The amount of chicken nuggets I consume is inversely proportional to the amount of sleep I get.
I have given up all hopes of being healthy, at least for this semester. I shouldn’t be surprised, but somehow, grad school is consisting of more cup ramens at 3am and screaming at my computer screen than I expected. And it’s only the second week of school. I’ve had more chicken nuggets and wings and onion rings in the past two weeks than I had in the entire year. Just last night, I ate an entire pack of pepperoni sausages. You know…those large packs meant for entire pizzas. As if that wasn’t enough, I had ice cream after. And then this morning, I woke up hungry and super tired and I cried because my stupid phone wouldn’t stop vibrating (it was set on alarm) and I tried to turn it off but the stupid thing didn’t work and it just sat there vibrating for a whole hour. I wanted to flung it against the wall but… money. Poor peasents like me can’t get angry the way rich kids in Korean dramas do. LOL
Although, I’ve noticed a pattern. I’ve been crying at small things ever since I was prescribed some pills to regulate my period. The other day, I was watching a dog video on YouTube and I started tearing up in the office because IT WAS SO SMALL!! WHy does dogs have to be so small and why is my life like this…
Also, how do people do relationships? I don’t even have the energy to shave my legs (I stood in the shower for a good 10 mins trying to muster up enough energy to bend down and do the deed but my arms decided it was another day’s work)…how does my classmates balance work and school and a bf/gf/husband/wife/partner and not DIE?! I suppose love conquers all…legs can go unshaven but love surpasses even the most tired of arms. When will I ever… T.T I blame it on Woobin. Or maybe So Ji Sub oppa? Or maybe Lee Jong Suk or one of the countless Korean men who has infiltrated my life. I can’t even see them now anyway. TT.TT
I just want the semester to be over so I can go back to doing nothing.
Fat, stressed and disheveled,
Hello Blog, it is I, your owner.
Yes, I am alive. No, I did not perished into the sea or got ripped into shreds by a hungry alien, but I might have lost what little sanity I had because I am here trying to talk to a screen like it’s an old friend. But hey…if Kurt Vonnegut did it…
It has approximately been five months since I last logged in and I almost forgot this blog existed. In fact, I got so caught up with errythang that I did forget about it but then I remembered it again, like, two minutes ago so I’m here. I’m so terrible at being consistent, I know, but we’ve pretty much established that fact in every single blog post so let’s not talk about the obvious.
Quick updates: I made it through my first semester of grad school and apparently no one caught on that I am insane so I’m back for my second semester.
Other quick updates: My mom is fine. I finally went Apple. I got an iPhone a few months ago and also switched to a Macbook from my 6-year-old Fujitsu. RELUCTANTLY. *Gross sobbing* (Fujitsu, you served me well, you monstrous freak darling that survived multiple drops and water dunkings.) I made some new acquaintances in school. I chopped off all my hair, all 12in, of it on a whim and my mother and every single woman above forty who knows me went crazy ape shit and would not stop talking about what a waste it was. I watched a lot of cat videos and korean dramas. (Translation: I’m very very still single.) I cried a lot over So Ji Sub and still laughs at videos of people falling down. My sons, iKon, made their debut and I’ve spent a lot of money on their albums and merchandises because I want them get the money. Kim Hanbin, don’t worry. Momma will put food on yo talented table. My memory is getting worse. I have trouble remembering faces and names and also a lot of other stuff. Today, I locked myself out of my ATM card because I forgot the PIN number (which I’ve been using for like 3 years) and keyed in the wrong numbers multiple times. I’m misreading more and more words. I haven’t read a book in two months, much less write one, because the words keep mixing into each other and it is becoming terribly hard for me to finish even a page. (Good luck for school with this dyslexia.) I wore a saffron colour blazer to work today and my colleagues had a shock because they’re not used to seeing me proper office wear. (Apparently I must dress like a drab/prostitute on normal days.) Alan Rickman died and I cried so hard the entire night, I had to take off the next day because my eyes were swollen.
And what else, what else, what else? I think that’s all. I think the real, actual reason why I’m here is because I’m kind of having a tough time but I don’t want to admit it. I always comes back to writing whenever life gets too tiring and it has been kind of tiring the past few months even if I don’t want to admit it. I can’t really pin point the source of the blues and I’ve tried to put off talking about it for the longest time because I want to be fine, I just want to be fine and be okay and be normal. And eventually I will be, but it is nice to be able write things out right now. I’ve got make sure that I didn’t misspell things and look really really hard to make sure the words aren’t jumbled together, but for some reasons writing is much easier than reading. If only the words don’t jumble together when I am reading, I can read properly again.
Ah, here I am again. I start off with one topic and end on another. But it’s nice to write, even if I can’t read what I’ve written. I hope it’s all correct.
I didn’t run out screaming halfway through the class. I didn’t attempt to murder any of my classmates or professors. I didn’t get arrested. All in all, it was good. Well done, me.
