PERS ; DEFINE 'ADULT'.

i used to think i was mature. i don't know what i was thinking; maybe because the people who i thought knew me best would always tell me so, or maybe i just wanted to believe so much that i was more rational and better at decision making than the rest. it wasn't so much that i made the right choices, but i thought i knew right from wrong, i thought i knew when i was being irrational, i thought i was doing the best i could for myself and the people i loved.

now i'm a day from turning twenty. i can't call myself anything but a real adult now, and although the fullest privileges of drinking and clubbing and what not are still a year away, i don't have that "teen" suffix to my age anymore to account for my stupid mistakes. and never have i felt younger than i have now. i feel my brain moving in retrograde as i try to catch up to a culture and a language i had no idea of while slowly losing everything about the other in the process. my vocabulary is shrinking. i don't write anymore. i want to catch up to so many things but i can't keep everything else, since a brain is a finite thing - i can't buy myself more memory.

not to mention i am still such a brat. who wouldn't know that i was the youngest child? everything i do is because i want it. have i ever really been selfless? (has anyone? but that's irrelevant right now). more than that, have i ever really wanted to? have i really thought about anyone else's perspective, or do i just bitch on and on in my blog about how this tiny portion of my life sucks when everything else is so so good?

i hope today in the last day of my teens i will finally realize that i am lucky. not even the fact that i am well off, at a good school, with a supportive family and great friends, but i still have the will to keep going and i haven't given up yet no matter how degraded i may feel, no matter how much my own perception of myself has tanked. i need to be positive, and let others know how grateful i am before i lose it all. most importantly i hope i will learn once and for all that independence and learning to be alone is not the same as maturity, and that learning to give someone my all is just as, if not even more important.

i have always thought you were young and naive but little did i know i was even more so. once again you show me that what i think i know isn't everything. thank you.

photo | look left and look right ; flickr

PERS ; SEND OUT AN SOS CALL.

you don't think of high school anymore.

you don't remember the time your crush drove you home, blasting ghetto music for kicks. you don't remember all the places you used to eat lunch. you don't remember the crazy things you tried to pull off as fashion as a stupid freshman. you don't remember why picking a homecoming limo was such a big deal and why people threw hissy fits over it. you don't remember the reasons behind fallouts or why everyone bitched about each other so much. you don't remember hating high school, but you don't really remember liking it all that much either.

most of all, you don't remember why you were so insecure. teenagers all go through their phases but yours seemed unnecessarily overdramatic. you do remember writing in your yellow notebooks and on blogs here and there about all the things people said about you, nitpicking and finding too many things wrong with yourself, traits you tried too hard to fix that they just ended up fighting and staying, anyway. you decried your lack of experiences and hated "not having a life"; little did you know that you knew a lot more than you thought you did, did a lot more than you thought you did, and that all those times staying in your room taught you discipline, if anything.

you don't regret your insecurity, nor do you regret those nights of introspection. you are a bit curious how you got out of that teenage funk. you're three months away from becoming a real adult, no -teen stuck to your age. you know you're mature but you're scared to be mature by age, scared to know that now you are expected to be mature. you know you've improved but you don't think too much about it. in truth, you couldn't really describe yourself if you could. maybe that was it; you didn't dwell too much on all the things people said about you, all the judgments and expectations surrounding you, and you just let it float right on. or maybe it was the people you started surrounding yourself with, people who didn't degrade you or make you feel awkward, people who were accepting of all your flaws.

that, coupled with the realization that everyone, really everyone has his or her own problems, is enough to make it through.

photo | ellie ▲ ; flickr

PERS ; NEVER SEE MY SHADE OR HEAR THE SOUND OF MY FEET.

i feel it coming.

it's been a while that i've felt like this - a sinking feeling of my greatest fear being proven over & over, served to me on a big platter of "i told you so," making me feel so aware of the lone footsteps & panting breath that follow me back home every night. mine, just mine.

yes, it's happening: detaching myself from anyone & everyone, going into winter hibernation. people that have, in reality, done nothing wrong, but my false perception of people caring, of people worrying over someone other than themselves, something i can't even do myself - people have hurt me, unsurprising because frankly, with my super high expectations, how couldn't i be hurt?

