23rd December 2011

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o.o

Interesting realization… I only dress up for people I really, really, head-over-heels (to borrow from the cauldron of clichés) like. Because I want them to notice, remember, and think a few days later, damn that was a cute skirt. Damn her legs looked good in that cute skirt, or whatever. I really can’t be bothered doing that for other people, even people I semi-like or am trying to like… 

Errybody else, solid colored shirt and jeans and idgaf facial expression. 

I was just reflecting on my harried getting-ready episodes when I am expecting to see certain people… to the point where I’ll skip a morning shower to take an afternoon shower when I have more time, or something. There are people I saw so rarely but mattered to me so much that I’d literally buy new clothes for them on every single occasion. 

… Versus the calm mornings before I see other people. Lol. This semester’s been chill, except for three distinctive days—-August, November, December, when I made an epic effort. Sigh

15th December 2011

Post with 1 note

sigh

This semester’s been rough. Several times over the last few months I’ve received jolt-like episodes of acute nausea and headaches, starting, conveniently, the afternoon of my first day of classes. I feel like I’ve been randomly crying multiple times a week when for the rest of my twenty years it was less frequently even than annually (yeah emotionally constipated i know) and somehow, it’s not making me feel better or fixing anything. I don’t know why people cry it’s a useless fucking waste of time that also makes you temporarily ugly. 

I have to wonder what I’m being punished for. Emoness aside and shit, I’ll think about it logically. I’m a very nice girl. I think the Bible said “The good man brings good things out of the good stored in his heart,” and obviously I am an imperfect person and occasionally succumb to temptation, but I try hard to take care of those important to me and avoid hurting anyone. Yeah you can say that I am privileged and have a good life and any problems I encounter are trivial at best compared to the magnitude of other issues occurring around the world but that doesn’t change the tangible and definite impact they are having on my life. Everything from sleep to friendships to academic attendance is suffering (thankfully, academics otherwise are solid… bursts of hard work saved my ass). 

I’m definitely not depressed or anything like that. Especially because it’s the same impetus that causes this shittiness every time. I know in part I am making it worse for myself, but come on, I already knew I was shortsighted and immature.

Good night world, gonna write a final paper. Hope I get to sleep at some point tonight.

13th December 2011

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The Snake and the Ninja

The heater’s running but the bedposts reverberate louder: the ninja’s outside.

It screeches to a halt.

Turn, thud, click, its whip slides swiftly off—-helmet in hands and

She’s there. 

Chills pepper her bare shoulders from a force more compelling than windy drafts. 

He follows a step off rhythm; blurred vision.

Ignoring the heightened awareness of every fiber in his being.

He knows she is too—-numbness is easier. She pivots abruptly,

facing him, startling him. 

His jaw is set, lips drawn, eyes focused, narrowed, and dilated.

Ironically she feels relinquishment of control.

Nonchalant helmet tossed on the dresser. Thick riding gloves fall out;

he averts his gaze from the photograph they’ve knocked over.

He conversates, trifling with coquetry. Prepared, she plays along.

With sweet intoxication, she jilts all of her defenses. 

He coaxes her to jilt a little more; coils of fabric slump to the ground.

Pulsing, rapid from his arteries, smooth from her snakelike hips, 

adulterate the stillness. Pulsing, like the mercurial vibrations of a phone,

threaten annihilation of the moment—-she knows, but she needs no

confirmation.  

Minutes like seconds evaporate into clammy dank linens. 

Sticky, spent, abstractions in the harsh incandescence pause.

Stirring, no movement. Exhaustion.

Eventually he stands up to shape up and prepare for the ride home.

Mirror’s fogged. Her sink drips.

The second leaning toothbrush dents no conscience inside him.

She’s there watching with glazed, dewy eyes. He smiles weakly at

her figure, small, lithe and limber, so disastrously close to perfection…

He can’t help it. He tumbles back towards her, flipping his phone screen down

while simultaneously distracting with tickles, nibbles, giggles, whatever

He’s got it all in his arsenal.

The zest of fervor subverts any initial numbness. And this time when he sees the stars,

he can think of nothing else. Crippling, his mind turns black. That moment of nothing,

blank page, becomes a compelling taste of death. 

