand what was wrong with me – well, I did go to sleep at 2 in the morning. I knew that I wouldn’t actually finish my psych journals if I went to sleep and tried to start it the next morning. So I finished it. And I went to bed slightly delirious.

***

                He noticed the brunette sitting in the corner, hidden away between the couch and the wall, as if unwilling to let anyone see him this way. His head was tucked tightly into his arms, and his frame was rocked by shuddering sobs and suppressed cries. Heartache and empathy shot through the younger boy’s heart, as he made his way over to the vulnerable figure.

                As he approached, he felt more and more unsure. What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say? He obviously didn’t want anyone to find him, which is why he placed himself in such a small space. The younger one’s dark eyes were filled with indecision. Maybe I should just leave him alone.

                Suddenly, it was quiet. The brunette curled up in that small space had fallen silent. The younger one knelt down in alarm. Was something wrong? He peered at the now peaceful figure intently, and heard soft breathing. Gently, the younger one touched the forehead of his friend, brushing his bangs back. There was no reaction, only a soft, congested breathing. His friend’s crying had exhausted him so much that he had fallen asleep, right in that space.

                Deciding that he couldn’t just leave the sleeping figure there, he dragged the curled up figure by the feet. With a gentle tug and a not-so-gentle yank, the sleeping figure was soon sprawled on the floor by the couch. An annoyed mumbled sound alerted the younger boy that the crying figure was no longer asleep. “What are you doing?” A bleary, irritated pair of eyes met the sheepish ones.

                “Trying to get you on the couch. You fell asleep,” came the reply.

                “So you had to maul me to get me there.”

                “Maybe. You’re heavy, you know that?”

                “Thanks.” Suddenly, the older boy was surprised by the pair of warm arms surrounding him. “What are you doing?” he asked, slightly flustered.

                “Don’t cry. I’m here for you.” A muffled voice came out of the head buried into his chest. “I don’t want to see you cry.”

                The brunette’s heart melted as he gathered up the embarrassed boy in his arms. Happiness burst into his world as he felt the care of the other seep into his veins, warming the very core of his soul. “Thank you.”

Celebration - 100 posts!

                So, I’ve been procrastinating on this hundredth post (!! Oh my goodness 100). But I decided that I needed to write it, otherwise my blog can never die. Just kidding, I might not have it die. I might continue to write in it, but it will be fairly infrequent. Actually, who knows. I’ve only been procrastinating because I wanted to write an epic 100^th post. However, it’s not going to be that epic.

                So I should comment on how this is going. I actually really liked the blogging assignment. It made me practice my writing (sometimes), but also I just kind of realized that I like writing. In my own specific way. It’s nice to get my thoughts down on paper… well. Virtual paper. It was quite painful at first for me to blog, since I was treating it as a writing assignment where I had to do analysis of whatever story we were reading, but when I realized that I could blog on anything that I wanted, it was a lot better… actually, I found that under almost any circumstance, I would end up going on a tangent. I used to say that I was just going to write rant style sometimes, but I found that I’m writing rant style all the time. Stream of consciousness.

                I want to figure out how to put music on my blog so that whenever people click on my blog, there will be music. In all honesty, that might be the most obnoxious thing ever, since it turns on and I have to figure out where that darn button is to turn it off. But I want it on my blog. So I might have it around for a while, and then realize that it annoys me, and then turn it off. Delete it forever. Also, I think I’ve been listening to one playlist for way too long because this morning, I woke up humming a song from the playlist. There was just a song stuck in my head, and so I started humming it out loud to figure out what it was. I didn’t figure it out, but I knew it was one of those songs. And I was amused.

                Because it’s the 100^th post, I decided to say, it’s okay Rick/First Commenter, I don’t spite you that much. Being magnanimous on a centennial (isn’t that for years… it’s okay I can’t think of the other word) celebration.

                Quiet judgment.  

AUUUUGHHHHH

I AM GOING TO EXPLODE.
I HAVE NO WORDS FOR WHAT I'M FEELING RIGHT NOW.

***

Okay this is later, perhaps a couple days later (it is a few days later), but I don’t want to write my 100^th post yet. Therefore, I will keep posting on my 99^th post. Um, yeah, I think my 100^th post will be the death of my blog. I was pretty much right around my mid-blog crisis… I have come to terms. Because really, I’ll just make a new blog. That is just full of awesomeness. And I will tell no one about it. People will eventually find it on the internet and hopefully they will like it. Or, I’ll create a LiveJournal. After all, I think I would appreciate the communities. Hm,  maybe I will keep writing here, and just post all of my... “creative posts” on LiveJournal. Since I have “different” taste. That people do not appreciate.

