“I have the true feeling of myself only when I am unbearably unhappy.” Franz Kafka

“I have the true feeling of myself only when I am unbearably unhappy.” Franz Kafka

I spend an awful lot of time in my room

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This blog is slowly turning into a what-ever-I-am-going-to-photograph-in-my-room blog. And something's wrong with the internet connection, I can't view anyone's blogs, including mine, and can't log on to facebook.
Actually, not being able to log on to facebook has its advantage. I finally touched the Psychology book today. I feel like my attitude towards education is not healthy. Ever since I got into college, I felt like an ape, only studied when the deadline's hours away. As creepy as it might sound, I'm starting to miss the high school disciplines. Now that I'm free to do whatever the hell I want to do, I've realized that I will only study if I suddenly fear that I might fail, not out of any interests towards the subject that's required. But I like German, I'm gonna give it a serious view.

I wanna get this over with so that I don't have to step to school for a while. I can't put myself up with the idea of seeing him. I've been pretty fine for the past three days at home, although, I admit, it wasn't quite health-conscious of me to eat ice-cream like a nuthead, but it's way better than actually having to deal with the mini-universe that's revolving around him.
I know I've said I'm tired before, but right now, I've come to the state of being too mentally exhausted to think straight. I admit more than once have I run away from home doing God-knows-what to distract myself from the fact that I' a weakling. I've told myself, in that amount of time too, this is gonna take time, and thank God the arrival of Penny next week is the perfect excuse not to lock myself up in my room thinking about crap. The outcome is going to be numerous series of what-else-haven't-I-photographed-in-my-room-again posted up here and I'm gonna have to revert some back to the draft section because, bitterly admitted, I'm still working on this camera and my photos aren't the best to look at.
I'm gonna finish the books I've left behind, every one of them. Seems like a promising plan.

The ominous eye

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My room, under the ominous eye. It all started when I saw a stroke of sunlight landed on my wardrobe. Just wanted to try something new.
Bonus: mom's fourth attempt to make choux à la creme.

The dream catcher #1

Welcome all, to the exhibition of what the society calls 'human personalities'. This is all exposed under the eyes of Jenny O'Keeffe, a screwed-up, unloved, stubborn fucker living somewhere in Narnia.

• There is a perfectly normal kind. Don't think much, by accident, not being able to think, or not even thinking about thinking, or by choice, choosing to refrain from getting themselves involved in the tangled mess that the mind could make. This is the group of people who enjoys life the most, I must admit. Because of not thinking much, they don't have to worry about what society calls 'nonsense' that is created by one's own. Mostly because they don't want to think, or because it's been going so smoothly with them their entire life. Not having to struggle at an early age, or having struggled, but managed fine by not minding it, they unintentionally create a world of their own which matches very well with society. They enjoy life the most.
• There's another kind. The randomly amazing kind. Those who are born, or are blessed to learn the skills to take over one's life. This is the kind that brings hope to others in the form of their own little actions. Completely unaware of how effective they could be over one's life. It's nice to catch a person of this kind on your hand, but if you can't hold on to them, they're going to bite you to flee. And all you're left is a broken soul and a wounded hand.
• And there's the last kind. The loners. You can't tell the difference between the loners if you meet them. Because they look perfectly normal, act perfectly normal, they're just as silly, as selfish and sometimes as careless as everybody else. The loners usually can't find their clan in society either. Because, there's never really a place for the loner in this world. They wander around, in their own way, finding in vain a will to breath, but end up gaining a couple of thoughts about how social life forces them to go by some certain rules, and how they still find themselves trying too hard to bend to fit those rules. They're just simply lonely, yet they love to be alone rather than to face the world of reality. It's impossible to love a loner, because a normal person wouldn't appreciate, or just don't approve of what loners usually think about. It's time-consuming, nonsense and useless, the thoughts of a loner when put into the scale of society, and they don't tend to be a safe choice to keep an eye on when choosing someone to commit to. They live in their own world more than in the real world, or living soullessly in society, therefore unapproved by society itself. Those who are craving to be loved, neglected by the rest of the world, loners usually tend to find themselves a way to express their personal life, to escape from what's mutual between everybody else. They're the most unfortunate to be given the ability to see the world for what it's worth, to even foretell a little bit about the broken that's about to happen in their own lives. Please, don't feed the loners with the normal soulful food you eat everyday, just simply tell them to wait, and one day they'll be able to meet each other, meet the one that they've been longing for too long.

Sorry all of the other sections are under construction, and this is the end of our tour. Please don't forget your personal items and smile at the exhibitions one more time to show them someone has just sneaked a peek into their lives.

2011

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Goodbye 2011. May the best is yet to come.

Yoghurt cup #57

2012's wishlist:

• Charles & Keith sailor flats
• Guess watch
• Boy CD
• A collection of Jockey pj shorts
• Chanel nail polish
• Fish-eye lens
• Bitchslap all of the ones who deserve one
• A Colt
• No, I'm very serious about the Colt.
• Contacts

• Ughhhhhhh I hate finals!
• I very much need a bath right now.
• Studying Psychology listening to Boy (again, yes, actually, I'm glad that I finally got rid of that song Never Easy by Kurt Nilsen. Very curious to know how many times I've listened to that song in the past few days, ever since I discovered it 3 days ago).
• I bit all of my nails off again. I knew it was gonna happen.
• And right the minute my nails look like crap, I have an urge to paint my nails to some colors.
• Ugh me and my crazy head!
• All of the photos above are from this guy Metin. Flickr sometimes pleases me completely by popping out of the blue someone whose photography style is to my taste by a hundred and seventy percent. If you notice you're gonna see I'm such a fan of his work that I put the link to his flickr on the recommendations of my blog.
• And the bokeh from the first photo makes me crave a 50mm f/1.8 so bad! I know it's not right of me to even lust a new lens when I can hardly manage the one I'm having, but I can't help myself looking at those beautiful bokehs and go dreamy about them.
• Not being able to view my blog is annoying! I usually want to see whether my images appear as I wish after I finish a post. What even is wrong with this internet connection???
• Third day. No luck with the internet connection.
• For the first time in a long while, I'm glad I'm at home.

• It's ridiculous how I've been to Pacey the cupcake shop for three times in five days. Tasted almost all of the flavors in there. I love that shop, no idea why.
• My everyday routine has changed a bit, I can feel that.
• Five days to stay in the city.
• But seriously, who would book a flight at three frigging am??
• I'm thinking of downloading all of my favorite chick-flick movies and spend the entire tomorrow watching them all & eating chocolate.
• Wow I started this post before finals started.
• Something's wrong with the built-in flash in my camera.
• Probably because Hayley poured beer in it on New Year's Eve night.
• Nothing much to talk about. Am I slowly becoming boring?