I have to get going soon, 

and her stomach drops. She hopes he can’t tell—-she shouldn’t feel like this.

Her body stiffens, and she is suddenly even more aware of his form enveloped 

around hers. The way his gentle breathing tousles individual locks of her hair.

Knock out. His body, against his better judgment, is not going anywhere.

She knows the pang of relief, the sheer trust that her head can be on his chest all night,

is inappropriate but she cannot dismiss it. His heavy arm lies thoughtlessly across

those snake hips and she falls asleep to the rhythm of the winds rattling the ninja.

28th November 2011

Post with 3 notes

:/

Until recently I wasn’t aware how stressful the state of dissatisfaction can be. Unbearable situations are one thing but just-below-par situations are, in a way, worse… at least with unbearable situations you have a definite answer to your question: You need to get your shit together and change. And probability wise, things are more likely to improve than degenerate. 

But when you’re feeling unfulfilled you never know if anything is worth the risk. Because maybe the situation isn’t so bad, maybe it’s just you who needs to change? Maybe your frustration stems from your own resistance to becoming a more adaptable, flexible, assimilated person? 

fuck that dude. I know I am hedonistic (… on a good day) and just intrinsically require a lot of engagement and excitement. Maybe it’s because I was spoiled as a kid, maybe it’s because I received a lot of attention whenever I wanted it all the time, that I’m feeling withdrawal symptoms from living a typical adult life. But I’ve wrestled with that thought for some time; I’ve desperately lowered my expectations, tried to adjust, feigned indifference to my own unhappiness, and still I feel like fragments of my well-being are being omitted, annihilated, piece by piece. 

There are times I act optimistically. And I know I’m lying to myself when I think that way. Gah, I hope for change but it never comes. It’s like I have a messed up pumpkin and I have to fix it, and I hope it’ll fix itself with small scrapes of my knife but I don’t have the guts to straight up concede and make pumpkin pie out of it like a boss or even to buy a new pumpkin. Essentially I feel like a huge underappreciated noob who victimizes herself and won’t take action. :(

 Sidenote, every semester I feel like the one before it was infinitely better. Am I just miserable all the time then, because looking back everything seems so golden… Spring semester was basically impossible life wise but I keep remembering all the fun times. And next semester I better not look back on Fall… omg. This semester is the worst. Thank GOD it’s almost over

6th October 2011

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bye steve jobs :/

Kind of unconventional post but as an inside-and-out Cupertino kid, I’ll feel better once it’s out. Here are some splendid quotes I discovered on Facebook.

“Three apples changed the world. The first one seduced Eve, the second one fell on Newton, and the third was offered to the world half bitten by Steve Jobs.”

and one more: 

“The world has lost a visionary. And there may be no greater tribute to Steve’s success than the fact that much of the world learned of his passing on a device he invented.”

-President Obama

I started kindergarten at a fortunate time in the city that serves as Apple Headquarters. We had a batch of Macintosh computers donated to every classroom, starting that year, for the next several years. SO I’m gonna reminisce and such.

That’s where I learned to play WordMunchers and develop a basic grasp of machines.

When we had two iMacs donated to each classroom, amidst several other older Macs, we FOUGHT so hard for these. Look at that cute fucking mouse. SO cute. Fits so well in a fourth grader’s hand. (Connie? Remember) And it was because of these that I learned to type like a bamf and become addicted to the “interactive tube”: my teacher’s report comments went from “Varada needs to experiment more with technology and become more comfortable with it” to “Varada needs to get the fuck off our iMacs” (not rly for the second part, but basically, she threw out that criticism). 

First laptops I ever saw IRL. All our teachers had these! In fifth grade we were allowed to check them out for one night at a time and make progress on “Type To Learn”, which by then I was able to finish in just a matter of a few weeks (while before the revolution of the iMacs I would never get through the whole course even in a year). Sometime at this point I surpassed my sister in mad typing skills. Anyway I left this at home one morning and got my laptop check out privileges revoked for the rest of the year :( sosad

We had these in middle school. I remember lurking Xangas from these little puppies, but they weren’t all that exciting because they were already fairly old and laggy.

