one of the most great feelings for me is when you get to a particular place. a place where you could see things and just observe.
an observational vantage point
a facade.. a vision of all things happening just right in front of you.
you’re a constant when you’re there. you are point origin in an x, y, z - cartesian geometric configuration. you are at (0,0,0)
things are happening and you are constant.
everything happens and it revolves around point origin and you are point origin.
you may even be a constant within time as well. (figuratively)
coupled with a suitable song, preferably a lo-fi song. (i prefer ratatat’s cherry)
and when you reach to that certain part of song, that part.. you have to know what i mean.
everything just fits.
the feelings you get from the music superposes with the idea of you are a constant.
the two things superpose and then.. resonance..
frequencies match.. everything just feel like they’re in the same wavelength as you are..
it just fits
IM DONE HAHAHA
sit down my pretties i’m gonna tell you a little story
so i fucking love bandaids i just do i don’t know why it isn’t a psychological whatever it isn’t a metaphor for my existence (i promise) i just love them omf they come in these little shapes yeah
so like two or three years ago i got this box…
jfc Ella I cannot express how fucking concerned I am for your mental welfare - I just - I cannot
also I’m slightly terrified you might start throwing yourself off buildings just so you can slap a bandaid on you but on the plus side I’d never have to worry about what to get you on birthdays
but I am so scared Ella am so scared
…There is a design, an alignment, to cry
At my heart you see
The beauty of love as it was made to be
Sigh No More by Mumford and Sons
dedicated to my dear friend Chelsea and the love of her life, just because whenever I see them I see the peace that this song promises.
SO I had only just recently found out through the magical medium of ~Instagram~ that a friend’s brother had just gotten hired at Starbucks.
Starbucks. Star. Bucks.
Starbucks, whom I’ve been trying to get into since October. OF LAST YEAR. Starbucks, whose five to six different branches I had strode purposefully to on a cold, damp, rainy, Hurricane Katrina-ey Thursday in mid-December just to personally hand in to the store managers my CAREFULLY crafted cover letters and resumes. THAT. STARBUCKS.
I see. I SEE.
WELL THEN screw you Starbucks. I am a strong, independent black woman and don’t need no man!!! And by “strong, independent black woman” I mean “emotionally fatigued, skinny Asian kid with bad hair” and by “man” I mean “YOUR employment Starbucks, thanks,because I JUST GOT HIRED TOO”.
OH WHAT???? YEAH. UHHUH. YOU HEARD ME.
I FOUND A JOB, YA’LL. A legitimate, you-have-responsibilites-and-a-paycheck-and-a-time-card-and-colleagues-you’d-probably-hate-with-like-a-boss-and-everything-job job. I AM HIRED. I AM PART OF THE ELITE WORKING-CLASS NOW. IMMA PAY BILLS AND BUY GROCERIES AND STRESS OVER BILLS AND GROCERIES I CAN’T PAY FOR. No man, I’m fucking kidding, I’m Asian, I live with my parents, what bills/groceries do I have to pay for?????
Point is. I have a job now ya’ll. I’m making monies. Everything is coalescing together excellently.
Step 1. Get a job. Step 2. Buy the world. It’s all gonna work out perfectly. Perfectly.
PS. Striding purposefully had nothing to do with me getting a job. I just shambled into Cockney Kings Fish & Chips one day with not a convicted look in my eye nor my jaw set in unshakable determination. I literally just walked in, asked for a job, couple of weeks later “you come in on Monday at 5”. So maybe, MAYBEwalking WITH PURPOSE doesn’t really have anything to do with success. Maybe sometimes success just gets thrown at you, like cold pizza from two-storey window. You don’t ASK for it. But it’s a darn miracle anyway because seriously, who the throws perfectly good pizza out of a window, asshole. So yeah. All that motivational crap I said about walking WITH PURPOSE a couple of posts back? Probably just baloney.
Which is really what my blog is made up of. I didn’t not warn you.
PPS. Also, I understand this is not a very good blog post. I’m still reeling from my new stop-eating-everything-that’s-around-just-because-it’s-around-you-don’t-even-like-rice-vermicelli-you-fatass diet.
PPPS. I’m. So. Hungry.
I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.
I wait. I wait and wait and wait because you are so beautiful and perfect and you’re worth every goddamn second we have to spend apart.
I wait. And I can’t wait for the waiting to end.
Going to actually really finally reply the junk in my ask box or whatever except it’s really all mostly just Ella sending me weird messages about my butt. Or something.
Still. At least someone’s actually messaging me. I’m not about to take THAT for granted, excuse you.
Your inherent enthusiasm for everything is why I love you. And also why you scare me. Mostly the latter.
As long as it doesn’t get weird.
I’M NOT A POOPING MACHINE THAT’S LIKE SAYING EVERYONE’S A POOPING MACHINE JUST BECAUSE THEY POOPED REGULARLY WELL EXCUSE YOU
5”2 IS MINISCULE IT’S NOT EVEN CUTE AT LEAST YOU’RE CUTE
I like this one