I’m having my first class at 6.30pm.
I bought a new bag and new clothes and new shoes (all in the name of education, of course) and I’m wearing them today. Now it’s almost lunch time and I’m at my desk bouncing my knees up and down, feeling all jittery and out of wack and hoping that there will at least be ONE person in classmate who is reasonably smart and also willing to be my friend, so that we can learn together and also so that I can copy assignments from them on days when my brain disapparate faster than Ron Weasley can say Wingardium Leviosa.
I am very nervous, if you haven’t realized yet already. I can’t focus on work and I need to something with my hands and under normal circumstances, I would be texting my friends but Mel is in Malaysia and doesn’t have access to WiFi and Jess is at the US Embassy and doesn’t have access to her phone, and I don’t wanna text other friends because they’re not used to my nervous breakdowns and would probably end up saying things that makes me feel even worse, so here I am on a blog, writing. Which is something I always turn to/end up doing in my times of need. Thank god for blogs and papers and other shits that have been putting up with writers’ with word vomits. Is there a proper word for word vomit? I don’t know. I should probably Google it but I can’t seem to be able to find the calm to reach for my mouse and click somewhere else other than a page where I can type and type and type.
OH GOD. WHAT IF I COMPLETELY SUCK IN CLASS. What if I fail??? I’M ON A HALF SPONSORSHIP FROM SCHOOL AND ALSO PLANNING TO TAKE THE DISSERTATION ROUTE, I NEED AT LEAST A B+ FOR ALL MY MODULES I CANNOT FAIL. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if I did fail, I know, but still. I don’t wanna end up on the streets, twerking my butt and shaking my boobs to a dollar bill. Not that there is anything wrong with being a stripper, by the way. Especially if you enjoy being one. I read somewhere that really good strippers make up to $10,000 a month? Like whut? That is more money that I will ever get in a month in this decade, even on my stupid Master’s degree. Plus, it has been scientifically proven that if you’re a stripper, you have a higher chance of dating Richard Gere. So, maybe being a stripper isn’t all that bad. Except if you’re someone who gets cold really easily, like me.
Also, I’m wearing yellow. Is yellow a good color to wear on a first day???? I DON’T KNOW, I DON’T KNOW, I DON’T KNOW. GGGGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH. I GONNA MAKE MYSELF SOME CAMOMILE TEA.
It is two a.m. right now, and I am awake because I fell asleep for ‘a quick nap’ in the evening and woke up just before midnight. I’m not so sure about the rest of the world but I hate waking up from naps because I’m always disoriented as fuck. My brain basically just turns into a nine-year-old the moment I wake up and I’m always like I’m dizzy and hungry and is this earth, what is life and where is my mom? and the general feeling of suckiness doesn’t usually go away for the next 34580238940 hours.
Anyway, my point is that I took a late nap and couldn’t go back to sleep so here I am trying to work on a new story idea and doing everything else but that. Because I’ve been relatively absent over the past month (more like year, actually) here’s a lowdown of life as it is so far:
1. Still unpublished, unbuplished, unbublished.
2. My mom’s doing great with her giant fight against cancer (almost 90% percent of her tumors are gone)
3. but she likes to play it up sometimes to get what she wants (which she is allowed to, simply because cancer is an asshole and people who have undergone chemo should be given fucking medals)
4. and one of the things she wants most right now is for me to go to grad school
5. which I sort of applied half-heartedly just to appease her
6. and surprisingly, I got an offer of admission,
7. which leads me to my current predicament and the subject of my nightmares: going back school.
I hate school. I mean, I don’t hate hate school, like I don’t want to blow up the buildings or kill the professors or anything like that. If anything, I think it is great that people go to institutions so that they can grow and gain knowledge and learn how not to be shitty little assholes (although some people might have missed this point completely). I’m all for continuous learning. I just, you know, don’t actually want to have to study. Because it sucks. And also because I hate studying. But mostly because it sucks. Yeah, I’m very good at giving good, credible arguments. It’s surprising how nobody has approached me to be a lawyer.
There’s a part of me that’s like, “Hey, it’ll be good for you. You’ll be learning how to think more strategically instead of just being a foot soldier, and you’ll be in a class full smart, independent people whom you can learn from and you’ll be doing researches and thesis papers and publishin your dissertation in journals. You’ll be acting like an adult for once instead of just acting like a giant kid who’s turning 18 for the 6th year in a row.”
But there also that other part of me that’s like, “Ugh, no. *Please excuse me while I go lie in bed for the next 37 hours and ignore my life’s responsibilities.*”
These two parts have been at loggerheads for the past few weeks ever since I found out that I got in. I mean, I already accepted the offer so I guess I’m actually going to have to put actual effort into life for once but the very idea of it is just so…UGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Even now, writing about it makes me want to throw myself at a wall, which is something I’ve done once because this person jumped out at me from behind a door and I got frightened. I think I walked around with a bruise on my forehead for days.
