The Olympics are over; the closing ceremony was enchanting. Over the course of the past week, I have found myself swelling with pride for China. They really did a good job with everything, the athletes were remarkable.
It was really inspiring. I really feel like I can do anything when I watch these people glide through the water, gracefully stride across the track, dive, flip, turn, kick, throw, it's like a plethora of talent and determination. They seem to glimmer with the spark of intense training and lifelong goals. Their dreams shoot out of their arms as they reach for the gold.
Then again, it's all much easier said/watch than done. I want to push my body to its limits, to feel the pain that comes with getting better, but when I'm actually feeling it, when my lungs and heart are protesting what my legs want to keep doing, the inspiration wavers.
It gives way to weakness and excuses. Running is too mental of a sport to withstand negative thoughts. I need to have a constant supply of positive feeling and motivational quotes to chant through my head.
The ideal conditions, though, is music that pounds through your head, entering through your ear and exiting in the form of speed.
ON THE OTHER HAND,
I have thus far been inebriated twice without huge consequences. My control is improving. I found my happy point, and managed to stay there. I also saw something I most certainly never expected to see in real life.
I did the first half of my back to school shopping-- got two pairs of jeans, two shirts.
I need to get a pair of shoes, and also some more shirts/jeans.
I have a remaining balance of $155.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Brevity.
The Olympics:
Athletes to make me swoon -
Ryan Lochte
Michael Phelps
Alessio Boggiatto
They inspire me to run further, faster, stronger, although they are all swimmers. I do love swimmers on an Olympic level. The broad shoulders, the abs, the smooth, absence of hair, mmm.
I feel an extreme necessity to run now. To be a superhero in human form, to push my body to its limits. To share in the spirit of the Olympics.
Athletes to make me swoon -
Ryan Lochte
Michael Phelps
Alessio Boggiatto
They inspire me to run further, faster, stronger, although they are all swimmers. I do love swimmers on an Olympic level. The broad shoulders, the abs, the smooth, absence of hair, mmm.
I feel an extreme necessity to run now. To be a superhero in human form, to push my body to its limits. To share in the spirit of the Olympics.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Fondly known as "Asianfest" 2008.
Today, well, technically yesterday, though to me the day is not over until I have gone to sleep, we attended the Java St. 4th of July celebration hosted by some influential guy named Henry. We were invited by my mom's colleague and me, my parents, sister, grandparents from both sides, uncle and aunt went. I fondly refer to it as "Asianfest" because it is essentially a gathering of Cantonese people. This year was the second time I went, and it was interesting. I still cannot fathom the alarming rate at which time has passed. It feels like just yesterday that it was this time last year.
Midway through the festivities, said colleague's son (with two friends), daughter, and nephew arrived. The chicken burgers they had at the gathering were unacceptable, and borderline inedible. Thus, I accompanied the son, his cousin and two friends on a journey to McDonalds for some "real fake food". We walked through the streets of Brooklyn, acquiring curious gazes most places we went. Not really, though--I'm just paranoid. When we finally reached McDonalds, we realized we had walked in a huge circle when in reality it was basically down the street from where we were. In any case, it was fun, and I got a 99 cent vanilla soft serve cone out of it. Yum.
After returning to the fest, the Macy's fireworks spectacular started. If you'd like a better idea of where we were, we were on the Brooklyn side of the East River. It was nice, very dramatic and endearing and spectacular of course.
Alas, they did not have a cheeseburger shaped firework.
Nor did any explode on top of us--which is a positive
Hope that all enjoyed our nation's birthday.
Midway through the festivities, said colleague's son (with two friends), daughter, and nephew arrived. The chicken burgers they had at the gathering were unacceptable, and borderline inedible. Thus, I accompanied the son, his cousin and two friends on a journey to McDonalds for some "real fake food". We walked through the streets of Brooklyn, acquiring curious gazes most places we went. Not really, though--I'm just paranoid. When we finally reached McDonalds, we realized we had walked in a huge circle when in reality it was basically down the street from where we were. In any case, it was fun, and I got a 99 cent vanilla soft serve cone out of it. Yum.