LiveJournal is surprisingly complicated. I’m not sure I want to be on there. Blogger is so much prettier. I know that I will not put my stories here… unless I am absolutely sure that people will stop checking forever. Once I am sure of this, I will potentially use this site more. I shall figure it out eventually.

Continue writing later.

Also, first commenter, I really don’t appreciate you. I like Matt’s blog so much better than yours. I spite you.

I think I will raise a turtle.

Can I have happy endings now?

                When I am extra excited, I can’t really tell if I’m either hyperventilating or not breathing at all. Also, I haven’t done anything since Wednesday night… I feel like I should do more homework or die. But I would prefer not doing homework or dying. Obviously. Also, I was going to finish watching something, but I already forgot. Oh, probably Adonis Camp and the end of the making of the movie.

                Also, I just watched Knight and Day randomly. I think it’s an awesome chick flick (somehow, I don’t think it’s actually a chick flick, it just is in my head). It has AWESOME EXPLOSIONS. Of awesomeness. I like explosions, like A LOT. But I hate bloody and gore-filled things. But explosions? I will always giggle at. I was really happy at this movie, because it ended happily ever after. After reading all of the depressing stories our class writes, I’m really excited whenever there’s a happy ending. Even though I know there should be a happy ending, I’m always worried there secretly won’t be because they’re trying to be deep or something. *Sulk* Also, what months of the year can you name someone? Like you obviously would not name someone January. Or February. I think March might be acceptable, but I think it’s a bit odd still. But like, April, May, and June are decently common (in like… I don’t know, small towns… it’s not a very urban name). July? I guess. August maybe. But not September, October, November, or December. Maybe just the shorter months, because people are ridiculously lazy. What if you were named in the month you were born? Would that pretty much suck for you?

                Yesterday, I was intent on recording my dreams for the rest of forever. And then last night when I was dreaming, I kept waking up going, wait, I can’t write this online, that’s ridiculous. And then going back to sleep and dreaming about something else. I can only remember one of my dreams, and yeah, it’s kind of strange and can’t be told to people. It’s weird how much I rationalize even when I’m mostly asleep. Also, today, I signed on, and I was like OH MY GOODNESS WHY ARE THERE 18 NEW MESSAGES and then I realized it was because I had 13 unread messages at the end of last night. Well then.

                Three threads have made it to 100 messages (mine and C-‘s random messages that have mostly pictures and not words). I can’t tell whether I should be proud or wondering if I need to spend my time elsewhere. I think I gave up my Facebook entirely. I’m pretty sure that I have. Oh well~

                This might be the cutest picture ever. I think I stopped breathing entirely when I saw this picture. And I want to drink a 酸奶 now. I wonder how you say that in English. Because it’s definitely not yogurt.

Vivid Dreams - Glassblowing

                I realized that I’m unnaturally cynical in my posts. If Inx is sad-angst, mine is angry-angst. And really, I’d rather not. And I’m not even that angry all the time. In fact, I can be very, very happy, and very, very silly. Actually, no, it’s more like 50% I’m ranting about something angrily, and 45% of the time I’m blathering on about something happily and slightly incoherently, and 5% I’m actually like lucid and normal. How silly! Like, I noticed how in my entire The Writing Life post, I’m either going I HATE YOU SHUT UP AND FINISH THE BOOK ALREADY, or LOL I LIKE SUPER JUNIOR AND RANDOMNESS I’M GOING TO REFER TO THAT EXISTS IN MY LIFE, and I made like one semi-amusing statement that people who follow normal American mainstream culture would like. Sorry, American-mainstream culture, I really don’t like you. You’re not worth it.

                I think I am witty sometimes, but really rather rarely. It’s unfortunate. I feel like I’m a lot more interesting in topics that I am interested in. Or really, in things that other people aren’t interested in. Or very – okay, I’m tired of being lucid. Being clear-headed is really boring.

