I have been meaning to do this for a while. For the next 24 hours, I intend to write one characteristic that strikes me during the hour, or other such notions or ideas. I will come back and edit this periodically as time passes until I have finished, or fallen asleep...
12 A.M and all is silent... Midnight has just come, bringing with it the end of the last day, and the beginning of a new one.
1 A.M. and my mind begins to wander as I surf the internet in search of new inspiration to shake away the fear of my own mortality.
2 A.M. and I have been roped into writing an erotic slashfic about two of my friends by my other friends, and I have remembered that I need to finish the silly shoujo manga that I was going to write based on a picture taken of another friend. I guess I found my inspiration. *shrug*
...So I fell asleep. I have now learned that I should probably do it in 24 consecutive hours after I have woken up instead of in 24 hours after the initial 24 hours of being awake. >.>
...Read more...
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Friday, June 24, 2011
It's raining here today...
And as cliche as it sounds, I love watching and listening to it. The calming and cleansing aspects of rain feed nature and helps everything grow. As I listen to the tappity tap tap of the rain, memories abound.
As sad as it sounds, most of my greatest memories were at my boarding high school, splashing in puddles and having a brilliant time, just strolling through the rain, not caring what anyone thought of us. The rain makes me remember sad times, of a fresh breakup between myself and my two loves, and memories of just sitting in bed, reading a book before exams with my window open during second trimester. Sometimes I think I obsess over my high school too much, but then I think of all that it has given me, and all that it put me through and I still smile, which means that it was worth it, yeah?
Rain makes me remember the time I frolicked in a torrential downpour, then came back in soaking wet and had to wear a bright yellow skirt (that was so bright it reflected the sun, mind you). It reminds me of the time that I discovered that on a cold rainy day, the heat your body makes from running though puddles will make your body smoke (mostly around your crotch, which makes it even more hilarious). And it reminds me that I ran through the rain and splashed in puddles with Sarah Brodmerkel, a girl who died far too young, and whose smile lit up rooms. A girl who gave me bandaids when I had cut myself, and who laughed with me as we hopped and jumped away a rainy extended returning day.
<3 ...Read more...
As sad as it sounds, most of my greatest memories were at my boarding high school, splashing in puddles and having a brilliant time, just strolling through the rain, not caring what anyone thought of us. The rain makes me remember sad times, of a fresh breakup between myself and my two loves, and memories of just sitting in bed, reading a book before exams with my window open during second trimester. Sometimes I think I obsess over my high school too much, but then I think of all that it has given me, and all that it put me through and I still smile, which means that it was worth it, yeah?
Rain makes me remember the time I frolicked in a torrential downpour, then came back in soaking wet and had to wear a bright yellow skirt (that was so bright it reflected the sun, mind you). It reminds me of the time that I discovered that on a cold rainy day, the heat your body makes from running though puddles will make your body smoke (mostly around your crotch, which makes it even more hilarious). And it reminds me that I ran through the rain and splashed in puddles with Sarah Brodmerkel, a girl who died far too young, and whose smile lit up rooms. A girl who gave me bandaids when I had cut myself, and who laughed with me as we hopped and jumped away a rainy extended returning day.
<3 ...Read more...
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Musings on Beauty and the Status Quo
Everyone has a different view and standard of beauty. Some people think that the traditional look is the most beautiful, some go for alternative, some for beauty of the mind, some for beauty of body, but it varies from person to person. What one would term a freak, another would consider beautiful.
What is beautiful to me is color, a colorfulness about a person's soul and personality that cannot be stopped. A sense of adventure, a sense of when to just enjoy the moment. The ability to roll in the grass and be carefree, but still be serious when they need to be. Uniqueness is beauty. If everyone were the same, then it would be such a boring existence.
That's why it is so disappointing to me that people won't accept each other as they are and try not to judge them. Like the old saying goes, you should never judge a book by its cover. Stereotypes are tiring and hide the person beneath the outer shell.
I dye my hair so I must crave attention. I bite my thumb at thee, ye who dare judge me by the blue in my hair. My perception of beauty is different from yours, my self expression in my hair rather than hidden. Do not judge me, write me off as someone who is a delinquent, someone who is just trying to rebel. Maybe I am, just a little, but why not shatter the status quo to make way for a brighter future with less judgement? I'm a quad major and I will not be defined by the blue in my hair.
What do you think about the social stigma around hair dyed unnatural colors and piercings? ...Read more...
What is beautiful to me is color, a colorfulness about a person's soul and personality that cannot be stopped. A sense of adventure, a sense of when to just enjoy the moment. The ability to roll in the grass and be carefree, but still be serious when they need to be. Uniqueness is beauty. If everyone were the same, then it would be such a boring existence.
