Day 29: Oedipus, The Existentialist Wannabe

"You have, the best hats."

For a second or two he stood there, surprised at the comment, before bursting into hearty laughter.

"I'm sorry, but I just had to find an opportunity to say that and that was it."

He nodded in reply, still laughing, uttered a simple "thank you," then proceeded to take his seat next to the girl who gave the comment. The class was going to discuss Sophocles' "Oedipus the King" today. He flipped open the enormously clumsy anthology, and searched for the page where Oedipus had blinded himself. As he did so, Stephen Ramsay walked past his table, and dropped his documents on the desk.

"So, we begin by learning that Thebes had a plague, and Oedipus was charged of ridding this pollution by seeking the man who murdered the former ruler."

He had enjoyed these discussions. Every student in the room focused their sights on one man, and anticipated every word that was reiterated. Knowledge rested in the hearts of everyone, a dormant geyser patiently waiting for the moment to spout and deluge the room. Professor Ramsay continued his introductory speech. The attentiveness was intense. The book was still opened; he tried to steal a glance from the following dialogue "What can I see to love?" He still had four more pages left.

"Let's find that line again. I think it's on page 1582."

Immediately, there was a shuffling of pages, everyone was staring at the designated passage. All save but one fellow, who had his forefinger stuck on page 1582, but eyes set on 1593. He only had just a little more. Certainly, his knowledge on the play was more than sufficient to opine, but he wanted to finish the tragedy. That sense of completion is stronger than idle pretension, and he had no intention of lying his way through an argument. He had a strong one. In fact, he hoped it would make a couple of students giggle, but the geyser was still dormant, for now.

"What is it with this story? What does Oedipus, represent?"

The geyser erupted. He raised his hand.

"Han Sen."

"Reading this, I kinda made up the five 'Fs' of the story: Due to one's Faith in Fate, Feats born from Fear causes F***ed up events like this one."

Some students chortled, one even clapped. It's desired effect had been achieved, somewhat.

"Oedipus represents fear. He feared he would be the inevitable murderer of his father, husband of his mother, and subsequent father of his brothers."

"I disagree," said Paul, the class philosopher, "I wouldn't say Oedipus represents fear as much as he..."

And then I forgot what he said. Isn't this the best anti-climax you've ever encountered? Maybe I should consider investing in a voice recorder, and collect these moments as I walk through life so I can journal them in pages of my novels, or even on this blog.

But anyway, it was a fun discussion. We talked about how much ontrol one had over one's destiny and I certainly pity Oedipus, for his fate had pretty much been predestined even before he was born. But isn't it ironic? The Greeks acknowledged certain knowledge could only be afforded to and by the Gods, yet Apollo just had to tell Jocasta her son would rise to be the eventual murderer of her husband, Laius. And her attempt to reverse the prophecy, actually fulfilled it. I bet not even Apollo, as he sat on his flaming chariot watching this drama unfold through a celestial TV screen while eating popcorn, anticipated this epilogue.

"Dayum," would probably be his answer.

Day 28: I Think I'm Nocturnal

So I didn't fall asleep during any of my classes today, perfect. And I completed most of my assignments for the week, save for one analysis on Eliza Haywood's Love In Excess due Friday, which I'm looking forward to, strangely...

Another tiring day, though I'm glad that I actually got some sleep this time. My paper on Daniel Morgan's interpretation of Bazin's realism got a perfect score, HELL yes. Though it frustrtes me sometimes to think it takes me 6 hours just to read 25 pages for the class. Honestly, it's fascinating, but sometimes, just reading about a filmmaker disputing whether an image is "real" can be downright mind-fuck. It certainly isn't hard to understand, but if you read a person going on about an image is the object, that realism is transferred to the image, it's like listening to a child's philosophy on ice cream flavors - tiring. I guess I occasionally tire people as well.

Again, no pictures today. For that, I'm sorry, I seem to be slacking lately, but I have been trying to make up for lost time for my readings and assignments. I wore the pastel blue shirt and black tank top, like what I did on Day 10, without the cap and the necklace. I didn't wake up late. I didn't sleep. But I just didn't want to spent too much time thinking over clothes today. I did try something, but it didn't work. I saw it on a website and I wanted to see how it worked. Alas, it looked as if I tried too hard. A square scarf around my waist? It would've never worked out.