                Actually, I was decently angry still. Haha, either way, the point that I was trying to get at is that it makes my blog pretty uninteresting to read. I –

                I’m pretty sure that it’s too hard to keep a thought running in my head when I’m constantly checking my email. I’m saying that it’s painful for people to read my angst, and really, I don’t think that they want to… it took  me like three paragraphs to get my point across. Or 4. I’m sorry, I’m just really wordy and confused! And this is like a really, really public diary. But has none of my more intimate thoughts. But really, Super Junior just runs through my head all the time anyways. I’m pretty sure I don’t even have more intimate thoughts.

                Oh, I had a dream, and K- was in it (K-, this means that you should read this part), actually there were a lot of other people, too, but I don’t remember them. We were working as like…. Glassblowing apprentices. Yeah, I don’t even. Either way, the glassblower person would just give us kind of rough looking globes, and we would use this weird random circular tool to make it smooth or whatever. Yeah, I don’t actually know how it works, and I’m pretty sure you can’t sand glass like you sand wood, but whatever, it was a dream. Either way, you were really good at it. And I started later, and I was watching you, and I was like, psh, how hard could it be, since you just kind of roll it around in the mold and then it’s awesome. So I try to do it. and then at first, I was like PSH THIS IS SO EASY, and then my globe started to become deformed. So I start more frantically trying to fix it into the direction it’s supposed to go. And then suddenly, I have this RANDOM WEIRD AIR POCKET THAT IS DEAD SPACE. And then I’m terrified and I try to fix it faster. And then suddenly, it becomes a tube, all the air deflates, and it shrivels up into a kind of porous-ish looking silver metal. And then the glassblower guy is really mad at me and is just like WOW YOU SUCK AT LIFE. I’m going to give you an easier job to do. And then he hands me this TINY BOWL that is basically the size of a quarter, fills it up with like a few tiny strings of spaghetti, and he’s just like HAVE PEOPLE SAMPLE THE SPAGHETTI AND GIVE ME FEEDBACK ON HOW THE SPAGHETTI IS. And then people are laughing at me because I was just demoted to a really pathetic role. So I take the chopsticks, and I try to pick up the tiny piece of spaghetti. After flailing for a bit, I feed it to K-. And my general reaction after that is WTF WHY AM I DOING THIS. And then I get reassigned again because I was like WTF and questioning my role. They do not appreciate me questioning authority. Either way, I worked in some sort of warehouse with a tanning bed facility. Either way, we needed to clean the warehouse with some kind of liquid with like… sulfuric acid or something. Either way, apparently it was really dangerous or something, and I would die if it got on my skin. Anyways, I think my dream warped a bit, and somehow it was the day that we needed to clean. I just had this random powered spray bottle, and I was spraying it on everything. And it got all over my arms, and then when the alarm went off to notify that we were cleaning, I was like oh crap, I need to be in protective gear, and then I flipped out. I ran through the factory and washed myself off frantically. Then I got gear, which was… short sleeved. I’m not sure why I felt protected after that, but I was wearing short sleeves and gloves. And pants. And they kind of reminded me of scrubs, except for with hearts. Kind of like pajamas or like dentist shirts. Either way, I had to struggle really hard to find them and get them on because I was the only one who didn’t have them on. And then I kind of was like OH MY GOD I’M GOING TO DIE. And then I woke up.

                This is what I get for sleeping 16 hours.

                Also, here is a more epic version of what I saw in my head. By the way, they look really sleepy and not put together because they were just forcibly woken up semi-not-kind ways. Like having puppies crawl all over you. And hitting you with a pillow. And putting a wig and makeup (well, I think that was just getting revenge). Either way, pajamas are really cute, and they make them look like little kids, and it’s really adorkable.

The Chain Was Broken

                Wow, that’s really surprising. I slept from 6PM on Thursday night to 10AM on Friday morning. Apparently, my parents tried to wake me up, but they failed. It’s actually kind of freaky, since it was basically like I was dead. But not really. Still, I wasn’t about –WHAT ON EARTH. I DON’T CHECK MY EMAIL IN OVER 24 HOURS AND SUDDENLY I HAVE 26 NEW MESSAGES. I know it doesn’t sound like a lot, but I don’t want to do deal with anything right now. Also, my chain was broken. Because of sleep. Shame on you sleep, now I have to blog for another 2 months.

