dig
WARNING: My mind is pretty unorganized right now (much like my room. it's chaos in there), so don't be surprised if I don't make any sense.
Before anything else, I'd like to make an utterly shameless plug.
Although I continually debate that my hand is not meant to draw anything properly proportional... http://fuyusarah.deviantart.com/
I'm a writer. If you like my work, drop a line. If you don't like my work, say something constructive. If you can't, shut up. http://www.fictionpress.com/~fuyusarah
No, I'm not trying to be hostile.
-ahem-
Aside from being a digital packrat, I am a packrat. Period.
Let's be cheesily clicheic, shall we? Life's one long journey, a road to somewhere, and crossroads are the places we meet people, and make decisions... blah, blah, blah. But, since nothing is forever, we ought to cherish each moment, engrave what we feel and see in every second, cherish it forver in our hearts... blah, blah, blah.
Fact # 1: My memory fails me sometimes. Don't you just hate it when you see or hear or smell something that "reminds" you of something, but you can't, forthe life of you, remember what that thing is? Don't you just hate it when you want to remember something, and you can't? And then, suddenly, when you're not trying to think about it anymore, you suddenly remember it! Grah.
Fact # 2: I used to have lots of space in my room, so I'm used to keeping stuff. As I always say, "This might be useful someday..." More often than not, I DO use those things. But that one time totally pales to the ten years that it was stored in my closet, don't you think?
Fact#3: I am a VERY sentimental person. I like flipping old pictures and little notes given to me (especially the ones in high school!) and I like reading through my old journals and seeing how my penmanship acutally improved when I thought it wasn't possible.
I was unpacking my things today. Another event worthy of being commented with a "FINALLY!" with a matching eye-roll and heavy sigh of relief.
Probelm is: I didn't finish fixing my stuff. Why? Because I have nowhere -- and I mean NOWHERE -- to put my stuff! See, most of my things have stayed in my dorm room FAR too long that they don't have their rightful places in my QC room anymore. Some of my belongings, I've never even taken to my room here in QC. But since I don't intend on keeping my stuff in two, big Jack 'n Jill Chippy boxes, I had to get to work.
The thing I hate most about cleaning my room is NOT the cleaning itself. As a matter of fact, I LOVE seeing things go from impossibly dirty to admirably neat (thus explaining why I love washing dishes). It's not the act of weeding my room, either. It's the decision-making that I hate. I hate needing to decide which things to throw away, because, honestly, if I keep the things I want to keep and throw away the things I don't want to keep, I NEVER get to throw ANYTHING away. It takes a reeeeeaaaly strong decision (or a pretty impulsive one) for me to actually discard things.
The thing I love most, on the other hand, is seeing the small, trvial things that can actually count as useless. Like, for example, I saw my 'files' from my freshman year. I kept every single bluebook I used. (And not one was crupolyed nor creased. WOW.) I had a really hard time convincing myself that I didn't need those things anymore because I had classcards to prove that I did well that year.
So I threw 'em away.
'Cept I kept one (just one, I swear) of the Math 17 quizzes I had that got a perfect score. See, my teacher put smileys on perfect quizzes. As pre-schooly as it may sound, I thought it was cute. And since I'm laughing about it now, I bet I'd be laughing about it in 20 years. Notice the bold letters.
Oh, and I also kept a few other 1.0 papers I got in several other subjects... I mean, let's face it: my academic performance in terms of the grades didn't exactly soar into the sky (it slid down, acutally). So forgive me for stubbornly holding on to the few moments of glory that I had.
But, as we all know, grades aren't really so important once you're in the real world. Sometimes I wonder how many failing grades successful people had when they were in college...
Speaking of successful people, I was in the presence of greatness this evening. And I'm not talking about former UP President Nemenzo sitting next to me. I'm talkin' bout the jazz band in Silungan. MAN. *worship* I cannot elaborate because I'll most likely just type incoherent words of awe.
...
OK, I was supposed to write a LOT today, but suddenly I can't remember else I had planned to write...
See what I mean about my memory?
Before anything else, I'd like to make an utterly shameless plug.
