013: colorful

“i think it’s fine to be colorful. and to live colorfully.” 

so last week i watched the japanese animation film “Colorful” and ERMERGERD my life has been changed. it literally takes your heart and brings it on some crazy rollercoaster ride complete with loops and idk maybe some g force action. although some may find it bordering on cheesy, the genuine-ness and downright honesty of it make your heart go craycray. beautiful animations, beautiful story line, beautiful MUSIC!!! gah that acapella song at the end brings me to tuh-ears. my desktop wallpaper atm is the movie poster ehehe.

time to go philosophicalpanda on this shiz.

i guess when you try SO hard to conform to this idea (or lack of an idea) of you, you surpress the things that DO come naturally to you. the movie made me realize that i don’t have to limit and define myself by just one standard or one aspect of my life. people are muuuuuch more complex than that. i watched the film some time after writing my previous blog post, and i’m comforted to know that just because i AM taking a rather technical course does not mean i have to drop my other hobbies. there’s always a way to find balance among all the things i do.

(hehe it’s 1:56 AM and i’m too sleepy to end this nicely)

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012: recently

i haven’t written on this blog since february.

hmmm.

i remember i wanted to start a blog in order to get more creative, to practice writing outside of school. god knows how tired i am with technical and analytical writing. i’m pretty disappointed with myself that i couldn’t keep this blog (and my creativity) up and alive. i did receive a moleskine last christmas, which is where i’ve been writing down my thoughts ever since i got it. but, i don’t even update it that much. actually, i have an entry that i started 2 days ago and have not yet finished. uh oh.

lately, i’ve been really, really admiring one of my close friends. you see, she’s majoring in film, while i, unidentified adverb here, am taking up a very technical, “omg wow ur so smart” reaction-inducing course. it’s not that i don’t like what i learn. it’s just… different. my course has no creative bone in it, based on what i know. being technical and academic all the time is starting to wear me down. as of this moment, i’m desperately clawing for any creative outlet, but only if time (SCHOOLWORK) lets me. i want to watch movies. i want to take pictures. i want to take videos. i want to bake. i want to see the world not only through conic sections and 2sinxcosx=sin2x. i want to REST.

but, here i am today. and the draft of my research paper is due on monday.

011: desperation writing and moving on

here is something i wrote in AP class when we had the desperation writing activity.

In AP Literature class, we use the classroom of the Sophomores, so we don’t sit on our own chairs. At this very moment, I’m sitting on another person’s place, using her chair, using her table. The student who has been using this table and chair for the past months doesn’t know that I exist, yet through this table and chair, we share something in common –a bond that was non-existent until today.

Sitting here makes me wonder about the girl who sits here everyday. Is she like me? Is she the opposite of me? If I meet her, would we be friends, or would we be “enemies” (though I have none)? Through this table and chair, however, I see glimpses of the girl that I will probably never truly know. The surface of the table is smooth and clean, aside from the small dents that have appeared through the years, so I guess this student is a pretty organized girl. She probably doesn’t own a cutter too, since there are no cut marks on her table (maybe this almost means that she doesn’t get bored in class and is actually interested in the lectures, so she doesn’t play and vandalize her things). Two years ago, I was just like her, sitting at the front of the class agonizingly memorizing the names of various body muscles and trying to perfect factoring polynomials.

Now that I think about it even more, three years ago someone else sat here, four years ago, someone else sat here, and ever since these wooden chairs and tables got to Poveda, someone has been using them. I will never meet these people, but because of this table and chair, we’ve crossed paths in our lives. Then, in a month, new people will be sitting here and will fill the void that I will leave. I’m off to a big university, where I’ll use new tables and chairs. I’ve been told time and time again that life is fleeting and illusory, and that the only thing we can do is move on. I’m going to graduate soon, and the girl-who-sits-here will move to the third floor of the High School building and into a new classroom. Someone else will use this chair and table, someone completely unaware of what Sophomore year will bring. People will come and go, but this chair and table will still remain.