                I’m really happy right now. But I’m also numb. I HATE feeling numb. It’s kind of a scary feeling, and not especially comfortable. I’M TINGLING THROUGH MY ENTIRE BODY. And mostly my face. Ickkky. Wow, really, I can’t wait until I’m in college. I just want to be left alone, okay? Please just leave me alone. I don’t care about doing things, or being a good person, or really just listening to any source of authority. I want to throw darts at people’s faces (pictures of people’s faces. I’m not that violent yet). And I want you to go away. Because I’m annoyed, and you made me annoyed, and I just managed to be happy again, and now I am unhappy again. By the way, you suck at life.

                People who suck at life should just cease to exist. Except for me. I suck at life a lot, but I also don’t suck at life a lot. IN MY STANDARDS OKAY? IF YOU DISAGREE WITH ME, YOU SHOULD GO DIE. In a very painful and unfortunate way. THIS IS MY OPINION. Anyways.

               And I forgot what I was talking about. But I figure I should do Thursday’s homework and this weekend’s homework, too.

                Wow, people should just NEVER deflate my good moods, because really, I’D LIKE TO BE ABLE TO ENJOY MY LIFE. AND I’M CYNICAL AND ANNOYED ENOUGH AS IT IS. GO AWAY. GO DIE.

                Going to put a funny (well… funny in my opinion…) picture in a feeble attempt to make me feel better. Actually, knowing that this will be in about 8 people’s feeds just makes me laugh. I can only imagine their reactions. I don’t know what he’s actually doing, but it looks like he’s doing part of Miss A’s Bad Girl Good Girl dance.

Hiccups and answers

                I have uncontrollable hiccups. They are quite terrible. They make me feel funny, and I’m already sleepy. So I am sleepily hiccupping. Which is really quite a bad combination, because it makes me more wobbly than usual, and more prone to falling over. Actually, the more I think about it, the more I sound like a drunk person. I assure you, I am far from drunk. Although my mind might not be so lucid, I guarantee that’s because I’m tired. Very, very tired.

                I’m pretty sure the more I wish for snow, the less of a possibility it will actually snow. Maybe if there was going to be something epic-ly fun at school (probability: 0.000001), it would snow on that day and we would miss it. I think that we should make up days at the end of the school year, because well… then I don’t have to go. Hurray! I have it all thought out.

                What is the point of lip gloss? TO MAKE THINGS SHINY. Answer to a question.

                Picture time! I’m really not into it today…

White Desire

                The snow won’t go away. Or more like, the ice won’t go away. I do not want it to be icy. I want it to be snowy. Lots of fluffy fresh snow that locks us into a white prison for about a month. I don’t mind if I have to stay at home for a month. In fact, I would much rather stay at home for a month. Just stay stuck on top of a hill for an entire moth. Perhaps I would try trekking down in snow boots… no, I want the entire greater Seattle area to be locked in a white nightmare. I want to go skiing! I want to play outside in the fresh, gorgeous scene… I want there to be no footprints. I want to be the one that disturbs the peace if I so choose. I want to walk into the middle of a forest, and sit down and watch the ice glisten. The achingly silent forest covered by a sheet of pale death. Gorgeous, magnificent beauty. Preserved beauty. Frozen solid. I want to go sledding. Skiing on snow over concrete might not be a good idea. I want there to be more than two feet of snow. I want to be captured.

                I want to not be able to tell where one thing starts and another thing ends. I want lakes and ponds to freeze over with a thick layer of ice so I can ice skate. I want life to halt so I can enjoy myself. People, froze in place, in time, in the air… I want to fly. I want to float and soar into the sky so I can view the figures, stuck in place… I want power. I want to control things.

                I want to be able to make the sky snow. I want it to fall in torrents, in sheets, in intense, whipping, wind-driven storms… I want to dance in the snow. I want to wear a blood-red gown. I want to hold long ribbons, and whip them into the air. I want to be the devil in the distance, enchantingly graceful, a moving red figure floating in the blizzard. I want people to see and fear for their lives, yet be entranced by mysterious beauty. I want them to flock like moths to flame, and I want them to freeze. See the demon within and freeze in place. One day, others will find them… they will be locked in place, with an expression that is of both horror and admiration mixed together.

                I want white wings. I want to have soft, downy appendages that I can stretch wide and take off. Majestic. Free.

                I want. I desire. I ache and crave. But I cannot have. Dye the world the color pink. Make music blast from the trees. Turn the world upside down. Defy gravity. Defy laws. Defy physics. Defying anything and everything, being exactly who I want to be. Become admired. Become loved. Become worshipped. Be everything that anyone wants to be. But be myself. Be envied. Pure. White. Control life and death. Breathe. Expand. Grow. Live.