I am a little disappointed that we didn't get to discuss Olive Kitteridge during fiction writing, but her little writing exercise did shed some light on Fern, my character for this novel I'm doing for the class. I wish I could give more for this class, elevate my writing abilities, create peculiar yet memorable characters, quotes, scenes. I'd like to think my writing has improved, but a man can only wonder if he has. How do you measure improvement? Considering that "good writing" doesn't necessarily account for good fiction. The weird and the fanciful may triumph over the realistic, and yet memoirs are the way to go this season. What is my niche? I'd like to question myself...

Day 27: Bathing in Bazin

Okay, I'm going to be quick. I finished Olive Kitteridge last night, which was fantastic. So now, I'm going gaga over Bazin and his take on realism in photography and cinema. No photos today but I'll be posting them tomorrow.

Huh, photos, Bazin, riiiight.

I forgot to take pictures before changing to my pajamas and so help me, I'm just too darn lazy and too damn busy to put them back on. But, what I wore today was similar to what I had on Day 22, after it became ridiculously hot. So no surprises today. I'll see what I can cook up for tomorrow...

Day 26: Olive Kitteridge

Fantastic book. I guess that's why it won the Pulitzer Prize in 2009. I'm only sad because I couldn't give the attention it deserved before, but I am now.

There're so many wonderful moments chronicled in this book through varying individuals who shared one thing in common: Olive Kitteridge. Opinionated, sometimes vulgar, Olive is one heck of a character.

Again, since it's a Sunday and I woke up abhorrently late, nothing special for the day. I practically spent my afternoon reading this and am about to finish it up tonight. I hope.

Day 25: Wool Coats and Ice Cream Don't Go Along.

I wanted to do this with the orange scarf, but it's nearly impossible to do a wrap with it without widening my waist. But I like how this turned out nonetheless.

So we celebrated Justine's birthday today. A small gathering of four seated around a round coffee table, where a laughing Buddha is placed atop. Cute little fellow, Manu got it from Chicago and Jane's all the more happy to receive something that amplifies her home's feng shui. Buddha beamed as we sliced the Oreo ice-cream cake, but alas, he couldn't have any because, well, he said he had a huge tummy. But he was happy for Justine. We were happy for Justine.

This little surprise worked out after all. I was charged for getting the cake while Manu and Jane prepared dinner a la Malaysia - Nasi Lemak. It's one of the most scrumptious meals I've had since returning to Lincoln, yet Manu kept saying how it didn't turn out the way he anticipated. Perhaps, but we all enjoyed every bite. The smell of sambal stuck to all of our clothes, it followed mine all the way into the closet. Delish, no?

But the ice cream cake, oh, it was an arduous task to retrieve it, for y'see... I friggin' dripped ice cream on my wool coat.

!~@#$%^

The victim, not pictured here, didn't suffer major injuries. In fact, it's such a small wound that hardly anybody noticed. Being dark-skinned helped after all. Yet, that minor injury was so minute that it was all the more sublime to me. I couldn't take my eyes off that tiny little stain.

!~@#$%^

I should mention that this didn't come from the cake. I bought ice cream for myself while I was there because, well, I was there. How can you not purchase ice cream when you're in an ice cream store? It's impolite. So really, it was my fault for getting ice cream.

!~@#$%^

I have no one to blame but myself.

!~@#$%^

Which, by the way, makes it all the more frustrating.

Speaking of frustrations, I bumped into this movie while checking out trailers on Youtube. Disturbing, creepy and intriguing. It's about a boy who discover twin girls dying due to poisoning in the school's hallway, but did nothing to aid them, merely sitting by them, watching them as blood trickles down from their noses and mouths. All this captured on his video cam. But the boy's innocent. Or, at least, he says he is. A tale about mental decline, the trailer sent tremors down my spine.

...

I wanna watch it.

Extras: Everything's Coming Up Apples

It really is peculiar, almost too coincidental, to realize how frequently apples are infiltrating my last couple of days. During fiction writing, Prof. Danforth used "Apples" as a prompt for our written exercise. The chapter we discussed for the day, "Tulips," appealed to me as, unfortunately, a typical episode of Desperate Housewives, which I think Danforth took an offense to. I'm sorry. But realize that the ABC dramedy always uses apples in their advertising. A symbol.

Today, I revisited the scene of Snow White biting off the infamous apple that led to her presumably eternal slumber. Guilty of playing Kingdom Hearts again.

