Day 31: Happy Halloween!

No costume, unfortunately. The only scary thing I've encountered is (though this happens all year round, really) the toilet cubicle in the bathroom. Thanks to Jane, I now have a unnerving habit of looking down at the tiled floors, where the wall of my cubicle to an adjacent one doesn't line all the way down the the ground and up the ceiling, causing me to imagine a zombified hand grabbing my legs, or a long-haired banshee who couldn't choose a better place to peek at... at... well, you get the idea.

I'm severely lethargic these few days. I blame the weather. It makes me yearn for my bed more often than I should be. Strangely, the cold doesn't stop me from having that extra scoop of ice cream. By saying that, it means I eat twice as much as I should be. This is absurd. I've never had such cravings back in Malaysia. Even as I type, I'm craving chocolate. Eurgh... I might actually succumb.

But, I also am aware that I have to pick my wardrobe lineup for November. In fact, I already have. The selections for this month are... pretty formal I should say. And there're very limited things I can do with them, but I'm willing to try it out anyhow, we'll see. Wait for November's premiere tomorrow~

Day 30: My sleeping routine IS messed up

Oh my gosh. Really, Oh. my. god. Bimbotic, I just realized that 2 seconds ago, but the severity of the issue baffles me. I feel tired at around six in the evening, fall asleep, and wake up at one in the morning. The frightening thing is that I'm remarkably awake once I have. I'm assuming this happens because I've been so used to sleeping immediately after classes during weekdays, then waking up to finish up my readings/assignments. To have that routine spill over to my weekends is not a pretty thing. Wow... I'm just... wow.

I'm sorry, I've never been so lost for words but I really dislike the notion of being unable to sleep the way I want to, the way I need to. Though I really want to make up for lost time by not sleeping all the way until Sunday night, I know that this act itself will throw my biological slumbering clock way, way off.

...

I take it back, I'm not refreshed after that nap... Sleep.

And to top it all off, I had the most peculiar dream. Sadly, I can only replay the last 5 minutes of that film reel, though real-time, it felt more like half an hour. I was back home in Malaysia, with my childhood friend, preparing to go out to a convention/ high school (I know, it's pretty damn confusing as I'm typing this out). As I walk out, there's this couple with 3 children standing at my lawn. I know these people, for... some reason. Bouncing children, smiling parents, and a deranged serial-killer dressed up as a clown parked right beyond the white, spear-topped fence. I remember screaming, and saying something like "OMG -- It's -----." Well, whatever a person says when they see a serial-kiler, dressed as a clown, driving an ice cream truck. No jingle, though. That's the disappointment.

I receive a call at my phone then. Now, I haven't talked to this individual in reality for a while, but I'm pretty sure she was the one talking. Let's just call her CY for now. She called, and asked me if I was coming to the conference, everyone's waiting, and I'm already almost two hours late... Sense of time in dreams are pretty much f@#$ed up. I tried to explain to her, by yelling, that my entire family and I were about to be killed gruesomely by this circus clown, who's still outside by the way (I even remember his facial expression - sorta like... saddened that his employer fired him just because he couldn't make balloon animals fast enough. Yeah that would be it). And CY at the other end of the line was laughing her ass off, as if I'm making all this up, and no matter how hard I try to convince her, she just laughed even louder.

Furious, I hung up and looked outside. The clown's gone, but so was the husband of the couple. The children were still bouncy, like spacehoppers, and the wife, for who knows what reason, was looking rather bedraggled with her hair spraying in all directions, tattered business attire, looking up at the sky and saying something which I think to be "Finally--" Odd.

I got a call right after that and again, the persona was pretty damn specific. I shall call him JG. I bet most of you by now can guess they're all acronyms of the real names. Anyway, he called right when I was about to go out again, my feet already on my lawn, and told me that it's all right that I wasn't there since they've already found replacements for the board I was supposed to decorate and that the fair was already over anyway.

It gets weirder from here on.

I was on the phone with him, when I heard bombs dropping at the other end of the line. No wailing Stukas though. Again, I'm disappointed. And the funny thing is that the dream's pretty consistent at this because when I looked up the sky, a single F-16 flew past and dropped small grey spheres with a glowing greenish tint. Something like those futuristic cameras one would see in movies, only that these things have ammo. Not... that I saw bullets flying out from their direction, but I know this because I ran back into my house and shut all the doors, drew the curtains and took an occasional peek at the mini sphere hovering at the spot I just retreated from.

I went into my parents room and urged them to lie low, but my mum, being the skeptic and the mischievous one, exited a secret door which I knew not of and appeared at the other end of the window. I whispered heavily to her to come back in, and she did. This small episode was odd because if the sphere could shoot, I'm pretty sure it would've shot my mum. That was so painful to type, because I'm not wishing for that to happen. But logically, one would question this huge blunder by the film director.

The next image I saw would've been the strangest...

My university acquaintance, riding a tricycle down the street in front of my house, waving at me with a confused expression, though she seemed pretty calm enough amid the fiasco. I waved back.

Then I woke up. And it was 1.30am. Wuthering Heights is still lying on my table. I have to finish it tonight.

Day 29: Another Friday night

I'm surprisingly worn out this evening, though I wouldn't attribute it to the trip I made to Southpointe with Manu, Justine and Jane earlier in the afternoon. Morning was terribly cold, but it got warmer as the day grew. Yet, the winds never did subside, slamming us four every time we crossed the street.

I've gotten meself a couple of books today, B&N will officially be the death of me...

