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Apparently I was always arrogant 2/10/07
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I was reading much better back then. Not really, though I did read good stuff.
Those are defining moments, finding words like that, words that reflect so
clearly what I can’t say on my own. Someday I should go back and relive reading
them for the first time. Or getting them. 2/10/07
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Apparently I thought misnomers worked back in the day. But come on, who am I
kidding? Really, let’s be honest now. We all know who I referred to, always. I
can’t say that’s the case now. Probably because I haven’t thought then in
awhile. 2/10/07
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I saw a rainbow today. I think it means
that I fell in love. 2/5/03
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How
often since then has she wondered what might have happened if she’d tried to
remain with him; if she’d returned Richard’s kiss on the corner of Bleecker and
MacDougal, gone off somewhere (where?) with him, never bought the packet of
incense or the alpaca coat with the rose-shaped buttons. Couldn’t they have
discovered something…larger and stranger than what they’ve got? It is
impossible not to imagine that other future, that rejected future, as taking
place in Italy or France, among big sunny rooms and gardens; as being full of
infidelities and great battles; as a vast and enduring romance laid over
friendship so searing and profound it would accompany them to the grave and
possibly even beyond. She could, she thinks, have entered another world. She
could have had a life as potent and dangerous as literature itself.
Or
then again maybe not, Clarissa tells herself. That’s who I was. That’s who I am
– a decent woman with a good apartment, with a stable and affectionate
marriage, giving a party. Venture too far for love, she tells herself, and you
renounce citizenship in the country you’ve made for yourself. You end up just
sailing from port to port.
Still, there is this sense of missed opportunity. Maybe there is nothing, ever,
that can equal the recollection of having been young together. Maybe it’s as
simple as that. Richard was the person Clarissa loved at her most optimistic
moment. Richard had stood beside her at a pond’s edge at dusk, wearing cut-off
jeans and rubber sandals. Richard had called here Mrs. Dalloway, and they had
kissed. His mouth had opened into hers; his tongue (exciting and utterly
familiar, she’d never forget it) had worked its way shyly inside until she met
it with her own. They’d kissed, and walked around the pond together. In another
hour they’d have dinner, and considerable quantities of wine. Clarissa’s copy
of The Golden Notebook lay on the chipped white nightstand of the attic
where she still slept alone; where Richard had not yet begun to spend alternate
nights.
It had seemed like the beginning of happiness, and Clarissa is still sometimes
shocked, more than thirty years later, to realize that it was happiness;
that the entire experience lay in a kiss and a walk, the anticipation of dinner
and a book. The dinner is by now forgotten; Lessing has been long overshadowed
by other writers; and even the sex, once she and Richard reached that point,
was ardent but awkward, unsatisfying, more kindly than passionate. What lives
undimmed in Clarissa’s mind more than three decades later is a kiss at dusk on
a patch of dead grass, and a walk around a pond as mosquitoes droned in the
darkening air. There is still that singular perfection, and it’s perfect in
part because it seemed, at the time, so clearly to promise more. Now she knows:
That was the moment, right then. There has been no other. – The Hours, Michael
Cunningham, 4/9/03
I get it now.
2/9/07
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someday i'll date a football player.
9/7/03
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I'd written a letter I was going to
post, but I'm not.
Two headlights, constant star,
tears unshed, and a beautiful song later, I've rediscovered a bond I was afraid
I'd lost. 10/7/03
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October 7 and the week surrounding
always mean something to the state of my relationships. 2/10/07
I was inspired by Demyan’s post (put
link in) to go through and read what I’d written in 2002 and 2003 when I
started this blog. And I even went and created this file so that I could copy
and paste all those old thoughts I had and possibly do something more with them.