I’m sorry I’m always so whiny on this blog. And that the blog url is misleading because there are actually no puns. I hate puns. I mean, I don’t hate hate them. I find them funny in a HAHA-OMG-SOMEBODY-STOP-THIS-PERSON kind of way, which doesn’t even make sense to me right now because I’m too groggy from this strange nap-disorientation thing I have going on. I think I’ll go back to bed.
Goodnight, world. Lights out. Peace. Ta-ta. Buh-bye.
Recently, JK Rowling admitted in an interview with Emma Watson that she sometimes regrets putting Ron and Hermione together romantically. Like the rest of us, she wonders whether bumbling, incompetent, lazy Ron could really have made the industrious and brilliant Hermione happy.
That made me really sad. Because the last couple times reading through the series, I’ve been paying attention to Ronald Weasley, and I’ve realized something:
Yes, Ron is lazy. Yes, Ron buggers off on Harry twice. Yes, Ron has inferiority problems. Yes, Ron is flawed.
But Ron is also the most underestimated character in the series.
Ron is continually underestimated by Hermione, by Harry, by his family… he even underestimates himself.
If you actually WATCH Ron, you start to notice things.
Ron Is Smart
We all remember how Ron saved the day in the first book by winning the game of chess against McGonnagle’s giant chess set. If…
View original post 2,491 more words
Life update: a little bit more dysfunctional than usual because I had to wake up at 4.30 this morning to send mom to the airport and also because I’ve been sick for the last two weeks and have drank quite a bit of cough syrup and paracetamol and they’re making me super drowsy.
My first thought when I woke up was I can’t do this. There are some great things I am meant for but mornings aren’t one of them. And then I spent ten minutes dozing off and then another ten being blinded by my handphone screen while I send out a tweet. In the washroom, it took me about seven centuries to figure out how to open a tube of toothpaste because it seemed as though my eyes had been glued shut and my fingers replaced by flimsy rubber gloves.
Reached work an hour early but I haven’t done anything productive and it’s now 9 am. Jeremy from the next table has asked me twice if I’m okay because I’ve been blowing my nose quite loudly. I’ve forgotten all and every form of social etiquette, and have decided to spend my life being an utter brat. Also, I’m writing in a really strange tone, I can’t figure myself out. I’m going off to the office toilet to take nap.
Don’t even know what I’m doing right now,
I’m sorry I haven’t blogged in three months but – BUT – BUUUUUUUUUT, please allow me to make up for that with an embarrassing story of my own stupidity.
1. Two weeks ago, I sat down on a treadmill while trying to wrap a present (long story) and then broke out in hives ten minutes later. By hives, I’m not just talking about the small red ones. These are the big angry ITCHY ones that sprout all over your body and make you scratch enough for people to think that you have a goddamn disease. I first tried to get rid of them using hand cream. Surprise, surprise, it didn’t work. So then I went to the office first aid box and found some (just a few months expired) lotion that was supposed to help with rashes and insect bites so I rubbed them happily all over my leg. It did work for a little while, but when I look down a few minutes later, MY ENTIRE LEG WAS STAINED YELLOW FROM THE LOTION. I looked like a freaking extended family member of the Simpsons from waist down. I rushed to the doctor’s during lunch and here was how the conversation went:
Doctor (writing on my patient card): They look like allergic reactions or bed bug bites. Did you eat anything wrong or sleep in a different bed?
Me: No, but I sat down on a treadmill.
Doctor: You sat on a treadmill and…?
Me: I broke out in hives.
Doctor (stops writing): Are you trying to tell me that you broke out in hives because you’re allergic to the treadmill?
Me: It happens…right?
As it turned out, no it doesn’t happen and the doctor assured me about seventy-five times that I didn’t have an allergy to treadmills OR exercise OR sweat and that there was no need for me to avoid exercising for the next ten years. Bummer. I was sent home with a prescription for bed bug bites (apparently bed bugs live everywhere, even on exercise machines) and the understanding that I am a huge gigantic dork.
2. Also, I tried participating in NaNoWriMo this year. For those don’t know what that is…go google it. I’m too lazy to explain. My aim was to write the world’s bestest most fucking awesome novel in A MONTH and win the Nobel Prize for Literature next year or the year after, but as it turned out…well, it didn’t turn out anyway. I couldn’t hit my goal for 50k words. I managed to go up to 30k+ before realizing that my story was shit and abandoning the project. Since then, I’ve been an utterly unproductive potato and finished all four seasons of Game of Thrones in four days. I’ve also considered the prospects of leaving my job and getting myself a sugar daddy to pay for my student loans but I’m having difficulty find a man that doesn’t need me to A) Sleep with him, B) Or Meet him, C) Or ever talk to him and D) is willing to transfer me endless supply of dollars through an untraceable account for my efforts in doing nothing. If you know such a man, please contact me at my blog email. Thank you.
Quick question for anyone who sees this: were your 20s such a big disaster too?