More Bits and Pieces

                I don’t know what to blog about today. I kind of think that I’m underestimating how many pieces of paper it takes to complete my story. And what’s necessary for me to explain what’s happening without going “and so, couple months passed this way and she fell more and more in love” or something equally disgusting and disturbing. Watch me use this. Because she needs to fall in love with him, and then realize that murder and bloodshed is so much more important in her life than love. That she shouldn’t give up what brings her joy and what supports her as a career for something a frivolous as “love.” It’s simply not worth it! In the end, she will stand proud as an independent person… Whatever. Either way, it took  me enough pages to get her to the scene where she meets him. I feel like I’m trying to write a book but squeeze it into a couple pages. I think there will be a portion where it has to go faster. Or else you will be reading a hundred page novel. Which I think that everyone would be really annoyed to read, and I would be really annoyed to write. Also, there must be a portion of my story where I explain in detail the intense bloodlust she feels. And the hacking apart of the guy. And how she’s internally tormented by how she lost her calm outer shell. I’m still not that sure how in the end she’s going to realize that it was just one mistake, and she can be strong. She can grow from the experience, she can control herself. Maybe I’ll write the ending right here… just something that will make everyone cringe and complain about, and then I’ll just take it off. Perfect fix is wonderful!

***

                Beep, beep! The alarm rang this time with far more insistence after she slept another 15 minutes. Wake up, you. I already let you hit the snooze button once. Groggily, she rubbed at her eyes, slightly disorientated. She shook her head. What a strange dream. Bloodlust, murder, and a cute little boutique in middle of New York… Linali wondered how the months that seemed to elapse in a dream were compacted into 15 minutes. It was as if the alarm was punishing her with crazy scenes for ignoring it. She snuggled once again into the warm comforter, and then kicked it away, shocking her skin with the icy air. Freezing cold and miserable, she prepared for yet another monotonous day.

***

                Okay, there we go. I have a concluding paragraph. Have fun reading!

I'm legal

                I’m an adult now. But only in age. Not in maturity. It’s not like something’s going to change overnight… in fact, I might be less mature than I used to be. Or not. It’s not like my maturity increasingly dwindles. It just stays at a constant state of immaturity. And guess what? Don’t care if I am. As long as I’m living my life to the fullest (well… as much as I can with the restrictions that I have around me), it’s fine.

                I think birthdays for me have gotten to the point where I view it as one day/year closer to my death. When you’re little, you want to grow up. When you’re older, you want to stay young… And yeah, I’ve already gotten to that point. At one time or another in my life, I think I couldn’t wait to be 18. And people told me to be patient, that youth is more of a blessing than I thought. Of course, I didn’t believe them.

                How depressing! Today is supposed to be happy. Something about having the privilege to do lots of things now. Whatever, it’s not like I was so excited to… I’m not even sure. I know if I had a license, I wouldn’t have to wait my six months to drive people around (Inx). But, I have no license. So, overall, it’s not exactly that fun. And it’s not like I can go out and drink or something (not that I would). It’s just 18. Nothing really special happens at that age. I can go to big people jail. Obviously, that’s just such a big comfort. People make too big a deal out of it. It just means that I have about a billion more responsibilities than I used to. My parents can hold it over my head that you’re 18, you should help out around the house more. I don’t really want to, okay? Leave me alone.

                Still depressing and cynical. Right now, my birthday wish is to have a giant freak snowstorm that will freeze the school over in a giant block of ice that will not melt until April. That would be beyond awesome. Because I’m still going to college, and my classes are still useless, and really, WHY CAN’T I GO TO COLLEGE NOW. Because I’m sick and tired of high school.

                I think that one quality an adult must have is to be depressing, cynical, and nag and whine a whole bunch. Even though adults tell children not to whine, they sure as hell do, too. Hurray, I got that down perfectly. I can whine and nag like no tomorrow.

                Um, yeah. Not in the best mood ever.

               Well, I got to see Rosaline today! I missed her a lot… I’m glad she came to visit all of us. That’s more than I would do. I miss having her around. I really miss having the old seniors around… it’s okay without everyone, but it doesn’t mean that I won’t miss them.