I had 4 cups of coffee tonight (thanks wifey, for the amazing conversations and
for telling me you understand…) and I’m not sad that I went and drank all that
coffee, but now it’s making my mind jump in a million different places. Maybe
it’s because there’s so much I want to put on paper, and seeing my 16 year old
self say some of these things that I still think or don’t think anymore or
still think but because of different reasons is making me even more hyper and
causing me to type random stuff. I hope that this all makes sense tomorrow
morning. Because the stuff that I wrote last week while drunk I can’t even read
anymore. And I guess I wasn’t completely gone because I remember everything
that happened and even singing and acting and then coming in and knowing it was
a stupid think to write in light colored sharpie on a page that already had
bled through deep blue sharpie. But I digress. I think I’m using that word
correctly now. I remember not knowing the exact definition back in high school
but still using it anyways and then looking it up on dictionary.com and being
relieved that regardless how I used it, I was good enough at manipulating the
English language so that it at least made some sense. In a literary context of
course. I’m not so sure I’m good at that now. The only reason this has any
semblance of punctuation/other grammatical correctness is because I’m typing it
in Microsoft Word 2007 and for the price people pay to get this program, it
damn well better correct grammar. I remember reading a long time ago how it
found the Declaration of Independence and Emancipation Proclamation to be
terrible in terms of how its readability statistics grades. And ever since
then, I’ve always tried to have as low a score as possible, though I’m not
quite sure that system worked. I still don’t know. And today I read the 2/12/07
issue of time and it had this interview with Bill Gates and in it, it was
asking him about technology and how it pertained to life. I wondered and wonder
still how much a nerd and social reject he had to be when he was 17 to conceive
of this world that would be populated with big screens. That’s mean. I’m being
mean, but I really wonder. Maybe I want a screen to love me or at least be
constant. Maybe that’s what Bill wanted. We’re more alike than I thought. Haha,
who am I kidding? But it’d be nice to be a billionaire. 2/12/07. 2003 was four
years ago. Crazy.
I have to pee like ridiculously. Coffee
is BAD for you.
My feet are really realllly reallllly
cold. So I put on socks. In my laundry last week, I found like all my socks.
Apparently that’s changed about me too; I now wear socks. Like almost every
day, but never for the entire day. Other things have changed about me,
too; everyone I meet says that, except for people who didn’t know me in 2002 or
2003 or even 2004-2006.
There’s a kid on tv now who has a
vacuum collection that he’s showing off to Jay Leno. I wish I had a passion
like that. I told Rachel today that I don’t know what my passions are because I
wasn’t allowed to really have one. I guess fashion is the closest I have.
Why? That’s a whole nother story. I’ll get around to talking about it someday,
probably 3 years from now when I again try to reevaulate my life based on
previous experiences, at least the recorded ones. Talk about my life in
patterns of 3s. Dixie Chicks. Also, I better talk about those things soon
because as I’ve discovered tonight, days when I’ve just strung a bunch of words
together connected by these: ~ don’t really make sense to me anymore. I love
the Dixie Chicks. That is all I have to say about that, for now. And I do do
things in threes. Whenever I write, I always try to put at least 3 examples
whenever I feel like I need to support a statement or wherever there is a need
for a list of things. Or usually I just put, not at least 3. And the three year
thing….and how I like counting in 3s. maybe I’m OCD. Actually I don’t count in
3s because it’s not as easy as 2s. but I’m going to do that now just because I
said it was hard.
And maybe third time’s the charm,
although it technically wouldn’t be the third time, but possibly it could be
the 3rd phase of our relationship – if you fudge it. Ignorance,
tepidness, passion, love, nothing…so it’d be six. Or maybe I’m making that up
too. I sincerely hope that you have no idea what I’m talking about now. Or who.
Or who(s).
I feel like I want to jump out of my
skin right now. Maybe it’s the coffee, maybe it’s all in my head. But my dress
is too tight in the arms; I’m afraid I’ll rip the fabric if I move too suddenly
or too quickly. I love this dress though; I’m wearing it as a shirt because
it’s really cold tonight. But it has pockets, so I could keep my hands warm in
it. I miss holding hands. Maybe if I held hands more often, I’d have no use for
pockets. And then I wouldn’t be in love with this dress.
Ok fashion is more than a passion, but
I’m still not going to get into it.
Typing my thoughts is so much easier
than writing them. And they’re legible the next morning too. I wish word could
add commas and semicolons as they were needed and not when it’s stupid grammar
checker wants to work. Whoops, I made a mistake – I used its instead of it’s.
I’m going to correct it now. So that mistake won’t be there in a second. Ha! I
win. I wish all mistakes fixed that easily. But now it’s telling me its and
it’s in the previous sentence is wrong, even though it’s not. I guess I could
add quotations around them, but I won’t. Ha! Rebellion. I still do it (in
grammar) and I still think I’m brave.
I was smart and wise in 2002 and 2003
though there was a period when I was a stupid frivolous girl and my musings
proved it.
