So I found my old blog. I think I am going to resume my old posting style, updating only occassionally and speaking succinctly and truthfully.
Tumblr is too pretentious for me now.
Ah, ah, ah.
Life is too pretentious for me now.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Monday, February 7, 2011
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
"I Hope I Get Over This Phase, Because I'm Stuck in This Haze"
Has it really been two months since my last post?
My gosh, what a failure.
I don't quite have much to say, only that I'm growing increasingly wary of everything.
And it sucks.
Feel this like I. Life point no. Tired always. Work ends never. Tomorrow there no is? Jumbled everything. Mess.
Help need I now.
Sleep perchance forever I could?
No, life fair not is. Suffer now later rewards. Hope.
Stupid me.
It's very depressing, actually. Perhaps I will blog more during Thanksgiving break.
For now, ciao.
Falling - David Archuleta
Not the most spectacular song, but the lyrics are spot on.
My gosh, what a failure.
I don't quite have much to say, only that I'm growing increasingly wary of everything.
And it sucks.
Feel this like I. Life point no. Tired always. Work ends never. Tomorrow there no is? Jumbled everything. Mess.
Help need I now.
Sleep perchance forever I could?
No, life fair not is. Suffer now later rewards. Hope.
Stupid me.
It's very depressing, actually. Perhaps I will blog more during Thanksgiving break.
For now, ciao.
Falling - David Archuleta
Not the most spectacular song, but the lyrics are spot on.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Anger Mismanagement
So, I've realized something.
I am an angry person.
Okay, not like
angry.
Well, en espanol, we were talking about the idiom: "With the patience of Job." And mi maestro asked, "Senorita Shirley, you look like someone with the patience of Job."
and I realized, actually, oh hell no.
I am an angry person.
Okay, not like
angry.
Well, en espanol, we were talking about the idiom: "With the patience of Job." And mi maestro asked, "Senorita Shirley, you look like someone with the patience of Job."
and I realized, actually, oh hell no.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
The Passing of a Soul
许旭 1932 - 08.13.2010
My grandfather is a great man.
He was the district manager of every single Tsing Hua book store in the Shang Dong district。 and a great scholar.
Over a hundred people from all over China attended his cremation.
He is loved and respected by even more.
He self-studied everything he's ever known.
And he loves fried fish and dried pork.
And he fathered my mother, who is the most amazing woman I know.
My grandfather is a great man.
He was the district manager of every single Tsing Hua book store in the Shang Dong district。 and a great scholar.
Over a hundred people from all over China attended his cremation.
He is loved and respected by even more.
He self-studied everything he's ever known.
And he loves fried fish and dried pork.
And he fathered my mother, who is the most amazing woman I know.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
We Won't Miss You, Because You've Never Left
I've never been close to my grandfather, but death, like life, is a mysterious and magical thing.
I can't explain it, but there's a sudden knot inside me and it hurts.
Maybe the situation hasn't completely hit me yet, but I don't miss him. But the more I think about it, the more I realize: I'll never see him again.
Never hear his husky voice or loud laugh.
Never see his toothy smile.
Never laugh at his ShanDong accent.
Never walk with him to a bookstore.
Never hold his elbow as we go grocery shopping.
Never see his angry face when I throw away his cigarettes.
Never cry at his harsh scoldings.
Never feel his calloused hands on my head or shoulder.
Never hear him call my name.
When was the last time I saw him?
When was the last time I spent a day with him?
And when I see my mother cry wailing sobs while muttering, "Daddy!" over and over, my tears can't stop.
Grandpa's gone.
Fuck.
I can't explain it, but there's a sudden knot inside me and it hurts.
Maybe the situation hasn't completely hit me yet, but I don't miss him. But the more I think about it, the more I realize: I'll never see him again.
Never hear his husky voice or loud laugh.
Never see his toothy smile.
Never laugh at his ShanDong accent.
Never walk with him to a bookstore.
Never hold his elbow as we go grocery shopping.
Never see his angry face when I throw away his cigarettes.
Never cry at his harsh scoldings.
Never feel his calloused hands on my head or shoulder.
Never hear him call my name.
When was the last time I saw him?
When was the last time I spent a day with him?
And when I see my mother cry wailing sobs while muttering, "Daddy!" over and over, my tears can't stop.
Grandpa's gone.
Fuck.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Puke All Your Troubles Away
Note: This post is not an over-dramatic confession about my secret bulimia addiction. Sorry. But at least there's grunge music.