                However, I guess it’s a good thing that I will be able to live without everyone. I’ve been worried… but life goes on. I meet new people, leave people behind, people leave me behind, whatever. I don’t know how I manage to be so pessimistic.

                Happy 18^th birthday, me.

I feel like this

I feel like Donghae. But less smiley and adorable.
I don't like being made to work. I had to blog about actually relevant things instead of K pop. That's simply ridiculous.
Donghae is adorable.
And he's very QQ at Baengsin (kitty).

Blogging about The Writing Life

                So, I have finished half the stuff on my list of homework-y things. It would seem that I only have writing fiction things left. And since I insist on blogging, I’ll make this into a The Writing Life blog today, since I have to blog about that. Oh hey, this is the 90^th post! In another 10 days, I’ll hit the 100^th post! Yay! Well… I’m sure at least 28 or so of them are related to writing fiction.

                I used to think that it was brilliant. And then I read it more, and realized that well… I don’t really care for what she has to say. She’s a bit… pessimistic. She does the metaphoric writing which, in all honesty, I don’t really have the patience for. I’m listening to “Midnight Fantasy,” which is gorgeously harmonized. Too bad the only two words that I understand in that sound are “Midnight Fantasy.”

                Okay, so I’m going to blog as I read. I am currently on page 13 (I’m sure I just went back and reread part of it since it’s been so long since I last read it… because I’m sure that I was past page 13 when I last blogged). I just read the part about the woman cutting off a strip of her thigh, and I realize that it’s supposed to be that you’re sacrificing a part of yourself for the book, but really I can’t do anything besides gag at the mental image of this. I hate pain. And I hate disgusting things. Also, was it a large chunk of her leg?

                Page 16. Why would you ever retype your story? Because you potentially could have some epic new idea as you go over your old ideas again? I tried this for my college essays. It didn’t work. Really, if you want inspiration, go take a shower. Or something. Go take a nice, long, warm shower as you pitifully wrack your brain for ideas. It tends to work. Or you just end up singing some random song to which the lyrics you have no idea about and (once again pitifully) warble out something that sounds similar. I really like misheard lyrics. They make me giggle.

                Page 17. I agree, the written word is weak. I try to explain a funny scene of a variety show online, and it doesn’t work. I just end up sounding insane. Really, I like videos. They capture an essence. Pictures are okay… but really if pictures tell a thousand words, then videos are too much for words. It’s too intense, and really, I’m laughing too hard for any words to come out.

                Page 27. Yeah, I also tend to remember things as idyllic. I don’t usually remember the bad parts… just like if you ask me if I would do IB again I would – actually, no I still remember that. And I don’t ever want to go through it again. It’s like ripping your body apart little by little with a tiny blunt knife. But in all honesty, if I were to go back right now and tell eighth grade me what to do, I would tell her to suffer. SUFFER, LITTLE-ME, SUFFER. Because eventually, hopefully, it will all be worth it. So in the end… I guess I don’t just remember the good parts. Also, cigarettes are absolutely disgusting. I cannot admire this person anymore, if they are truly that stupid as to do that to themselves. You can be as brilliant as you want, I will still despise you greatly. And condescend upon you. Or simply just not think of you, because you’re just a waste of air and not worth my time. Disgusting.

                Page 35. Playing a game of chess with someone you don’t know over the course of a couple days is totally epic. I hope to encounter something awesome like that in college. And maybe I will… if I ever leave my dorm. Haha, yeah…  A quote that my friend said while he was over for the holidays comes to mind. “English majors are for teaching the next generation of English majors.” I hope that’s not insulting. But it’s oddly true… Like the chicken and the egg. Who was the first English major and how? Wait… that’s not an unanswerable question…

                Page 37. The man is a fool. Wives do not have to entertain and garden. What kind of bullshit is that. She may garden or entertain if she feels like it. Shut up you sexist bastard.

                Page 45. I may hope that I am never that distracted. But knowing me, I always am. I put things down and I do not know where I put them. In one night, I lost my drink three times and my food once. That is just pure silliness. But I think being very absorbed into your work is a good thing. It keeps you focus and it keeps your mind flowing. If I were to move a clothespin every few seconds, I would inevitably get bored of my story and walk away…

                Page 49. How can a married couple both be writers? Don’t married couples generally like being able to see each other? Maybe the bloom of their marriage already wore off. Also, Dillard really abuses herself. Do not get caffeine poising and die.

