Category Archives: thinkmachine

Moving

Packing up is very frustrating.  I’ve never realized how many things I accrue in a given period of time, and I don’t really care about any of it.  It’s just stuff. I keep a lot of it because I’m expected to, because it’s what people do, because someone gave it to me, because because because.

Funny thing is that I really don’t have very much, especially compared to my roommates.  It’s insane to see how much one person can have and still never touch.  Sometimes an object is forgotten and a replacement is purchased, even though the original is in the top drawer of the computer desk.  I don’t get it.

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Man, this blog is all over the place and poorly updated.

I think, instead of just making this blog about everything, I’ll focus on my writing and food.  I really like writing about stuff that makes me happy, which is a good thing since I’m still in school and need things to perk me up now and then.  It’s just been surprisingly difficult to get myself to actually write anything.  The way I see it is that I’ll be able to turn to this as a source of relaxation if I keep things simple and sweet, rather than trying to come up with a silly post while battling a vague sense of dread.

It’s now the makeathon fakeathon, behbeh.

It’s called “the ocean”.

I feel like I’m starting a rosary or something, meditating on each piece of the past ten years and their consequence as a whole.  It’s a little strange.

I’ve changed so much in the past ten years, and I’m in a very different place than I thought I would be.  I am not as mature or grown-up as I expected, but young minds tend to assume that responsibilities are shouldered more easily as the years pass simply by virtue of age.

I have come to realize that, essentially, I am seeing the world with the same eyes that rolled in a ten-year-old’s skull.  Every piece of me is in the same place but each particle is completely different, both physically and metaphorically.  As my skin has changed and sloughed, each cell decaying slowly before drifting away, my way of seeing the world has been chafed and moved by every occurrence, to create a visibly different but subtly familiar new creature.  It’s strange to move about the world knowing that, as both Pocahontas and Heraclitus said, although you can’t step in the same river twice, you can stand in a new one knowing that all rivers will someday meet again.

I’d like to set some goals for my next ten years; I’d like to think that I’m a better person for at least trying to become the person I dream about knowing, no matter how quickly everything is forgotten.

I will try to be more open-minded.  Some of my favorite experiences have revolved around trying something new; even if I don’t like it, at least I’ve experienced something other than total comfort and contentment.   **Insipid “romantic comedies” do not count toward this category.  I will never watch “Valentine’s Day” or “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days”, ever.

I will not say yes to every single request for my time, and instead will use it to listen to quiet music and pray more often.

I will be more true to myself–the real self who likes to talk to dogs and draw pictures all over important notes, who doesn’t really hate everything and who actually wants to have friends even though she’s a big chicken.

I will welcome more color into my life.

I will enjoy my hobbies, no matter how silly or frivolous they are, because I can be feminine and decisive and intelligent at the same time.

I will not give on my plans just so I can regret it for the rest of my life.

I will talk to my family more, in the event that anyone dies in the near future.  No more regrets for not taking time to know them.

I will be a better sister and strive to overcome the massive discomfort I feel around you.

I will not conform.

I will smile more and stop staring at the ground to avoid making eye contact with everyone around me.

I will always try to get a bedroom with at least two windows, so I never shut out the light.

Fufufufu

I’m beginning to feel that all of the classes that I take that don’t actually relate to my future career–quantum chemistry, for example–are just the university’s pathetic grasps at the little money I have left to my name. Stop it, guys. It’s mine.
Also, it’s November, and November is the best month of the year because Thanksgiving is here. Yeah, the holiday idolizes wastefulness and gluttony, but the food is so good. TURKEY TIEM!

Tears of a Rapper, or, Don’t Take Me Too Seriously

So I was clicking links to random blogs, minding my own business, when I was pointed in the direction of what claims to be the worstest song evar.  The creators of said song attempted to produce something truly atrocious and unappealing to the average human.  If you listen to the tune, however, it’s really not that bad.  Some of the sounds used–banjo, bagpipes, harmonica–are among my favorites for music.  Who the hell did they poll?  Jimmy McBorington?  Sarah Mainstreamingham?  Themselves??  These ‘scientists’ totally neglected aspects and genres of modern music that many people dislike or can’t relate to, including the heavy-handed flailings of death metal bands, the unitelligible singing of various punk and indie bands, Flava Flav, stereotypical country music, minimalist instrumentals and people learning to play violin.  It appears that they also ignored the music and people of non-Western cultures.  Come on, peeps, do your research before making an all-encompassing claim.

Just for the record, I do kind of enjoy this song.  It’s crazy enough to take my mind off of studying for physical chemistry.

It’s been a long time coming

…but I still dreaded it.

Today is my last day as a teenaged North American.  It’s kind of exhilarating, in a way that is both pleasant and vaguely disturbing.

I think I will bake something to celebrate.

Busy Puppy

Man’o’war, I have been busy lately!  Some days I don’t even get to check my email; that’s like forgetting to apply pressure to a large, profusely bleeding wound—you just don’t do it.

I guess it’s nice to keep busy.  I have a job now, so I’m earning money in exchange for my freedom, and I’m involved in more activities and actually making friends.  I’ve found that the more I have, the further away I feel.  I don’t really get it some days; is it because I’m spreading myself too thin?  Am I like the last pathetic spoonful of peanut butter trying to fulfill my existence as a meager sandwich filler?  IDK, people.  I just DK.  I would say that I’m busy like a bee, but I like puppies more than I like bees.  Puppies like people; bees like to sting people.  Puppies are fluffy; bees are pointy and kind of crunchy.  Puppies work hard at playing; bees work hard at collecting and regurgitating nectar.  In all seriousness, is there any good reason to say that one is “busy as a bee” and not “busy as a puppy”?    I mean, what is up with that? /Seinfeldvoice