Got this when I graduated middle school. Not because anyone was proud of me for graduating middle school but because my sister had done something super pro in her freshman year of high school that merited such a toy but my parents were well aware that I wouldn’t help her set it up or input music if I didn’t have one of my own. So I got one :) This marked my introduction to computer viruses and Limewire noobery… hmm… but also meant the birth of my Apple ID! I was part of the family!

My first laptop. The first Apple in our family, acquired for my 16th birthday (2007, I think 2nd generation?) It had a Pentium 2 processor and 1GB RAM lol but that was TOTALLY enough for me until this spring when I doubled it… then replaced it… q.q it’s still on my desk though. This computer owned so hard. 

Lost my first gen color iPod at some point when my parents were remodeling the house in the middle of my junior year so I got this as a 17th birthday present. I kinda wished I had waited for an iPod touch though :/

This 15-inch BEAST is my current laptop as of August :) It’s the best. It’s such a manly creation and can handle all the shit I throw at it SIMULTANEOUSLY. i7 that’s what’s up haha. 

These twinsies are the most exciting toy innoD has at the moment. They lure students to the table like white on rice, even if they are way slower for sign-in purposes they’re such a sick addition to the tabling family.

Gonna preorder this tomorrow… yee. :)

19th September 2011

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my heart hurts today

It won’t stop, I don’t even remember last time it was like this but I want to say two years ago must have been similar. I compounded all my poor judgment and decisions into a minor explosion and have worked up a fever in stress, but I feel like reflecting, because I know it won’t go away anytime soon and I might as well make sure it goes away for the right reason.

Even just writing that made it a little bit worse but IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION. No more denial and such. 

repeat. No more denial.

I’ve lost a ridiculous number of friends in the last year. Yes, I realize I am the constant in each and every situation. Although in each and every situation both parties were at fault, I don’t really want to think about that anymore either. Because I miss everybody a lot :(

1. You were the first, I think, but the most subtle because nothing happened to my knowledge until I heard about it a semester later. I guess our personalities both handle conflict very badly in different ways so we were never able to move past it, and mistrust, jealousy, and feelings of intense betrayal will probably always haunt us if we ever get back in touch. Which I highly doubt considering our interactions when we are forced in the same room or even just in passing on campus. But I liked you a lot. You shaped my freshman experience in ways that were important, but ways that I almost instantly disavowed when we stopped speaking. A year ago around this time you came to pick me up from the hospital and I think that’s my last real memory of you—-wearing bright plaid and looking so concerned. I came home to see a note on the whiteboard sticker above my bed that I left even when we didn’t talk anymore: “TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF, CRAZY GIRL.” I hope you do too, because I wish you the best, and still care about you very very much even though I understand why certain relationships are better left broken.  

2. This was my fault. I’ve been trying to heal things with you but sigh it won’t happen. You’re too busy and also yeah, I know, guys only care about you for one reason. So fuck it. But I liked you a lot too and I wish you’d pulled me away from the “competition” that scared you off. It’s okay, I still have some of my best memories of fall semester with you, sitting in BAM looking at Japanese art and taking up benches just because we were too tired… I remember dropping the bomb at that place, so ironic with the serenity of the cherry blossoms surrounding us at that moment, and I felt like I couldn’t ever forgive myself when I saw your expression flash across your face. Yeah, those suddenly dead eyes are engraved into my skin, especially because I’ve felt that so many times myself… and do right now. 

3. When we met you were such a cute kid, albeit kind of a tool. I remember going through your profile pictures one day and lolling at the early Myspace-esque mirror photos, thinking, thiskidissuchafuckingtool… and then… whydoilikehim. I miss our going to the gym together, showering in adjacent stalls, telling jokes through the walls, playing hallway baseball with malleable Oski stress balls. I miss trying to get over you, refusing to leave my room when I heard your voice in the hallway, trying to concentrate on a book I didn’t care about before I would just half-give up and take that book into the lounge just to watch you do something cute. I guess our friendship itself started on a foundation of one-way affection but then even after circumstances changed I valued you as a person, an addition to my social circle, quite a lot. I’m playing a song you recommended to me two years ago right now (although the new you would deny you ever liked it) and thinking. You were my first college “getaway boy,” a departure from my Cupertino boytroubles and a testament to my out-of-sight-out-of-mind mentalities. My interactions with you taught me more about myself than any feigned-deep conversation I ever had with you did, and in that way, you really are a fucking tool, but I miss you all the same. Considering how much and how fast we’ve both grown up, I doubt we have anything in common anymore but it still sucks to have you cut off. 

