Alas, the Posty-Post Has Arrived

I'd like to think that more than 3 people read this blog. Though that would mean that more than 3 people experienced self-induced facepalms from reading said blog... not sure where the line of benefit would come from, but eh. 


I would love to make a new blog account, and get rid of everything correlating to things I'd rather forget about. 
Everyone has the potential to be a douche. Some, on the other hand, take it to the extreme. "Forgive and forget"; I'm not forgetting, that's for sure. Need to grow out of this, this is my benefit. Forgiving, that's the part that I'm weary about. It'll happen sometime in the future - right now, I'm managing indifference. 


From this experience, I pose the question: "Was this person always a douchebag, where I didn't see it or he/she was really good at hiding it, or did this degradation of integrity and character happen after our separation?" I'm not in the position to answer it, because frankly, it feels like shit. Either:

• I would be complimenting a person's worth in saying that everything was genuine, wherein such comments is undeserved by that person, or
• My head was in a paper bag for the entire relationship, and nothing was genuine, all was a forgery, or
• The person is an epic fail, wherein the separation is catalyzing his saved-up bullshit to seep through his pores.

The last bullet is mostly wishful thinking. Realistically, it's probably a combination of the three. I'm okay, still laughing and loving summer. Concentrating on summer courses and work. And gathering the funds to afford a new iPhone - current one fell into a pool a couple weeks ago. Can't see the fucking screen, which is quintessential for touchscreen interface technology. (Made that last bit up, I don't even know if this terminology exists or not... hahaa!) 

EF is totally right - summer is the best time to be single! One can be blatant about their skin to clothing ratio to approach 1:0, but it's socially acceptable and the sun may just knock you out. And yum, boys with their abs and broad shoulders, holy shit. Just not the douchebags though - you know, the ones without shirts on, and/or walking like they're the shit. It's hard not to laugh when I encounter one, my God! 

I realized at 10pm tonight that I have work tomorrow morning. The subsequent "Fuck! So that's why I planned to finish the assignment so soon..." realization occurred in my head. Cue the deep nasal breathing and eye widening, then the simultaneous releasing of your breath and shoulder muscles. Oh right - work! I have found employment at a jewelry store in downtown! Sterling silver and semi-precious stones; nothing that can be a girl's best friend. There are two Starbucks, so I am already safeguarded for caffeine. Another noteworthy franchise to mention is this "market" store - let me explain. The store is fairly large, and it's divided into several parts like a bakery, a food counter, a coffee counter, a salad/fruits&vegetables counter, etc. It's very charming, and it makes the best smelling foods, ever! My store is one level above this establishment, and by God, I feel hungry all day just inhaling. I've been intimidated by the market for a good 2 months; all the customers seem to know what they're doing - it's like everyone is on a conveyor belt, just moving along in a line from entering the store, to getting their crap, to paying and getting out. Another reason why I haven't been in there is because I've yet to buy (until recently) anything else from the entire building for consumption (minus the Starbucks products), so this market isn't prejudiced against (too much). 
The biggest reason why I've been repelling from this place is because my ex worked there, with all the employees (who surround the place, they're everywhere - you see their white uniforms just floating around everywhere). I'm not entirely sure why the last bit affects me - I am aware that they probably don't know my face, considering I haven't been at the market with the ex for over 3-4 months, but still. It's their place, not mine. And there's a million of them (okay, 20) versus lil' ol' me. In any case, I've tackled this (eyebrow-raising) fear recently - I bought chicken gumbo from there just a few days ago. In all honesty, it didn't taste as good as I've idealized it to be, but then again, it's my first time eating gumbo and it's made in a store-not-restaurant. But, for a low, low price of $3.66, I've conquered my hunger from that evening and my issues of entering that store. I shall get food from there tomorrow as well! Straight up, I deal with things!


On an entirely different subject, really high heels have never been an issue with me, entirely because I've never worn them. However, I bought a pair of 4 inch wedges last week, and I decided that it would be marvelous if I wore them out! (Not saying that they could have been worn inside, but you know.) 
Branches hit my face. Twice. 
I tilted my head at people when I think about how short they are. Then I realize that it's me.
Guys seem to not like tall girls. (Note that I'm 5'5, so plus the wedges I'm 3 inches away from being a 6 foot tall Asian girl). Furthermore, girls don't like short guys and I'm very happy I can take off my shoes to appreciate the average height of a male. Hollah!