Not that I enjoy beginning blog posts in FML format (or, as some would prefer it, MLIA format) and imagining pretentious anti-trolls (who are actually as annoying as trolls) wince at the reference, the antecedent "today" applies perfectly in this anecdote. In fact, "a minute ago" works much better.
Although, since I take ages to write a blog post, by the time this is dated and published, the event will be far more than sixty seconds past.
Anyway.
Today, as I was studying for my math SATs (yeah, I know, I finally told myself to shut the hell up and start studying), I made myself some microwavable Kettle Korn as a snack. Once upon a time, I loved the fat bastards. But now, they just taste bland, greasy, cheap, and leave a terrible after-taste.
However, despite all of my mental notes to never buy or eat this popcorn again, I had three bags sitting in my pantry that just had to be devoured. As I sat trying to figure out how to solve for the fucking limit, one entire bag disappeared into the oil that lined my fingers. After a moment of stunned silence, self-loath, and slight indigestion, I decided it was definitely not worth it.
So, as I stood up, stretched, and felt another wave of indigestion, I began to think how wonderful it would be if I could rewind my life, even for just five minutes, and tell myself not to make that stupid decision I definitely will regret five minutes later. Although, knowing me, I'd make the decision anyway.
But I digress.
Laughing inwardly at the impossibility of such a feat, I began to ponder an invention that can physically remove regrettably consumed food out of stomachs, and how amazingly well it would sell.
Not that I enjoy beginning blog posts in FML format (or, as some would prefer it, MLIA format) and imagining pretentious anti-trolls (who are actually as annoying as trolls) wince at the reference, the antecedent "today" applies perfectly in this anecdote. In fact, "a minute ago" works much better.
Although, since I take ages to write a blog post, by the time this is dated and published, the event will be far more than sixty seconds past.
Anyway.
Today, as I was studying for my math SATs (yeah, I know, I finally told myself to shut the hell up and start studying), I made myself some microwavable Kettle Korn as a snack. Once upon a time, I loved the fat bastards. But now, they just taste bland, greasy, cheap, and leave a terrible after-taste.
However, despite all of my mental notes to never buy or eat this popcorn again, I had three bags sitting in my pantry that just had to be devoured. As I sat trying to figure out how to solve for the fucking limit, one entire bag disappeared into the oil that lined my fingers. After a moment of stunned silence, self-loath, and slight indigestion, I decided it was definitely not worth it.
So, as I stood up, stretched, and felt another wave of indigestion, I began to think how wonderful it would be if I could rewind my life, even for just five minutes, and tell myself not to make that stupid decision I definitely will regret five minutes later. Although, knowing me, I'd make the decision anyway.
But I digress.
Laughing inwardly at the impossibility of such a feat, I began to ponder an invention that can physically remove regrettably consumed food out of stomachs, and how amazingly well it would sell.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
A Little Piece of Sunshine
Nothing like fog, heavy overcast, chilling winds, and annoying neighbors to make me really miss home.
Rolled back in SF today. It is literally an immediate shift from sunshine to fog. I think every time I venture into the land of the sun and am forced to return to the fog, I die a little inside. Not very pleasant, I admit.
Anyway, just felt like making a short post. :) Nothing too amazing going on, really. I am now severely sleep-deprived (long story involving a crying baby. Well, that actually wasn't that long, was it?) and am sporting a ridiculous tan, but nothing I'm not already used to.
I find it both amusing and frightening that 80% of the girls I've seen in Tahoe look exactly like Britany Spears.
Gorgeous blond locks, yes. Pretty faces, yes. Too much mascara, yes. Generic, definitely.
Why do girls have to look like somebody or dress a certain style?
Rolled back in SF today. It is literally an immediate shift from sunshine to fog. I think every time I venture into the land of the sun and am forced to return to the fog, I die a little inside. Not very pleasant, I admit.
Anyway, just felt like making a short post. :) Nothing too amazing going on, really. I am now severely sleep-deprived (long story involving a crying baby. Well, that actually wasn't that long, was it?) and am sporting a ridiculous tan, but nothing I'm not already used to.
I find it both amusing and frightening that 80% of the girls I've seen in Tahoe look exactly like Britany Spears.
Gorgeous blond locks, yes. Pretty faces, yes. Too much mascara, yes. Generic, definitely.
Why do girls have to look like somebody or dress a certain style?
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