All Aloney On My Owney

This past weekend was a metaphorical striptease. To explain:

Friday A - Faced with the choices of chasing after cute bartender (with whom flirtatious rapport has already been established since November) who I ran into at a party or staying at said party to dance/look for other potentials, I chose to remain dancing. Ack.

Friday B - When faced again with choices of accepting sexual come-ons propositioned by an ex-classmate (who is quite the looker) during a game of ruit or joining another friend (also good-looking) for a rousing (ha) session of Smoke More Weed, I chose Mary Jane. Guh.

Saturday - Pimpslapped in the face with choices of playing tonsil hockey with cute freshman (who I had my eye on since Jterm class) during Winter Ball or playing coy thus putting off coitus-activity 'til later (perhaps even weeks from now), I chose to be coquettish. Sigh.

What the fuck is wrong with me again? I can't even blame anyone else--well, for Saturday's events, his freshmen friends kept passing by to say hi so I was, in a sense, being cockblocked but still--! I could have said SCREW IT and swapped spit anyway with the guy, regardless of who was watching! GAAAAAH, next weekend, Esa, next weekend.

And How Does That Make You Feel?

I saw a counselor on Friday, first time ever. I'd been wrestling with myself for months on whether or not I should go, but the trigger was something a professor of mine told me: "If you were my daughter or sister, I would definitely urge you to make an appointment." He had never said anything like that before so I did went and did it. I'm not sure if the session did any good though. All I did was blab about myself for an hour and tried not to get too emotional when the family topic was raised. I have a follow-up session two weeks from now, and after that I may choose to continue seeing Lindsay The Counselor-in-Training, ask for someone else, or retreat into my shell and try to figure shit out on my own--which I've been struggling to do since last year.

Do I really need outside help? Can I really be too weak to handle my own problems/issues?

And how does this all make me FEEL? (Apologies, couldn't resist sneaking in that line.)

Excuses, Excuses

Dear Professor [xxxxx],

Please do not email me anymore whenever I have not sent a paper to you on the day that it is due. Please do not ask me where I have been if I was not in class that day. Please do not inquire about my mental or physical health if I have not been present all week. If you ask all these questions, you see, it would imply that you care about me outside class which is a possibility I find both unfathomable and unsettling. If you care, that would mean you are real, that you could continue sending email after email that I will purposefully ignore time after time but will not delete. Eventually, my inbox will be too full, and I will have to read your requests. Your inquiries. Your questions.

So please, do not ask questions because I can only give you excuses--feebly, fumbling, failing excuses. And I do not want that.

Can't Keep Posting Pictures

I'm not sure what I'm doing here in school :|

This Game Makes Me Want To Be a Gamer

Chinese New Year

I am determinedly celebrating Chinese New Year because I refuse to celebrate Valentine's Day. That is all.

The Haircut Song

This post will be incoherent, full of grammatical/syntax errors, and be run-on(y).

rsodghvljdb you got a haircut and you look so fucking HOT with that haircut why did you get a haircut without telling me if you had told me I could've prepared myself for what i was about to witness this afternoon at the beginning of class, but instead you didnt so when i spotted you walking in i got the wind knocked out of me and the little voice in my head shouted at me to get a hold of myself and wipe the damn drool off my mouth before i made a puddle around my desk AAAGGGGHHHH youre so HOTTTT with that stupid stupid stupid haircut though for a split second i missed your soft wavy hair that floated around your face but only for a second and then i started admiring the edginess this new cut gives you and its SEXY. Just really really SEXY like WHOA. So for the rest of the period i kept stealing glances at you when i shouldve been paying attention to the professor @____@

I am very much in danger of falling for you all over again and repeating the events of November 2008. Dammit, why are you straight again?

Passing Afternoon - Iron & Wine

I didn't go to sleep the night before my flight. I didn't go to sleep because I was crying too hard. The torrent started around 3am so I didn't bother putting my face in the pillow because I knew my parents were definitely conked out by then. I was on the verge of tears the entire week I was home anyway, but just when I thought "oh it's time to cry isn't, best find myself a private spot" I held myself back the way you think you're going to sneeze; only the need to abruptly ends. And you're left standing there (wherever you are) wondering what just happened.

I could tell you what I was crying about, but those of you who've been keeping up with this joke of a blog should know by now what I always angst about. So I won't repeat myself in this post. They even gave me hong bao even though it was a week before Chinese New Year officially began. My mother had slipped the two packets under my pillow, kissed me goodnight, and shut the door. Fifteen minutes later, I could hardly breathe through my tears. You'd think silent crying wouldn't be as exhausting, but oh was I wrong. After an hour or so, I calmed down enough to reach under my pillow and see how much they gave me. Five hundred dollars. Subdued sobs started afresh.

You might think I'm forever crying about this-and-that, but it isn't true. I only get misty-eyed about family matters. For anything else, I'm a cold, dry-eyed bitch. I don't know how to explain why I get so sad about having such a wonderful, loving family when I could be much worse off. Maybe it's the fact that I'll never be good enough for them or that I torture myself wondering whether or not I'll ever be deserving of their love. Maybe it's because I hate myself so much that I can't understand why I was born into such lucky circumstances. It could be any of these things.

Eventually, I fell asleep whispering "sorry, sorry" into the ceiling, my tear-streaked face still hot to the touch.

Don't Feel Like Posting Words

I Need to Show This to Everyone