I'm good. Hoping to get better, like always. 

Better Over Than Buried Under...?

Stress. I feel a different kind of stress today. Yes, this exact moment at 3:43am in the morning. Pardon me if any grammatical and/or logistical error occur, for I am tired and my laptop is at minimal brightness (thus my eyes are even more impaired than it's usual glass-less state). 


My psychology class tells me that there are three methods to deter or solve stress: 

1. Deal with the problem; minimize it, or get rid of it altogether.
2. Change the way you see the problem; it's a perspective adaptation, so that the grave, grave world wouldn't appear so grave. We can't change this, but we can don our rose-coloured glasses.
3. Run like mad to your friends and family, and bathe in their tender, loving care until the darkness passes.

There are also two "definitions" of stress. Though my current state stresses that whatever I say should not be taken seriously without slight research (and the fact that this is unnecessary information in the course and hence has become obsolete in my memory) , these two meaning of stress basically boils down to how it is:

1. A noun; something that is present. For instance, "I have so much stress going on in my life!". Or, "Fuck this stress."
2. A verb; something that we feel. For instance, "This is stressing me out!". Or, "Fuck, I'm stressed."

In any case, why am I stressed? Tomorrow, or rather "today", is my birthday barbecue. Albeit it's the culmination of my friend JT's and my birthday celebrations, it still feels strange. This is because of three reasons. 

First, I didn't invite any of my university friends; just the high school ones. This creates three sub-problems, wherein I somewhat distance myself from my blossoming friendships. Plus, this old, familiar bunch of high school chums is trapped in the past - I view them as the "high school friends". Plus, my boyfriend is there, plus his best friend (remember Physics Guy, or something? Yeah, best friend is that guy), and this dynamic plus the second subproblem of the first problem would make my brain combust. 

Secondly, I am starting to feel hesitant about going to China. Applications have been processed and all that's left to deal with are the technical details, like starting date and itinerary information. Plus the fact that the questions of "is IM going to Hong Kong with me?" must be a imperative statement of "IM is/is not going to Hong Kong with me". Itinerary is dependent on this latter statement (or lack thereof). 

Thirdly, in order to gain an answer from IM's parents with respect to China vacationing, "we have to cook" a fancy fucking dinner for the parents. By "we have to cook", I mean "I have to cook, with IM handing me utensils from cupboards of the unfamiliar kitchen". IM wants it to be fantastic - albeit it's understandable that he wants this, the declination of mashed potatoes and beef stew threw my head into haywire. Um, hi? Comfort zone of cooking: way, beyond, GONE. So now, the current menu consists of pan-seared chicken breast with garlic and balsamic sauce, coated with mushrooms alongside sautéed asparagus with onion, sprinkled with Parmesan cheese, *takes a breath* and linguine pasta with a makeshift crushed&fresh tomato-olive-herb-onion-garlic-vegetable sauce. (Note to self: if this last dish turns out good, must make for EF.) Oh yeah, that's not all. *Simultaneously rolls eyes and exhales* Dessert is presented with a chocolate cake coated with a rich, yet not too sweet, chocolate creamcheese icing. This third stress-inducer also has a subproblem of its own: IM has a job interview the day of massive-cooking (aka my slow and deliberate death via kitchenware and high blood pressure). This job interview equates to a plethora of unlikelihood that he would be able to go to Hong Kong with me, since new employees are not likely to be given 2 week holidays. This interview has the potential to completely, heartbreakingly heartshatteringly nullify the extensive effort pulled into the dinner. Irony? Yeah, this is irony. Probably one of the fairest candidates to be the epitome of the term "irony" too. Fuck my life.

Which method of solving stress should I use? I'd like to prompt a new, forth method: 

Hide in a cave and sleep for all eternity until all of one's problems solve themselves, and are therefore removed from the world that is leftover after the duration of one's hibernation. 

In reality, I'll deal and be less pessimistic. (Methods one and two, for reference's sake.) 

I'm curious to see how my next post will be like, assuming I survive. (Yeah, this is the furthest extent of my optimism - the assumption that I do not encounter death.)

Bogged and Fogged and God, I need a reception.