After reading Persuasion, I know I have to read her remaining six novels. Though for class purposes, we'll be moving on the the Brontes, Emily specifically with Wuthering Heights. I believe I'll enjoy it as much as I did Austen's and I plan to get the Bronte sisters from the Penguin Classics Deluxe Edition once I've completed most of my outpouring reading materials lining my shelf.

I wanted to get Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray but they only had the graphic novel (How absurd!) so I settled for Amy Tan instead. I've heard so many people talking about this book, and I have read the final chapter for my English Studies class and found it to be an utter delight.

Well~ with this much to read, I believe I'll be preoccupied for my weekends.

Day 28: One more day

Keeping this post short because I have lots to do tonight, considering I slept immediately after class, woke up just to have dinner, and then went back to sleep again... I'm such a pig. And if yesterday was cold, today was frigid, it never ceases to amaze how much temperature can change in Nebraska. I also cannot believe that tomorrow's the last day for October's six items! Time does flash forward when one's dogged with assignments...

Day 27: I feel... light

And as the wind blew by, I knew I was going to fly... At least, that's how it felt waking up right before class and having my hair whipped away from my forehead with nature's blow dryer. So that's how Buddha felt like when he achieved enlightenment. That Baywatch moment as the film clip slows down and the head swerves from left to right, left to right, and hair thrashing all over like the rhythmic flow of water... As if there isn't enough vomit in the world.

Temperature's definitely dropped, which is good for me since I get to wear all of my coats now, a pathetic cheat over the six items I guess. But, the fact remains that I'm still wearing only those six items anyhow... Though it's always wondrous to think -> "What if, that person had more coats, than clothes?" Hmm... Not that I do have that many coats and jackets, but it is a disputable issue.

Alright, I really have to get back to Atonement now. Au revoir~

Day 26: Wilde

My legs are in an odd position, I know. But temperature rose mid-afternoon, nullifying the chill shivers of dawn. I was already sweating.

I always have the impression that my Late American Literature professor, Pascha Stevenson, is not valued enough. If it were untrue, this statement could very well be offensive but there's always a certain air of indifference towards the subject during class. Perhaps, the easiest way to illustrate this state would be through a simple question: What are we here for?

Granted, the course is one of two compulsory subjects English majors are required to enroll in, but what do students wish to attain from this class beyond its thin walls? Believe me, the small alcove of a class sounds so fragile, that footsteps above us seem to threaten a wreckage. Our class is in the basement. But back to the main question, why study late American literature, at all?

Is it... art? I have read better prose that awards me an aesthetic unfound in any other. Pulitzer Prize winners are usually the easiest to obtain off the shelves, but there are various pieces that do the same as well.

Empathy would probably be the word to use here. There's this sort of relationship between reader and character, where both of these entities are able to empathize with the other, creating a bond that's not easily severed due to the strengths of past experiences, experiences that we can draw out from our heads like paper from a drawer, and words would instantly manifest itself on the blank manuscript, as it rests on the table.

There's always something realistic about the works from these pioneers who defined American literature as it evolved through the nineteenth and twentieth century. And being realistic, it creates goodwill towards its audience of various philosophies, ideologies and defiant mentalities. There's always something in the stories, which everyone finds personal.

Speaking of stories, here's a famous storyteller: Oscar Wilde. I'm ashamed to call myself an admirer of Stephen Fry's work when I was oblivious to his portrayal of Oscar Wilde.

The film was based on a Pulitzer winning biography by Richard Ellmann, and was nominated for several awards mainly because of the superb performance by the cast. Even Stephen's attire in this poster speaks miles to reanimate the flamboyant and witty Mr. Wilde, contrasting the monotonous, and monochromatic, British bureaucracy in the background. I am allotting some of my time for the movie, and I suppose the biography is also a must have for my further edification of the playwright.

Day 25: Overturned sleeping patterns

I'm really, really not getting enough sleep. But how's that uncommon for a scholar? My only surprise is that I'm more alert during the night than I am in the day, though that doesn't necessarily signify productivity. If I had bloodshot eyes and deathly white skin, people might mistake me for a vampire. Did I mention my pronounced fangs? Really, all I have to do is grow longer fingernails, spray paint my hair silver, bare my front jaw for all to see, and there'd be people scattering off in all directions.

My remaining molar, the one I can't survive without, is becoming more and more sensitive. It's pulsing a little even now. People cry and wail over amputated limbs, become insane over the idea of having to walk with prosthetic replacement parts; I silently tear up whenever a tooth's gone. It's like attending the funeral of a close relative: something's missing. Why, of all things, should I be born with abnormally smaller, weaker and less teeth? I feel 80 when I'm barely 20.

But the cold weather's kicking in, a good excuse for shunning the ice-cream I suppose. That heavenly treat overflowing with sugar... Gets me high. Though I'm aware science has proven otherwise. Then again, as a good friend of mine often quote, it's all in the head. Sounds better if "thy" replaces "the," doesn't it? It has that sort of inflection, smoothly transitioning to "head," and it doesn't stresses the word "the" as much... Conversational implicature, as it is.

Day 24: Indecisiveness

I am indecisive. I've always known that. But it takes another individual to point out the extremity of my indecisiveness. It took me ten minutes to decide if I should have quesadillas for supper, and I didn't have them only because Qdoba closes at ten. If I had to save either my mother or my loved one from drowning... Let's just say it's a lost cause. Justine says I'm scary. I know I am.

I literally slept through the day. My defense? I was awake the entire night. Managed to get some work done, but anxiety strikes nonetheless. No matter how much work I complete, I still am able to be anxious over some unheard future project. Hmm... Nothing a good ice cream can't fix I suppose, which was why I went to Cold Stone earlier with Justine. Awesome, awesome treat. The satisfaction lasted for a good half hour before the guilt started kicking in.