Later during the evening, while I was at the homecoming parade for UNL, a participant passed me, surprise, an apple. A really good looking one at that. Not glorious ruby red, but the kind you know will end inside the grocery basket when you leave the market. Now, I can't eat apples. My brittle teeth would crack like an eggshell if I did. But I also have a... distrust of apples. I blame a friend of mine, who told me about a movie where slugs lived inside apples and all the unfortunate victims who ate these apples died a gory death, which, I fortunately never got a chance to view. But that image of slugs just oozing out from a small crack, a bite out of the apple, cemented the adverse reaction I have towards apples every time I see one. If I have to eat them, I'd make sure I sliced them so thinly, that even the most anorexic of slugs couldn't hide in.

I gave away that apple to my roomie. For one thing, I know he likes apples. The other thing is, really, well, I don't eat apples. But somehow, I always imagined how it would be like to crunch on the ideal apple. Of course, it had to have that "khhaaaoo-whoop" sound when I bite off the side. Sweet flavor exploding upon contact with my tastebuds, twitching a little at that tint of sourness. Such joys escape me. It really is, the forbidden fruit of my life.

Day 23 AND 24: Humor in Memory

Holy crap. I thought I'd forgotten something... Yes, I admit, my credibility is as repulsive as a cockroach doing a backstroke in minestrone soup, but should anyone would like to confirm the dates on my pictures, I'd be happy to share them with you.

Dramatic pause.

Like anyone would ask me that. Anyway, here's what I wore yesterday.

Familiar? The top image features a choice that's almost identical to the one I wore during Day 8, without the extra attitude. But really, I tried to wear the blue plaid shirt inside the light Y-neck shirt. A three-piece outfit that wasn't meant to be. So I just took it off since I was on the verge of missing breakfast and class.

But I was so happy that I finally had reason to put on my trench coat. There was a flapjack social last night, in which, sorority members had asked me for donations and gave me a ticket to their social in return. The air was chilly and was the perfect excuse to put on a coat. Oh, by the way, I wore the boots so I shamelessly lavished in the imaginative attention. It's a perk of majoring in English, I get to imagine stuff that ain't really happening, and still be proud about it.

And this, is what I wore today.

Boy with obnoxiously huge scarf. But hey, he likes it.

It has been a tiring week, and I vow not to make it an even tiring weekend. Hence, there shall be no PSP for the next couple of days. A mini challenge if you may. Let's just see how it turns out.

Day 22: Is It Too Much To Ask?

Seems like a good day for the cardigan.

Okay, not quite. It's getting a little warm.

Eurgh who am I kidding.. It's fucking hot. I can never, pair my cardigan with the temperature.

Excuse me for boasting, but I'm extremely proud at my ability to create the dimple whenever I tie the full Windsor. I don't credit my dad for teaching me the technique, unfortunately. He tried to educate me on how to tie the half Windsor. We nearly murdered one another during breakfast that day. Ah sweet, sweet memories of my household.

Despite the pleasant day I've had, I wasn't at all pleased to enter my junkyard of a room. Really, is it too much to ask for you to clean your part of the room? Honestly, it's already been a month and you're practically not finished with your unpacking! And you tell me you come home stressed every night looking at it. Here's a solution: clean it up. Dude, it doesn't take that much of an effort. 15 minutes, tops. Half an hour, if need be. But hey, a semester of coming home to a neat space is meditation enough.

Forgive me for the second-person POV, it's supposed to be directed towards my roomie, and it was. Finally, one small corner of the room was cleaned up. Or should I say, conspicuously stashed behind the drawers. Is it possible to hide a bicycle behind a small dresser without me noticing it?

My roomie's a great kid, really. I mean he's given plenty to me and helped me on many an occasion. But if it's one thing I can't stand is being unable to distinguish the trash in your bin with your dirty laundry next to it. I absolutely do not want to view the other half of my room as inhospitable to the occasional guest. I suppose I should just be glad there isn't a peculiar stench emanating from the mess.

If it's any consolation, I used to be pretty messy too. But even then, the mess was organized. Picture this, my shelves couldn't fit all the books I owned so I placed them on the lower bunk of my bed. This is back in Malaysia, btw. Yes, it did look messy. But I had them arranged according to size and type. Even after a while, I got tired of seeing things piled up on my bed, so I got to rearranging and cramming everything into whatever space I had left in my drawers. I'm happy to say that my cupboards did not explode at this attempt. But the result was relaxing. The sight of empty space is paradoxically fulfilling. Most importantly, it took me only a quarter of an hour.

