well... it seems that the life of this blog has come to an end... i'm glad it inspired some of u and uninspired some others... glad we didn't accomplish anything by running a blog for one year other than a medium for our own psychiatry... glad other blogs spawned off of this... i guess at the end we just wanna do our own thing and that's the right way... or maybe it's the wrong way and that's why we're here... but then who cares? if we think about it too much we just may accomplish something god forbid.

until later...

and one year goes by... god forbid, we didn't accomplish anything here, did we?!

i am milk.

what's the adjective that describes absolutely nothing? anyone? anyone?

while you're thinking, for those who wonder how much it would cost to have an organ removed from their belly and go back for blood transfusion the following week the total racks up to approximately $52k, compared to which the thousand dollar copay looks incredibly negligible. it's comparable to a decent bmw, an MBA in an average b-school, or the GDP of guatemala in early 1900s probably. so next time you wanted to have an extra organ removed, make sure you consider all of your alternative bangs for the same buck.

my moods are killing me. i'm constantly questioning my status on the happiness spectrum, i have been pretending to be someone else and somewhere else for so long i have literally lost any sense of my own reality. i keep catching myself pretending to be happy by singing to myself under the shower, or pretending to be sad by choosing to eat alone supposedly to study but actually just to sit at one big table all by myself and look aloof and preoccupied, sipping on my water-no-ice, poking my slice of lemon with my transparent thick straw. i wish i could smoke too, or at least owned a really old ragged blazer jacket and wore somewhat grey facial hair... i'm pathetic.

i'm practically lying to everyone who asks me how i am. i lie about my problems, or lack thereof for that matter. i highlight the most insignificant ones and never ever mention what bothers me the most. i mean it's never cool to miss your family, it's not cool to mourn over a relationship a year or so later, it's not cool to have pretty much the problems of every average joe, but it's cool to sound confused and depressed for no apparant reason, it's cool not to give a fuck, it's cool to bitch about everything that many wish they could have...

but then i'm not happy, i'd be lying if i said i am, i'm not sad either, i lack any single good reason to be so. until someone suggests the appropriate adjective in question, i just am, period.

I am a non-achiever who goes to the school that is ranked 7th in California amongst the 7 schools of its kinds...
I sleep on a twin bed at nights..
the other night my classmates car was stolen, and in the morning i found my car's trunk open and all the doors open and couldn't turn it on.. but that was about it.. the thief didn't even bother to like take the coffee maker and the yoga mat in my car. I mean even the thieves that come after my things are non-achievers..
everyday i have to listen to my roommate whining about the Indian boyfriend who went back home and called her to tell her he is marrying a virgin ...
My best friend is totally into scented candles and had bought me like a ton of them so everytime she comes over i have to lit them for her.. and i am allergic to anything that smells.. i know i can tell her the truth.. but then if i start opening up to her, she will do the same thing and honestly i don't really feel like hearing about how she got her heart broken and stuff.. i will take the smell over that anytime...
And me and my friends spend good part of the day after thanksgiving in the Hyatt's Bathroom in SF it was nice it had orchids, we sat there and watched people and took pictures..

i have to study for finals.. but i am blogging...
I think that Beatle's song " Nowhere Man, " was penned based on my life...
and believe me i am not wrong..

he took her photo off the wall last night.

she didn't take her night gown when she left. neither did she ever call for her shiny black purse, nor the dusty sandals she was wearing in joshua. the carpet is still in his closet, the one he was supposed to sell, he did get a few disappointing estimates, but left it at that.

he doesn't know what she took with her, i mean he could count a few things like the illustrated novel or the little prince or even his bathing suit, but he doesn't know what she took away that changed everything. all he knows is that he never ever felt secure after she left.

it kinda makes sense though: she once said she's never ever felt secure during their eight years of relationship, and he was always the most confident guy around her. she must have found the source of his self-esteem, maybe in his bedroom somewhere, one of those sunday afternoons when she'd just kill some time surfing the web while he would read or watch a stupid movie in the living room, and then this one day after one of their neverending fights she must have just taken it away.

long term relationships have long lasting effects. he's now adamant on his belief that there's no such thing as a happy ending to anything, she's probably the most confident girl ever for the time being, seeking the next guy who'd steal her security away, over and over and over again.

My overachiever Uncle once asked my Grandma to pray for him...
She told him being an overachiever she knew that he will get what he wants ,so she will ask god not to give him the things that he works extremely hard for but will not make him happy in life...
The biggest problem of Overachievers in the world is that most of them dont have smart Mothers...

photography is a sick hobby. it's the manifest of one's obsession with whatever is past, a weakest attempt at preserving the moment, a pathetic protest against time. we need anticameras. we need an optometric and psychpedic device with which you could shoot the moments and they go pitchblack and diffuse off the memories of every single person involved in them, including and specifically the sick anticameraman himself.