Well, it was worth it.

Day 23: Too Much Chocolate

That's what I've been consuming for the past few nights. Delightful, but terrible for the skin. But who's to deny a bar of Hershey's milk chocolate? I suppose it's both a blessing and a blasphemy that I can be so easily impressed with any sort of milk chocolate, regardless of the brand. I mean, it would have to be that bad for me to be repelled.

Anyway, nothing much today, except for a wonderful conversation I had with Alexis earlier this morning. She came to complete one of her video projects, but of course, we ended up chatting for an hour and a half instead. It's been a while since that last happened, and I'm glad it did. Finally, a conversation that's worth talking. I must say, being an English major has it downsides... How does this relate to conversations? Well... to a certain extent, I've become jaded by small talk. Really, there's no purpose in going on and on over something that's obsolete, and probably endless. I don't deny it's these small talks where humor sprouts, ever so frequently, but at times, it's just plain tiresome.

Oh well, back to Fry and QI~

Day 22: Just a week?

October truly must be my busiest month yet, I hardly even noticed it flew by so quickly. Unless I'm diligent during the weekends, I only have five days to experiment with my six items. Even more importantly, I have to start planning for next month's ensemble...

But, as it is a Friday and I'm more or less done with my work, I played a little. And now, it's time for some shut eye after a nice, dehydrating shower. What warm water can do to your skin... Terrifying. Of course, nothing Nivea can't fix.

On a random note, my purple shirt seems to glow in green... I wonder why. And I also realize that I've been wearing it as an inset garment for an entire week. Huh. It still works though, I suppose, the looks for the past three days have been rather distinctive. I'm pleased.

Day 21: This title came to be only when I realized I haven't given this post one

I think I was stretching... Yes, one in my position would probably need to stretch a lot. Am a little today, as I just woke up. Geez, I might consider buying supplements that help me with my concentration and alertness. Vitamin C, perhaps? I know it's a complete misnomer for the pervious description but I'm typing as words pop into my head.

If there would ever be a time when I felt I would've gone insane, it would be the last night. The article I had to read for film theory class completely blew my mind away, disintegrating into a 5000-piece puzzle that I had to piece together in a couple of hours, made no bloody sense at all. I thought I was the only ignoramus of the class at that point, being unable to comprehend a single word the article was trying to tell me. Luckily, in class today, the professor actually expected none of the students to understand the text anyway. Huh. Take that for a class.

So it was comforting to know I wasn't the only person screaming "What?!" and "F***..." as I read the article since most of my classmates had this equally dumbstruck look upon their faces... Or was it indifference? Hmm... I'm not sure if I'm the only person taking the class a wee bit too seriously. Maybe not. I definitely hope not. But another thing I that I sort of found comfort in was my mid-term exams. Previously I had been wailing over the results, until he told me that the average grade for the class was a B+. That made me feel... slightly better for I kept having this impression in my head that everyone was acing it... even though this is one heck of a course.

Now, the reason why it's sort of comforting is because the professor actually wrote an extremely long comment at the end of both papers, and ended it with his surprise over the quality of the work, for he clearly thought I could've provided a far better paper.

...

Hah... haha... ha... ha...

Hear that? That's pressure. That thought had been haunting me since the day I handed in my exam paper because I knew, during that one night of composition, I was struggling to fill the pages with content instead of actually providing content. Mind you, one of the works that I had to read through again was worth 80 pages, no way in hell I could've done that within two nights, with all the other work I had. With all due respect, I even expected my grade to be lower. Although of course, when I saw the figures, I wasn't exactly lying on my chair, sighing in relief. More like, staring at screen for five minutes in disbelief. Ramblings of a pathetic old man... Huh.

But anyway, I'm feeling more clear-headed now, I think. At least I know, it's not the end of the world and I can still maintain my 4.0. What happened during the previous week had been an utter nightmare and so I'm thrusting and cramming all my work now in order to prevent another seven days of absolute torture.

Wish me luck.

Day 20: Exasperation

Maybe it's because I had a terrible week, but I really don't see that as an excuse for my dwindling grades, which is really something to be concerned about. Especially true when I thought I had done a smacking job with my last paper for English Studies. And yet, the grade disagrees. If I am an objective viewer watching my life at the moment, I would find my agony over an alphabet painfully hilarious.

This would be one of the few times in my life when I sincerely doubt my abilities. I suppose a lot of people would have their moments and wonder, "am I good enough?"

...

Apparently not! MUAHAHAHAHA

When you see me type in full-caps, you know I'm distressed.

But what can I do? Sulking ain't gonna get me nowhere. Sleeping might though, and that's what I did. Boy, do I feel refreshed. What's the next thing I can do? Shower. Get some water flowing, lapping against the skin and meditate in that tiny little cubicle I call my Zen temple. After that? Remove the clutter on my desk. I'm a firm believer that if I have no space to write on my desk, then my life is equally messed up. Later, I'd dig into film theory, and do that for the rest of the night, all the way till dawn. This, I must.

If this was a game, I would've reset it back to my previous game file. But it isn't. Thus, I shall die trying to salvage my grades and my reputation. I've always succeeded before, no reason for me to falter now.

Day 19: Class Begins... In Ten Hours

I'm currently contemplating whether I should sleep, or pull an all-nighter for the sake of my academic pursuits.

...

Perhaps, the latter would be preferable since I have a mid-term tomorrow, though I'd very much like to think it wouldn't be considerably difficult.

