So, i finally decided to start a blog, having discovered the power of writing. i never knew that putting down your thoughts on a piece of paper could relieve me of much pent-up frustrations and emotions.

This reminds me of this journal i used to keep in high school. i would write practically anything in this blue, slightly perfumed book (ack, what was i thinking then? FYI, i didnt know it was scented when i bought it). unfortunately, curiousity is unbelieveably overwhelming in many people, which i later came to know. my best buddies would do anything to take a peek in it. and when i say anything, i mean ANYTHING. this included a traumatizing stint in one of those oversized cylindrical trash cans. do you know that if u sit in one of those, or is forced to, it is impossible to get out by yourself? at that point of time, i suddenly had much sympathy for hermit crabs. i was then tipped over and rolled about, only managing to escape with sheer determination. of course, realizing what had caused my romp with the trash can, i then proceeded to burn the cursed book and almost caused a fire. that was when i decided to stay the hell away from scented journals and garbage collection utilities.


Yesterday was St. Patrick's day a.k.a my brother's 21st birthday. Finally we, or rather just him, are of legal age to purchase alcohol. alas, my incessent requests for some irish liquor was repeatedly denied given his worries about drinking anything in a glass bottle in the presence of our mother. i then proceeded to remind him of the time our dear mother gave us a jolly shandy when we were just five or six, and was then greeted with a certain vulgarity pertaining to sexual intercourse. Actually, i dont really drink; guess i was just caught up in the irish spirit, or another excuse for americans to drink.


Anyway, i have an organic chem and calculus exam coming up.(someone shoot me). Pressure Pressure. Study study. I have an unforgettable past with repeating a same word twice -- its not that far back actually.

On to a more solemn question: Is there really a right one? My response to a friend's comment about meeting the right one went like that: "i used to believe that there was a right one, but not anymore. its just an occupation conjured up by your own hopes abt someone, so that u can justify your own choices." i think i left her pretty much speechless.

And maybe thats why i still think you're the right one.

Dream dream.