                Page 51. I wonder if I sound this crazy in my writing, too. But I kind of envy her intense mental breakdown. I’m sure I could – I definitely just censored myself. I typed it out, and then realized that people in class were potentially going to read it. And then I deleted it. Because I’d rather not have people grade it…

                Page 53. Obviously, this writing is powerful. Otherwise I would not be commenting every two pages. But at the bottom of that page, where she says “Why wasn’t I running a ferryboat, like sane people?” The answer, at least for when I do things that I rather hate, is either that I’m good at it and I like to be good at things, or I have to. There is no choice in the matter. It is something that I have to drag myself to do, and do well, just because I am that kind of person. Although I’m starting not to be. If I don’t like it, then why do it well? It’s not worth my time. Also, she might be the kind of person who wouldn’t like doing anything else either. I feel like I am that kind of person… happiness is not the main goal in my life. Well maybe it is. Comfort is the main goal in my life. I think I want a couple close friends with the same interests as I, and we’ll live comfortably. And I’ll mostly be alone. That sounds like a lot of fun actually, not going to lie.

                Page 54. “As I spoke he nodded precisely in the way that one nods at the utterances of the deranged. ‘And then…’ I finished brightly, ‘you die!’” Amused. This sounds like S-. And the man nodding, well, that’s just the rest of the world.

                Page 55. Apparently, I really like this part. “I was a critic writing for critics.” Well… critics are an elite breed. If you want to write elite things, then you have to give up the general populace, who will inevitability not get your writing. I will write for the general populace – sorry workshop people, my writing is going to be below you all. And then you will rip it to shreds, and I will shrugs. It’s not for you anyways.

                Page 64. I wonder if she was high when this happened.

                Page 70. “I liked the smell of paint.” So if I like money and power, investing banking is the way to go, yes? Somehow, I feel this is very trivial… needs more depth. You need more than just that to do something… but maybe it is that simple. Perhaps I shall delude myself into thinking that I can potentially be happy in my life…

                Page 78. I don’t really like this part. “Push it. Examine all things intensely and relentlessly.” But don’t actually. If you take away the magic, the blurry filters, things are never as awesome as they seem. Just like photoshoots that are done in the autumn leaves… the leaves are dead. They are dead, decaying, and moldy. Don’t look too closely, because it destroys the utter brilliance of the yellow colors. Ignore the brown. Ignore the death that is seeping into the picture…

                Page 88. This is a lucky page. The guy is lucky to survive… also why on earth would you do that for a log. Is Dillard trying to say that you should keep going to the point of exhaustion and possibly almost death for a book? Sorry, I don’t care about anything that much. Well… maybe I’ll care about something that much one day. Perhaps I even care about K pop – just kidding. I would never go out of my way to go to a concert. I hate people, I hate crowds. Even going grocery shopping made me claustrophobic.

                Page 96. I can’t do that with my writing. Do anything and make it seem simple. I can’t do anything like that. Everything seems to take a lot of effort. Even walking. I suppose that is why she envies him, being able to create art so easily. All she can do is sound condescending…

                Page 97. Aww, what a cute bird.

                Page 103. Like the gravity boots, I must prepare for a story, my story that I will write a bit later. After reading the ones that were sent to me and writing commentaries. I feel like I should not write right after reading this, or I will inevitably sound whiny and pretentious. I suck in the aura of the book that I just read, and I spit it out through my fingers. Like blood. Seeping out into the page. That would be really cool, if I did not have low blood pressure and if it didn’t hurt. And if I didn’t faint seeing blood coming out of my hands.

                Page 108. I knew he was going to die. I was just waiting for it.

                Page 111. I’m not sure I like the ending. I guess she’s just saying to live for your art. I can’t do that anymore… I’m not that kind of person.

                Hurray, I have finished! Okay, time to do more things…  Wow. Lots of words, but not my longest post. But this had relevance.

               

               

Min~

Hurray! Totally have been waiting for this for a month or more~

Happy 25th birthday, Sungmin! Now, I will post up about a billion pictures of him.
Oh, and happy new year. That's important too.

I really wanted to post gifs up. But my computer seems to resent me today, so I'll leave it at this. Maybe if I have more time (HA) later.

New year's resolution? They never come true, so why bother.
Well... maybe I'll do it later (HA, NOT GOING TO HAPPEN).