Once more, nothing much today. Gosh, I'm beginning to think maybe it's because I'm staying in Lincoln that there's never an additional reason to dress up and walkabout, other than classes and the lot. Though the weather has become rather chilly lately, I should endeavor putting on warmer attire. Brilliant. Out come the wool coats and diaphragm-rupturing trench coats. Ah, it will be a lovely fall.

Day 18: Austen Is Awesome

I can see now how Austen procured so many fans for the past two centuries: she revolutionized prose and altered the dreary and lengthy 18th-century novel into something more... romantic.

Again, nothing much today since I didn't go out. Practically spent my day with sleep, food and a little but of Persuasion. I might even consider finishing the book tonight, since I am planning an all-nighter. The days do fly fast. All of a sudden, it's Tuesday already and looking back, I really haven't done much besides from completing my reading assignments...

I must be swifter.

Day 17: Latent

That's the first word that popped up when I thought of today. For some... odd reason. Strangely enough, it's the best way to describe it. "Present, but not visible, apparent, or actualized." I'd stick to the definition "actualized." That would be it.

I mean, for starters, I woke up at three in the afternoon when I have absolutely no reason to. I slept quite early- okay, perhaps 2am wouldn't normally register as "early" but compared to my regular nocturnal escapades, 2am is justified. And I wasn't up stressing over work, I fell asleep reading one of Keret's essays. Or was it Pooh? I can't remember... but I know it wasn't because of boredom. I was just plain sleepy, it's 2am, come on.

Oh by the way, nothing special from the closet today since I didn't spend most of my day out. I stayed in reading my books instead, in which, I'm ogling Austen's Persuasion now. I must confess I've never read Austen prior to this, which prolly calls for a few gasps from English majors. But hey, at least I am now. And I can see why readers adore her so much - her prose is amazing. No detail goes unexplained. Though... her play with characters' names can be a tad confusing, though one would be able to pick that up pretty quickly. (I think "though" is quickly becoming one of my most used words... Along with "I think") This is why I signed up to be an English major, just so that I can force myself to read through literature because I know, if I am a chemical engineer, or whatever other profession, there's no way I would've picked this up from a bookshelf, yet would awkwardly claim that I "more or less" know the plot of the story, when I know bollocks about Lady Russell.

Day 16: Saturdays Never Felt More Pleasant.

Beautiful, beautiful day! I feel like Fred Astaire dancing/roller-skating to "Let's Call The Whole Thing Off." Only that I don't roller-skate and Ginger Rogers is dead. But I'm in a pleasant mood nonetheless.

I woke up at 8.30am and went to the Haymarket at 10.30am, only to find that the area was empty and they won't return til' next May. So since I didn't get to eat my usual crispy burrito (they're excellent) I went straight to the new Qdoba Mexican Grill opened just a couple of weeks ago, right across the Grand Theatre. It's the only American franchise that I find gratifying, so far. Their patch brown, grilled quesadillas... C'est fantastique~

Before I move on, here's what I wore today:

Just as I was reaching the Union, I noticed that our football opponent for today's Texas, in which, they're spray painted in burnt orange. So, not wanting to look like a UNL absconder, I changed...

It was pretty windy anyway so the red jacket came in handy. Besides, I also learnt that it was "Red Out Around the World" day for UNL. So red's a must for anyone affiliated for UNL today, apparently.

My hair at the moment's really inconsistent. Sometimes it looks great, but other times, when I come out of the shower, I look like the generic 80s Hong Kong school kid. And the odd thing is, I just have to add more weight to the right side, and it looks ten times better. Huh.

So I changed, and I went for the movies at the Grand. I always enjoy watching movies there on a game day. Since everyone's at the stadium, I get the big screen all to myself. Though, of course, it can turn the other way around especially when one's watching a comedy, and no one's there to laugh with you, for the sake of confirming to oneself that the joke was funny.

I watched Easy A with Emma Stone playing the lead and It's Kind of a Funny Story. Both were great, but enjoyed the former better, mainly because it's a teenage dramedy, but it's not cliche. I liked it because Olive (the protaganist) doesn't do anything half-assed, she goes out with a BanG. Both metaphorically, and literally. I might consider watching three other movies: Secretariat, Wall Street 2 and The Social Network. I'm not sure if You Again or Legend of the Guardians would be worth my time though...

Oh, before I forget, let's dwell on literature for a moment, as if I don't do it almost every day of my life already. I got these from a trip to B&N yesterday:

I'm terribly guilty of buying these books because of their covers, but hey, they're pioneers in their genre too. The Divine Comedy is an epic poem (a really, really long one at that) hailed as one of the greatest works in Italian literature, if not the world. The Iliad and The Odyssey is a must for any Greek classicist. The Arabian Nights has been the inspiration for, well, literature. But most temptingly, it was a "Buy 3 at the price of 2" offer. How can one say no to that?

Besides the above three, I also got these:

The Bus Driver Who Wanted To Be God by Etgar Keret is a collection of surreal short stories with a whimsical outlook on life. I mean, the title of the book itself explains the genre. So far, I've read one of the chapter titled "Pipes" and it was strange, yet very insightful, which prompted me to buy the book. The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender, on the other hand, details Rose Edelstein's peculiar gift of sensing people's emotions by eating the food they make. The lemon cake was made by her mother and, despite being the Bree Van de Kamp of Bender's novel, she's incredibly unhappy. Interesting plot. Shall read it once I'm finished with Pooh.

Which brings me to the books that I'm reading on a daily basis now:

Actually, there're more... But I read the others based on the days I have them for class. The ones pictured here are a must every day.

So now that I'm done wasting away 30 minutes of my life bragging about my books, excuse me now for actually going to read them.