I am sitting in my room on my bed finally in my own apartment blogging and feeling really happy and content, knowing that this feeling will last...
How do I know this? how do I know that the other shoe wont drop?
For one thing I have a twin bed; Owning of which has single handedly caused a commotion amongst my loved ones. My friends keep asking me if I am sure, my roommate is showing me her queen bed and telling me it's more appropriate for our age.. even my father has called me and told me I should've taken my full bed, and believe it or not my brother who takes pride in not helping people in need has offered to bring me the full bed.. Everybody is scared, twin bed to them means that I am refusing to grow up and move on with my life.. they are afraid that I end up an old maid minus a cat..
And the other reason that I know my happiness will last is that there are two registered sex offenders who live in our Apartment complex, and apparently one of them harassed two girls in the laundry room and my place is across the laundry room...
Yet I feel good and I am pretty happy...
Things cant go wrong, because they are already very wrong!!!
Shoes just cant drop on ME!!!

relationships are like card houses. you spend months and years building one up, then you take this one card out, intentionally or accidentally, and the whole thing falls apart in a blink of an eye.

you drool on it for a while, milking as much drama as you could out of the whole thing, then when it dries out you build another card house, thinking this one won't fall apart as easily. maybe you won't use that one card, because obviously if it weren't for that one card it wouldn't have crashed, or you'll build a wider bottom row, or you won't make it as tall...

or maybe you won't build another one. you pick up the whole deck and play solitaire, or whatever other game you could play by yourself, something in which nothing crashes, nothing falls apart, no matter how many cards you move.

love life is fucked up, period. maybe i'll develop love 2.0 one day, as soon as i'm done debugging. i got the idea watching seinfeld a long time ago, the muffins episode. love 2.0 will only have beginnings and no endings. you'll keep starting relationships, and the whole thing is over after the beginning period.

or maybe it's like a cucumber, never bite the end, just throw it away.

i'm so full of it.

Whenever I take Anti-Histamine before I go to bed at night, I wake up the next day a different person...
Sedated, indifferent,and calm...
I don't really pay attention to the people and things around me...
I just sit down and listen to the lecture.. and I really get it...
People pass me by and I barely smile...
The girl next to me talks and I just nod...
Even my brain shuts down and I stop daydreaming....
I barely remember the things in the past...
Whenever I take Anti-histamine I become a very very normal and happy person..
If Only I could take one with the half life of like 40 years!!! I would've become the most content person in the world..

I like to judge people.. what's wrong with that? People judge me too..,
most of the times i am wrong, and people turn up to be better than I thought they are..
But then I always stick to my first impression..
i usually hate people..
Let me rephrase it, I usually dont care much about people.. even if they are worth it!!!

raining. the guy in the mirror got terribly upset when he couldn't find his deodorant this morning. he then unwrapped his towel and buried himself back underneath the sheets. considered calling in sick, decided not to. this french song was in the air, the frightened guy on the speakers' box on the top shelf staring at him, as usual. it's not sadness, it's not pain, it's not misery, not even tired anymore. not depressed, not bored, not caged. it's kinda blue, kinda light greenish. it's definitely not emptiness. it tastes like aluminum, kinda metallic. he's been around, he's seen this and that, here and there, but he's never experienced this. he thought about the things he hasn't seen, and he thought about death.

the dead guy picked up the deodorant from beneath the pile of tshirts, put on an orange shirt and went to work. he did use a bit too much coconut body butter (because they discontinued sesame) and the door knob slipped in his right hand the first time, but he managed to exit, glide down the stairs and even feel the drizzle on his forehead. it's a rainy day, dead man smiling.

there was this scene in this movie i watched a while back, i think the name was code 46 or something, tim robbins was sitting acroos the table from this chick i don't recall, and she asks him if his kid is special to which he replies of course he is, and she says something like everyone's kids are so special it makes you wonder where all these ordinary grown ups come from...

so what happens to us? where is it that one loses that 'special' thing? then of course the same phenomenon applies to so many things : isn't every relationship just the perfect one when it starts? well maybe not everyone, i sure have started a couple doomed from the first minute, but what about the rest? when is it that the perfection fades out, where does the excitement go? do people change so radically? do emotions go stale? or is it maybe the priorities rearranging themselves? is it the curiosity factor? where are all the scientists on this? what has technology done to preserve the enthusiasm, the passion, the butterflies? is there a diet for couples to remain emotionally stimulated? why am i asking all this crap before i'm even fully awake on a sunday morning? i mean heck i should just suck it up and live it. where did my newly collected wisdom go? didn't i decide one should never ask why anything is the way it is about life? am i feeling insecure? am i fucked up and i'm just seeking something to blame? very likely.

zip.

so i can't get my sde script to work. some totally-irrelevant-extremely-annoying invalid database name error has been popping up since monday when i ran it first, and i just can't figure out what the hell is wrong with it. i read some 100 threads on esri's support forums and no luck. the little voices in me advised being proactive, urged me to create an account and post my own message, make progress.

so i hit the red button, and heck what do i know, i already have an account there. all i have to do is enter my email and have my password reset and sent to me instantly. all the information matches, so i get to this one last confirmation page with my customized verification question, which of course i myself have picked whenever i had created this account.

my secret question : what is your dream job?! now that's one hell of a secret question; it's so secret i don't know it myself. this must have been a monday morning when i was still under strong influence of the substances consumed during the weekend. dream job?!! i tried about a 100 guesses, not because i needed the password that badly, sheer curiosity, some insight into my own past maybe. journalist, photographer, stripper, gigolo, ceo, writer, pilot, manager, waiter, barista, walmart greeter, bouncer, janitor, cellist, rockstar, presidency, clown... none worked. double you-tee-ef. there has been a time when i knew what my dream job was, so what the fuck was it?! damn it.