Tea Bag

Thursday, January 22, 2009

"I understand how scissors can beat paper, and I get how a rock can beat scissors, but there’s no fucking way paper can beat rock. Is paper supposed to magically wrap around rock and leave it immobile? Why the hell can’t paper do this to scissors? Screw scissors, why can’t paper do this to people? Why aren’t sheets of college ruled notebook paper constantly suffocating students as they take notes in class? I’ll tell you why, because paper can’t beat anybody. A rock would tear that shit up in 2 seconds. When I play rock paper scissors, I always choose rock. Then when somebody claims to have beaten me with their paper I can punch them in the face with my already clenched fist and say, oh shit I’m sorry, I thought paper would protect you, you asshole."

And I'm supposed to be doing Government homework. Sigh.

{ 9:14 PM }

Friday, January 16, 2009

I don't understand you,
I don't think I ever did honestly.
But that didn't stop me from trying.
And now I get this from you.
Patience is starting to wear out;
Just don't lose it now k?

----------------------------------------

Finally the Wellesley FAFSA deadline debacle has been settled and finals are over. I can relax.............just kidding...I've got another speech/debate competition to go to tomorrow - one that involves waking up at 6 am on a SATURDAY. Sometimes I wonder why I constantly shoot myself in the foot? I mean, those scar marks from the collagen fibers (sorry, Anatomy final yesterday, the material is apparently still stuck) are still pretty noticeable from the previous occurence of shooting myself in the foot. =_="

So in an attempt to begin moderately relaxing, my friends and I went to see Bride Wars - which, next to The Devil Wears Prada, has the best wardrobe for females. EVER. My gosh, I wish I were richer so I can buy more clothes and then end up with the hunger to buy more expensive gowns from Angel Sanchez and then finally in a debt so large, the U.S. won't have anything on me. Wtf is that even possible?

Oh, for some reason, I've got Lesley Roy's "Unbeautiful" stuck in my head. Goddamn these catchy pop tunes. I'm such a sell out. What's next? Reading The Clique and watching Grey's Anatomy during my spare time?

Ick.

I need some good 'ol She and Him and a night of reading We The Living to recover :)

Peace

{ 6:59 PM }

Saturday, January 3, 2009

Happy New Year!

I realize I'm three days late but you know that saying about how what matters is the thought and bla bla bla? Yea, that should apply to this case too. :)

My resolutions are as follows:

1. Graduate with my sanity intact

2. Get in shape. (The quintiessential resolution)

3. Watch a movie a week (the amount I've watched over break should suffice for the next month or so, just watched the Reader and Benjamin Button this week alone and I have to say both were FABULOUS - BB moreso than the other but still :D)

4. Not turn psychopathic bitch on anyone

I think that about sums it up nicely.

------------------------

I've finally conquered all 602 pages of East of Fucking Eden as of today. I mean, yea the book was good and all that, but I mean c'mon. I spent most of my break applying to the gagillion schools that my parents insist I apply to eventhough I've gotten into the dream one and do you know how many essays that sums up to? About 9 - 10.

And do you know what other things I could be doing with that valuable brain power? Um.....getting to the leaderboard of Wordchallenge on facebook. Duh!
(psst...if you don't know what Wordchallenge is, shame on you; maybe that should be your resolution for the new year)

Cheers and again, happy 2009!

I'm graduating yo!

{ 10:02 PM }

Sunday, December 28, 2008

Why does it seem like everything you sit down to write something meaningful and gorgeous and inspiring, your fingers run dry and the keyboard becomes a labyrinth of letters and numbers?

I'm trying so hard to show these people locked up in a stuffy admissions boardroom that I am relatively amusing when given the chance, that I'm easily the most sensitive person you'll ever meet - I mean, I practically cry at every.single.movie.out.there. (with the exception of Wall-E, should I be shot dead for that?), that all I've ever wanted to do with my life was play my piano and allow the rhythm to overtake my senses. But I can't.

Why?

I don't know why.

Actually I do know why.
But that's such a cop out answer, I don't want to even mention it.
Cowardice.
Funny word that cowardice.
Maybe I need a break.
It's 1.20 in the morning after all.
If i work till 3 I'll be a Matchbox Twenty song.

Not really a bad idea

She thinks that happiness is a mat that sits on her doorway

Sigh.
So we took Katie out for her birthday yesterday :)
And for dessert, we ended up watching....

So I expected to cry.
And what happened after?
I fucking bawled my eyes out :(
But watch it regardless, the dog alone is oh so cute :D

{ 1:19 AM }

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

It's Christmas Eve, and I'm here glued to the computer/TV to avoid having to open my mouth to deal with whatever nagging awaits from her. Him, I don't worry about. Did I mention she wears the pants in this family, eventhough she attempts to be the supposedly submissive part of the relationship. Hah! She's got him beat down with her stick the size of the fucking Empire State Building. I just step aside to let them all crash. It's much easier that way.

So remember when you were a little kid, you would always write the magical "Dear Santa" list and by some "miracle" whatever was on that wishlist would come true? Well, I've decided to do one this year, on Christmas Eve, in hopes that Santa actually reads it.

Dear Santa,

I know it's been...actually no, that was a lie. I've never written to you, never have I ever wanted to, but hey, there's always room for new traditions (eventhough I'm not of the same religion). Since I've never actually written to you, I figure I wouldn't be as imposing as some of the other elementary school terrors who write year after year after year. Gets tiring after a while innit? I think so. And I'm pretty sure you'd be more inclined to comply to everything on my list.

The first request isn't for me, it's for my mom. Please Santa, bring her a clue, and make it an obvious one too. Make her realize that the world does not revolve around her, and that there is such a thing as being in the wrong. Make her realize that curfews are pretty set things and that a 11 o'clock curfew is PATHETIC; even more pathetic: the fact that she randomly changes it to 10.30 and insists that it's because she doesn't want me speeding home? Maybe you ought to bring her a little bit of intelligence too. Just saying.

The second request still isn't for me (ah, the generous side), it's for both my parents. Please Santa, bring them a time machine so they can travel back in time and undo their whole relationship. Racial slurs on a weekly basis between both parts of my culture does not equate to a happy holiday. The tendency for the neighbours to call the cops isn't really the icing on the cake either. Again, just saying.

Finally, we've gotten to me. My third request is so that Chicago gives me an insane financial aid package so I can pack my bags and head as far away as Hyde Park for most of the year to avoid succumbing to irrational logic and overtly sensitive racists in their own right and keep my sanity in tact. Or better yet, give my parents a new layer of skin to make it easier for them to absorb my sarcasm.

There, nothing too materialistic about that is there Santa? There'll be Raspberry Milanos and milk on the table on your way out. Merry Christmas!

P.s. Watched The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas with William yesterday. My. God. I should've gotten the award for "Most Naive". Silly me, thinking that a Holocaust movie was going to have a happy ending (maybe Santa oughta get me some intelligence too), but nevertheless, the movie was relatively solid. Simplistic with depressing undertones - just how I like my holiday movies.

Merry Christmas everyone :D

{ 6:40 PM }