4. I think I miss you the most… I actually cried over you even though I never had any feelings for you that surpassed platonicity. I’m not even going to say you were a nice guy because you hate that. But you were one of the only kids I’ve been able to trust recently, not because you didn’t try to hide things from me but because you were so incredibly transparent. I liked it, by the way, I’m sorry I was so concrete in comparison. And yeah I did lie to you quite a lot but sorry. I know you hate that too. Our mutual thirst for adventure and all the bonding that comes with driving together, being stuck in traffic together, getting lost together (FUCK your iPhone navigation) I wouldn’t have given up to spend a minute with anyone else. I know that significant life updates have changed our situations recently and that now that you have a girlfriend our friendship, if it ever heals, will change as well. But I miss you sooo much. I spent every day of summer with you and then it stopped. And then summer sucked.

5. I don’t intend to ever fix our “friendship” because what’s different about you, from all these people, is that you and I never had memories that were REAL. Sorry, I can’t cherish your charisma when it fucks me over. I’ve been telling myself that if I could fix things with the aforementioned individuals, I’d feel more complete, stronger, and less like I needed you. I’ve never let myself be so manipulated before in my life and while I myself am thinking, whatever I’ll get over it, I would never have let this happen to a friend of mine. (Priorities are strange huh?) And it kills me to think, when I was born, my parents were probably thinking, wow, look we have another baby girl. I hope she’ll be smart, beautiful, strong, and successful, who can make a difference in our world and make it better for her children someday. AND THEY GOT A COMPLETE DUMBASS. no thanks to you, douchebag, for each and every positive value they instilled in me there was another character in my life who just shot it down. 

Currently, am I optimistic? Am I virtuous? Do I have morals? Do I screw over other people to get what I want? Do I care about other people’s feelings? Do I even take them into account when I make decisions? 

damn

26th August 2011

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Sad fox

Sometimes a little fox can hide a lot of damage in its little bushy tail and big bright eyes. 

Foxes don’t have sad eyes like puppies do. 

Puppies have it easy. They are easy to love, easy to forgive, easy to please. Puppies are desirable and conventional and so cuddly. 

Foxes steal, deceive compulsively, and are suspicious business to deal with. They have the courage to sneak around behind your back but will never amass enough to tell you how they feel the way puppies can do so naturally.

Foxes are cute too, if you think about it. But you have to think hard. Foxes don’t have the baby face that puppies easily embody. Foxes sometimes have awkward ears and are all angles and gangles and can’t fit comfortably in your arms.

Foxes have dreams, too, but rarely have the means to chase after them. You feed your puppy sordid dried kibble but the fox has to chase after its own gerbils. Gerbils reproduce like crazy but not when they’re dead. :(

Then these dreams go crazy. Foxes may not really need any of this to feel fulfilled but they will think they do. The repression of these dreams makes them sublimate in the foxes’ big bright eyes. And then they do not think they can exist if they don’t get what they are so sure they want.

Like all of us, foxes feel very sad when their dreams don’t come true. But because they usually don’t get anything and frequently fail, they are good at pretending they are happy with eating gerbils when they really want to eat bunnies. 

You should try to love a fox, really. You might need to wrap it in your sweatshirt before you cuddle with it because it is so awkwardly built and will not perch in your arms appropriately. Sometimes you may need to feed it when it is in a bad mood because it will be most disagreeable.

And you need to love it with a strong fist because it is inherently a shifty creature. That’s how it survived. Gerbils don’t trot straight into foxholes, after all. You’ll need to stop fantasizing about that puppy you never got and protect your fox especially because they are illegal in the state of California.