i know i'm being unreasonable, i know i have to take the first step, i know this, i know this. i know we as humans are insecure at heart, i know we want everyone to care for us before we start to open up & care for them. i know no one wants to be hurt, & opening up? being vulnerable? fastest track to heartache 101. so i know others' apathy shouldn't surprise me, but it still doesn't ease the pangs of sadness infused in anger whenever they greet me in half-hearted 'hi's. when they are visibly uneasy over my presence. when they are talking with me & we can both feel the tension. i get it, i'm overanalyzing every single detail, but the slight chance that it's really what they're thinking - that really, truly, they don't want me around - it's those small odds that bring me to this moment every time.

i get that i'm being foolish when i get disappointed that when i spend a day home alone i get no texts, no calls, no nothing. that when i see someone, anyone, they're always walking with someone else, have plans with someone else, while i, i'm alone. i know it's my fault (i would much rather have it be my fault) that i'm not the one who's reaching out, that i'm perfectly capable of asking others, that i could, i should learn to care first, & then people will follow. & i beg that it's my fault - that it's me, me because i'm not calling you first, not you because you really don't like me for me. & that's really the essence of the whole thing.

i feel it coming.

succumbing to the fact that it's easier to live in a closed off hermitlike shell, cutting off contact in fear that no one likes me for me, cares about me for me, wants me for me. because i hear you, you don't like how quietly i talk, how snarky and blunt and rude i am, how i wear my hair, how far i live. yes, it was good for a while, a temporary while, a while that gave me all the hope that this cycle could be over this time. yet here i am receding once again, maybe this time understanding the impact of being vulnerable first. reaching out first. being a friend first. but honestly, i don't know how strong i am to do that. because like you, like all of us, i put on a strong mean front but i, we are all broken inside.

so i may look pathetic to you, i may look weak, & you may not understand me. but i'll just sum it up with some lines from the hercules movie (because if a disney movie can understand me, why can't you?)

"sometimes, it's better to be alone."

"what do you mean?"

"nobody can hurt you."

playing | "moon over bourbon street" - winterplay

photo | autumnfingers ; flickr

PERS ; A MODERN GIRL BUT I FOLD IN HALF.

when i fall, i fall hard.

i'm not just talking about friends or crushes (although i'm sure that applies, it just happens way less frequently). i mean all the things i love to do, the passions & hobbies i get swept up & consumed in. the bands i adore, the clubs i'm in, the mundane websites i browse through on late nights like these - i discover something i know i'll love, & it takes & eats up all of me. the prospect of something new, the prospect of change: i'll chase it time & time again.

the best (or worst) part of it all is how quickly i try to become an "expert" on whatever my new flavor of the week is. if i find a new artist i like i'll replay all their albums until i grow sick of them. i'll read old articles & dig through search results on the strangest of subjects. it's as if my mind wants to catalog every single piece of information right now. & so i get ahead of myself, spending hours & hours on this new "obsession" until i stumble onto the next.

perhaps this is why i've been called a poser before. i'm not trying to be fake though, it's just that my mind speeds up & wants to drown itself in this temporary obsession in an incredibly short amount of time, i'll admit. it's not my know-it-all attitude (as if i'd have one) but the fact that i wish i'd become a know-it-all, becoming familiar with absolutely anything & everything there is to know. trying to become a sort of expert in a matter of days as if i had been familiar with it for a matter of years. & it's this characteristic of me that is worthy of embracing but a bit too dangerous at times.

recently, what with my new "let's embrace being korean" outlook, i've been so damn sensitive to any sort of criticism or judgment people lay on me. they call my 2nd generation accent "cute" but to me it just sounds like a euphemism for "you reek of fake." people correct my grammar & i want to hang my head in shame - i know they're just trying to help, but i can't help but to feel embarrassed & unworthy. i know i've spent the past 7 years denying my ethnicity to the core, but this sudden 180 degree obsession has made me so unreasonable.

at the same time i can feel those very people who've known me all along - the ones who know how white-washed i've been - judge me with discerning eyes for the complete opposite reason. coming to college & becoming super korean, posting korean statuses left & right & making all new korean friends means i'm trying too hard, being too fake - different accusations but underlying tones all the same.

what is it exactly that i want? to become suddenly 100% fluent? to give off a 1st generation image while completely ditching my true origin? i don't want any of that - that's not who i am. then what is it that i'm chasing? what is it that i am expecting? why is it that i hurt every time someone calls me out on being less than perfect? why do i take it to heart when i'm accused of being a tryhard, a wannabe, a fake?