After returning to the fest, the Macy's fireworks spectacular started. If you'd like a better idea of where we were, we were on the Brooklyn side of the East River. It was nice, very dramatic and endearing and spectacular of course.
Alas, they did not have a cheeseburger shaped firework.
Nor did any explode on top of us--which is a positive
Hope that all enjoyed our nation's birthday.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
i want you to stay please hold me out til my breath runs out
I got my shirt in the mail today! I'm so excited.
I was just telling my mother that it should be coming tomorrow, and I open the door, only to find it on my doorstep in its pretty Hollister cardboard box. It's lovely, I like it.
Anyway, I decided I need to do some moral cleaning.
As in, rid myself of bloodsucking bitchy friends who find pleasure in the pain and misery of others. I have no need for them, and they will only hinder my path to happiness.
I try to be a nice person to everyone, and I've always stood by the belief that in order to be unconditionally nice, there is lying involved. Honesty is just not a uniformly nice trait. The truth has its edges, and some of those edges are sharp, perhaps even sharp enough to cut. Somehow, though, my lies might take things too far, digging a hole too deep for me to fill up with simple excuses. I'm determined to stop doing such things, to stop digging holes for myself.
The first thing I must do is to stop caring so much about the things that useless people have to say to me. I do care what others think about me. It's inevitable. It doesn't matter what that person means to me, I do not like being thought of as a bad person. Still, I've lost respect for two people whom I used to be able to consider my best friends, and now I'm surprisingly apathetic towards the whole situation.
I'd like to believe in karma. But I know that in truth, life will give some people all the lemonade, while others will have to make it themselves out of the bits and rinds of lemons they are given. It is that way because that is the way the universe works. On the other hand, I haven't given up hope that perhaps those who have trespassed against the innocent will get what they deserve in one form or another.
I'm not saying I was completely innocent in the issue, I certainly could have done things differently. But I would never use the mistakes of others as an excuse to call someone up to make them cry. I may say I will do it, I may soak the joy of being a bitch out of it, but I would never actually pick up the phone and dial the numbers. It's just too cruel and so cliche.
Either way, it drives me to insanity.
I was just telling my mother that it should be coming tomorrow, and I open the door, only to find it on my doorstep in its pretty Hollister cardboard box. It's lovely, I like it.
Anyway, I decided I need to do some moral cleaning.
As in, rid myself of bloodsucking bitchy friends who find pleasure in the pain and misery of others. I have no need for them, and they will only hinder my path to happiness.
I try to be a nice person to everyone, and I've always stood by the belief that in order to be unconditionally nice, there is lying involved. Honesty is just not a uniformly nice trait. The truth has its edges, and some of those edges are sharp, perhaps even sharp enough to cut. Somehow, though, my lies might take things too far, digging a hole too deep for me to fill up with simple excuses. I'm determined to stop doing such things, to stop digging holes for myself.
The first thing I must do is to stop caring so much about the things that useless people have to say to me. I do care what others think about me. It's inevitable. It doesn't matter what that person means to me, I do not like being thought of as a bad person. Still, I've lost respect for two people whom I used to be able to consider my best friends, and now I'm surprisingly apathetic towards the whole situation.
I'd like to believe in karma. But I know that in truth, life will give some people all the lemonade, while others will have to make it themselves out of the bits and rinds of lemons they are given. It is that way because that is the way the universe works. On the other hand, I haven't given up hope that perhaps those who have trespassed against the innocent will get what they deserve in one form or another.
I'm not saying I was completely innocent in the issue, I certainly could have done things differently. But I would never use the mistakes of others as an excuse to call someone up to make them cry. I may say I will do it, I may soak the joy of being a bitch out of it, but I would never actually pick up the phone and dial the numbers. It's just too cruel and so cliche.
Either way, it drives me to insanity.
hey baby can you bleed like me
Everything is moving in slow motion. It's a fucking trip.
Memories fading
limbs revolving slowly
around the tides of time.
We are falling, we are falling,
slowly into a stupor we
never knew to hold so dear.
The river of our minds is so clear,
translucent as a newborn's eyes,
we are rising, we are rising,
against the current of blood lust
we are coming up for air.