It is integral for you to accept that while the fox screws over a lot of things in the process of its manipulation and maintains an irritating victim complex, if you love it correctly and love it well it will learn the ways of the world and turn into a good fox (but never a perfect puppy). Rest assured you will still love it.

You will appreciate, one day, that your fox provides you with intelligent company and keeps you intrigued with its astonishing perspicaciousness. You remember that last puppy and how it won your affections by doing dumb things that made you laugh and you feel momentarily embarrassed that your preferences were once so elementary. 

THEN YOUR NEIGHBORS PUPPIES GET BIGGER TURN INTO BIG DOGS THAT KILL FOXES LIKE IN THE DISNEY MOVIE AAAH

17th July 2011

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Hella irked and crabby

damn I’ll keep it short, no attention span and a big project to work on due in seventeen hours. It’ll only take eight. But I’d like to sleep. I don’t think this post is like any others because I’m actually giving out shoutouts, but whatever, nobody I know reads this. Random teenagers in Helsinki need to go study calculus and stop creeping blogs so personal of people they do not even know; there is no universal moral or advice in this treasure trove of bullshit.

What have I been up to? Past two months I’ve been out of school. Sort of. There was one week of sheer adventure and job interviews, Tiburon Beach, Fry’s, Ranch 99, movie after movie after movie (seriously… Pirates, Xmen, Hangover 2). I wasn’t at home for a minute. That was the life.

Then school started a week after school ended yeah gmfg. Work started. Good bye to summer, hello 9-6 9-6 9-6 9-6 9-6 days… and there was still a little adventure though. Melissa was living with me. I’d see my friends. I didn’t have drama with any of those nubcakes. Angela was still visiting every week or so.

Boys? Meh I don’t want to sound jaded but I feel like arbitrary hooking up is better fit to my schedule and my own selfishness as of now. You don’t want him to stick around? GTFO I want my shower to myself! I want the whole bed! Leave my panda alone! Please never bring your shit to my house again! Although no, I am never like that—-I’ve been living alone all summer since my roommates aren’t around and am desperately lonely for company. Enter promiscuity.

Now that there’s work with the compulsory 20 hours of studio outside of class, that really is about 35-40 hours if you account for the fact that you can NOT work productively for magnificent stretches of time unless you’re a fucking cyborg and then what the hell do you need a degree for anyways, life is infinitely shittier. I have to seriously make an effort to see my friends and even then when I see them we are all so cranky that we just get on each other’s nerves.

Except Kathy, but the only time I get to see her is when we both go to the gym. It is an excuse to socialize but really it is for our health and sanity. I <3 Kathy.

Anyway I just really needed to vent. So what is wrong with my life?

-Overburdened by work, no free time to chill the fuck out. Which means essentially that I am unproductive, sleep deprived, look like shit, have to go several days without shaving my legs which seriously limits my wardrobe options, usually my head hair looks like shit too as does my skin. YEAH I am fucking shallow and YEAH it depresses me when I try to webcam whore from photobooth for my Google+ account (which I vastly prefer over Facebook namely for the narcissistic reason that I can post whatever bullshit links I want without having to read anybody else’s or comment or interact with anyone else. It’s like posting gChat statuses all over the place like I’m on fucking steroids just because I can. And I do) and I can’t find a good angle, lighting, or anything in which I look good even when I have makeup on because I just don’t look good these days. Depression

-Lost resistance to alcohol and inability to smoke as often as I’d like. Mostly this is an inability to function the next day if I don’t sleep enough after engaging in certain recreational activities involving these substances but yeah I can’t be late to work because I can’t wake up except to tell them I’m not coming, thats bullshit. Even though my boss is never there.