Although I continually debate that my hand is not meant to draw anything properly proportional... http://fuyusarah.deviantart.com/
I'm a writer. If you like my work, drop a line. If you don't like my work, say something constructive. If you can't, shut up. http://www.fictionpress.com/~fuyusarah
No, I'm not trying to be hostile.
-ahem-
Aside from being a digital packrat, I am a packrat. Period.
Let's be cheesily clicheic, shall we? Life's one long journey, a road to somewhere, and crossroads are the places we meet people, and make decisions... blah, blah, blah. But, since nothing is forever, we ought to cherish each moment, engrave what we feel and see in every second, cherish it forver in our hearts... blah, blah, blah.
Fact # 1: My memory fails me sometimes. Don't you just hate it when you see or hear or smell something that "reminds" you of something, but you can't, forthe life of you, remember what that thing is? Don't you just hate it when you want to remember something, and you can't? And then, suddenly, when you're not trying to think about it anymore, you suddenly remember it! Grah.
Fact # 2: I used to have lots of space in my room, so I'm used to keeping stuff. As I always say, "This might be useful someday..." More often than not, I DO use those things. But that one time totally pales to the ten years that it was stored in my closet, don't you think?
Fact#3: I am a VERY sentimental person. I like flipping old pictures and little notes given to me (especially the ones in high school!) and I like reading through my old journals and seeing how my penmanship acutally improved when I thought it wasn't possible.
I was unpacking my things today. Another event worthy of being commented with a "FINALLY!" with a matching eye-roll and heavy sigh of relief.
Probelm is: I didn't finish fixing my stuff. Why? Because I have nowhere -- and I mean NOWHERE -- to put my stuff! See, most of my things have stayed in my dorm room FAR too long that they don't have their rightful places in my QC room anymore. Some of my belongings, I've never even taken to my room here in QC. But since I don't intend on keeping my stuff in two, big Jack 'n Jill Chippy boxes, I had to get to work.
The thing I hate most about cleaning my room is NOT the cleaning itself. As a matter of fact, I LOVE seeing things go from impossibly dirty to admirably neat (thus explaining why I love washing dishes). It's not the act of weeding my room, either. It's the decision-making that I hate. I hate needing to decide which things to throw away, because, honestly, if I keep the things I want to keep and throw away the things I don't want to keep, I NEVER get to throw ANYTHING away. It takes a reeeeeaaaly strong decision (or a pretty impulsive one) for me to actually discard things.
The thing I love most, on the other hand, is seeing the small, trvial things that can actually count as useless. Like, for example, I saw my 'files' from my freshman year. I kept every single bluebook I used. (And not one was crupolyed nor creased. WOW.) I had a really hard time convincing myself that I didn't need those things anymore because I had classcards to prove that I did well that year.
So I threw 'em away.
'Cept I kept one (just one, I swear) of the Math 17 quizzes I had that got a perfect score. See, my teacher put smileys on perfect quizzes. As pre-schooly as it may sound, I thought it was cute. And since I'm laughing about it now, I bet I'd be laughing about it in 20 years. Notice the bold letters.
Oh, and I also kept a few other 1.0 papers I got in several other subjects... I mean, let's face it: my academic performance in terms of the grades didn't exactly soar into the sky (it slid down, acutally). So forgive me for stubbornly holding on to the few moments of glory that I had.
But, as we all know, grades aren't really so important once you're in the real world. Sometimes I wonder how many failing grades successful people had when they were in college...
Speaking of successful people, I was in the presence of greatness this evening. And I'm not talking about former UP President Nemenzo sitting next to me. I'm talkin' bout the jazz band in Silungan. MAN. *worship* I cannot elaborate because I'll most likely just type incoherent words of awe.
...
OK, I was supposed to write a LOT today, but suddenly I can't remember else I had planned to write...
See what I mean about my memory?
Labels: general
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Blue. Stars. Sky. Jazz. Choklit. Pasta. Sashimi. Green tea Frapp. Aroma of coffee. Books. Movies. Fanfics. PC. Google. Mobile phone. Mp3 player. Sleep.
Cockroaches. Shopping. Humidity. Migraines.
yep.
sarah=sara.
Posted by
ame