When I have lots of things to do, I always seem to find myself in a position where I am doing EXACTLY what I shouldn't be doing. And even if the task I am doing can wait till after I complete the original, more important task at hand, (i.e. blogging instead of writing my Italian studies essay) I still overrule any judgment to be productive and continue on with my little distractions.
Although I have so much work to do for school (and life preparations), my mind wanders to places I did not know existed in my own thoughts. They're useless wanderings that lead me to no clear destination. The journey following these thoughts are almost always bombarded with random artifacts hidden between the foldings of my brain. I bet I am not making much sense right now but that's okay because this entry is dedicated to nonsensical ramblings that are distracting me from analyzing Italian literature regarding the process of translation. Sounds fantastic, right? Not really.
However I must compliment the brief beautiful weather we had today. It was almost inspiring enough for me to jump start my ridiculous agenda, but then it got a bit gloomy and along with it went my desire to be a good student. Ha, I blame 88% of my inability to work hard on the poor weather.
Despite my apathetic attitude towards schoolwork, I have felt more alive than I ever have in a really long time. I'm certain there are several contributing factors to my change in outward demeanor. Most of them shall remain a secret shared only with myself (trapped in the grooves of my brain), but one I can reveal is my discovery of this one breakfast place on Telegraph that serves amazing pancakes all day. BREAKFAST SERVED ALL DAY! This recent stumbling has added tremendous joy to my once barren life.
There are some other things that make me happy these days, but I prefer not to divulge them, for I fear they will lose their giggle-producing ability once shared. I know I sound silly but that is the current mood I am in. Too bad I have to get serious and get some work done as soon as I finish the rest of this sentence.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
wet
We cry when we're sad. We cry when we're happy. We cry when we're overly frustrated. Sometimes we cry for no reason at all.
Tears fascinate me because they come and go as they please, no matter what the context of the individual's circumstance is. Isn't it strange how our eyes can form tears and release them in completely opposite situations? It baffles me a bit, but in the end a good cry for whatever reason never fails to leave you feeling like you lost a lot of unwanted weight (for all you dieters out there). Tears are just inherently satisfying, although some would hate to admit they're capable of weeping like a child as an adult. Some of the greatest joys in my life were as a child, so I'm not ashamed to admit that I adhere to a "do cry policy" when necessary. However, crying just isn't the same as I remember. I can recall being able to weep for hours while making incomprehensible screams (for extra kicks) when I was younger. And after I'd feel so amazingly refreshed that I could continue playing in my pretend kitchen as if I hadn't just gotten in trouble for trying to cook real food in it.
Maybe it's the pressure of society and culture, but it's so much harder for me to cry out loud like that even when I'm all alone. Tears don't form as easily as they used to, and when they do finally reach the edges of my tear ducts they tend to hold themselves back from fully unleashing. I can't remember the last time I had a really, really good cry... the kind that makes you feel so rejuvenated you think you can handle anything. When I feel too much is building up inside of me, I can sense that the only way to knock any of it down is if I let out some bulldozing tears. So I'm patiently waiting for that trigger, whether it's from a good or bad source. This may sound really immature but I really want to wail like an infant (even for only a few minutes) so I can release any tension my body refuses to express differently.
Maybe I should just snuggle under a blanket and watch a sad sappy love story all by myself, and if I have a tub of cookies and cream ice cream it'll put me more "in the mood". Or maybe I should just break my own leg and cry on the way to the hospital... totally kidding! Well, I don't know if watching a sad movie will stimulate me as much as I hope, but now I'm seriously craving some ice cream.
Tears fascinate me because they come and go as they please, no matter what the context of the individual's circumstance is. Isn't it strange how our eyes can form tears and release them in completely opposite situations? It baffles me a bit, but in the end a good cry for whatever reason never fails to leave you feeling like you lost a lot of unwanted weight (for all you dieters out there). Tears are just inherently satisfying, although some would hate to admit they're capable of weeping like a child as an adult. Some of the greatest joys in my life were as a child, so I'm not ashamed to admit that I adhere to a "do cry policy" when necessary. However, crying just isn't the same as I remember. I can recall being able to weep for hours while making incomprehensible screams (for extra kicks) when I was younger. And after I'd feel so amazingly refreshed that I could continue playing in my pretend kitchen as if I hadn't just gotten in trouble for trying to cook real food in it.
