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10.47pm30 April 2001
Whew. Structured essays are difficult. Timed ones are even more so. (O.o)
Lookit!! It's us, in Seoul! Ooh, MUN seems so formal. The only thing I like abt meeh that picture is my hair :D
Current Goal: To lose 20 lbs by Prom! Burble.
5.55pm :: Fri 20 April 01
The absolute best homework assignment ever: write a poem. Inspiration struck earlier, leaving the result of restless Sundays and too much Sylvia Plath:
control, lack thereof
militaristic conquerers
(ballistic fools)
like barnacles on a barracuda
like meat thrown into a piranha pool
6'3...blind and deaf and dumb
trapped inconsistency
content to run around in circles
yet happy to be free
-----------------------------------------------------------
how beautiful the night is
still, peaceful, calm
like rain after a wake
every night
there is someone who paces outside my window
keeping me wondering who he is
and why he can't speak the truth
incessant, burning, lies
sometimes i laugh with him
mostly i cry for him (a selfish act)
primitive, basic emotion
that keeps me sane
and isolated
from the rest of the population
but he is always there
unless i'm not
in which case he wanders
looking for a better explanation
to satisfy the silly majority.
sometimes in circles of higher intellect
they expect you to be further along
the food chain (another lie)
when the most evolved are usually
the most helpless:
"poor tormented soul
you're so special
like all the others
having to endear pain"
last night he was taken away (though i'm sure he'll come back)
today, without him, i finally realize
what he was trying to tell me all along:
there is a piercing frequency in silence
and blood does freeze in june
restless and in pain (like a wounded animal)
i too want to stand outside in the night
crying softly to myself
pacing outside some fool's window
unloading the same garbage he'd collected
but, on second thought,
i want even more to be
pacing with him, as always,
this time on the same side of the glass.
12.32am :: Wed 18 April 2001
Wow. What can I say, Cammyhas really changed. I can't get over her "black" phase - leather and boots and other stuffu (heh...gonna steal your word, Wami Did Wami get into that too? I've done it too, but only before I realized that BDSM-stylee requires that you NOT wear a jacket and froze. Yes, SE Asia has its own "outlandish" clothes, had the fashion in Japan not been so different. Shibuya's great, there's all sorts of things you can wear w/o looking like a slut. Granted (of course) they do exist, but the style is so widely accepted that ppl don't give it a second glance. I mean, in what other country could you walk around the city in a magenta tube top with neon-blue skirt-shorts and knee high white boots and NOT get raped? Hmm. Sounds like Japan's the epitome of civilization if you ask me.
Today's Menu:
pineapple shirt, rainbow bracelet ("behappy", keke), red belt, long flares, 15cm wood platforms w/ hearts cut out of them
11.00pm :: Mon 16 April 2001
You.
Flying above the clouds, or roasting in that fiery pit, still stepping squarely on the whims of others, climb back onto your pedestal of rotted flesh and fine china - I won't be there to listen to your lies, nor will I worship at your feet like all the others, but (I fear) one day, I'll still be praying at that altar, that one day I'll get to see you again, for yourself, for who I knew you were - a martyr buried under the rubble of his own lies.
Ten years from now, where will you be?
"Another day has passed me by..."
1.00am :: Fri 13 April 01
My fate for the next four years has been decided!
Well... maybe only the location of my fate: I'm going to UCLA (University of California @ Los Angeles) and majoring in Neuroscience (let's see how many times that changes). The sch's mascot is a bear, which isn't so bad...
Columbia (NY): Lion
Cornell (NY): Bearcat (BTW...what's a bearcat?)
Harvard (MA): (If anyone can figure this out based solely on their logo...)
NYU: Bobcat
Princeton (NJ): Tiger
Stanford (CA): TREE (bwahaha)
U Chicago (IL): Phoenix
U Penn (PA): Fighting Quaker
UC Davis (CA): BANANA SLUG (...)
Who would've thought?
"It's only when I'm dancing...that I come alive..."
8.10pm :: Mon 1 April 01
Blank pages scare me. But if I ever get the opportunity I'll make an album of white noise.
The music in my head keeps on playing in the hope that I won't have to listen to them any longer. All this noise surrounding me - I don't know what I'll do if it keeps up. But a light flickered in government class today:
Statistics.
One hundred people, given a gun loaded with a bullet and 100:1 odds that they would not survive, were asked if they would play Russian Roulette. Would you have raised your hand to do so?
I did.
7.45pm :: Mon 2 April 01
Oh, you, why did you do it? Brilliant animal, too evolved for your own good, too primal for civilization - too good to conform to society. Freedom fighter, blackened by the toils of your labor, placed on a gleaming martyr's pedestal by those who also damned you, I'm still proud to say that I knew you.
But you were lying then too... Did you know that I lied with you?
7.30pm :: Mon 2 April 01
a head sits in my closet
on the floor
decapitated from a time
long ago
arms rest in my room
on the floor
discombobulated, scratched away when
i didn't want to use them any more
there are none of those stages left
and there never will be
when they all went up
- down, sideways, whatever,
through - in flames
feet pause by the door
still waiting, watching
to see if i will still use them - but even
the heavens know i need feet
to trudge on
so tomorrow
or whenever i hang my eyes up
to go without comprehension that
even my brain cannot fathom
the world spins on
and to me it is a brand new day.
- rest in peace -
8.11pm :: Sun 1 April 01
Because (I'd hope that) a number of people read this blog, I'm going to lay off the deep personal rants for a while... Hah! Yea, right. Happy Jen? Maybe not.
Even tho I've been listening to cheerful music recently, the music in my head has been less than that:
one too many, one too short, when will it all end?
a long while ago there was a procession
– why does it keep marching in my head –
that incongruous metaphor of jumbled emotions
indifference to diversity
maybe being the same isn’t so bad after all.
maybe the numbers don’t add up.../
pheasant of glass under glass
lying, shattered, beneath broken shards
jagged
illuminescent
of blood
a sparkling red
feet bound
throat slit
eyes left open
- untitled -
.at its end because titles to my poems are ribbons of sorts - they tie them all together gently so that the head doesn't fall off.
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