But how I loved, and how do I still.
That shouldn’t be there, but I’ll leave
it.
By the way, this is such a coffee
induced rant; I think that‘s my drug – it makes me more lucid and rambling and
crazy than alcohol.
Speaking of writing and typing, someone
told me today that I can’t type fast enough to be a secretary. He’s never even
really seen me type fast. Remember back in the day when I used to message you
constantly online and it was like the words were out before I’d even thought
them? That was fast. And it was sure as hell fast enough. They say we have a
connection (the current we) but do we have what I had? And he (the current he)
told me that maybe it was time for me to hear the truth. I have limits. I’m not
fully qualified for everything. I can’t be a civil engineer; I can’t be an
architect. And maybe that’s the truth, but isn’t he supposed to think I
can do anything? He says maybe it’s time I heard that I’m smart but not the smartest
person in the world; that I’m beautiful but not the most beautiful person in
the world. And maybe all that is true….and it is true…but shouldn’t he
tell me that I am the world and that I can do anything I put my mind to? And
maybe I need to hear the truth, but I do so miss being whatever it was that I
was. I want to be immortal, and being mediocre is not the way to do it. I want
to be so much, but how? And in what form? I refuse to settle anymore and I keep
saying that and saying that but sometimes I’m afraid that I’ve settled on
myself. Or settled myself. No. I refuse. Or maybe it’s too late. It is NOT too
late.
Maybe I will move to Paris.
It’s freedom and it’s life for more
than just me.
I've always thought
that I would love to live by the sea
To travel the world alone
and live my life more simply
I have no idea what's happened to that dream
Cos there's really nothing left here to stop me
While my heart is a shield and I won't let it down
While I am so afraid to fail so I won't even try
Well how can I say I'm alive
Still love this song; still love the
same old songs. They will never be old. 2/10/07
And Coldplay too. This is from
3/12/2004 (It’s so easy to time travel today)
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I found this song today on 2.10.07
I made a promise to myself
Locked it away deep down inside
Told my heart we'd wait it out
Swore we'd never compromise
Oh I'd rather be alone
Like I am tonight
Than settle for the kind of love
That fades before the morning light
Silence stared me in the face
And I finally heard its voice
It seemed to softly say
That in love you have a choice
Today i got the answer
And there's a world of truth behind it
Love is out there waiting somewhere
You just have to go and find it
I believe in love, I believe in love
A love that's real, love that's strong
Love that lives on and on
Yes I believe in love
Yes I believe in love
Or maybe it found me.
i love you 4/28/04
when’s the last time I said that and
meant it? 2/10/07
milestones, 2 in a row: college
acceptance….literally. and my laptop. My baby. I’m sure I commented on
the May Day aspect of acceptance day…I realized it too late.
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I want to be young and caught in Ocee
Park again. 2/10/07
So it led to this Circular Mound at the
south end, a place composed of tiers of marble. On the top tier, there are nine
concentric circles representing the nine circles of heaven. In the first inner
circle, there are 9 slabs making it up, the 2nd circle has 18, and the
outermost has 81. It’s pretty cool, but the best part about it is the circle in
the middle. It’s like a slightly raised piece of circular marble, and it’s said
that if you stand there and speak, your voice will be heard all over the world.
So I waited my turn and got to stand on the circle. 5/27/04
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as soon as i'm granted more freedom....
7/1/04
I make my freedom these days, though
sometimes I feel as if I box myself in more than let myself out. I don’t have
that excuse anymore, and I’m so glad. Though sometimes it’s scary because if I
fail it’s completely of my own volition. Volition = another one of those
words that I can’t exactly define for you but can use pretty much correctly.
I’ve realized that’s how I am with lots of words these days. I’m more thesaurus
than dictionary and only an inconsistent one at that. I should read more and
read better. 2/10/07
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I don’t remember what that was a
reference too. Probably something horrible and painful that will come bite me
tomorrow. Or the next day. But it sounds scary. 2/10/07
I promise to study every night though;
that's a resolution. 1/10/2005
2 years later, that’s still a not yet
achieved dream. 2/10/07
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I need to learn to live that way again.