It feels as though a lot of time passed since the last blog, but there's a multitude of events to blame for it (namely insomnia, a series of exams comparable to the living dead from the eternal fires of Hell and me going about avoiding studying for these exams). Anyways, here is the fast low-down:

• I have officially applied to an international volunteering program for the month of May. Flight ticket booking and visa application are still pending, but my $300 deposit says that this deal is itched in stone more than my conviction can.
• The "L" word came out. On my end this time. Dundundunnn... Big deal? Let's make it not.
• I realized this Saturday that Ikea has the cheapest food ever. I didn't purchase any, but that's because I was far from hungry upon my first visit at this particular warehouse (is it a warehouse? or is it more like a retail establishment?), plus I'm sure I would have gone ape-shit buying everything and taking one bite from every dish, and subsequently throwing everything out. I love walking around in Ikea. Though honestly, their "Frozen Yogurt" is named as such to attract health-conscious people - it is honestly just soft serve ice cream.
• I've caught up on the past half season of Grey's Anatomy, and I'm watching older episodes because it's awesome.
• I have also booked an appointment for a navel piercing this weekend. All of my friends have reservations about this desire of mine, but it's okay. *Insert the "It's my body, not yours" spiel here* Plus, you can't see it unless I show you. The ring wouldn't be on my face or tongue, which would be harder to ignore. In all honesty, it's something on my "shit, I have to do this before I'm practically middle-aged (aka 20)" list. My birthday is coming relatively soon, and by God, time doesn't stop. Does it?
• My glasses broke: the frame is still dandy, it's just that the lens popped out. This has been a fact for the past two weeks, and I haven't gone out on my lazy ass to go fix it. Contacts are also a bitch to clean sometimes, so I've been walking around my house myopically in the evenings. That being said, I've missed a lot of episodes from the Food Network.
• My Fido contract will be terminated in a few weeks. I need a new plan. I NEED A NEW PLAN. THIS IS A NECESSITY. No, it's not a want. A NECESSITY.

That is all. I'm looking forward to the creation of my profile with the volunteer program. It will contain a load of information, and it's essentially the biggest step of making my trip possible.


 I don't understand human-plant relations. You know those people who talk to their plants? I don't understand this! They do not respond! They sit there, and they be green at you. Any interaction possible between the two species is an elaborate concoction inside the head of the person (ahem, crazy). IM had such relations with an aloe plant named Harold, or something, and this totally flies past my head. My brain shrugs and wave it's hands, pivoting so that palm-side is up, away from each other. 

Instruction-Manual-Less and Not Happy About It

Where is my instruction manual for life, huh? Something better (and more artistically appealing than the disenchanting black and yellow) than "Dummies Guides" books. I need one, desperately. Anything that remotely suggests the consequences of any given action. I would prefer if it was an interactive book, like the YouTube videos nowadays, where the reader selects to act upon one situation and is led to another, etcetera, etcetera, my point is made. It would be fantastic if it went down like this:

Situation 1: The Awkward Beginning

Choose: Date or No Date

Situation 2: The More Formal Beginning

Choose: Dating or Not Dating

Situation 3: Bothering

Choose: Yes or No.

I'm giving up on this thread of hypothetical-ism because it's pointless (and not illustrating what I want to say) and the formatting is nagging me.

In any case, I want an interactive instruction manual for life. Why didn't anyone pick up after Hamlet's infamous "To be or not to be?" and invented something USEFUL from there on in? Clearly, back in Shakespeare's day, it was really a matter of flipping a coin... though I suppose this method is still applicable to modern standards of desperation.

P.S. I sincerely believe that it takes either a lot of stupidity and/or severe sociopathic tendencies to be brave. Of course, this belief is specific to yours truly only. It's too bad I have neither of those things. Maybe I should have a lobotomy?

Something's Not Right kinda day

This feels like bullshit. All of it. 


In other news, check out "Goodnight, Moon" by HeyHiHello. This is basically the only thing that's keeping me sane. 


Okay, no more blogging. Must start studying. (Holy God, it never ends. Thanks for giving me this taste of infinity. It's bitter.)

5:14am... (In other words, it's %:!$am.)

I want to go to China. In fact, I am 80% sure that I am going to China. 
Trip: approximately two months in duration. Half the time consisting of yours truly doing volunteer work with children in Shanghai. The other half consisting of me visiting my family (for an allotted two weeks) and the remainder of the time will be spent in Hong Kong. 