My dearest roommate, I implore you, please, purify your crash pad. Know that I will be eternally grateful.

Day 21: Despicable Me

I surprise myself. I'm astonishingly early today.

I keep forgetting I have a capelet stashed away in one of my unpacked boxes, and today's weather's so inviting that I thought, why not? I like the second picture a lot, not because of the whole "dark-and-mysterious" expression I put on, but because of how the mellow the color looks from the lighting.

Btw, here're the boots I wore yesterday. There was no one in the hallway and the best lighting is available right outside my neighbor's door so I quickly snapped a picture:

You can't see it clearly but these boots have heels and they just produce this beautiful tapping whenever I set foot on hard surfaces.

Okay, so why despicable me? It's because I always feel so friggin' lethargic and sleepy. Granted, I blame my all-nighters and the reason for me pulling off all-nighters to begin with is due to my unhealthy obsession with completing Kingdom Hearts on my PSP. I always find myself torn between two decisions: 1. Complete the game ASAP so that I need not worry about it. 2. The better option, which I don't follow, nothing will absolutely happen to my save file so why should I even bother completing it now?

My head had a mind of its own when it rocked to some inaudible tune during two of my earliest classes today and I couldn't even construct a short-short (meaning, ridiculously short story that's profoundly amusing) during my fiction writing class, which subsequently made me feel horrible when I handed that paper in to my lecturer. Granted, we're not graded on this but I dislike having to hand in something of inferior quality. My only consolation lay with my presentation for my Late American Lit. class, where I would like to believe I edified my classmates on Du Bois's usage of music notations to exemplify racial disharmony.

That said, I need to sleep. Considering I have nothing significant for tomorrow besides reading Eliza Haywood's Love In Excess, I would enjoy the prospects of dedicating my early evening to a light snooze. But I keep preventing myself from doing so by thinking of other activities to do, like going to the gym or cycling around. Though the more seductive temptress would, of course, be my PSP.

Lo and behold, as the PSP charms me into submission... But alas, my heart shall not waver to its sweet voice, for I shall rise above it, and claim dominance over my fatigued soul, steering it towards the direction of all that's fluffy and comfortable and fantabulously good for the darkening circles around my eyes.

One last note, it's hard to imagine how quickly time whizzes by. "One minute you're on top, the next you're sushi!" I'm sorry, that quote by Morgana from The Little Mermaid II: Return to the Sea just... popped up like an advert. Anyway, I only have 9 more days with these six clothes. Previously, I kept thinking "9 more days? Seriously? My creative juices are sucked dry." but now I guess that thought has evolved into something more realistic. Optimistic, almost.

I only have 9 more days with these six items.

These are going to be my final 9 days with the six items and I probably won't be wearing them for a long time, so it's high time I figure something amazing to mix-and-match the items because it might be another year before I'd get a chance to wear them again. I guess I'd just have to make the best of it.

Day 20: A Nod to Sleep

I'm struggling to type this post because bells keep chiming in my ears, the only thing missing are the newlyweds rushing out of the chapel. I blame my lack of sleep. No, I blame to my lack of control, for not being able to put down the PSP when I need to. And now, that black screen reflects my fatigued face, clearly happy that master spent so much time with it.

Well anyway, enough of this metaphorical nonsense. I didn't bother dressing up too much today, though the boots (not pictured... My room lighting is every photographer's nightmare, but I'll try and post them soon) probably stand out a lot. Every single tap on the wooden panels demand a new sense of authority. That's why I bought them. Sue me for bragging.

I keep trying to spark an interesting topic for discussion today but I just can't... Maybe it's because I'm really sleepy, or because I have a whole lot of reading to catch up for tomorrow. Oh, and I just remembered, I have a presentation at 2pm tomorrow. Hmm... Better get meself prepared.

Day 19: Groggy...

Not feeling uppish today, so I stayed in all day, more or less. I blame the bread. I have this incessant habit of munching it...

But anyway, nothing special save for my jammies... Ciao

Day 18: Five Dollars Can Get You So Much

Finally do I get to wear this favorite scarf of mine. Yes, the other neck-wrap that comes remotely close would be the rainbow colored one I wore last Saturday, but this, brings shame to all. Today's weather was also the perfect catalyst for my decision. Briskly cold and windy. In other words, my scarf flutters with the wind. C'est magnifique!