2/10/07
If I speak in the tongues of men and of
angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If
I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and
if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If
I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have
not love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does
not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not
self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no records of wrongs. Love
does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects,
always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails. But where there are
prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled;
where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we
prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. When I
was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a
child. When I became a man, I put my childish ways behind me. Now we see but a
poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in
part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
And now these three remain: faith, hope
and love. But the greatest of these is love.
you know where it's from. 7/31/05
I still believe it. 2/10/07
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there’s a chunk of my summer missing
because I blogged it on another site. I should stop doing that bc its annoying
to keep switching. Have you noticed yet that I haven’t changed my screenname
yet? I don’t think I will because I told you a long time ago on which occasions
I change my screenname. And that hasn’t happened yet and it won’t.
2/10/07
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always one more. Or so I thought. I
think. 2/10/07
I used to think I was a poet. Or could
be one. Or maybe you’d love me more if I were a poet. 2/10/07
ps. my brother rocks. 11/3/05
I wish I could tell him that. I wish he
knows how much I love him. I hope he knows, somewhere deep down he must know. I
wish him only happiness and I wish that he gets everything he wants. I wish him
hardship but I wish him strong enough to get through it all, all for the
better. I wish he would be better than me; I know that he is and will be. I
wish he knew that he is my hero and that he is everything that is good. He can
be everything that is good. I wish he knew that I pray for him every night, for
all this. I pray. 2/10/2007
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I knew even back then. But what did I
know? I was young and foolish. I’m older now. Maybe still foolish, but older
and hopefully a bit wiser. 2/10/07
i don't like how my existence at school
and in life was completely invalidated because i'm not a math person. i don't
like it. i don't find it fascinating. math may have written the world, but
there are so many other things out there. (and i don't believe math made the
world. it is a part of the world yes, but so is literature and art and life
and...people.) and i hate how i feel like my life was confined to a series of
sequences and numbers and signs and some definite rights or wrongs. i hate
feeling reduced and useless and even worse, pointless, and math has that
"does not exist" statement for limits but i refuse to have
either. 1/19/06
I think that summarizes what I feel
now. No limits. 2/10/07
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I think that’s my favorite thing I’ve
written in awhile. It all makes sense, seamlessly yet convolutedly. I love it.
2/10/07
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These are all the reasons why I love
myself and why I hate myself occasionally. But I have to learn to live with it.
This is essentially my history and I do live with it. And now I kind of know
why. I’m sure I left out a lot of what would strike me; after all, I did just
browse through 4 years of my life. And a lot of it is stored in other places. I
don’t know what I’ve gotten out of it, but I’m not so hyper anymore; the coffee
has kind of worn down. And I still love semicolons. It’s like a wink, and I
need winking in life. They keep it tame. Supposedly this is the 30th
page of retrospection and introspection. I’m sure if I ever went back and
formatted it all, it’d fit in less. In fact I think I’m going to try to do some
of that and see what the important part of the last few years takes up, space
wise. Smaller font, no double spacing. I wish I could do it with a few clicks
of the mouse, but for some reason it won’t let me. Actually I don’t really
care; it’s done and I’m done and I’m learning and moving. And none of it makes
sense to me now but maybe if I wake up in the morning and look at it again,
maybe it will. Or not.
This is everything that is me. That
made me, that broke me, that is me. This is what you love and what you hate and
what you want to remember when you want to forget.
Love many things, for
therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can
accomplish much, and what is done in love is done well. – Vincent van Gogh
I love.
I’m going to write a
book someday. This could be in it; this could not. And maybe no one will read
it, but by writing it, I will cease to be just me now. I’ll be me forever and
that’s immortal, no?
I love, I love, I
love.
| | |
| une liaison amoureuse intime est une degustation savoureuse des beatitudes de l'existence
in the last week, i've started a new phase in my life. and though it
was completely unexpected and almost unwanted and rather uncalled for,
i haven't been happier than this in a long time. for the first time in
years, i've got those butterflies running wild in my stomach once
again. the anticipation, the fascination, the whatever-tion i want it
to be.
i've finally succeeded in packing away all remnants of the past; now
there's a semi-large box hiding beneath my dining room table because
neither my life nor closet has room for its contents. from the first
sweet mots d'amour to that once familiar mix tape to the photos of
those smiling strangers to the book that crossed all borders and
defined the very boundaries of this very brief moment in time (because
that's all that it is was) - it's all there, la-bas, not with me.
