We blog
Thursday, 22 January 2009
-
I can't remember the last time I slept a dreamless sleep
Wednesday, 05 November 2008
-
Day after a historic day in America
Wow, that speech could move anyone to tears, not implying I cried or anything... moving on. Yesterday, Barack Hussein Obama was elected to be the first half-black President of the United States at the age of 47. Dang. I probably won't forget last night, but if I did, I'll just read this over.
I went into the voting station at around 11am, when there were only a handful of other people doin their thing, voted, and got a little ticket confirming my participation. My vote doesn't really matter (I wish I was in a swing state), so I guess it was more for myself. Anyways, I kinda forgot where I was going with this... I guess I'm just hopeful, maybe a little anxious, that our new President-elect will actually bring in the change he's been repeating for the last year (I wonder how many times he said it). It just feels refreshing to wake up after 8 years of Bush-induced doldrums. I hope that in the future I will look back to this day favorably, as a monumental moment, when America made the right choice. There's my two cents.
Tuesday, 07 October 2008
-
My Life in D
So yesterday I was in a pensive mood, and I happened to find my violin in the back of my closet, leaning upright against the wall. I dusted it off and played a couple arpeggios and a Brahms sonata. That song triggered a memory of when I first started playing the violin. I felt inspired to write about the experience, so here goes.
Five days before my 12th birthday, I turned on the TV to see a violinist play Brahm's Violin Sonata No.3, Opus 108. She had a small frame with 80's hair and dress, but she played like a six-foot-tall, 240 lbs. NFL linebacker, her glowing red eyes dancing around in the dim-lit concert hall. Her head was like Mark McGuire's bobblehead doll after he took steroids, bouncing around to keep up with the the rest of her body. The glazed violin rocked alongside it, reflecting the ceiling light, as if trying to grab the audience's attention and affection that it craved. The high-pitched sound reverberated through my body while the fast tempo amplified my heartbeat to a crescendo. After the last note was played, I experienced an epiphany; I realized what people meant when they say 'the silence was deafening.'
Actually, even that seems like an understatement for what I felt. My ears were roaring like a lion that, for some unknown reason, lost its vocal chords and was lamenting its loss to the world. This lion was stuck in a valley between twin Mount Everests, so its cry was echoed until it reached the heavens, where someone there heard its cry and bellowed, "Silence!" The deafening silence I felt was the heavenly figure's voice that stopped the lion in its tracks. In short, I was in awe.
So five days later, my parents gave me a 4-by-1 ft. gift-wrapped box to open. I clawed and tore at the wrapping, much to my mom's chagrin, to reveal-- a mechanical pencil to help me with my studies. Sweet. Then they showed me the real present, a brand new Stradivarius. I took a step back to admire the work of art.
The violin was surrounded by a red velvet cushion,
reflecting an image of my face,
giving off an aroma of age and grandeur,
complementing the bow situated above it,
the long, delicately curved rod that you can balance on your pinky,
the instrument that protects its precious cargo of untouched white horsehair,
the sword that rightfully stays by the king's side.
It was everything a 12-year old boy could hope for.
Friday, 05 September 2008
-
Currently Listening
Someday
by Younha; just came out
see relatedhttp-equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8">name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.4 (Win32)"> I've been quite busy with this and that, and I kinda forgot about my xanga, so here I go.
I'm having fun in my creative writing class. Here's my recurrent metaphor:
"Apartment 301 on Landfair Avenue is my humble abode, with bunched up newspapers, stainless steel tables with wooden chairs, a couch and a futon side-by-side, metal chopsticks and plastic knives, asymmetrical walls and a low ceiling. The TV show Color Splash would have a field day with the mismatched furniture. In one show, they put up a Picasso painting on top of the fireplace. That Picasso painting would blend right in within the jungle that is our apartment's interior. The first time I heard of Picasso was in a book called The Dollhouse, by an author, whose name I cannot recall. It was about a brother and sister who happened upon a miniature dollhouse that seemed to have a life of its own, recreating an actual murder scene in the family room. The boy thought the scene, with the odd position of the body, the overturned chairs, the dishes scattered all over the floor, reminded him of The Three Musicians by Picasso. Our apartment is the family room in that dollhouse that was witness to the murder scene."
I never knew writing could be so much fun until now. Of course, it helps to have such an awesome professor.
Oh, I also helped 4 people move out over the week... I felt exhausted yesterday, but I got free stuff, so whatevas.
What else... I enjoy hearing political pundits put spin on everything the candidates do. It's enough to confuse people whether or not Sarah Palin is the real deal. The verdict is still out for me. But yeah, the major stations should try switching pundits and see what happens. Put Chris Matthews on the O'Reilly Factor and watch them duke it out over the outsourcing of Maruchan noodle factories.
So its already 1:30 am, and I should get ready for tomorrow - going home for the weekend, woot.
Friday, 08 August 2008
-
Currently Listening
Instant Pig
Clazziquai, electronic/pop/alternative? i dunno
see relatedEz on the I's
So I changed the layout to more of a softer tone, hence the title. Just chilling in my apartment right now, but a lot happened the past few days.
Tuesday - First class in English 131. Its a creative writing class, which means that I have to disregard all writing norms. The professor seems to know his stuff though, pretty entertaining.
Wednesday - Ok, so like around 8 pm I'm in my room reading for my class the next day, and I'm alone with Daniel, aka creepster roommate. That in itself is awkward, but anyways. He asks me whether I've seen The Mummy, and I'm like 'nope'. He follows up with "You busy tomorrow?" You can see clearly where this is going, but of course I am completely oblivious. "Not really, no".... "So you want go watch mubee wid me? I take you out fo dinna." Freeze frame. Focus on my face. Can you see it? the contorted features outlining the shock and horror I felt at that moment? I don't remember how long the silence lasted, but it seemed like forever. I couldn't just flat out yell "Hellz No!", since I've already set myself up. So I just replied "Uhh, maybe. Ill have to make sure I don't have Any plans, whatsoever..." Wow, can he freak a guy out. In retrospect, I should have probably just said no, but I was too shell shocked not to make it seem like I'm rejecting some creepy 35-year-old dude on a date, which is actually what it is.
Thurs - So today I just made up some bs excuse about some assignment I have to complete with a classmate, and I go apartment hopping for a few hours. Lets hope he doesn't try that anymore. I think he's just trying to be friendly, but he has no sense of what is acceptable or not acceptable in social interaction. Anyways, nothing much else... I just had to vent a little. Venting...complete