-One of the current boytoys is equally acting like bullshit. This is a continuation of an episode from fallish semester ish all winter ish too fucking long for that bullshit but at least it used to be fun. I don’t know if it’s because I no longer have emotional attachments to this boy or because he’s gotten so slutty that sex is no longer even fun for him but he’s such a buzzkill in the sack. First of all, he doesn’t kiss me. If I try to kiss him he puts absolutely no effort or muscle energy into kissing me back. IT’S YOUR MOUTH, SON. IF IT ISN’T TOO HARD TO TALK IT ISN’T HARD TO KISS, AND IF YOU ARE TOO LAZY TO KISS ME GTFO OF MY BED. Secondly, he’s gotten excruciatingly lazy in every other way and I am finding it very irksome. The actual crux of everything, his sluttiness has helped him improve, but the fucking bread and lettuce and tomatoes of the burger are complete bullshit. I honestly would rather sit alone in a dark room with a meth addict on a dingy mattress watching episodes of Archer than spend time with him if he continues to be like this, but unfortunately…

-THERE IS NO ONE AROUND OVER SUMMER. I cannot replace him. I cannot find other friends to entertain myself. I have been doused in the same boring nutjobs over and over and we are all getting on each others nerves. How hard is it for a girl to MEET PEOPLE!! I miss one of my close friends who is currently living in Oakland. I could visit her but weekend trips are hard to arrange when so much shit is going on all the time. Might go next week. :)

-EVEN IF THERE WERE PEOPLE, I have no time to spend with them. And no desire. I’ve become very horribly antisocial where I just want to be behind my computer screen doing nothing. Except probably online window shopping. Eff.

-My bangs look like shit in that they are SIMULTANEOUSLY BOTH too long and too short, and so they just look like shit. I did a better job with them with that damn $1 Daiso razor comb. I think I will put them away for the rest of forever. Nasty ass crap.

The ridiculousness of this post is supposed to put my life in perspective. I mean, nothing is that bad about all this. but then I just remember that my teacher keeps calling me out for having shitty perspective views that I just get flustered and angry and want to cut a bitch all over again.

25th April 2011

Post

20% is two thirds of the way to failure

This week’s life score: 2/10

I feel like my ego has caused a lot of problems, making me belligerent, uncooperative, emotional, and incapable of dealing with minor setbacks. And also somewhat unhealthily obsessive.

Also, I have been unmotivated, probably burnt out from stress, and developed a volatile temperament.

In response I have become physiologically retarded. No, I don’t cry easily, but every time I hear something negatively shocking I have thrown up. I thought spring break was the first and last time, but no, it’s happened every day this week. I do not have an eating disorder. I just think people need to stop shocking me and upsetting my short term plans.

Or maybe I should be more flexible and accommodating, but if you are my best friend and I have my life set up to sit on rocking chairs reminiscing about life when we’re old, you cannot tell me you’re going to hop on a plane and transfer to UCLA. Especially if you are bad at keeping in touch. This did not happen by the way.

Repercussions of my agitation have led to me playing with the emotions of everyone else in my vicinity to compensate for my own numbness. 

I also feel jipped, sold short, and taken advantage of.

Also 5 hour energy made me throw up too. nasty ass crap

sigh. This week was hella shitty.

12th April 2011

Post with 7 notes

God and Pizza

You see, at dining halls, I am that girl.

No, not that “that girl,” the one who is too inebriated to get herself home, throws up all over everything, and lands herself in precariously dangerous situations weekend after weekend but gets by scot-free because so many people grudgingly take care of her each time. I am not the medically stupid daredevil, if you will.

Nope; I’m the one who consistently overestimates my eating capacity (“I could eat a hyena!” - Simba). I fill six plates and end up eating quarter-sized portions from each menu item. And this sacrilegious mealtime ritual still amasses the greater part of 90 minutes at the least. 

People only put up with this because watching me eat and adding exasperated soundtracks to my pathetic speed beats the alternative; usually, Mastering Physics. Or they’re trying to get in my pants later. But the venue for the latter situation is generally not a dining hall.

< (Assertion of relative classiness).

In any case, everyone knows that dining halls require you to clean up after yourself. Or else the sheer number of busboys per university would gut out the California state budget further. 

But how does one manage that when she has six such plates, full of food, to clean up EVERY TIME? I’ll tell you how—magic. Freshman year, I did it right every time, every day multiple times, for almost seven months.

It’s simple; pick up your plates, take it to the dishroom. You do not need to be a college student to figure this out. I probably had the mental capabilities of performing this task before I had the mental capabilities required of eating itself (which, unsurprisingly, came to me very late in life).