Through this table and chair I have become a part of a sticky web that connects the people who have sat on this very spot; by the resting of my bottom and numerous concepts of Physics, I have become a part of history. I’m afraid to move on, to accept that life is fleeting and that people will replace me when I leave this school, but the future is inevitable. It will happen, whether I like it or not, and I’ll have to stand up from this chair, walk out the door, and go home.

 

 

in other news, i got a VG for my AP book report! hurrah!

010

well it’s my sem break and i have this book report to do for AP. i chose Blindness by Jose Saramago.

D-:

well i typed that sad smiley face (what an irony) because i just don’t know what to say and now all my thoughts are all over the place and there they go they are escaping me and heehooheehooheehoo

wish me luck?

008

hello, i haven’t updated in a long time (mainly because i was too busy to blog, but also because i didn’t have anything to blog about).

it’s exam week, but that’s the least of my concerns i guess because the ACET is in less than 2 weeks. time to write freaking-out and it’s-all-up-to-God blogs again.

i got my first G in an AP essay, so i’m really happy. this happiness will probably be EATEN ALIVE by the monster known as my first trim. AP exam.

oh, i watched this REALLY REALLY REALLY funny (it was funny because it was so stupid) movie with my friends. things i will never forget about it:

  • the way that girl said calamares (“calama-RES”). it was so funny.
  • one of the moms’ weird, red eye
  • said mom (who is a caterer) bursting into the bathroom during her son’s prom to see him kissing his geometry remedial teacher (“I CAME HERE FOR THE CUPCAKES AND THIS IS WHAT I SEE?!”)
  • “CYBER DATING INITIATED 100%”
  • in general just how bad and weird it was

that’s all for now, i guess.

PS. can’t wait for the 2nd movie. “the musicale

007: the language of the flowers

Once I spoke the language of the flowers,
Once I understood each word the caterpillar said,
Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings,
And shared a conversation with the housefly
in my bed.
Once I heard and answered all the questions
of the crickets,
And joined the crying of each falling dying
flake of snow,
Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . .
How did it go?
How did it go?

Forgotten Language by Shel Silverstein

Readers can feel how sad and regretful the speaker is because of his repetition of words and phrases. The word “once,” which is repeated throughout the poem, is usually used in fairytales and can be thus associated with childhood and happy endings; however, that is not the case in this poem. The speaker has lost something beautiful and can never get it back. He can never have his happily ever after. The speaker asks “How did it go?” twice, but of to no use. There is no reply or answer, no explanation. The silence that follows is an answer in itself: what has happened has happened and cannot be changed, it can only be accepted. The repetition of the word “once” can also be a reflection of how much of a routine his life is today. As he is all grown up now, he has lived long enough to see what the world really is; nothing is new to him anymore.

Despite how old or experienced the speaker is, he does not use fancy words or a strict rhyme and meter to show off his maturity and old age. By using simple words he attempts to be young again, when life was simple and free from the superfluous and excess. He also creates a slight rhyme by ending line 2 with “said” and line 5 with “bed,” and later on by using “snow” in line 9 and “go” in the last two lines of the poem. Rhymes are associated with playfulness, so here the readers see again his efforts to be a child. The speaker, like any other adult, is trying to return to the time when life was uncomplicated.

People always want what they do not have; when people age, they try and try to be young again. Physically, beauty products are available to magically erase wrinkles and all signs of aging. Emotionally and mentally, however, there is nothing in this world that can bring people back to the days when they understood flowers, talked to animals and objects, and cried because of snowflakes. The beauty and life that people find in the smallest things are lost when they grow up and are exposed to the harsh realities of life. Innocence is not borrowed by the real world – innocence is taken and kept forever. The experiences of a person cannot be erased from the human mind because they create the person and define the way he thinks, speaks, and acts.

As gloomy as this all sounds, there is, however, hope. Although adults cannot be as innocent as children, they can see the same world when they are happy or in love. When adults see what children see, are childlike but are not childish, they reach a high level of maturity and understanding. These grown ups overcome the problems and corruptions of the world by finding the beauty in the darkest and ugliest things. Love and happiness can open the eyes of people to the beauty of life, and the forgotten language can be remembered.