It's HUGE. If I tried to tie a knot with this thing, it'll look so conspicuous that I'll stop traffic and draw 10-second stares, for all the wrong reasons. Though it doesn't look too bad when I make it into a snood, with a balanced top of course.

I also noticed my footwear never really got the attention, so here's the beginning to that. These white perforated loafers hated me when I got it, it kept leaving blisters on my right ankle. But now, it has grown to be much tamer, and I personally adore them as casual wear. Them being white helps too, complementing everything else northbound.

Besides the pleasantly spicy jalapeno cheese bread I got from the Farmers' Market earlier at dawn, the burritos I had was orgasmic. Especially the chicken-filled burrito. I'm heading there every Saturday just for that.

Another fantabulous thing happened today as well:

The good thing? I got a bike.

The better thing? It looks almost identical to the one I have back home.

The best thing? Five bucks for this blue devil.

The jalapeno cheese bread was five dollars.

I was so damn happy, I just had to attach a basket immediately:

Now, all that's missing are flowers in a woven basket from a trip to the market. Don't you think?

Day 17: Rockin' On The Geek

I'm narcissistic to say, not everyone can pull this off, without looking excessively gawky or incessantly gaudy. Why? The polka dot bow tie. Just this one ornament tied around the neck elevates (or depreciates/alternates/metamorphoses, however you want to call it) the geek look. I've been meaning to try this for ages, but just never found a reason to do so. All that's missing, are black, thick-framed glasses and it's perfect.

The second picture's a tad dark, but the red of the suspenders and belt are so conspicuous here that they're merely whispering attention to themselves. Initially, I thought that this would be a real fashion faux pas, with the contrasting colors. But I got the desired effect from people I know, and people I pass by, so all's well.

So I didn't complete Robinson Crusoe last night, but I will this weekend. I guess I overestimated my reading speed. Technically, it's at a rate of 50 pages per hour. More or less. Though I didn't count on Robinson Crusoe, published by the Oxford University Press, to abuse the font size 10. Single spaced. Riveting.

But I did get the paper done, and I'm quite happy with the finished product. I just hope my professor sees it the way I do, as with all of my previous assignments. Well, at least now I can slowly remark on the stylistics employed by Daniel Defoe in his work without having a deadline constantly shout at me in the back of my head.

Thank Goodness It's Friday. Funny how our class is done with Crusoe on a Friday itself. The day has many connotations in the book. That was supposed to be the initial concept for my paper, though I found it almost impossible to analyze it in one night. So I switched to Crusoe's interpretation of "being blessed" instead. The dude's pessimistic. Honestly. It took him almost 100 pages (about halfway through) to realize his abounding fortune.

But the book was great. A little dreary, perhaps. But I value its , ironically, inconsistent stylization and pragmatics. For instance, at least on the page, Defoe switches his spelling of "Lyons" and "Tygers" to, what contemporary society's more familiar with, "Lions" and "Tigers." Just right after he establishes a certain form, he changes it. Dost parallel Crusoe's character himself. It's the littlest things that count, which is why I balled out my eyes last night just to search for such subtle discrepancies.

On a slightly more random note, I'm the new Treasurer for Sigma Tau Delta: English Honors Society. I guess it's because I'm Chinese, that I've been assigned the position? Just kidding, I volunteered actually. Only five people appeared timely for the meeting today. Naturally, all of us got promoted. Despite the small numbers (no, we really have more members than that), I am looking forward to this side adventure I have.

Okay, so it's almost 2am in the morning, and I haven't taken my shower. Eurgh... I fell asleep on my bed listening to Enya after dinner. Just what I needed to end this workout of a week.

Day 16: One Night of Robinson Crusoe

Shortest post ever. Gonna pull an all-nighter for Robinson Crusoe's sake.

I am DEAD tired.

Day 15: Fortune Cookies

You want color? I'll give you color.

To be honest, I would never have dared, or even thought, to try this arrangement if I didn't take the "Six Items of Less" challenge, so I'm really glad that I've leveled up my creativity. In fact, I've gotten compliments today for the cap and the tie. The narcissistic self in me is gloating.

Yes, the tie is definitely one of my absolute favorites. It's color resides in a different dimension altogether when paired together with my plaid shirt. At certain distances, it creates this illusion that the color is moving, like an aurora curtain. The belt serves its purpose too, by introducing color to the otherwise plain pair of jeans. Frankly, I wasn't too confident with the jeans. It did take me a while before I got comfortable with the distressed shade, though the final look was satisfying.