it's more than disheartening when people don't understand that i'm still the same person inside, no matter how much my hobbies or interests change or no matter how much i try to change in general. i make the same snarky comments in whatever language with whatever people, i write the same kinds of entries, i bitch about the same things, i'm shy & play nice with the same strangers - no matter where i am or who i'm interacting with, i'm still the same. it drives me crazy when people don't get that about me. that i love change more than anything (& i like it fast), but dig deeper & it's spelled out quite clearly that i'm still the same old slightly insecure reclusive snarky girl. & that is always going to stay the same.

playing | "pictures of success" - rilo kiley

photo | rafa castells ; flickr

PERS ; DARKNESS IS A STRANGER IN OUR LONELY LONE.

sometimes i like being left alone. i don't want to talk to you, don't want to answer your nosy questions or try to salvage a dead conversation. i don't want to spill my secrets, don't want to open up & trust you - or anyone, for that matter. sometimes i want to stay at home all day & night, surrounded only by the voices leaking out of my itunes & characters on movie screens. sometimes i like walking alone, leaving myself to wander in my own thoughts. & sometimes, yes sometimes, i can't stand being around you for more than a few hours. i need me, just me, no one else - not you.

but then there are those days i wake up from a blast of chilliness breezing through the window. i curl up inside my blanket but it's not enough. my eyes squint at the time & it's too late, already afternoon, the day half gone. i unwillingly crawl out of bed & throw myself a mix of foods salvaged from the refrigerator & shove it down. i check my phone, my email, facebook, & there's nothing new. the world around me seems to be chattering away, talking & interacting with each other, leaving me behind to observe. i crack & break, sutures slowly unwinding as i feel this facade of embracing loneliness is becoming a lie, a lie.

i am someone who tries to embrace (& does succeed at) being alone. i wouldn't bitch & whine about being alone the entire weekend, finding company in books & movies & my own thoughts. i could learn to eat alone & cook alone, experimenting all kinds of dishes & being the sole tester. & i know how to love alone, not a flighty crush but loving myself, embracing every one of my flaws that i have dug up & found. i am not scared of myself. i don't fear knowing about what hidden subconscious nightmares i have inside, knowing i have perused & trashed every single one of them. i take personality quizzes with a half heart, knowing what i'll get since i know myself best.

so it's when i crawl out of my cave & see society's expectations of finding company in everything. maybe it's just america or the world at large, but we all try to be extroverts in every way possible. chattering on is not necessarily good but at least better than not talking & shying away in the background. meals must be had with friends or family, never alone. you see that old man at the restaurant saying table for one? everyone looks at him in pity, as if he has no one else, no company whatsoever who will eat with him. to society, to everyone, being alone is a bad, bad thing. & so we embrace love, finding company in a special someone, & we endorse marriage, being tied to someone else for the rest of your life. being alone, walking alone, watching movies alone, doing anything alone (except maybe going to the bathroom) is frowned upon.

& i hate that. don't you think we should embrace a little more of ourselves before running off to anyone else? i'm not talking about narcissism or vanity, but just the experience of being comfortable with ourselves & only ourselves. to spend several days doing everything on your own, knowing independence at its greatest - no depending whatsoever on any other human, but finding your own food, entertainment, & warmth...all alone. discovering what happiness is like on your own - not through loving someone else, not through great friendships - but anything that you can uncover yourself, through yourself.

i say this time & time again but we could all learn to embrace introspection a little more. knowing yourself before than & more than anyone else is one of the most powerful things we as humans can do. because just like you might be laughing at us introverts for loving to be alone, i laugh at you for not knowing about the one thing you've been stuck with the longest - all your life, even. because the only thing you can be sure of, the only thing life can promise is that you'll be with you for as long as you live. like the never-ending clingy bitch you are, you will never let go of you. you are never going to lose you, no matter how hard you may try. you will always be stuck with you.

so do you want to live & die in the arms of a stranger, or in the arms of your best friend?

playing | "sleep alone" - bat for lashes

photo | zuru1024 ; flickr

PERS ; NON, RIEN DE RIEN.

i've been going under, barely staying afloat in my own head full of negativity. sometimes letting myself sink into the jet black thoughts of "i can't do it, so what's the point", other times giving a measly half-assed kick just to say, just to prove "see, i knew i couldn't do it."