I have a morality issue that is currently bouncing back and forth across the surface of my mind. Here's the background information regarding the situation that escalated today. Last week, activities inducing impairment were engaged in, and this resulted in a kiss between two individuals not exactly entitled to kissing, lest of all understood. Then, the male culprit promised that he would inform the two hurt parties himself (ex girlfriend and best friend) so no one else should say anything. Upon hearing this, I naturally took it seriously and agreed, so long as he promise to tell them himself. Accepting his promise to be binding, I naturally do not mention it, nor do I feel an overwhelming need to stir shit without any true purpose. Alas, the mouths are not so tight-lipped, and the ex girlfriend stumbles upon the truth, thereby launching a merciless tirade against the female culprit. The best friend found out through the EX and that created endless conflict as well. Now, question is... why the fuck?
Memories fading
limbs revolving slowly
around the tides of time.
We are falling, we are falling,
slowly into a stupor we
never knew to hold so dear.
The river of our minds is so clear,
translucent as a newborn's eyes,
we are rising, we are rising,
against the current of blood lust
we are coming up for air.
I have a morality issue that is currently bouncing back and forth across the surface of my mind. Here's the background information regarding the situation that escalated today. Last week, activities inducing impairment were engaged in, and this resulted in a kiss between two individuals not exactly entitled to kissing, lest of all understood. Then, the male culprit promised that he would inform the two hurt parties himself (ex girlfriend and best friend) so no one else should say anything. Upon hearing this, I naturally took it seriously and agreed, so long as he promise to tell them himself. Accepting his promise to be binding, I naturally do not mention it, nor do I feel an overwhelming need to stir shit without any true purpose. Alas, the mouths are not so tight-lipped, and the ex girlfriend stumbles upon the truth, thereby launching a merciless tirade against the female culprit. The best friend found out through the EX and that created endless conflict as well. Now, question is... why the fuck?
Monday, June 30, 2008
close your eyes and i'll kiss you cause with the birds i'll share
"More lonely than alone."
I find a lot of relativity in that statement. (I probably used that word incorrectly. However, I lack the time nor desire to care enough to find out for sure.)
Today I went to Ally's house for the first time in months. Kristin, Gianna, and all the other Europe trip attendees left today. This week should turn out interesting. We watched the very beginning of 10,000 B.C. only to give up on it, and then watched Definitely, Maybe. I realized the full majesty of Nirvana's music and the power of Kurt Cobain's voice.
The other night, I spent a total of four and a half hours talking about life. Concepts like time, which we have only the word of others as proof, boggled our minds and amazed us as the thoughts poured out of our orifices. Philosophical statements blew out of our ears and into our minds where we kept them like a leftover cake, a mess beneath carefully applied saran wrap. Over the course of the day, or night--there is that time thing again, who's to say three in the morning is actually 'morning', rather than really late at night, or vice versa?--we unanimously decided that the things we never knew will not be missed, and order creates disorder.
There are two trees, one on Peter's front lawn, the other near Chris'. They have grown far beyond the others, the result of Darwin's theory of natural selection--only the tallest will reach the sunlight and thus, survive. Their branches, though, curl towards one another, reaching for each other, almost like the Sistine chapel's 'Christus Rex', the part with the fingers stretching. That blew my mind, for some odd reason.
Over the past few weeks, there have been numerous occasions during which I found myself strangely irritated by little things that certain people around me did. The first, I realized my penchant for pretty boys with the heart of true men. I discovered my annoyance for overly sensitive boys who constantly need their self-esteem stoked and stirred. Though sexist and old-fashioned, I believe that it should be the girl who is complaining about herself, if anyone is complaining at all. I'm all for confidence in my guys. Not overly cocky, nobody likes a big cockhead. However, between the two extremes, I would prefer overconfidence to complete self-hatred. As Brittany so eloquently put it, "If a guy thinks he's hideous, he probably is."
Well, this morning, I had an existential crisis, had people over for a brief time, then showered, and took a nap topless.
I'm trying to get my eloquence back.
I did really well on my report card, I'm extremely pleased with myself. Hah. I didn't think I'd be able to say that this year.