After my adventuring in my homeland, I shall return home and attend summer courses. Physics, and perhaps a philosophy class on bioethics. Maybe it's too heavy for a summer term course load, but I am young. I have to embrace taking classes that have "no relevance to life" simply because I have an interest, or passion, in the subject. My decision-making skills are drowning in my contemplation for taking an art course. I regret having not taken any during high school, though I am glad I didn't. It was a go-or-no-go kind of deal: chemistry or art. Not both. And I chose chemistry, and I'm glad for it. An inert pain of not having taken an art course still intermittently catches onto me. And I can't let this go on forever - my courses are my choice. 
I think I'm going to take an art course. Yeah, that decision happened in the paragraph above. But again, it is 5:30 in the morning and I'll have to consult my judgement at a later (more conscious) time.


IM returned today. I did not realize how much I missed him until we were in each other's arms. I also did not realize how much I love kissing him and love being with him. It's like a freaking drug. You have a fix, and you need it. But as time passes, you become progressively more and more neutral to the stimulant. (In my case, my rationality kicks in and keeps me sane. It's probably evolutionarily beneficial for preventing individuals from going insane.) However, as soon as a hint of the drug (i.e. observation of face, skin contact) sweeps across you, you're back in. In this last stage of the process... this is where all the songs of lovers' desperation make total and complete sense. The fermatas, crescendos, and the voice's yearning; they mirror what your heart beat feels like. Fuck, I'm being annoying-poetic-esque. I'll shut up here.


In any case, IM told me that he wants to go to Hong Kong with me for those two weeks in June. Makes me happy, and makes me scared that we somehow have to keep our relationship great-and-swell until then. What makes me more scared is that if we are genuinely great-and-swell, what happens after? I'm immature in relationships, such that I don't know what obstacles people have to go through past the "I'm bored with you" and "I don't see a future so why should we date" bumps. Those are pretty huge ass bumps, but in comparison to what I anticipate to be actual problems, they are meager, tiny bumps (on a really, really big motherfucker of a hill). He brought back a poncho from Mexico, as a part of a joke where we would wear our ponchos someplace and be a poncho-effic couple. My palm has this intense urgency to smack my face, such that a *facepalm* would occur (obviously). Another gift he got me was a ring (it's a thumb ring, calm down). I gave him my thumb ring on a chain for him to wear while he was away, and evidently it went diving, snorkeling, shopping-in-authentic-markets-ing, etcetera. He liked the ring so much (and took all the karma out of the poor thing, from rubbing it for good luck. He didn't die from diving, and I accredit this fact to my [his?] ring) that he bought me a new one. Romantic? Idealistic? I don't know. I must admit, I like the idea. (But I also must admit, I like my old ring better. Wow, I'm a bitch.)


Okay, sleep time. It's 5:40am. (%:$)am).


P.S. I'll have to do a blog about the science of love. Lust (Finding a mate.) --> Yearning (Possession.) --> Love (Partnering in the raising of offspring.) You got to love Ted Talks.

Fe"breeze" and Memories

Scent is the most sensitive and effective of your senses to stimulate your brain to invigorate memories. My psychology professor has said people, adults in particular, will recall several details or experiences in their elementary school days upon entering the building. Smells can, and most likely will, stimulate your brain memory network so that you shall remember anything associated with this certain smell. Both desirable and undesirable recollections.


For me, this is Febreze. (Sidenote: I always thought that Febreze had the "ee" like breeze.) Meadows and Rain, to be particular. I sprayed this on my Tim Horton's uniform every day before I went to work in hopes that the mix of sandwiches, condiments plus eight hours worth of coffee vapor would have a harder time permeating through my apparel. It rarely worked, but I did it anyway. I smelled like crap for the entire summer of 2006-2007. 


Needless to say, it reminds me of my first boyfriend, DM. We worked at Tim Horton's together, and that's where all the romance sparked and... where my first kiss happened. *Heaves a sigh of diluted remorse*
What the bastard. He is incomparable to my present significant other, such that he didn't do nearly as much things for me (I don't think). Okay, I'm being biased. DM did a lot. But he also broke up with me, and is 90% responsible... or at least 80%... for me being the mess I am now. I'm afraid of "loving" again, assuming I know what that means, because I know how much I would be in shambles when I'm ripped away from loving and being loved. Back then, I thought I was the person to "rather have loved and lost than never loved at all". As it turns out, not so much. But at least now, I know what I'm getting into. 