Day 15: SLEEP.

Finally, today's weather had been fine enough to permit me to don a jacket.

I shall keep today's post short, for I shall now assume deep slumber.

Day 14: Stop. Staring.

I'm tired. I'm pissed. So do not test. my. patience. All I want is my usual dinner, and a cup of warm water. If you think Mandarin is beyond my comprehension, then you're the fool. You were so subtle, a Razzie's headed in your direction.

...

Why am I complaining? I should be dedicating time to Pamela...

Day 13: Three Thousand Words

Why the long face? My film theory mid-term paper, that's why. Thank you Bazin, Kracauer, Bordwell and Eisenstein for enriching my life.

Day 12: It Costs Me WHAT To Get To Texas?

Behold. Skepticism when you tell me it costs freaking $800 for a round trip ticket to Texas. And the only reason why I even want to head down south this weekend is because of the Texas Book Festival. But that's not all...

Tony DiTerlizzi is going to be there on Sunday with a book signing for his latest book, The Search for WondLa. I would kill to be able to meet him in person, let alone have him sign a copy of his new adventure.

Day 11: Oh Pooh!

Apparently, the reason why we hear more Pooh and less Winnie is because the famous bear says "Pooh!" in retaliation whenever a fly rests on his nose. So I bought Return to the Hundred Acre Wood a couple of weeks ago and frankly, it's not as magical as I thought it would be. Prior to this, I have never read the originals by Milne so a comparison at the moment is out of the question, but I can certainly say that the stories in this feature lacks... lacks... something. It's like witnessing cubism. At times, it feels as if the painting is complete. But switch perspectives for a little and one might feel as if a triangle is missing at the bottom left of geometrical entropy.

I should announce that the repertoire for this week will be a tad dull, and this can be attributed to The Week To End All Weeks. In other words, I'm positively screwed for the next four days. Unless I can find a way to stay awake for... 24 times 4 equals... 96 consecutive hours, I fear I might not survive this ordeal.

Hence, posts shall be short and clothes rather modest; I just hope all turns out well.

Day 10: Atonement

To be taken in Ian McEwan's highly acclaimed novel is a most wondrous feeling. The silence of my room amplified the trance-like effect one would find oneself in while emphatically peering into the lives of the Tallis' household. Only the occasional slamming of doors along the corridor beyond my very own threshold served to yank me away from the cinematic reel of an interwar intermission, ornamented with irises and daisies etching along the driveway of a large mansion, bathed in a warm orange sunset.

Behold, a meditative, yet boiling with intrigue, tale that filled the cavity of imaginative minds as we are offered a private glimpse into the thoughts of a diverse cast. Each of these actors lived in close proximity, only to have their separate worlds of thought converging towards an escalating familial discrepancy.

I was alerted by the uncalled, albeit familiar, clicking of the doorknob and the following loud entrance of my roommate. So he has returned from his trip to Kansas. It would be an aggravating untruth if I mentioned I am pleased to witness his return. In fact, I found it rude of him to interrupt and shatter my cherished silence. Alas, this is the life a scholar would have to live through.

Day 9: Sleeping As A Hobby

Sometimes, I do feel guilty for placing "Sleeping" as one of my pastimes on Facebook. I fear I'm not giving it enough attention. Hence, today, considering I slept at 2am in the morning, I dedicated almost 2/3 of the day in bed, fantasizing zealous fantasies and sailing away in the realm of dreams. Without getting into "Inception" here, dreams can be highly addictive. Not in a... cannabis, marijuana or tobacco sort of addiction, not that I've ever had one of those, nor do I intend to, but dreams can enrapture the mind and bless the body with the most unimaginable sort of relaxation.

Wait for it, wait for it...

Siiiiigh

Back to reality. Nothing much today, save for my continual indecisiveness whether or not to cycle to B&N for books, which I didn't unfortunately. Despite the fact that I never get anything on my way out, I enjoy the ambience in a bookstore. The smell that lingers and intoxicate one's senses as one peruses aisle upon aisle of bestsellers and classics. The silent shuffling of feet on cheap carpet and the systematic ruffling of paper bags as customers haul their newfound romances out the revolving door. This soothing effect is amplified by the faint buzz of whirring fan blades on the ceiling, with lazy lighting rusting the entire room. Most importantly, it's not as dreadfully quiet as a library. I've always been repelled by libraries, I'm not a fan. Which strikes many as odd, since I'm an avid reader. Well, almost.

So it was books and chocolates for this afternoon, the only occasion I found reason to exit my dull room was to exercise for a bit and the rec. centre. Speaking of chocolates, here's what I find mildly fascinating about Wonka Exceptionals:

I'm shamefully obsessed with Wonka's chocolates, ecstatically, but it's the bar code on the back of the package that caught my eye. It's shaped like a waterfall, as indicated by the front. Isn't it wonderful? Astoundingly creative designers. I apologize if this doesn't intrigue anybody, but I'm always fancying the little details that scurry in the corner.

Now that my gut is a swirling chocolate factory itself, I think I'll have enough energy to last me through the night. Brilliant.

Day 8: It's Not Mid-Life Crisis, But It's Definitely A Mid-Day Dilemma

How often is it, that we're constantly lavished with opportunities, so we seem to miss every fucking one of them? Think about it. That sale on Wednesday. That scholarship last Friday. Ice cream, maybe? But the one thing that's been bugging me, ever since I turned legal (in Malaysia, that is), are parking spaces.

Honestly.