i remember reading an article in our high school newspaper about those kids in high school (note: i am one of these very people) who would say after every test, no matter what, that they "think they failed" & after they get their test back that clearly has a fat red A on it, they reiterate that they "really thought they were going to fail." apparently it has an actual name, impostor syndrome, & being the unchanging boring blogger that i am, i wrote about this exact thing two and a half years ago.

funny thing is, back then i think my naive (?) high school self didn't really get what impostor syndrome was beyond preparing one's self for bad results (i.e. telling yourself you can't do anything even though deep down inside you know you're going to come out fine). it really pales in comparison to how i've become now, how severe this...problem has been getting of feeling like an impostor, like i don't deserve to be here, even more so every day because i just haven't been trying.

it goes something like this. in high school, i was surrounded by people who had known me for 10+ years. these people knew i grew up as a quiet bookworm, they knew i did well in school, they expected results from me, and being the teenager i was, i cared about their opinions a lot more than my parents'. but moving on to college, here you are surrounded by so many people who have no idea what kind of person you are or were, who don't know if you're as 'smart' as they are or how you got into this school, really, & your parents are miles & miles away with their only power being nagging you through the phone, & you just start to lose perspective. you stop trying, but more than that you stop worrying.

because believe me, i have tried, but in such a half-hearted "here i am sitting at the library staring at my notes" kind of attempt that you could barely call it an effort. it's when the worrying & the guilt sinks in that i really sit down, concentrate, & don't look back. & that's what i've been missing all along.

beyond just school examples & metaphors, the negativity has infected everything. knocking everything down because it just "seems like a bad idea, "that i might "get hurt," all of these preconceived judgments & outcomes before i ever really do get hurt. not even feeling regret because i didn't even try to care in the first place. so again, making a life of days strung along by doing duties you "know" you have to do but see absolutely no reason as to why.

but all it takes is just one person, one person beyond your usual scope of nagging parents bickering about your grades, your life. all it takes is just one person to show you that you can & should rise up to the challenge every time, no questions asked. & so i relax, naturally floating up to the brim (much easier than i thought), pushing & kicking myself out of the black - finally being taught to swim.

car ma vie car mes joies

aujourd'hui, ça commence avec toi

(because my life, my joys

from today all begin with you)

playing | "non, je ne regrette rien" - edith piaf

photo | bonjour, lucia ; flickr

PERS ; MY BLACK-LIGHT CONSTELLATIONS.

it's the way i burst from 0 to 1, the way my face muscles tense up, my eyes glaze over & the sides of my mouth droop down. it's the way i've suddenly adopted an air of a bratty princess, where not even one thing can be given up for anyone else. the way you have to sit down & console me over the pettiest thing, something i know is minute & dumb yet here i am anyway pouting & being a spoiled bitch about it. it's the way that i'm becoming those girls i used to make fun of (& still gladly would), the girls who blew up over the silliest things, too attached & too desperate.

but it's the way (& you know, this is the way) i can't help but be everything i feel with you. it's the circular logic that for anything that remotely upsets me, you'll be there to lean on, to talk me through...& so i continue to let loose every ounce of emotion in me, depending on you to be there: because you have always been there. & frankly it's quite scary, having someone paying attention to every movement on my easy-to-read face, someone who cares enough to want to see a smile again. & so after years of closing off my emotions to the world, here i am letting it pour out all at once...

it's the way i can take off this mask, letting myself be the bratty clingy overanalyzing girl if that's how i really am. how maybe i don't love everything under this skin, but all the while i found you. & you do.

playing | "coquet coquette" - of montreal

photo | rawrjessphotography ; flickr

PERS ; I PUT MY HANDS UP IN THE AIR SOMETIMES.

so i'm not the kind of girl that boys are easily attracted to. i don't smile all the time. i don't keep trying to make conversation. i don't laugh at all your jokes, & i have a fast mouth. i'll say what's on my mind when i feel like or i'll stay quiet to the point of frustration. i'm not good at making decisions; no, i don't know what i want. yes, i sigh, i yawn, & loudly at that, & i don't pretend that life is always fields of butterflies & sunshine. i fish for compliments knowing how irritating it is to do so, because no, i don't have the greatest confidence. i won't tell you what's wrong, nor will i tell you much, really. & yes, i get jealous, i overanalyze, & all those other girl cliches that boys want to avoid.