I realize that I didn't think about DM for the longest time. The last time I recall having thought about him for more than two hours is when I last broke up with my more recent ex, DG. And I compared these two relationships, the beginning, middle and end, in their similarities and differences. That led to me miss DM, and realizing how much I felt for him than DG. And now, I also realize that I haven't thought about said summer for the longest time too. It's remarkable how many minute, insignificant details stay in your memory. Maybe it's this Febreze doing its job, but there are a lot that stand out. Would I be too explicit in telling them? Whatever, it's my blog and you have free will. 

• He kissed my cheek one day as he grabbed the pot of steeped tea and I refilled the powders in the instant French Vanilla/Hot Smoothie machine. He did it to surprise me, and he knew that he was breaking the rule. He commented on how my face smelled nice. (It was Olay moisturizer. I use it religiously. It really doesn't cause break-outs, though I am blessed with the absence of acne.)
• The way he stands. The various blue and white hoodies he wore. The way he paid for everything he ate, even though he was the only employee to have done so. 
• I had cut my arm on a fence while going to work, and he grabbed my hands and chided me for having been stupid and careless. He bought me an ice cap so that it would act as an icepack, even though I swore that actual ice from the freezer would be fine.
• You know that thing where two annoying-as-hell people tell each other to hang up, and the other tells the first to hang up first? The cycle is vicious and continues on and on until something, like an act of God, happens. Well, we did that. Several times.
• He phoned me, and we would talk for hours.
• We took three hours to walk back from our work to my house, even though it should have taken half an hour.  We watched the sunset and lied in the grass and held hands.
• So many more things.

Looking  back, I think I really did love him. I was younger, much less experienced, much less knowledgeable of the matters of the heart than I am now, but love is relative to each individual. If the same situation happened to me now, I would be more cautious about what I was getting into. But back then, I wasn't who I am now. And I was in love. As for IM, I guess I want to feel more than what I felt for DM to even admit that I am in love. 

Febreze is a bitch. I apologize for another Romance Saturated blog. 

My finger is healing, I don't like eggs, I found a love for Caramel Macchiatos (even though I'm paying an extra 40 cents for a layer of caramel sauce. But oh, oh, oh. It is so good). Also, while sitting in Starbucks, I realize it's more economical to order soy lattés in Venti sizes over any other; the extra charge is constant regardless of cup size. Bet you didn't realize that now, did you? While I'm on the topic, did you know that the majority of the world's populatoin is lactose-intolerant? Only European and some Egyptian areas domesticated (and milked the bajesus out of for centuries to come out of) cows, goats, camels, etc. Citizens of said areas flocked everywhere, and lookie now! Starbucks and everywhere serves milk. Soy, is the alternative, even though it should really be the default. 

Band-Aided Boo Boo and Overdoses of Chocolate

You do this: for every bad scenario, most people think of a worser scenario and self-compromise by being satisfied that the latter situation did not happen. If you don't do this, try it. You'll might feel pathetic in fooling yourself into feeling better about something you can't change, a shitty situation no less, but in the end you're happy and that's all that really matters. Kind of. (Let's enjoy the ability to be ignorant and leave my statement at that.)


So what happened to SH for this to be the topic of the blog? A cut finger. The ring finger, to be exact. It also happens to be the worst finger to be damaged. Try this: grab an table-laying object while keeping a finger extended toward the air. 

• Piggy #1: Thumb - a bit difficult, this is what cats must feel like. But if poor Piggy Uno was hurt, he'd be far away from harm. 
• Piggy #2,3,5 - Forefinger, Middle finger, Pinky - they are quite the independent little pigs! Look at them! All extended and alone in their liberation! 
• Piggy #4- Ring Finger - Look at that poor bastard. It bends with the goddamn Pinky. If Pinky was Holmes, Piggy #4 would be Watson; dragged behind the self-involved detective while he walks around alone as much as he'd like. Consider this: the Ring Finger is bigger than the Pinky, and surely a Doctor has more prestige than a Detective (Sherlock and Watson being a special case, but I used them in this example because I wanted to). 

Yes, I know it's about tendon connectivity. It doesn't make me feel any better about having a cut finger. Why? Because there is no alternative happiness-generating worse case scenario! I realized this while I took a shower. I figured that there ought to be another finger that could be causing more trouble than this one, alas I did the finger-bending exercise. Conclusion: nope, this is the worse finger to have cut. Lovely. 