That's why it is so disappointing to me that people won't accept each other as they are and try not to judge them. Like the old saying goes, you should never judge a book by its cover. Stereotypes are tiring and hide the person beneath the outer shell.
I dye my hair so I must crave attention. I bite my thumb at thee, ye who dare judge me by the blue in my hair. My perception of beauty is different from yours, my self expression in my hair rather than hidden. Do not judge me, write me off as someone who is a delinquent, someone who is just trying to rebel. Maybe I am, just a little, but why not shatter the status quo to make way for a brighter future with less judgement? I'm a quad major and I will not be defined by the blue in my hair.
What do you think about the social stigma around hair dyed unnatural colors and piercings? ...Read more...
Monday, June 20, 2011
A Plethora of Words
Studying for the GRE, or any standardized test really is annoying, especially if you don't enjoy memorizing long lists of words, or chemistry facts, or even special dates of history. As fanciful as it would be to roll in a bed of flashcards-- I decided to save some trees and not make 3500 flash cards. However, I learn best when I write things down, and you know what the say about studying-- speak it, write it, say it. This leads me to my current quest at hand. I am making a spreadsheet of all the words that I need to know.
Hopefully, I won't die, nor will my fingers fall off. That would be awful-- how would I ever knit or crochet again? ...Read more...
Hopefully, I won't die, nor will my fingers fall off. That would be awful-- how would I ever knit or crochet again? ...Read more...
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
One of Those Nights... Mornings.
As I sit on my bed, trying in vain to concentrate enough to study for the GRE that I'll need to take in my impending future, I realize that I'm more prone to fits of art and creative writing when I'm upset or unusually contemplative. I guess the creative process is just better at existing and twisting itself around my brain when I'm unhappy. Escapism of a sort I suppose.
Have you ever had one of those nights where you have little shocking realizations that you unknowingly let yourself forget? And all at once, you're plagued with thoughts of your own mortality, and the inescapable desire to make a difference. To be remembered. And a crippling fear of facing the morning, because then you have to confront life.
And you try to forget, to do something else so that you wouldn't feel so upset. Not really sad, or anything particularly angsty--just the desire to run.
I wrote tonight. A little poem called the Midnight Symphony. I listened to sad songs, and thought about my past, reminiscing, and then I drew. I drew and drew. And then I was better.
I've never been good at coping mechanisms. But this is one of the better ones I have I think.
It's a shame though, that I'm not prone to art on a regular basis (yes I did just make art a verb), because I think I could really enjoy being a studio artist-- if I were better at it, that is. ^_^ ...Read more...
Have you ever had one of those nights where you have little shocking realizations that you unknowingly let yourself forget? And all at once, you're plagued with thoughts of your own mortality, and the inescapable desire to make a difference. To be remembered. And a crippling fear of facing the morning, because then you have to confront life.
And you try to forget, to do something else so that you wouldn't feel so upset. Not really sad, or anything particularly angsty--just the desire to run.
I wrote tonight. A little poem called the Midnight Symphony. I listened to sad songs, and thought about my past, reminiscing, and then I drew. I drew and drew. And then I was better.
I've never been good at coping mechanisms. But this is one of the better ones I have I think.
It's a shame though, that I'm not prone to art on a regular basis (yes I did just make art a verb), because I think I could really enjoy being a studio artist-- if I were better at it, that is. ^_^ ...Read more...
I Don't Want to Be a Sellout...
But even as I type this, I sort of feel like one.
Amazing how 24000 pixels, one little Adsense ad can make someone feel like they've sold out. Even to imaginary readers. I'm sorry dear imaginary readers, if I have disappointed you in my endeavor. Perhaps I will take it down myself out of shame eventually. This I cannot know because the future is uncertain.
I will however continue to to do what I'm doing. Which is write things. Mostly in the wee hours of the morning. Sometimes in the afternoon, but always aiming to make these words mean something.
I suppose I should get to the meaning of what I envisioned this blog as in its earlier days. Before I got this account. When it was only a mind seed. (That sounds so incredibly cheesy that I'm going to leave it.). Reading too Deeply Into Everything was first intended to be a place where I could write little fake essays on books where I could let the magic of humanities and reading way too deeply between the lines grow and blossom. And I fully intend it to be that way. Once I decide on the proper first piece.
Dear Imaginary readers. I also realize that my tags never really make much sense, nor are they very helpful. I'm sorry for that as well. <3 ...Read more...
Amazing how 24000 pixels, one little Adsense ad can make someone feel like they've sold out. Even to imaginary readers. I'm sorry dear imaginary readers, if I have disappointed you in my endeavor. Perhaps I will take it down myself out of shame eventually. This I cannot know because the future is uncertain.