But then spring fever seeped into my soul. I began to do everything wrong. I lost my keys twice in a month. Lost my ID countless other times. Slept through classes and shopped online a lot with random leftover graduation money (remember, I was still young, and had left the protective cradle of high school just a few months prior).

April 15, 2010 is where it all went wrong.

(I would remember the date).

I had fewer plates than usual. I was carrying back a bowl of cereal (finished! triumph), a plate of peas and corn and chicken (chicken unfinished), a plate with remnants of marinara sauce (pesto’s better imo), and a plate with a singularly-bitten slice of pizza.

That last one was the bad apple.

Oh, and probably a half-empty glass as well. (… psychoanalysis of this seemingly nonchalant statement reveals that I am indeed a pessimist).

And on my way out, while I carried all that shit in my two rather large hands (yes, let’s compare), a disaster happened. The pizza slid off the plate and gently snowboarded down the slope of somebody’s chair… onto his back.

I blinked twice and held my breath. What would he do? Would he sock me in the gut? Pick the slice off his body and slap me across the cheeks with it? Shank my face?

… he didn’t notice.

The person engaged in conversation with him did not even appear to notice.

And I sure as hell wasn’t going to lurk around Cafe 3 to see if anyone else had noticed! I bounced, praying he would just get up and leave and let it fall off, completely oblivious to the fact that there was a 7-ounce triangle of breaded cheesy goodness on his shirt. Couldn’t he feel the heat? Oily wetness? Idiot.

The trip to the dishroom went otherwise uneventfully, thank god, but the image of this man has never exited my brain. What should I have done, in retrospect? There was no way I could just tell him and risk his fury and wrath. And I probably couldn’t have reached into the seat and picked it off him gingerly and discreetly without his friend detecting something inappropriate. (Imagine what that would have looked like).

Shady business.

I suppose I could have sneakily tapped his shoulder and said, “Uh, sir, are you aware there is a slice of pizza on you? Some asshole must have dropped it on you in passing.”

But that could trigger the subconscious memory of an idle spectator: “Oh hold up, wasn’t that you? I totally saw that. Just didn’t register it as a DICK MOVE because normal people carefully babysit their slices of pizza when walking to the dishroom.” Or eat them to avoid guilt from orphans in Nigeria.

:(

So I think peace-ing out was the best solution to the dilemma at hand. At least I emerged with my face unshanked, and the only real cost to him was a load of laundry which I’d hope he would do anyway. And probably mild emotional trauma upon discovery.

Take a moment to imagine that.

Optimistically speaking, he may have regarded it as a gift from the heavens!

4th April 2011

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New challenge.

The internet bombards you with conflicting advice. But sometimes you see something and think, man, this stuff is for real. (LOL I almost got tricked by Google Motion but then the video gave it away—-what kind of normal person wants to do lunges to write an email? Is that truly more effectual?)

Somewhere, though, I read: “The worse you feel, the better you should dress.” This semester’s been rough, with work and school and InnoD piling up (actually, InnoD has been a lifesaver, substituting “obligation” for a social life much like Link Commission did my junior year of high school), and the stress has grated my soul. And with everyone so busy, I only get to see my best friend once a week when I’d grown accustomed to (and dependent on) seeing her every day. I don’t think I’ve felt so down for an extended period EVER except maybe first semester freshman year…

Anyway, I’m going to challenge myself to look put together every single day for the rest of the semester. Yeah, that means no more hobo days, no more even-a-little greasy hair (LOL this is definitely the hardest part), no more gym clothes/things I just wore to sleep to class. NOPE! :)

And if after a week that doesn’t lift my spirits, I can dismiss it as one of those lame internet things that suck but intuitively I feel that it will.

28th February 2011

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Architecture projects

Background: I was collaging cross sections of the East Asian library side staircase. (Draw a line right through the middle of this picture):

Me: Marelyn, what do you think the inside of a trash can would look like?

Marelyn: Disgusting.

Me: Nooo! Like a clean one. Structurally, what’s inside?

Marelyn: Oscar the Grouch.