In other news, I recently discovered the mystery and enigmatic characteristics of Tim Tams. I didn't know what they were until a friend told me that we had to eat them! We have to make hot chocolate and have a Tim Tam Slam! It tastes like an orgy in your mouth! Dumbfounded, and trying not to look like a noob, I was (perhaps overly) excited. We go to their house, and we did it using chai tea. It really was an orgy in your mouth, not going to lie. But that's because I had one.


Today, I had four. And I feel really, really sick. Essentially, what happens is that the hot beverage you drink will be soaked up be the flaky cookie, and the heat of this drink will slightly melt the layer of chocolate in the center of the Tim Tam. (God, please just click on that link up there so I don't have to sound moronically stupid and lacking in detail.) If your beverage is hot enough, the entirety of the treat will feel like a chocolate fondue explosion. (If only orgies were as delightful as chocolate fondue explosions, right?) In any case, I feel sick.


So far, I've shared this orgy-hybrid-explosion-by-virtue-of-chocolate with two friends: JT and EF. Neither of them were in the sweet-tooth mood, so I'm disappointed that my newfound love of Tim Tams(minus my present wariness of them) wasn't shared. JT's older sister told me that she thought that they were only sold in Australia. I crinkled my eyebrows and questioned her knowledge of social events (she practically lives in a cave, excluding the fact that she's building a solar car in her engineering extracurriculars). "Well, I just bought them from Superstore... I guess they're not only sold in Australia anymore...?". 


As it turns out, having done some Googling with my aroused curiosity, Tim Tams are only sold for five months of the year in North America, from November to March. Why? I don't know... maybe the exclusivity of the product makes it more alluring to customers? The dynamics of marketing are not my forté.


Rant:
What is with all these photos posted on Facebook? Do people need to do a photographic documentary of their parties/hangouts/clubbing/dinners/EVERYTHING? Are they posted up to prove that these individuals have a life and that they actually have friends beyond Facebook? The vast, vast majority of these photos are not appealing - most of the photographees do not know that the photographer is being a flash-happy creep. And yet, tags are still intact, and inside jokes are abundant. See the following*:
Person A: "Oh my God, where are my shoes?!" HAHAHAHA, oh you!
Person B: Did I actually say that? Wow, we were so fucking drunk!
Person A: No kidding! Love youuuu! Got to do this again soon! 
Person C: This is so funny! Do you always get like this when you girls are out? Where was this at?


Here, you can see that Person C is the awkward one: outside the in-circle, does not go out with the in-circle and does not know the locations at which the in-circle do their in-circle-ie things at. In reality, everyone minus Person A and Person B are Person C. I'm Person C most of the time. And I rant about it here.
Case and point: camera innovation has made me, and I'm sure very many others, annoyed at something insignificant. Back in the day, photos had to be dropped off, developed and picked up, and batteries had to be physically replenished. Now, not so much. Memory cards allow us to have redundant amounts of those godforsaken "random pics" in their "random" albums. Rechargers allow batteries of another sort to allow the bloody camera to function. I wouldn't have anything to rant about if cameras were the old type, because people are way too freaking lazy to scan all their photographs, having dropped them off, developed them, and picked them up. This sequence of steps is too strenuous even for the most narcissistic of us... I'd hope.
I'm a hypocrite too - I take photos and I'm in the said tagged photos. HOWEVER, I do not condone them. 


I'll be sure to have more to be an ass about by the next post.


*The spelling and grammar of the conversation do not reflect what normally happens. It's me being proper in English.

I'm Listening to a Podcast and I Need A Break from Myself

"Caring about someone feels amazing," - EF. It doesn't feel like it. Does that mean that I don't? I fear and I have fear, I have anxiety, I have reservations and I am reserved. 

When all is said and done (and evidently feared and reserved), I really want IM to be here and not on vacation in another continent. It's not that I don't want him to be gone, for he has retain his values and nurture his vivacity for travelling and adventure, but I miss his voice and his face and his hugs and his kisses. I miss him being here and protecting me. 

(For the record, I don't know which of the two following personas are the lesser of 2 evils.)

Rational ShufflingHard Talking: 

• It's a new relationship. It's perfectly normal to yearn for your boyfriend. It's the first time that the two of you have experienced a significant (though it's not really significant, it's only fourteen days, deal with it) time period away from each other. 
• Again, it's two weeks. You need to study your ass off anyway. Remember that math assignment deadline waiting for you today at 11:59pm? Or that psych assignment, or biology lab, or all those ungodly exams lurking behind 2 weeks of the calendar? Yeah, get on them. Now? Please? Stop this goddamn blogging, Jesus.
• You're probably fucking menstruating anyways. Eat some chocolate, don't watch any chick flicks, go to sleep, go shopping, go to Starbucks, do anything. Listen to a podcast. You'll get over it. You're being silly.