so so so what. it took me a long time, but finally i'm reaching that point where none of it matters. so you think i'm rude, so you take my cynicism & sarcasm seriously, so you think i'm unapproachable, so you think i'm too negative. & for every person, for every judgment formed about me there is something in me that knows there is a reason i've come to be this way. that i value honesty over forced positivity so yeah, i won't smile just to please you. that i quite appreciate my own blunt words & how refreshing it is over the tired lies that everyone else plays on repeat.

all the years that i've spent trying to change to fit someone you wanted, the attractive ideal, the positive, confident girl that everyone could like...& why? years obviously futile as i've grasped onto the sardonic quiet image that i've held for almost all my life, to my discontent. but change, as i've repeated to myself so many times, is something that comes when you really really want it to. & no, i didn't really want to be a fake happy-go-lucky girl full of smiles. i could never be that girl, & although it's taken me so long, i can finally come to terms with the fact that no...i never wanted to be that girl.

so what if i'm not the kind of girl that boys are easily attracted to? what if i'm not someone you'd want as your best friend? i'll believe that there's going to be people like me somewhere, who don't mind a loose slip of the tongue now & then, who believe in keeping some things secret, who don't care about following someone else's ideals. & if there's not a single person who likes my personality, each hidden layer slowly unwrapped & unveiled, then so be it. because i, i can finally say i like all of who i am, every. part. & that the end of this 10+ year struggle is over to me is all that matters.

playing | "dynamite" - taio cruz
photo | autumnfingers. ; flickr

MUSE ; MY OWN WILL, MY OWN STYLE.

Before I start babbling on about my quite obvious topic of the day, let it be known that I always choose to sit down & update these things at the worst of times: namely when I'm sneezing & blowing my nose & coughing all over the place, I can't get enough sleep, oh & I have a midterm in 36 hours. Oh, I need to get a grip.

Well...blood types & their close relation to personalities. Anyone with the slightest interest in Japanese or Korean culture knows that a huge majority of the population believe in general characteristics in each blood type, some being blatantly pinpointed as worse than others (namely AB & B, sadly). I've grown up hearing my mom gossip about how her type B friends were the most ridiculous, flipping through fat heavy magazines emphasizing blood type quizzes more than horoscopes (& we know how crazy Americans are about horoscopes...think that, but even more fanatical). Even Korean Facebook has a blood type field in the personal info section.

Because I try to pride myself on being rational, I would love to eschew these superstitions and prejudices about blood types, but...what can I say, mine is just so accurate it's unkeen. I know, I know that it's quite ridiculous that my personality matches perfectly with characteristics that are meant to describe at least 25 billion other people in this world, and that my horoscope has a better probability of 'matching' myself than this blood type foolery, but...everyone who guesses my blood type gets it right on the spot: type A. Honestly I'm not even 100% positive that I'm type A, but even my sister who seems like an O all around is A along with the rest of my family (granted this means I could be O, in which case I would jump up with joy at all the characteristics of type O personalities that I've been yearning to have, then realize that it would just mean that this personality stereotyping is utter bullshit & this whole entry would cease to exist).

So what exactly defines a type A girl? I went & translated a couple descriptions here & there from Korean sites & I'd say 90% of the descriptions (words like conservative & unforgiving don't apply, & I'm a horrible attempt at a perfectionist if I ever saw one) were dead on.

1) Full of pride, temperamental
2) Shy & can't confess first
3) Can't easily say what one wants
4) Has tons of thoughts residing in one's head
5) Coldly erases someone from one's mind when an opportunity seems over
6) Opens up slowly at a time
7) Dislikes people without tact
8) Very touched when someone remembers a minute detail
9) Happy when people know that she is concerned for them
10) Shows off a weirder personality the more you get closer to her
11) Is afraid of strangers & really likes personal relationships
12) Acts cold & blunt with someone she really likes
13) Hates being nagged & restricted
14) Becomes more free & easy over time
15) Can hurt others with brutal honesty but is also attentive to others
16) Has strong jealousy
17) Emotions are easily written over one's face
18) Is concerned with looking good
19) Has lots of regrets
20) Frets over & doesn't forget someone else's joke in passing
21) Can't tell others that one is going through a hard time

Check, check check check check mate. A to a tee. It amuses me that this list of characteristics makes type As look completely lame & wimpy (which...could be true?)

Then again I forget that people (namely myself) heavily believe in these superstitions like horoscopes & blood types & even Meyer-Briggs tests because they only read the description of themselves, which sounds a lot like them, so they believe that hey, this is me. This isn't coincidence. Something in this superstition must be real. I could've been born AB & be writing this same exact post with traits like "indecisive, cold, easygoing" leading me on.