i awoke this morning to a new world, and what a glorious world (or moment) it will be! | | |
| 2 hours
~ 600 RMB
1 baby blue polo shirt
1 maroon nike sport dress
1 pink quilted leather chanel purse
1 pink burberry scarf
1 half-length burberry trench coat
1 gorgeous white flowered dior purse
1 gorgeous white flowered matching dior wallet
1 pair pink and white dior slides with cute kitten heels
1 red tommy sweater tank
1 lovely day on xiang yan street in shanghai | | |
| Saturday for me was weird. I woke up at 8 AM, fell back asleep, and woke up around 10 and went downstairs to continue to take my dad through the 2004 Milton Aerie. I think I wasn’t feeling very well at that point as my tummy was being retarded and weird. But anyways, I go back up to bed and then get up around 12:30 PM. Then, I started the final packing of things and tidied up my room a bit so I will be able to return home to a peaceful, clean sanctuary after this long trip. Well, the room isn’t exactly clean, but at least you can see more white space on the floor. We left the house at 4:15 that afternoon and got to the airport at 5. The line for international departures was huge, and we waited for 45 minutes to get checked in and to check our baggage. Did you know that at the check-in counter, if you do not have a boarding pass because you are not going on a trip, you can request a temporary pass to get you through security to see your family or friends onto their flight. So anyways, the flight from Atlanta to New York City was pretty uneventful. Oh yeah ~ the flight was on a small connection plane ~ we had to walk down the steps and outside the physical Hartsfield building to reach a set of tiny steps to get into the equally small plane. That was fun. And upon landing in New York City, I thought I was going to trip down the steps and break my nose. But, no such thing happened. JFK ~ I haven’t been there since I was maybe 7 when we took my grandmother on my mom’s side to the airport to go back to China. I remember JFK being really big and open, and we sat in a food court with little tables with umbrellas over it. I think the umbrellas were forest green and said Nathan’s on it (Nathan as in the famous hot dog maker and sponsor of the annual hot dog eating contest that some Japanese person always wins). I could be making this up, though, but somehow I doubt it. But I lied about my flight when I told you about it before. I think I told you that I was going to fly from New York directly to Seoul, but turns out we had to make a detour in Anchorage to get more fuel. That was fun. I was in Alaska for two hours. Yay J So we got into Anchorage at like midnight or one or two or some ungodly hour like that, walked around the tiny Anchorage airport for an hour or so, then hopped back on the plane to go to Incheon International, right outside of Seoul. For the next seven hours (I think), I slept, ate, drank, read, and watched movies intermittently. It’s awesome what they do on Korean Airlines ~ they feed you so much. I think from the time we left Atlanta to landing in Beijing, we ate a total of 6 times, 2 of which we bought ourselves at a restaurant. Oh, the last few lines I’m writing now, on May 25, 2004, at 2:54 in the afternoon. Anyways back to the airplane – we watched this Korean movie called Mr. Handy. It’s a romantic comedy about a girl who doesn’t take time out to enjoy life because she’s a dentist and is pretty uptight. So she meets this guy in the new city she’s working in, and they become friends, and she starts liking him, but he tells her that he’s only interested in her as a friend. When she asks him out, he can’t say yes. Until finally she decides to leave and go back to the big city (Seoul), and he realizes that he can’t live without her, and they’re together at the end. It made me happy J. So we get to Seoul at 5:30 on Monday morning and have about four hours to waste before our flight to Beijing. So the stores opened at 7, and we looked around. The Incheon airport is awesome! It has Chanel and Gucci and Fendi and Christian Dior and all those cool stores that I can’t afford, plus some duty free shops and restaurants. There’s also this cool Transit Lounge on the 4th floor of the building that’s for people who fly into Seoul to catch a different plane. They have sitting areas and free computers (which I used at one point to write a comment on Okon's xanga) and this hotel and shower/massage area to freshen up. So Seoul’s cool. And all the women are gorgeous. And tiny. Not fair. Not the tiny part, but the gorgeous part. So Seoul to Beijing then was pretty uneventful; it took as long as flying to NYC from Atlanta did. Then once we got here, we got picked up by a friend of my mom’s and the driver took us to our hotel. Stayed here, rested a bit, then headed to the local shops to buy stuff. I bought a pretty little pink straw hat. It’s got flowers on it and is absolutely adorable, plus a Coach wallet for me and some random