The Actual/Stupid/Emotional ShufflingHard Talking:

• He's not here. The mirage of IM&RM is relinquished. I'm left with me and this fucking Rational ShufflingHard, and everything is apparently crumbling down. What's scary is that I care about him. It scares me how much I care. It's hard to not say those Huge Three Words back to him. I don't want to get hurt again. I think it's too soon. 
• It has barely been two months. There hasn't been enough time for any red flags to pop up. With DM and DG, red flags sprung up every so often. Have I grown immune to seeing them? (No, I haven't. I am not the kind of person to not think.) Or have they gone past my radar? (He's 100% effective at passing his parent's lie detecting abilities.) Is it because I do not trust him? That I haven't had enough time and/or experience with him to cultivate trust? If so, then why is this even an issue?
• Maybe it's because I don't trust him with any part of me. The difference between platonic relationships and romantic ones is obviously the exclusivity of the latter. There's no one else to turn to if your significant other is lacking in something. A person's friends are not necessarily similar - in fact, they are often somewhat a juxtaposition of each other. The sum of one's friends is a support network. The sum of one boyfriend or girlfriend is a support pole. You can only love a person romantically in this exclusive way because there's only one of them to love. Friend-wise, this is not the case. I speak as though this is my first relationship. I speak as though I've never been in love before (..."love" is an ambiguous word. I think I was, at least). 
• I don't want to get hurt. But I don't want IM to hurt me even more. I don't want anything to change, and I know that it will inevitably.
• I fear commitment/loving because I know it's all going to be for nothing. This is why it is scary for anything to start happening. I'd be my own hypocrite.

Valentine's Day is equivalent to an twisted monster's pink-fused-red vomit.

God, I hate Valentine's Day. I also realize I don't blog much anymore. I lack time nowadays; the boyfriend variable extinguishes my time to:

1. Blog.
2. Fret about anything blog-worthy. Kind of. I had a crazed day at the mall (and a week compiled of me leaning on tables and tapping my fingers in my conundrum of my lack of Valentine's Day gift IDEA) with a couple girlfriends, WRM and SN, where I had worked 5 hours in the morning having woken up at an ungodly 8:15am. Did I mention that I've woken this early exactly twice in the past two months, or that I didn't fall asleep until 6am? Plus I tripped on hard, cold, unforgiving concrete last night and I have a hand-sized bruise on my left knee to show for it. 

Although really, if I was naive, I would say that Boyfriend cools my head down, and helps me sort out my troubles and he's really a therapeutic tool of sorts (who buys me flowers and chocolates and etcetera). But no, I'm not naive and I still have a hot head and my troubles may as well be as organized as the summation of China's landfills. But he makes me smile and it's amazing how he laughs at something no one but me would understand. By this, I mean the awkward and/or random things my digressive mind generates on a routine-basis. In any case, he makes me happy. It's incredibly random and spontaneous and irrational how it all came and continues going together for he and I.

However, it is important to point out I have a problem with Boyfriend (henceforth dubbed IM). Take this anecdote as an illustration of said problem. As I was shopping for the Twisted Monster Pink-Fused-Red Vomit holiday, WRM suggested that the present could be a nice picture frame with a nice picture of he and I in it. I was besought with myself, speechless in how I do not like that idea. I was basically thinking the following: "What the....". I didn't even finish off with the usual swear word. When I untangled my thoughts, my repulsion to that idea is that the gift would represent just the two of us. Enclosed in a frame. Just the two. And nothing else ever. The frame is like this little metaphorical constraint of everything. I mean, hello? There's nothing in there but our heads! ENCLOSED FOREVER (-ish)! So when you boil things down, I have commitment issues. Not that I'm a philanderer - of course not. It's that I don't want my heart to be broken. And loving him would be step one to that place of darkness. Committing to being with him is one of the preceding conditions that must be satisfied in order for the entire process of unconditional happiness to feeling like individually ripping your ribs out. In any case, yes. Commitment issues: I have them. It never occurred to me before today, actually. I just knew that I edged away from him a lot, that I don't reciprocate his "I love you"s, and I feel that it's rude to not say "I like you too". He knows that I'm not ready. And he doesn't push for it. Randomly out of nowhere one day, he asked "do you think that you'll ever be able to say it back?". I think I would be more likely to say it than not, and I told him such. He is okay with that. Why is he so forgiving of me for this flaw? This flaw of mine where I throw anything breakable into an underground, bomb-proof safe box. If we swapped shoes, I wouldn't be able to handle this flaw. I would leave, forget about my investments and go about being content with what investment potential I have remaining. (Metaphor alert! Investment = everything given by one party in a relationship for the relationship to function. Digression: I should make a metaphor dictionary full of this kind of goodies.) I am always my best protector, but I am only occasionally my worst enemy. So whatever it is that I'm doing is my best bet... even though I can see the potential of this viewpoint changing. I don't know. Don't listen to me.