Ah, superstitions. Misleading & dangerous but fun all the same.

playing | "nu abo" - f(x)
photo | mshades ; flickr

PERS ; CAUGHT BETWEEN THE GOLD & THE GAME.

i can never quite tell if it's a good or bad thing when i go into writing droughts. the kind where i'm not even compelled to churn out something, the kind where i half-heartedly stare at my blog then move onto other irrelevant things to occupy my time, the kind where i start an entry half out of guilt & half out of boredom & never really get to finishing it.

me not writing usually falls into one of three reasons:
a) i'm so deluged with schoolwork & other things that internet time consists solely of occasional facebook visits
b) i'm content enough with life that i don't feel like i 'need' to write for therapy anymore - & let's face it, happy writing is hard to come by: if you're flying high, you don't really dwell upon it until it all comes crashing down
c) my mind has disintegrated into a tornado of emotions, so confused every way i turn that i start to escape & close off introspection just to let everything be.

anyone who knows me knows a) is utter bullshit (i will certainly make time for writing when i need, or else my mind would wander even further from staying on schedule), & the perfectionist in me says b) is a long way from here. but c), the most complex of the three, the most prevalent...the one reason i always try to push away but the one reason that seems to win in the end, when i tackle writing as the enemy that keeps me focusing on my flaws & never moving on.

is writing the enemy? a couple years ago i once struggled with the thought that the more i write, the more i ponder over my insecurities, & the more i start to withdraw instead of embracing that overrated word change like i always tell myself to. that if i stopped writing & ignored the negative thoughts clouding my head, the lack of attention to these worse traits would eventually lead to their disappearance. & so i stopped at one point, allowed myself to get lazy with my blog, didn't write anymore in my hardbound journal except for trivial daily life oddities, & sooner enough not writing came so easily.

sure, i've become more positive, somewhat less self-conscious since then. maybe it was because i stopped writing, maybe it was just my maturing. but living while shrouded from my own emotions & opinions, seemingly too disasterous for my own good, well...that was a far worse kind of an unhealthy mental state than thinking a few negative things here & there about myself. so yes, days of escaping from myself, of trying not to be an introvert, those days are behind me. because introversion is something to embrace, writing is something to be proud of, & emotions are something you should never back down from.

so there it is, the drought is over.

playing | "changes" - stars
photo | baldodario ; flickr

PERS ; CAN'T EVEN EAT, KNOWING I'LL THINK OF YOU.

do our food habits reflect our personalities? beyond the biological range of "i can stuff myself for one meal & last the whole day" vs. "i have to eat every hour or i can't function", that is. i mean those habits like eating pizza hut with a fork & knife (an obvious germophobe clean freak) or taking apart your oreos or shaking any liquid drink before you consume it.

my habit of getting tired of the same food easily isn't odd; i'm not even sure you can call it a habit, really. everyone gets sick of the same food, right? but when i think of the ritual hypothetical question "what food would you eat if you had to for the rest of your life?" i can't even come up with an answer (except maybe water...which really isn't food). even my absolute favorite foods that i thought i could stuff myself with for years, i get sick of within weeks. plain tart yogurt, gyros, indian food, you name it. i harbor an obsession for sushi yet after stacking my plate once with albacore & yellowtail & various rolls at a buffet, i can't even pass by the same sushi bar again. committing to eating the same soup three days in a row is painful. boring. lacking life.

not only does this make me a stubborn eater (i really do not have picky taste, but the same type of food over & over will drive me insane) + make me scared for this coming year where i'll have to come up with ingenious new meals...every day...to cook...for myself, but it makes me wonder how much of this outlook on food reflects on my personality. with friendships & relationships. even music. every detail.

by complete (lack of) surprise, why yes, i am pretty easily bored, looking for the next shiny thing, somewhere between an inability to concentrate & a lack of commitment. yes, hanging out with the same person every day would be, and is, unbearably suffocating. yes, i go through the most drastically different music phases where i plunge into a band obsession until i grow tired. i have to change my hair every year, something new, something different, something you might not notice but something i can appreciate as a new version of me. even down to the tiniest detail, i can't seem to sit down & commit. i can't even keep myself put in one blog, for god's sake.

