Steps Ascending

I ran down the stairs and into the garden,
Put both my hands into the soil.
In the spring, you will bloom,
Like her heart, through the blouse, in the back of the ambulance,
As it turned and turned down the streets
(One more turn, won't you come back to me?)
As it turned its red lights,
You were turning into red roses
Red roses
Red roses
Red roses
I'm not giving up.

- from "Steps Ascending" by Thursday

"Aurora Maciel. Clearly, I've overestimated your intelligence. Did you really think Roseanna was Briar Rose?"

If Layla had walked up the stairs minutes earlier
If Rhys had left her room minutes later

Maybe then the princess wouldn't have been ensnared in endless sleep
-- in death --
Maybe then the color wouldn't have drained
Until all that was left of her
Was the remains of the White Rose

---------------------------
Geoff Rickly, vocalist and songwriter of Thursday, told an audience that this song was written for a childhood friend of his who was killed in a gun accident before they could make amends after they had gotten into a fight. So if you and your friend are fighting over some stupid retarded bullshit, be the better person and make things better before that person is gone.

[/end public service announcement]

The Underground

This is the underground. Amidst the bacchanalian revelry, the spiked goblets of tropical ambrosia, the lithe shadows intertwined under the peeping moonlight, you'll find it. Maybe you won't see it at first. But it's there. Sometimes it will warm you like a smile; other times it will crush you like a clenched fist. You might mistaken something else for it -- that happens often. You miss the signs, the small tiny shoots darting out of the soil. But one day, it will grow. It will sprout from your chest, tear your soul from its flesh. It's a pain and ecstasy you have never felt before, as if the beating, bloodied fist within you has pummeled its way out of its cage.

One day, you'll find it. If I am still here.

Fun Way to Procrastinate, No.1

So I was sitting in my room on this cold October day with my roommates, attempting to finish my problem set for chemistry. My roommates were talking about their dream weddings and whatnot; I listened amusedly but didn't really contribute to the conversation since I was getting increasingly pissed off at Webassign. Anyways, F brought up the topic of www.morphthing.com, where a program will morph two pictures to produce either a picture of the potential child or just a simple composite of the two pictures.

So basically, F and I have been spending the last hour wasting time on this website. F has been mixing her face with actual people we know by creeping for pictures on Facebook. I have actually been trying to maintain some sort of work ethic, so instead I have just been selecting the prepared celebrity images and doing my homework while I wait for the images to process. Right now, this website is being ridiculously slow, so I'll just post the results I ended up with thus far.

I'm kind of annoyed how they seem to all look the same. But I guess it makes sense.

Chris Pine

Cilian Murphy

Orlando Bloom

Gaspard Ulliel

Sadly, the picture of me and Prince Charming (aka James Marsden)'s kid was crushingly disappointing, and so I will pretend I never even attempted to do so.

Alright. I need to stop creating pseudo babies with these untouchable celebrities. Peace out.

Life Goals

I feel I owe you all a more substantial post than what I have been writing these days. But it feels as if my creative energy has been completely sucked out of me.

We are currently reading The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot in my English seminar. It's not perfect (I'm still trying to wrap my head around the way Eliot ended the novel... it was a little reminiscent of Slideshow's bus accident ending for Mixed Signals), but I do like it very much. Eliot's writing is lush and vivid, and it's a style that I admire. A sophomore friend and classmate of mine pointed out that the summary on the back cover of the book is rather reminiscent of a Korean drama.

"Brought up at Dorlcote Mill, Maggie Tulliver worships her brother Tom and is desperate to win the approval of her parents, but her passionate, wayward nature and her fierce intelligence bring her into constant conflict with her family. As she reaches adulthood, the clash between their expectations and her desires is painfully played out as she finds herself torn between her relationships with three very different men: her proud and stubborn brother, a close friend who is also the son of her family's worst enemy, and a charismatic but dangerous suitor..."

I'll spare you all from the rest of the summary, but I think you get my point.

As it turns out, Maggie really does become torn between those three leading male characters. I won't spoil the plot for those of you who actually have time or are interested in reading this novel, but I admired how Eliot managed to lock Maggie into a stalemate. No matter which move Maggie made, she would either hurt her family, hurt her friends, or hurt herself. I couldn't help but imagine myself in her position. Which decision would I make? Would I forsake my family to remain loyal to my friends? Would I forsake my friends to pursue my own selfish desires? Would I suppress my desire, my love -- for the sake of family?