I will however continue to to do what I'm doing. Which is write things. Mostly in the wee hours of the morning. Sometimes in the afternoon, but always aiming to make these words mean something.
I suppose I should get to the meaning of what I envisioned this blog as in its earlier days. Before I got this account. When it was only a mind seed. (That sounds so incredibly cheesy that I'm going to leave it.). Reading too Deeply Into Everything was first intended to be a place where I could write little fake essays on books where I could let the magic of humanities and reading way too deeply between the lines grow and blossom. And I fully intend it to be that way. Once I decide on the proper first piece.
Dear Imaginary readers. I also realize that my tags never really make much sense, nor are they very helpful. I'm sorry for that as well. <3 ...Read more...
On the Nature of Adulthood and Replacing Water Filters
Yesterday, as I drove around town with a friend, letting summer slip through my fingers in a combination of idle chatter and ineffectiveness I eventually came upon the realization that we were adults now. As inane as that sounds, to me it was significant-- we had clawed our way through mandatory education and had finished our first year of college. As much as all of our middle and high school teachers always lectured that we would have to shape up in college and actually study, actually try, and stop waiting till the last minute to finish our assignments by the skin of our teeth, I didn't feel like anything had actually changed.
Maybe it was the high school I went to, but all that really happened over the years was that I refined my procrastination technique. And as much as I am jealous of others' ability to actually manage their time and be effective (perhaps even super effective?), I never felt more alive as when I had stayed up for three days straight to cram for my Organic Chemistry exam and finish 3 final papers. It was a badge of pride to get sleep in my high school, but more than that, it was a badge of pride to be able to crank out a paper for Brit Lit in 4 hours, or to finish 12 lab reports for the Chemistry lab book check that was due the next day. I take pride in the ability to pump out a paper or cram the night before, but on some level, as I look at the B on my transcript, I know I could have done better if I didn't procrastinate.
So what really changes in the course of being an adult? What makes 18 such a significant age that we're considered adults by technicality? I don't really feel like an adult. And I know that a lot of people older than me wouldn't consider 18 as really being an adult either.
According to some it's the existence of a monthly bill. I don't think it's that cut and dry. Sometimes I realize that I'm growing up when I replace the water filter instead of letting someone else do it. Taking simple little responsibilities instead of waiting for someone else to do it for you. But maybe I'm mistaking adulthood for maturity... Then again are they really mutually exclusive? ...Read more...
Maybe it was the high school I went to, but all that really happened over the years was that I refined my procrastination technique. And as much as I am jealous of others' ability to actually manage their time and be effective (perhaps even super effective?), I never felt more alive as when I had stayed up for three days straight to cram for my Organic Chemistry exam and finish 3 final papers. It was a badge of pride to get sleep in my high school, but more than that, it was a badge of pride to be able to crank out a paper for Brit Lit in 4 hours, or to finish 12 lab reports for the Chemistry lab book check that was due the next day. I take pride in the ability to pump out a paper or cram the night before, but on some level, as I look at the B on my transcript, I know I could have done better if I didn't procrastinate.
So what really changes in the course of being an adult? What makes 18 such a significant age that we're considered adults by technicality? I don't really feel like an adult. And I know that a lot of people older than me wouldn't consider 18 as really being an adult either.
According to some it's the existence of a monthly bill. I don't think it's that cut and dry. Sometimes I realize that I'm growing up when I replace the water filter instead of letting someone else do it. Taking simple little responsibilities instead of waiting for someone else to do it for you. But maybe I'm mistaking adulthood for maturity... Then again are they really mutually exclusive? ...Read more...
Monday, June 13, 2011
First Posts are Always Awkward
I've pretty much decided that. In my head the first post of every blog is filled with all sorts of pressure. You want to be good at what you do, but what should you blog about? It's like suddenly being asked to define everything that you are or want to be in one little wall of text. Or perhaps not a wall of text, because that always ends up being way too long and boring. Tl;dr and whatnot.
Then again, you could always end up posting it and then deleting it later when you've figured it all out. But that feels dishonest to me. Like you're ashamed and hiding it for some reason.
Maybe I'm putting too much pressure onto first posts.
...
...
...
Well, in the words of Albus Dumbledore: "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
...also llama. That's not a bad way to start a blog right? ...Read more...
Then again, you could always end up posting it and then deleting it later when you've figured it all out. But that feels dishonest to me. Like you're ashamed and hiding it for some reason.
Maybe I'm putting too much pressure onto first posts.
...
...
...
Well, in the words of Albus Dumbledore: "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
...also llama. That's not a bad way to start a blog right? ...Read more...
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