on the outside i might appear to be in a lazy stupor, too sluggish to get up and move. but inside my mind, my desires, they're always running, chasing something down. something that might not be new, but at least newer & revealing the slightest of change. one new dish at least to add to my dinner. a new band i could learn to fall in love with. a new friend to delve into and explore. the only thing constant is that i keep hunting change, constantly enamored with the concept of new, different.

of course, change is fun. maybe changing yourself or other people is a difficult feat, but changing the slightest of your surroundings, searching for that bit of unique can't be beat. but it makes me wonder, when does that time come when you need to stop searching change? when you need to learn to envelop yourself with the people you have, to embrace them, and to keep embracing them throughout? when does that time come when you need to learn to sit & eat the same meal, over & over? & perhaps a scarier thought, when does that time come when you learn to want to eat the same thing? when you want to stop chasing down new & different?

wanting to commit, a concept so foreign (but one i'm willing to try to embrace).

playing | "못해" - 4Men
photo | hokipoki ; flickr

PERS ; OUR CONFESSIONS, A NIGHT PROCESSION.

one of the greatest beauties of procrastination is tra-la-la-ing through life, letting all the worries build up inside you until it bursts all at once, & you power through everything one by one. best of all, it works. that intense bout of concentration as the hours tick by is unbeatable motivation at its best. really, trillions of high school & college students wouldn't be doing it if it didn't work.

people always ask how one can really 'enjoy' one's self while the guilt claws & claws inside. ummm...it's really easy? whining & bitching about "how much work you have to do, ugh it's just too hard to even start, whinebitchwhine" is one of the best, most savored parts of procrastinating. laziness is a much harder villain to beat than guilt, a really sad statement on mankind (or just me) but true nonetheless.

imagine a world where we started our work 2 weeks in advance, working on our big final project daily, studying for our midterm bit by bit. never being overwhelmed or daunted by the sheer amount of crap on our to-do list. sounds...boring (and did i mention impossible?)

there's something about me though, maybe it's that blood type a stereotype or something, but it's that feeling that there will always be some worry clawing inside me. that a sort of parasite almost has to exist for me to survive, for me to always be skittish and on guard, knowing that there is something, something i should be doing. it's a bit odd, but every sunday (the requisite You Have To Stop Procrastinating Now Or You're Really Screwed Day) in the shower i think of every single thing that could possibly bother or worry me. a shower starting with the heaviest of hearts, and ending a little more lucidly as the time alone (or the water) helped those fears subside.

so even in this dead of summer, before i really have to cater to any test or book, even while i'm lying on my bed with my macbook on my stomach writing this, even now my mind feels heavy knowing that there are just so many things to mull over and worry about. all the furniture i have to find for the apartment. the textbook i should be reading so i don't miserably butcher my gpa even more. all the friends i should be making plans with. the job i should be finding. every productive thing that i could, could be doing. but then i lean back & visit my best friend firefox...

& that, is the beauty of procrastination.

playing | "plots & plans" - film school
photo | ohsweetnuthin ; flickr

PERS ; LORD KNOWS IT WOULD BE THE FIRST TIME.

you remember what it's like to not care. indifference untying you & setting you free. to fall asleep with an empty mind, maybe pondering about what you're going to wear tomorrow if anything. complaining about how boring life was, how maybe you needed drama to weave itself in to kickstart it back to life.

& you would regret it the second it crawled out of your mouth.

apathy. because really, what is easier? the ultimate copout answer to anything & everything: not hating, not loving, not even a remote speck of emotion to be found anywhere. simply nothing. closing your heart and letting rationality settle deep, a stone cold unemotional soul greeting everyone under a false pretense of smiles.

you escaped because it was easy. shutting yourself off from anyone & everyone you knew was simple, quiet, calm. minimal effort led to minimal conversation and with your earphones set in deep, soon people stopped trying. a recluse, by & large. a title you embraced because no one, you were convinced, no one would know you like you did. no one would know you better, as much as, even half as much as you.

society doesn't like it when you try to ignore its rules. when you turn your head and say "i don't care." it built you to care, machine-produced you to feed off drama & whine & bitch about everything to everyone (or at least someone) & cry when the heart ached & celebrate when it pounded as loud as a beating drum. it wants you to scream & shout, be obnoxious & rude, & certainly never think before you speak. rationality? maturity? words that had never even crossed paths with society, never.

it was always like this. people told you you needed best friends, someone you needed to tell everything to. and people didn't seem to realize how...impossible that seemed, to come across someone who'd patiently sit there sorting through your thoughts, no matter how patient you were with theirs. & so you learned to listen. you learned to be a good friend. & people tried, but no matter how hard you tried to wrench it out, there was just too much stuffed and buried inside. too overwhelming to put on display. things you didn't even want to rediscover about yourself.

so when the chance comes, a rare chance at a blazing connection, someone who could wait with you, perhaps let you lean on them as you dug out boxes & boxes of concealed thoughts, & best yet, someone who would open those little boxes for you & treasure them one by one, well, you want to to hold on. to make sure day by day that your insecurity was just a false alarm; to make sure that those boxes were still seen as presents, a treat to savor, a secret meant for two.