I am really glad I did not load myself with math and science courses this semester. This English class is quite refreshing, and I feel like there's a very different kind of thinking involved. Lots of critical thinking, self-reflection, and analysis.

On another note... I REALLY want to write. I've reached the point where I'm starting to feel that it's now or never. It's a little sad how one of my life goals is to finish writing EP, because at the rate that I've been updating, I probably won't finish until my first grandchild is born. Sadly, this goal seems less attainable than many of my other life goals, which include:

Watch "The Phantom of the Opera" on Broadway

Raise my own Japanese Spitz puppy.

Travel around France. (Maybe live there for awhile, if my French is still functional.)

Spend a year in New York City (that actually ties back to Broadway...)

And the most important of all, to get published one day.

I'd like to add more to this list, actually. But it's almost 3 am and I need to go to bed.

Will Power

I WILL beat the curve tomorrow.

I WILL ace my second chemistry tomorrow.

YAWWWWWWPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!

(Yes, that was my Whitman-esque barbaric yawp. After all the intense studying I've been doing this past week, I am going to be very depressed if I don't at least beat the average tomorrow.)

[edit]

I DID IT!!!! :D

Pulse 2

I want to tell you what needs to be said. But my tongue feels severed.

I can't believe it's already halfway into the semester. Our midterm grades were posted on Friday. Let's just say... my grades could be better. I feel like I've given myself additional stress with my pre-med plans; many of my peers are happy just to be passing their classes. But after my bad case of senioritis, I've learned that I will regret it if I don't immerse myself in work.

So basically, I am a workaholic.

I'm starting to realize just how much of a party school Duke is. At first, I thought all colleges were like this, but now I'm beginning to hear about what it's like at other schools. It is so easy to find parties here on the weekends. You just have to wander around West Campus and follow the scent of beer. Sometimes, the frats and sororities even post fliers around campus advertising their parties. The school doesn't do much to curb underage drinking either. I hear stories about how you have to "register" your parties with the school at Georgetown, and I can imagine how that system would NEVER work here at Duke.

Still completely sober, for those of you who are wondering. The friends I have been making are not partiers, and so I haven't felt the need to do so. I can live vicariously through my roommate F's regaling of her escapades (most recently: reaching third base with her close guy friend during Fall Break).

Oh my goodness. I am exhausted, and it's not even midnight. Good night, dear friends. I added a random poll for kicks. Feel free to contribute.

愛

Don't let go.

Apple-o-Gee

I was in the process of writing another cynical/sarcastic movie review, but I ran out of patience.

Fragment .03

This was the last place Freya thought she would find it.

There was that one time. Freya sat on the bus in the drop-off circle. After a few minutes of waiting, the bus driver ignited the engine and the bus began to move. But as the bus driver circled towards the exit, he detected a couple of students who had just reached bus stop just moments after he had driven off. "Sorry, guys. I'm going to circle back around and pick up those folks." He pulled the bus back into the drop-off circle and saved the students from waiting another ten minutes for the next bus to arrive. "It's like what they say," he said. "You can't withdraw if you don't deposit. What goes around comes around."

There was that other time, when the chatter of the dining hall was silenced in an instant by the clatter of a plate and dinnerware to the floor. The culprit stood motionless for what seemed like hours, horrified and embarrassed by what had happened. Freya turned to O, about to ask her if they should help the girl out, when without word, Lennox rose from his seat and bent down to the ground before the girl, sweeping the spilled food onto the fallen plate with the strewn fork. His silent act thawed the ice; others began rising from their seats to help clear the mess from the floor. Later, as Lennox returned to his seat across the table from Freya, K remarked, "I admire that, Prince Charming. Getting up to help the damsel in distress." Lennox shrugged as he sank his fork into the bowl of pasta. "She would have just stood there if somebody hadn't move first."

It's easy to forget just how small this world is. An article in the Boston Globe shared how a couple in France found a message in a bottle that a couple in Massachusetts had thrown into the sea many years ago. When they tried contacting the woman who had written the message, they were grieved to learn that the woman had died just last year. They had never met, and yet now, a death still left an impact, still meant something to someone's life.

Education in college is less about academia than about growing as a person. That's what she's beginning to find.