You know that car in front of you? Oh, we all have had "that car in front of me." It's the time when you just have to search for parking during lunch hour, almost late for whatever appointment you're having, and then all of a sudden, as if by divine intervention, the fucking person who cut in front of you minutes ago got that one parking space. Next thing you know, your eyes are rolling up at the ceiling, wondering if you've done anything to offend the cosmos to deserve this impudent fate.

I certainly don't get that now, I mean, hell, it's the only reason why I got a bike for crying out loud. But what good is it, if I can't even use it? Because it's friggin' blazing out there. Isn't it supposed to be fall already? Everything's still broccoli green. Not that I'm complainin', mind you but, I just don't want to sweat when I'm cycling all 40 blocks to Barnes & Noble. Is that even physiologically feasible? I'll be huffing and puffing all the way uphill, and they tell me Nebraska's flat. Hah! They've clearly missed O St. of Lincoln, and that's supposedly the main street. I even pass a cemetery. Twice, if you count the journey there and back. No way I'm holding my breath when I pass it, I'll be joining the dead sooner than I'd think.

What was I saying again? Yes, opportunities. Well in my case, it involves a person. Ding Ding Ding! Don't go too far, I'm not expecting cake at the end of the meal, but I don't understand the amounting fear every time I pass X, only to regret it later. The plan always sound so easy in my head, I mean, it practically pieces itself. In practice, it's the complete opposite. Gawd this is saaaaaad.

Oh well... I'm finishing up Handler today, and I'm thinking if I should purchase her other book Chelsea Chealsea Bang Bang.

Since I didn't make the trip to B&N, the one at the Union sufficed. I think it's becoming a trend - me enter shop but go out with nothing. It's somewhat painful, that inability to buy something. It's Freytag's pyramid inside the shop itself.

You have the exposition: A bored boy on a Friday afternoon, looking for a book he's been meaning to buy.

You have the rising action: He finds every other book except the one he's looking for.

You have the climax: He finds the book he's looking for, but by then it's no longer just $20. It's freaking $150.

You have the falling action: He carries the books around, walks in circles within the fiction area, still considering if he should get them on the way out, which really is only ten steps away.

You have the denouement, or, as I rather prefer it for this case, catastrophe: He walks out empty-handed.

I suppose catastrophe is rather subjective. The good side to this is that I didn't spend $150 on books that I probably don't have time for. But the biggest thanks goes to my OCD for scrutinizing every angle and detail of the covers. A single dent... denies purchase.

If the picture above wasn't a spoiler already, here's what I wore:

I realize most of my pictures have this stoic look, so I thought today, I'd put on "constipation." And I say, that's rather accurate, wouldn't you think? Though of course, thanks to the screeching hot weather, I'd say the outfit would change within the next couple of hours. When that happens, I'll be sure that you'll be duly notified.

Day 7: Horizontal Stripes Flatter, Not Fatten.

I just realized the color of my scarf is highly imperceptible. It's dark purple really, to match the lavender shirt I wore inside the cardigan.

Freakishly tiring day, I suppose it's because of the amount of time I took to composing that paper for Film Theory but, as usual, it's worth the attention. Sometimes, I think my entire life is devoted to the academia, nothing else. Such a nerdy perspective on life, but hey, at least I look good doing it.

But here's the scary thing, "nerdy" and "looking good" are such subjective terms. It's so difficult to objectify someone, or something, without being biased to one's "cultured" perspective. I occasionally wonder myself (though mostly when I'm depressingly low on serotonin) if I can really wear, what I wear. I do admit, I am narcissistic at times. I keep having the impression "no one can wear things the way I do." I just don't say it. But I silently preach it.

...

*Incoming fruits and vegetables from imaginary audience. Don't forget the egg salad too. I like those.

Moments of self doubt overwhelm me whenever I'm feeling tired, perhaps as punishment for not rewarding my body the sleep it deserves, hence the vehemence struck upon me served to say "Go to sleep, bitch!" Huh. Gender swap in profanity. I'm improving. Well I did take a nap earlier, and I'm feeling refreshingly better. For the moment. I just hope it lasts until I finish 200 pages worth of Pamela.

But oh well, I'm tired of chasing the ideals of others, I'd rather live the way I've lived for almost twenty years. I mean, the best evidence one is successful so far is through a written manuscript that underlines the "very" of the good, right. Right? I'm trying to self-affirm myself here because I know it's a rather pathetic answer.

...

I also just realized how depressingly moody this post can sound. Or maybe, even all of my other previous posts. It's because I tend to avoid using exclamations in my posts, I find them extremely distracting. And high. Notice the frequent usage of periods, not commas. Observe. It's in effect now. That deadpan voice in the back of your head.

...

Yesssssssssssssss.

Perhaps I should openly reveal that my posts tend to be highly sarcastic, not sardonic. Well, at least I hope they appear to be that way. It would be a real downer if it were the latter. But, as my fiction professor tells me, "if your audience don't see it in writing, revise it." Couldn't agree more. 'Cept, in this case, it's a journal that I keep everyday and I can't exactly go back to each post and "revise" it. That would be ethically inappropriate.

Rather chatty this early morning (it's about 2am Nebraska time). I shall leave you with this mythbuster: Horizontal stripes do not make you look fatter. Vertical stripes, however, do. Of course, these are merely illusions designed to aid in a very minimal way. I'd say if one wants to lose the blubber, there's always a park right outside. Use it.

Day 6: 'Tis Not A Gargoyle, But A Grotesque.

I think people who've taken acid trips might find my shirt a little distracting. Tempting, maybe.

Fact of the day: Gargoyles are so named if and only if there is a spout conveying water away from the building it is attached to. Otherwise, it would be known as a grotesque. It's fascinating to me because I always thought of "grotesque" as a adjective, never a noun. Shall add that to my vocabulary.