Once upon a time, there was a darling little girl who had a dream to be happily married. She wanted to have two kids, just as her parents did. She would wear a garland on her head and dress herself in white, spinning and twirling like she imagined a newlywed bride to. She carefully practiced walking to the tune of the wedding march and held a bouquet of artificial flowers in her little hands. She picked flowers in her backyard, kissing the petals and pretending they were her Prince Charming's. Her home transformed into a gated castle, her room was a tower, kept safe from harm by a magical barrier that she created with her meticulous imagination. She pictured a feast fit for a thousand, waltzes and pretty shoes. She wanted a band with every instrument in the world, and a beautiful glowing sunset behind her when she ran to their waiting 'Just Married' honeymoon getaway car. The little girl was full of happy scenarios and daydreamed her way through Disney movies--that is, if she wasn't sitting an inch away from the screen, reaching out and wishing she were the princess about to be swept off her feet. She dragged her four year old best friend, a sweet little boy who grew into a troubled man, and informed him of their marriage. He was oblivious, as most four year old males are apt to be, and agreed unconditionally to whatever she said. She misses that boy.
I find a lot of relativity in that statement. (I probably used that word incorrectly. However, I lack the time nor desire to care enough to find out for sure.)
Today I went to Ally's house for the first time in months. Kristin, Gianna, and all the other Europe trip attendees left today. This week should turn out interesting. We watched the very beginning of 10,000 B.C. only to give up on it, and then watched Definitely, Maybe. I realized the full majesty of Nirvana's music and the power of Kurt Cobain's voice.
The other night, I spent a total of four and a half hours talking about life. Concepts like time, which we have only the word of others as proof, boggled our minds and amazed us as the thoughts poured out of our orifices. Philosophical statements blew out of our ears and into our minds where we kept them like a leftover cake, a mess beneath carefully applied saran wrap. Over the course of the day, or night--there is that time thing again, who's to say three in the morning is actually 'morning', rather than really late at night, or vice versa?--we unanimously decided that the things we never knew will not be missed, and order creates disorder.
There are two trees, one on Peter's front lawn, the other near Chris'. They have grown far beyond the others, the result of Darwin's theory of natural selection--only the tallest will reach the sunlight and thus, survive. Their branches, though, curl towards one another, reaching for each other, almost like the Sistine chapel's 'Christus Rex', the part with the fingers stretching. That blew my mind, for some odd reason.
Over the past few weeks, there have been numerous occasions during which I found myself strangely irritated by little things that certain people around me did. The first, I realized my penchant for pretty boys with the heart of true men. I discovered my annoyance for overly sensitive boys who constantly need their self-esteem stoked and stirred. Though sexist and old-fashioned, I believe that it should be the girl who is complaining about herself, if anyone is complaining at all. I'm all for confidence in my guys. Not overly cocky, nobody likes a big cockhead. However, between the two extremes, I would prefer overconfidence to complete self-hatred. As Brittany so eloquently put it, "If a guy thinks he's hideous, he probably is."
Well, this morning, I had an existential crisis, had people over for a brief time, then showered, and took a nap topless.
I'm trying to get my eloquence back.
I did really well on my report card, I'm extremely pleased with myself. Hah. I didn't think I'd be able to say that this year.
Once upon a time, there was a darling little girl who had a dream to be happily married. She wanted to have two kids, just as her parents did. She would wear a garland on her head and dress herself in white, spinning and twirling like she imagined a newlywed bride to. She carefully practiced walking to the tune of the wedding march and held a bouquet of artificial flowers in her little hands. She picked flowers in her backyard, kissing the petals and pretending they were her Prince Charming's. Her home transformed into a gated castle, her room was a tower, kept safe from harm by a magical barrier that she created with her meticulous imagination. She pictured a feast fit for a thousand, waltzes and pretty shoes. She wanted a band with every instrument in the world, and a beautiful glowing sunset behind her when she ran to their waiting 'Just Married' honeymoon getaway car. The little girl was full of happy scenarios and daydreamed her way through Disney movies--that is, if she wasn't sitting an inch away from the screen, reaching out and wishing she were the princess about to be swept off her feet. She dragged her four year old best friend, a sweet little boy who grew into a troubled man, and informed him of their marriage. He was oblivious, as most four year old males are apt to be, and agreed unconditionally to whatever she said. She misses that boy.
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