I'm surprised that my cap is the one getting all the attention, I get more compliments for that than the tie. Hmph. But I do like the fact that the cap matches my shoes, thus justifying its place on my crown.

Anyway, what's the buzz about fortune cookies? First of all, allow me to clarify a couple of things. 1. It's an American invention. We don't get this kinda thang in the East. 2. Even if we don't like fortune cookies, we still take them if it's offered. Why? Because it's free, and Guan Yin forbid if you don't like free stuff, you're just stuck up. Period. The only good excuse for a rejection of all things free is that they would be left abandoned in some corner of a dress cabinet, only to be discovered several months later in its hibernation where a coat of dust has clothed it. Yes, that is me.

But really, don't you think it's amazing how we always have this urge to read what's inside the cookie? This form of self empowerment discovered upon reading mass produced words of wisdom. Talk about franchising literature. I personally don't eat fortune cookies. It's offered at the dining halls but I never felt the "maybe just one" feeling whenever it comes to fortune cookies. Yet, I don't deny if there were fortune cookies on the table after I've had my meal, the occasional friend kind enough to take one for you when they know you really don't want one, I would crack it open only to read that slip of paper which says,

You will encounter something wonderful soon.

What the heck does that mean? How vague can it get? And "wonderful" is such a subjective adjective. It could mean balloons. It could mean the love of your life. It could be getting that extra almond on your salad. But hell no, if I see that, I want to strike a lottery.

Really, even my professor said receiving something like,

Look behind you.

... is so much more entertaining. I mean, I'm still waiting for the day when I read something like this off the paper:

Whatever you do... Don't. Look. Up.

Nonsense. Pure bullshit. And then, as if an invisible finger prods my chin...

I look up.

It's these fleeting hilarious moments that I look out for. It makes me think my life is all the more worthwhile living. So, please, find the funnies in life and post them on these mini slips of recycled newspaper. I'll be waiting patiently. I promise.

Day 14 Extras!: I just... couldn't resist.

Need I say more? This is just so friggin' awesome...

As you can see, it's only $1.39. I used to eat this one...:

Then I realized it's $1.19... Sorry kid, but size does matter. I'll take the Yakisoba, thanks~

Oh, and that shirt in the picture. That's my pajamas. Just so you know.

Day 14: We're Not Hiring.

After having fun with the tank top last Saturday, I just had to try it on again.

So I tried to apply for the job as a writing consultant this semester and I got a cordial reply from the coordinator that there're no vacancies at the moment. Though he did encouraged me to pursue that post next semester, which I will.

Also, there's this email I got about the Arts & Sciences Student Advisory Board and they're looking for new members. Oh, that pitiful enthusiasm I have left in my little body wailed to me... "Applyyyyyyyyy." Well, I did consider it. Along came the questions I had to answer:

1. Please list and describe two honors that you have received and two activities that you have participated in at UNL. (Freshmen are free to include high school involvement.)

2. From your knowledge of the organization, describe what you would look for in an Arts & Sciences Student Advisory Board member.

3, Please identify and describe one strength and weakness of the College of Arts & Sciences. Describe what could be done to resolve this weakness.

Now, I could pretty much answer the first question. The third question's typical, though I do need to give it some thought. The second one killed my enthusiasm. I know nuts about the organization. Frankly, I didn't even know such an organization existed! Perhaps, they did send us emails a couple of times but I receive many such emails everyday, I swiftly delete them.

Sigh...

Probably as a subconscious act of retaliating this feeble and obscure existence, I compensate by converting three of my classes into honors classes. I have five English classes. My advisor rolled her eyes. Two of which I'm upgrading into honors courses. My advisor tried to sound polite. Now, I'm planning on upgrading a third. My advisor remained silent. I think it's her way of telling me "You're insane."

Well, I don't have any activities at the moment, so it is manageable. But because I don't have any activities, I feel... inadequate. I remember doing a bunch for Malaysian Night earlier this year, man did that almost murder me. But I do want to get the best of university life, so I long to be in a club, one way or another. I'm trying to capture the best things with a sieve, and all the good parts seem to perforate through. Damn it, I should've used a mug. But hey, I'm improvising with a used Starbucks frappuccino bottle so I'll see how caffeinated life would be.

Btw, I think I'll eat the yakisoba tonight.