I realize my schedule for the week is pretty relaxed, but this is only the calm before the storm. Yet, I couldn't be bothered by the tornado alarm that rang earlier this afternoon because I needed to fish some Zs. This weekend is crucial for my workload. I shall abstain myself from Facebook, starting tomorrow, unless important messages are being channeled through there.

Until then, adieu.

Day 5: An Apple Floats, While A Pear Sinks

I'm pretty jaded. Not by the challenge, heavens no. My daily routine is starting to take its toll on the speed of my functioning brain. It's not processing images and sounds as fast as I need it to be. I'm actually glad over my rather casual choices I've made for October, save for the extravagant plaid top and the monochromatic cardigan, since I can just simply put them on, and rush out of the room. I'm not saying that that happened this morning, but there will be times when it does. I'll try to conjure something spicy for tomorrow. There's a person who've caught my attention.

An additional mini challenge I've set up for myself: Contribute 3 pages to my novel everyday. It's good practice and I honestly think I have to start kicking myself every night to work my ass.

In which, I was 15 minutes late for my Late American Lit. class today. That's never happened before. I never intended it to. I also forgot to print out the poem we had to revise for class. "This Is Just To Say" by Williams Carlos Williams. A post it note on a refrigerator, transformed into concealed anguish towards a person close to me. Here's my version of Williams's poem:

I have been

awake for

an entire night

while you slept

and you

didn't hear

the alarm ring

every five minutes

Forgive me

for throwing

it

through the window

Those unfamiliar with the original, might not view this as poetry. Frankly, I think not too. But that's the assignment.

I need an opinion. An opinion is crucial for any writer. An opinion decides if the writer has a say on anything. An opinion dictates how an entire work of fiction is molded into a timeless relic. Prof. Danforth says I might be overwhelming myself with my novel, which I believe so too. And this isn't the first. I wish to experiment with stylization, language, perspectives, setting, naturalistic post-apocalyptic societies... The usual. Very ambitious, needless to say.

...

As I type that I recall Mary Stillwell, this English lecturer I had who informed us about the funny nature of certain phrases. "Never say 'needless to say.' If it's that unimportant, why pen it?" I agree. Though, sometimes, these so called redundancies have its cradle tucked in the very beginning of a sentence, creating this wall of security. "It sounds right to place it there."

But I have not been very pleased with my work ethics lately. Film theory excluded, my other courses are but individual sandcastles on the beach, arranged ten feet away from each other. I scramble to perfect their structures, but the waves that started out teasing, now begin to slap the barricades I've fortified around four of my castles. So I thought, "maybe it's best if I focused on one, and perfect it." But now, I'm beginning to doubt that decision. I would need to devise a more systematic plan for subsequent ramifications. One of these castles is close to completion. Now, the other four need saving.

Oh here comes the familiar jingle, an ice cream truck. I run towards it, back facing the five brittle structures lining the bay. Rhythmic white foams lap the caramelized sands, occasionally coming dangerously close to my structures. My sweet and colorful distraction, pulling me away from my laborious occupation. Indulgence never felt more sinful, as I lasciviously worked my tongue around swirls of vanilla and chocolate. That momentary sweetness as it sticks to my tastebuds, before evaporating into the abyss of my throat.

Metaphors explained, the ice cream ain't crack or booze or anything like that. I waste time, just never in that order. But yes, I am a little disappointed with my in-class writing exercises. I know I can do better, but I'm always too tired, and that's no excuse.

Today for QI, Stephen Fry displayed a simple experiment to differentiate a pear from an apple, without tasting them. Of course, the shapes generally segregate the two fruits, but there are the occasional ambiguous ones. So, how does one do it? Just throw the fruits into a bucket of water, and the fruit that floats is the apple, while the one that sinks is the pear.

I want to be the apple. I might not necessarily like it, but I'd rather gasp for air, than drown alone.

Day 4: Make Yourself A Routine & Stick To It

I shall Handler two Moore chapters everyday, in addition to Atone for Pamela's feelings.

...

Okay, that didn't make any sense. My attempts to create something ingenious has failed, although Manu sitting beside me somehow thinks it is. But really, I've recently learnt that setting a daily routine, as wisely suggested by Mrs. Kitteridge, does wonders to your life. So here's mine:
1. Read 2 chapters of Are You There Vodka? It's Me Chelsea.
2. Read 2 chapters of Between Panic and Desire.
3. Play 2 days of Harvest Moon. So that would take up about an hour or two of my daily life.
4. Everything else that I need to prepare for the next day, like Pamela and A Midsummer Night's Dream and Atonement and A Film Theory Reader, etc etc
5. My latest addiction, watch an episode of Quite Interesting hosted by Stephen Fry and a quartet of comedians.

So technically, I'm still procrastinating.

I'll be posting my pictures soon because I just finished eating another bowl of Yakisoba, slaving my time away with Manu and Justine in the basement of the dorm. Time well spent, I say.

Update:

Here's today's wardrobe.

Simple. Sarah from English Studies likes my white woven shoes, which I do too, if they were not literally soiled from my trek to Jane's apartment two weeks ago. You can't see it, but there's this splash of mud on the lower rim of the left shoe that's driving me nuts. I shall invest on a toothbrush to scrub it off with a mixture of Febreeze and water this weekend.

