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| i wrote this piece half past midnight on the morning of may 18, 2007.
DON'T KNOW WHY I DIDN'T PUBLISH IT; IT'S GOLDEN.
dear facebook,
i have my last final tomorrow. i also have about two hundred pages
remaining and seven newfound pimples scattered across my face.
facebook, in front of me is a half-empty bottle of e&j and a
half-full bottle of captain morgan. this was not my doing. and i only
mention this for the sake of foreshadowing.
what? that didn't make any sense.
i know. you see, i initially wanted to write this as a shakespearean
sonnet, but nobody tells me what to do. especially not the guidelines
of a stupid poem format thing.
facebook. these habits of mine are becoming too predictable.
calculating my grade to determine how hard i have to try. ignoring my
textbook and ravishing facebook. getting cocky.
and where the fuck is all this acne coming from?
too predictable. perhaps i should mix it up a bit. a wavedash, maybe?
no. because only the cooler 30% of my friends will understand the joke.
| | |
| i think it's an appropriate setting to make use of the word "flabbergasted."
i've reached the stark realization that i've ventured well into nearly
eight in the morning, but i'm having trouble remembering which day of
the week i'm trampling on. all of the days merge into one when 3am
becomes your best friend. you don't sleep anymore. you just take a few long naps. and the week becomes this grotesque blob of
productivity and gallivanting. and fucked up sleeping cycles.
you'll meet the most horrible people when you're in college. you'll
freak out about them and shit bricks about them and eat with and plead
with and regret and yearn.
and then you - with your history of manipulation and avoided
committment - become trapped in a self-conflict of: "oh shit, i
MIGHT actually have feelings for this guy." and maybe you try to promote
those emotions for a better outcome, hoping for something more than
just the casual suckface and fuckface.
and now here you are! ready to devote! ready to commit! ready to fall
in love! and then he cuts off all contact with you and ignores you for
the next few days.
and then you get excited when he finally messages you online. and then
he decides that you're worthy of a fragment from him every twenty or so
minutes. and then he'll abruptly insult the shit out of you, making
accusations about your character and your insecurities. and then he'll
convince you that you're a terrible, terrible person. and then he'll
think you're psychotic. and then you'll realize - oh fuck, it's 4am, my
midterm is in five hours, and i don't know shit about infrared light.
and then you realize you haven't known him for that long at all. and
then you feel dumb. and then you overreact. and then you cry. just a
little bit. not because losing him was losing an integral part of your
life, but because you forfeited the remnants of your dignity. that was definitely "your bad."
and then you step back and try to assess what the fuck just happened.
after a few hours of thinking too much and overanalyzing the situation,
you realize, "i'm probably one of the most horrible people that others
have ever met in college." partly because i'm a chump. mostly because
what he did to me is almost the exact procedure i've used in the past.
but you know. rather than letting this scare the fuck out of me in
terms of pursuing relationships, maybe it shouldn't. maybe it should
serve as motivation to strive for the beauty of love that so few people
ever gain an opportunity to obtain. the love that delivers you to the
top of the world and the love that defies any sense of logic by making
you infinite.
i guess.
| | |
| i've realized that i have strict limitations in my reading and writing.
i read things that do not pertain to my education and i write things
that will not somehow benefit my grade point average. i didn't even know there was an mc101 reader until a few weeks ago.
but, you know. whatever.
my current priorities have shifted from the aspirations i once held as
a brilliant incoming freshman. these current priorities are as follows:
1. mastering the l-cancel
2. checking for new comments on facebook
3. and myspace
4. solving today's sudoku puzzle
5. eric prydz - call on me (by the way, i know all of the words)
6. i have like fucking four loads of laundry
7. umca (of course)
8. you should see me complete my rubik's cube
9. bad things
10. very bad things
that was not in any specific order.
the fact of the matter is that i'm indulging in a lot of unproductive activities when my real concerns should be focused on...
well, see. i'm majoring in mass communications. so in all honesty, there's no big concern there.
however, i think i might just seem ridiculously unproductive because
i'm really only busy on tuesday, wednesday and thursday. and i mean.
REALLY busy. and i mean. twelve almost-consecutive hours of labor.
or maybe i can be lazy right now because i'm on top of all of my shit?
thus far in the semester, any (and all) feedback from my instructors
has been limited only to the letter "A."
so yeah, i'm a mass comm major.
| | |
| there is a certain stereotype that has been upsetting my equilibrium of
luck with the male gender. this is not written in a tone of resentment,
but rather as a platform of observation. i'm not sure if there is
already an accepted label for them, so for now i will refer to them as
the "ricer."
ricers are crawling all over the uc campuses. they are generally
attractive asian males ranging from 5'5" and 5'11". ricers are limited
to the chinese, korean, japanese and occasionally vietnamese races.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
ten ways to spot a ricer
1. he's majoring in something either business-related or
science-related. once in a while, you'll stumble upon one majoring in
math or engineering.
2. his attire is drenched in american eagle, hollister and/or abercrombie & fitch.
3. he's into jesus. supposedly. and he's a member of the church youth group.
4. he knows how to play an instrument and it's either the piano or the guitar - if not both.
5. he's into cars manufactured in japan and is a fan of initial d.
6. he always uses his contacts. or he refuses to wear his glasses.
7. he's in some sort of school organization that specializes in his race or in being asian.
8. he's into anime and has probably watched princess mononoke like fucking fifty times.
9. he likes to work out and knows how to play tennis.
10. he seems pretty white-washed until you realize he only hangs out with other asians.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
don't feel upset if you can relate to several items on this list; i
probably find you really attractive. however, i have discovered that
the feeling is loosely mutual. for the past few nights, i have not had
completely successful attempts at snatching a ricer. it makes the ego
uneasy - that is, until the next white/black/latino/non-ricer male asks
me out to dinner.
but why is it that the ricer requires more output of social effort than would a non-ricer?
he will blatantly stare at you but will not approach you. he will call
you pretty but will not ask for your phone number. he will make you
laugh, he will flirt with you, and he will let you take minor advantage
of him. however, it seems as if his only intention is to freak-dance
behind you. nothing less and nothing more.
there is an exception, however. and that is the female equivalent.
he's interested in white (as in caucasian and as in white-washed)
girls, but he would never date one. he would only date the female
equivalent. ricers will rarely date outside of asian races. he wants a
petite asian girl who is cute (as in wholesome) and sexy (as in hawt
secks) at the same time. she can relate to several of the items listed
above and she is usually under 5'5". ricers are very picky.
the ricer's refusal to explore outside of the female equivalent: is it
a battle of the ricer's confidence? his fastidiousness? his
insecurities regarding gpa/jesus/bicep circumference? that i do not
know.
however, i do know -- as an unpetite 7/8 pilipino, 1/8 tahitian -- that
i am certainly not the type (the female equivalent) that ricers seek
after. and i am therefore disqualified from being a candidate for the
gorgeous prizes that the ricer has to offer.
this does not bother me. this confuses me.
i have been owned. | | |
| it'll all come together.
here's to good luck.
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