one for my brother. We came back to the hotel afterwards because it was too hot outside and because buses are like ovens jam packed with people. Took a nap, then headed back out to dinner, when the nightmare happened. My brother, when he woke up, hadn’t woken up enough. He followed us downstairs to the lobby, then when we walked out of the hotel through the revolving glass doors, I’m sure he followed. We turned the corner and I stepped onto the curb to cross the street to the little eatery, where I turned around to tell my mom and brother to hurry up. I called to my mom, but suddenly, Michael I there anymore. We looked around, but he still wasn’t there, so I walked up and down the street. My mom went back to the corner to look, but still no Michael. I ran to the opposite corner, a big square and looked around, not there. I asked the surrounding people if they might have seen him, but no. On my way back up the street, a woman who had been observing my franticness for the last few minutes asked me what was wrong, and told me to go to the intercom place in the building to get his name broadcasted, but I couldn’t leave the street in case he wandered back. At that point, I had already broken down, so the people of Beijing got to see me at my weakest. My mom ended up going back to the hotel to see if he’d gone back there. She found him in the lobby. I think he never got out of the revolving door and when it spun around, he spun back inside with it. What a smart kid. But that scared me to death. The entire time he was missing, I kept thinking about how unreal and how out of a book the whole situation seemed; and I kept thinking kidnap, but there’s no way he would’ve let himself get taken away without putting up a fight. He’s not that dumb. Yet, I still couldn’t stop myself from thinking of the worst case scenarios. I’m glad the situation was resolved happily, though. And so relieved. I couldn’t live without the little guy, and I don’t think I could laugh at another “Where’s Demyan?” joke. We ate a quick dinner last night and came back to the hotel, and by 7:30, we were sound asleep. So today, we woke up at like 8 o’clock in the morning. I took a long shower to wash off the grime of 2 days of travel and an afternoon of wandering around Beijing, a very very dusty and busy city, then we all headed downstairs to a big food market to buy breakfast. Food here is very cheap, as is everything else. For breakfast, we had strawberry milk, fresh omelets, and a Chinese specialty called “zheng zi,” rice and meat wrapped in big leaves and cooked. It was SOO good. Plus, we also stocked up on our Chinese candy and my brother bought a little baggy of stuff called “guo guo deng” ~ a kind of flavored jelly that’s really good! After breakfast, we went to the lobby of another hotel to buy our train tickets to Changsha, and after that, we went out and shopped. We had 1100 RMB and when we came back, we’d spent just about 700 of it on clothes for me (a couple shirts, a skirt, a pair of cropped pants, and a dress for like 200 RMB, which is like less than 30 US dollars), CDs, lunch, a wood hairbrush (brushing hair is heavenly now!), and sunglass for Michael. I also bought a dress but with red and pink flowers for Laura. She’d look so cute in it! It’s like mine, meaning the traditional Chinese cut, so I hope she likes it. The problem is how I’ll give it to her, as she’s leaving on this Saturday. But I love shopping. We were supposed to go to Tiananmen Square today, but it’s raining so we just went shopping and came back here. So now I’m writing and listening to my music. I bought an Enya CD and a Sarah Brightman CD, plus a 3 CD set of Oscar music. That is like the best thing in the world. All these famous movie themes, and instrumental too! It has the Rocky theme song, and Star Wars, and Beauty and the Beast, the Romeo and Juliet song, Braveheart theme ~ good stuff! I love it! Oh, and on the CD case, it has this song called “Suffocate Me.” I listened to it, and it turns out it’s “Take My Breath Away” from Top Gun. Oh, I love Chinese translations. They give me very good laughs. I’m going to have to share this when I come home. We’re going out to dinner with friends tonight. I have my graduation dress and another pink dress, plus a few outfits that I just bought today that I can wear, so I have to make my decision soon. For now then, I’m out. I love you much
Ah! Home from dinner now! We took a detour and visited a video store. So now I own the first 2 seasons of Alias on DVD!!! Yay!! They had the third season too, but it’s the “third season,” if you know what I mean. As in it’s fake. Because the 3rd season’s season finale was definitely on Sunday. And this store definitely doesn’t have it. So I didn’t buy the third one. But I have the first two J I think I’m going to watch a bit and sleep now, just to make sure it works. My head hurts like a monkey. Good night! | | |
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