Day 3: 2 Chapters of Handler, 2 Chapters of Moore, and 3 Hours of Quite Interesting

Alright, so I have nothing special to present fashionably today. I woke up late, had my lunch, freshened up, read my books and had 3 hours of laughter courtesy of Mr. Stephen Fry. Quite Interesting is the name of the show, do give it a chance ladies and gentlemen, I'm sure everyone would be pleasantly mortified by the amount of ignorance they've withheld all their lives. I bitchslapped meself over certain facts but Mr. Fry made my cry... through laughter. Of course, I picked up certain things along the way as well.

Watch it.

It's not a request. Nary a favor. But a decree.

Day 2: As We Move Faster, Time Becomes "Slower"

So this is what I wore today. Somehow, I can't get the angle right for the snapshot. What I mean is, the picture doesn't show what I'm trying to do with this combination. But I really liked the look. Yes, it's casual, but there's layers to it. And I folded the jeans to accentuate the ankles and the loafers. But as I said it, this picture doesn't deliver. I'll do better next time.

So I've been addicted to National Geographic. Well, I don't think there's anything to lose from doing this anyhow and I need all the knowledge I can garner to create worlds and science for my novels. My latest muse? Einstein's special relativity.

I enjoyed my astronomy class during my first semester. It's frightening to know that whenever we look at stars, we're looking back in time. For instance, it takes 8 minutes for light from the Sun to reach Earth. So to put things in perspective, whenever we look at the Sun, we're looking at it as it was 8 minutes ago. So if the Sun were to go supernova, we will only experience it 8 minutes later.

Let's take physics up a notch.

Special relativity. Now when astronauts travel to space and back, they actually become younger. This effect is, of course, extremely minute and we can't really see it. But let's speed things up. If a person travels at the speed of light, time practically stops for this person. But everything else around him speeds up.

Confused? Here's an analogy.

There're two guys, and one moving sidewalk. Let's say both guys are walking from point A to point B at the same speed, the only difference being one guy would do this on the moving sidewalk, while the other on just common ground.

Now, imagine both guys do this for a year. No doubt, the one on the sidewalk would reach point A faster, and the other guy would reach there later.

Now imagine this. Let's say the starting location and ending destination are the same spot on Earth, and these guys have walked around Earth. Technically, the guy on the sidewalk have reached there faster, and time is catching up with him. He reached the same location as the other guy, but he was younger when he reached the location.

So if we make the ending location a constant, the guy on the moving sidewalk cheated time. The other guy spends more time, thus it feels as if he's moving faster.

No doubt, these relations get pretty confusing. But know this: if a person were to travel in space at the speed of light for a year (in other words, one light year), and when this person comes back to planet Earth, he would be in the future, but he has only aged one year. That's why it's called the theory of special relativity. Time is relative to the individual who experience different speeds.

Think about it. It's fascinating, don't you agree?

2nd month, Day 1

Okay, so why the Oreos? Well I've been meaning to cycle all 40 blocks to Target and today seemed like the perfect day to do it. So I got on, headed out, and went to Barnes & Noble. What the hell is with this red herring? Stay with me for a bit. B&N is just a street away from Target, and I can't say no to a bookstore. That's plain impolite.

So I went to B&N, and there were bargains everywhere. I almost got Gregory Maguire's A Lion Among Men just because he signed it. Of course, I walked out without actually getting anything, but I did saw some snazzy titles that I'll definitely come back for in the future:

1. Eat Pray Love (NOT the edition with Julia Roberts on the cover, the original one. I always have a thing against buying books that are wrapped with the faces of celebrities.)

2. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (It's the new Da Vinci Code...)

3. A Vintage Affair

4. It's Not What You Say, It's How You Say It (Since it's just another public speaking self-help book, I might pass, but I'm 100% with the title's philosophy.)

5. Lady in the Tower: The Fall of Anne Boleyn (Only because Alison Weir wrote it and I studied the Tudors last semester.)

Jamie, if you're reading this. I know I've gotten your attention.

There were also a couple of books by David Sedaris that caught my eye, though they seem more memoir and comedy. Dinty Moore and Chelsea Handler will have to do for the moment.

MOVING ON. I went to Target, bought lotsa junk (Three packets of Oreos to be exact... Along with other "necessities"), and cycled back with a rather odd looking plastic sack hanging on my right handlebar, that rhythmically smack my front tires. I kept fearing it would snap the spindles on the tires, but it was only boxes of Kleenex, so nothing much happened. Save for a huge gash on one of the boxes.

But yes, I had to buy Halloween Oreos, even if I know the orange creme could contain nothing more than poisonous food coloring, hellbent on giving me diarrhea. My sole comfort in eating them, would of course come in the form of these cute images imprinted on each cookie.

Bat.

Cat.

A freaking happy pumpkin. Where's Cinderella?

The orange creme of doom.

What a way to begin the first day of October. Now the whole world knows I've eaten three cookies. But no, I actually ate four. I was just too lazy to take a picture of a witch flying on a broomstick. What else?

Now to the main attraction. October's six items:

Here's what at stake for the month. I only have one bottom, the navy slim fitting jeans. In addition, that kaleidoscope of a shirt is gonna be beautiful, but friggin' hard to match with most other stuff... But I have my ideas. It doesn't look all that much now, but it's actually pretty flattering to the body. You'll see.

And what did I wear on this wonderful premiere?That's it? And it's not part of the six items? Well, that's because this is my pajamas/gym clothes. And my only class for the day was cancelled, so I saw no reason to dress up. I like this shirt. It says something quite literally. Though I doubt I'll get much of an audience here. It kinda makes me feel like I'm a lost employee of the Body Shop, stuck in the middle of an agricultural state, trying to sell facial cremes to a cornhusker. Huh.

This is how I celebrate my new month? Pray that I go out tomorrow, so that I might put on something new.