In any case, I bought him a black sweater. I like boys in sweaters, so I figured he would be extra dashing in it.

In other news, Lululemon has this: http://shop.lululemon.com/Classic_T_II/pd/np/490/p/1757.html shown around its store. Yes, that sweaty, ugly hockey man with a bad dentist represents Canada. What. The. Fuck.

I'm exceptionally proud of EF. Love her.

Happy New Year, Even Though It Still Feels the Same

I haven't blogged/said anything for a long while now. Pardon me if the minute details of my life, which may seem interesting because they're so detail-ie, but most of them have escaped me. I apologize.

I'm worried about one of my closest, dearest friends. I'm pretty sure she's having this crazy significant conversation right now, most of which I'm sure I'll hear about later. I'm waiting for my other close friend to pick me up to go to her house, as it is her 19th birthday and it's a cause for celebration. 

Holy shit. I sound so boring. Read my other blogs so that my "reputation" (psh, naw way) as a "clever" (harhar) writer is redeemed. I'm listing down a lot of things in a matter-of-fact way because it feels like a lot has happened and it's one big puddle of jumbled up crap that is the essence of winter break. University provides structure. University + extended breaks equate to supersaturated laziness and partying. Where's the balance?

Anyway, since I'm so boring anyways (plus the glaring fact that I need to get this thing done in like, 6 minutes), here's what has happened:

• Remember Tall Guy, or something, the one who was a player and was an art major. He was described as a dick douchebag with moronic values. Now we're involved romantically. Great, right? (That's sarcasm.) I don't know what's going on. His Facebook relationship status confuses me. (Mine would confuse others too. In fact, it already has.)
• Christmas Day, Christmas Eve and Boxing Day was uneventful. I bought my mom a bottle of freaking expensive alcoholic beverage out of desperation for not knowing what else to get. New Year's Day consisted of me staying up until 5am, unenthused about how I'm so unenthusiastic. 
• My hair is officially too long. It needs a little choppy-choppy action. 
• I CLEANED MY ROOM!!! The sheer vacancy of "needing to do *insert school-related crap here*" compels me to do something productive. It's like I'm addicted to being busy. I'm a busy-body, not a home-body. 
• I didn't have any holiday-like foods. However, if you count Starbucks' specialty Christmas-ie drinks (mmm, Peppermint Mocha...) to be something, then I've apparently consumed some of the holiday spirit. Like, wow. No gingerbread (not that I've ever liked it), no turkey (not that it's a big thing in my house anyway), no ham (it's still in my fridge... in its original packaging), no eggnog (also in the fridge, I've never liked it since Martha Stewart made some on her show 10 years ago, and she had used eggs as an ingredient. I realized that the name for the beverage had too much relevance to its composition too late, and was thoroughly grossed out) and... yeah, everything you can imagine eating at Christmas, I've had none of it. Whoppee. University has destroyed my Christmas spirit. 
• I have a spanking new college hoodie (I have no idea what the actual term is, and I don't have time to Google anything, though I can semi-recall that it may be called a Varsity Hoodie...?) from a Bee-Eff-Eff. Oh yes. It's awesome, I love it. Like, actually; the fit is awesome, and a hell of a lot nicer on me than anything from TNA.

Okay, that's all I can think of right now and I'm paranoid about my friend coming at any second. 

- ShufflingHard

Whatever happened to me making up awesome-possum nicknames for my friends? Damn. Oh well, I have some time to kill anyway. 


Oh yeah, I'm done my first semester of University, ever. I'm smiling.