almost end of march.

i like the feeling of clicking on "new post" like setting new dirt on my field. i feel ready to translate what i have inside and evaluate with what i see outside, and reap its fruits. i do have to say, i intentionally avoided coming to blog though my curious side kept urging me to see how everyone's been doing. i did not want to admit that i've been seeing my own reflection grow dimmer and blend to my walls. i blame the ticking clock for dessicating the oil it me that used to run so smoothly through my veins now it's too viscous like honey it's taking its time. i want to just sit down without worrying about my posture and my imbalance of thought. my mind has been so occupied, not with new enlightening thoughts, but of old. flashbacks that abduct me without noise. i think it's because i've been reading sylvia plath's the Bell Jar. recounting recounting and recounting every action and word that leads to another tale and another event...

power!

even in the midst of a lent on 'secular music' i've been finding myself so attracted to the voice of cat power lately. she's beautiful. i want to see her live someday... i remember when i first was exposed to her then seemingly lethargic voice i found it pretty repulsive now it's almost awakening new senses i never thought were a part of me.

pathetic

i'm at a point where i can see myself so transfixed by the image of my water losing heat.
and it irritates me that i am simply watching myself.
and it is even more irritating that i'm typing about it.

hello to all

every morning at about 5 am, i've been waking up to turn off my sister's alarm.
i wait for the blaring noise to continue for about two to three minutes just to see if this time, only this time, if she can wake up to her own alarm that is of no use to my routines. andd..... no... she doesn't wake up and she is still sleeping as if there are absolutely no stimuli around her senses. and now i will get out of my comfy position and abandon these keys to turn off the alarm.

the college question

i've been filling out this application for a summer program, mainly for the experience of completing a series of forms that should epitomize Irene Lee. This is hard. I had no problems telling them about the classes i've taken, the grades i've gotten, and the activities i've done, but when i got to that inevitable question, all of a sudden i questioned my motives and went to abstract thinking , dissolving myself to fragments that i'd love to put under my microscope. questions like: what experience, challenge or risk that you've taken made you who you are?

what? i don't believe in sudden growth spurts. mainly because i've never had them before. i believe in gradual change. i don't believe in one moment changing the fabric of me. i believe in the long process of slowly sewing my fabric adding piece onto piece, being molded into the shape that i know will not stay constant. the question has caught me clueless, and i don't know what to say. AND i have a 100word limit.

eggs

lately all i've been eating are pineapples,cheez-its(the tabasco flavor), and eggs.
try this at home! i dunno the direct eng. translation of it, but yalls know gueranjjim?
we have discovered fast and easy way of fixing up a nice meal when all you have in the fridge are eggs. you just pop some eggs in a bowl, add an amount of sesame seed oil, some shrimp salt thing ( you'd know this if you've watched any korean cook) , fish oil, add water and stir til it has a nice light yellowish color and you put it in the microwave for 5 or 6 minutes.. haha i'm in love with this simple recipe. well yeah thats all ive been eating..

all nighter

i am typing this with moist hands. and i am very heavily caffeinated.
free write at 4 am:

outlining, the verge of insanity, i stand.
so satiated with what my eyes can hold, i try
to silence the incessant taps that remind me
to look at its source.
i know now what i am capable of
and simultaneously i realize myself so incapable.
so weak, too fragile
to hold the weight my head stacks upon me.
My shoulders can crumble to ashes, yet
my feet stay intact to my Roots,
the Roots feed me, keep me thirsty,
keep me awake to the world behind its visage
and these Roots tell me to remain intact.