Maybe it's the pressure of society and culture, but it's so much harder for me to cry out loud like that even when I'm all alone. Tears don't form as easily as they used to, and when they do finally reach the edges of my tear ducts they tend to hold themselves back from fully unleashing. I can't remember the last time I had a really, really good cry... the kind that makes you feel so rejuvenated you think you can handle anything. When I feel too much is building up inside of me, I can sense that the only way to knock any of it down is if I let out some bulldozing tears. So I'm patiently waiting for that trigger, whether it's from a good or bad source. This may sound really immature but I really want to wail like an infant (even for only a few minutes) so I can release any tension my body refuses to express differently.
Maybe I should just snuggle under a blanket and watch a sad sappy love story all by myself, and if I have a tub of cookies and cream ice cream it'll put me more "in the mood". Or maybe I should just break my own leg and cry on the way to the hospital... totally kidding! Well, I don't know if watching a sad movie will stimulate me as much as I hope, but now I'm seriously craving some ice cream.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
the beat of my heart
It's hard to believe my little brother turns 18 today, which means he's not so little anymore. Well, technically he hasn't been that little for a long time since he has always been a lot bigger than me in size. I don't mean just size in physique, but also the capacity of his heart to be so giving and nurturing, despite unfavorable circumstances he has been put through. We definitely fought a lot when we were younger. Since we're only two years apart, we always thought we could take the other on and challenge each other in everything. But he usually let me win (although I hate to admit he allowed his defeat). That's why I love him.
The last birthday I spent with him was two years ago when my parents were living in Georgia and it was just me and him. I did my best to give him everything he wanted, but he asked for so little it made it a bit difficult for me to asses if I had done enough. Sometimes he acts like a brat but that's only because he's still growing up and learning life lessons. Other than that, he has never been spoiled and never asks to be. (When someone is so modest, how can you resist wanting to give him more than he desires?) That's why I love him.
Some may say that I've never really celebrated Valentines Day the traditional way --with that significant other. But my brother has always been my significant other... the one other person who makes me want to be a better person myself and help him be better as well. That's why I love him.
Happy 18th birthday James. You're a big boy now, but you will always be my little brother. And I will always love you.
The last birthday I spent with him was two years ago when my parents were living in Georgia and it was just me and him. I did my best to give him everything he wanted, but he asked for so little it made it a bit difficult for me to asses if I had done enough. Sometimes he acts like a brat but that's only because he's still growing up and learning life lessons. Other than that, he has never been spoiled and never asks to be. (When someone is so modest, how can you resist wanting to give him more than he desires?) That's why I love him.
Some may say that I've never really celebrated Valentines Day the traditional way --with that significant other. But my brother has always been my significant other... the one other person who makes me want to be a better person myself and help him be better as well. That's why I love him.
Happy 18th birthday James. You're a big boy now, but you will always be my little brother. And I will always love you.
Monday, February 1, 2010
truth be told
Say what you mean, and mean what you say.
If only human beings were capable of that kind of honesty...
Nobody likes to be intentionally lied to or be given roundabout responses, but how many of us can actually handle the truth? In its most pristine form, truth can also be responsible for the most hurtful damage committed by a single revealing. Still, most people claim they'd rather have the complete truth than be fooled by any sort of lie. I always thought I'd want to know everything too, even if I were to receive unsettling knowledge that would torment my mind. Now I don't know anymore. It doesn't seem like it would be such a terrible thing to NOT know some things. Ignorance is bliss they say... and I'm okay with that.
If only human beings were capable of that kind of honesty...
Nobody likes to be intentionally lied to or be given roundabout responses, but how many of us can actually handle the truth? In its most pristine form, truth can also be responsible for the most hurtful damage committed by a single revealing. Still, most people claim they'd rather have the complete truth than be fooled by any sort of lie. I always thought I'd want to know everything too, even if I were to receive unsettling knowledge that would torment my mind. Now I don't know anymore. It doesn't seem like it would be such a terrible thing to NOT know some things. Ignorance is bliss they say... and I'm okay with that.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)