& of course, the paranoia kicks in. you remember, you were never very good at this. making friends, bonding, 'hanging out', those came easy, but that deeper connection, the only thing you had ever chased after, well. it was always almost-- building-- /crash.

it was then that yes, you learned again, proven right again. apathy. crawling in your hole of comfort. because how many times can you really try, until giving up is the smarter idea?

playing | "please, please, please, let me get what i want" - the smiths
photo | ohsweetnuthin ; flickr

PERS ; FROM THIS BURSTING HEART CAN YOU FEEL THIS CHEMISTRY?

writing is not for an audience. writing is not for them, it is not for you, it is not even for us. writing is not for a stranger to connect to my foreign thoughts. writing is not a dedicated letter. writing is innately selfish, it's all for me, me, me. writing is my emotions in disarray on paper, take it or leave it.

i don't know about you but this white window with the ominous 'publish' button at the bottom brings me the most pressure i could ever feel. what runs through your mind as you read my words. how your perception of me changes with every letter. if these words will even get read. how typical or atypical my feelings are. if these are even original thoughts pacing my brain, or simply a guttural spitting out of someone else's ideas shoved deep inside.

i am a person who is downright frustratingly private. you can try and wrench and ply an answer out of me but i have been well-versed in silence since birth. gossip may be a (unfortunate) vice but to talk about me? i was born to be a listener, and no half-assed efforts have changed that, ever.

so this? this is a time, the only time i get to really be egocentric. to abuse the pronoun "i" so much it hurts. and removing the veil of privacy is hard, and to have these words (theoretically) reach so many people i know, even the ones i'm talking about deep inside, well...it's so so vulnerable. the one emotion i hate most.

but remember...writing is not for an audience. and so i'll bite my tongue, paste these words, and impulsively click publish as usual. knowing that you won't read them, but i, i will look back all the same.

playing | "chemistry (original mix)" - 유승찬
photo | ohsweetnuthin ; flickr

PERS ; ONE AWKWARD BEAT TOO LONG AND TERRIFIED.

homeless |ˈhoʊmləs| (adj): (of a person) without a home, and therefore typically living on the streets.

i've moved from blog to blog for six years now (and only three i really want to remember; middle school entries are exactly the kind of moody teenage memories you want to repress), the only constant being that each first entry of every new journal started with an obstinate declaration that this, this will my permanent home, documenting the change (or lack thereof) throughout. something akin to entering each new semester determined to devote sleepless nights to the library only to slip into old habits several weeks in. and maybe i'll give it a couple weeks, months, at tops a year or two until i float on to the next.

none of them differ too drastically. it's the same run-on sentences i'm prone to with the same introspective, you-should-be-more-open unorganized ramblings. and gradually writing it enough times gets to the breaking point of whether i should just sit down and change already and quit moping about it, or just give up the ideal that i will never be the social butterfly who can spill all. then, at which point, i somehow lose all motivation to write and there dies blog #18.

much to my surprise, this past year i actually barely wrote or blogged at all. maybe vague minute details about some Great Big Thing that happened on the weekend (which really is not how i want to write or remember things, but that's a whole other issue) or a couple words here and there tossed in with a photograph on tumblr. i didn't bring any of my paper journals to school so aside from the odd 750 word challenge or a dilettantish attempt at fiction, my thoughts were left empty.

it feels nerve-wracking yet comfortable doing this again, for the first time since september, in the same window on the same computer, but with what's hopefully a slightly improved (?) me. curious to see how far i can push out emotions before cracking under the veil of public writing. anxious to see who i've become, something i don't really give much thought in day to day life until i sit down and just let it out. and of course, hopeful that this, this will really be permanent. homeless souls can't live for long.

playing | "sun in an empty room" - the weakerthans
photo | sea of ghosts ; unknown