Monthly Archives: September 2010

And now it feels like..

constipation. which sadly is real. too gross?sorry, my space, my story. i had bananas today tho, heard it helps. werk it, bananas!

today i also dyed my hair. total failure, of course. wrong colour, and prolly wrong technique. also wrong day to do it. if only i’d known…id save this fail for another day.

It is dawning on me, that I don’t really have that much of happy stories in my blog. Life and its casualties, inevitably, put me in a not so good of a place these days.

I am supposed to be studying right now for the thesis qualification exam,  but i just finished one article without really understanding what on earth that piece of crap was talking about, so i decided to take a rest and refresh my mind, and try to be happy. or like id love to call it from now on: self-service happiness.  I am a filthy old lady 😉

umm.

umm..

ok.

so.

apparently i’m not really good at this. self-service happiness.

ok. so there is this one song that always, well almost most of the time, brings me back to one of the happiest time spans in my life. I listened to it just now, and it did proliferate my mood meter. the song is Lucky from Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat.

Two years ago, my first autumn in Korea, (well heck, it was my first autumn everywhere) October 12th 2008, around 5 PM. I was sitting alone at the park in Yonsei University, trying to review the Korean books and do some homeworks. yes i was that much of a geek. I had my laptop on playing some music, and from its full-treble-no-bass speaker, came this song, and I smiled. or maybe not, I don’t remember exactly how my facial expression was, but I’m pretty much sure it must showed at least a tiny grin. What i remember exactly was that I knew it’s gonna be my song. I think i thought i was gonna be in love with my best friend. well he was there at that time, instead of being across the ocean, but hey, the song fit enough ok??at least part of it. a tiny part. but whatever. It was a damn good feeling and i was loving every second of the moment. until…

you asked how i can remember the very details of that day?

these freakin green big fat flies suddenly came and pretty much grossed up my Lucky moment. jerks. so much for the romantic fantasy and whatnot. I took some snaps with my cellphone cam, and i recorded all the details of when and where those magic feelings started dawning on me. (lame and harlequin-ish choice of words, i know i know, but the heck, you know what i mean).

so ladies and gentlemen, and spammers, as you can see, i do have happy moments. moment. did have. whatever. and the song. it does still make me smile.

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Feels like..

hanging on by thin thread, a rotten thin thread. I think it’s a disease. I think i’m having a hanging-on-by-rotten-thin-thread disease.

maybe actually it’s not that thin, or not even rotten. maybe it’s not even a thread. maybe its a thick steel cable, with good insulator, made in germany.  maybe from BASF. But the tingles, they are telling me, it IS a thin thread. too thin to hold anything weigh more than a casual chat with a stranger in a bar, too rotten to put up with more than a few hours of that chat. definitely not suitable for a bungee jumping.

i dont think there is any cure to this. and that, my dear-almostnonexistent readers, creeps the hell outta me. part of me wants to cut the thread off, just let myself free. gonna be a tough fall when i hit the bottom of the pit but it’s freedom after that. with some fractures here and there. oh man maybe i wont even survive the impact. but it’s better than suffocate yourself hanging in the middle of nowhere with this dreaded thin thread around your body, right?

Or i could wait until the thread is broken by itself, and in the meantime, i just enjoy the scenery from up there? but tell me how would you enjoy floating by a thread, knowing the thread could break at anytime?leaving you free falling, with the same fractures and injury, plus a heart attack.

How i hope it is in fact a steel cable, or rafia, at least. it hurts but it’s an asshole to be broken barehanded.

or if i have to fall, please dear God, make it a quick one.

or you know what, God, just give me some chill pills.  Thank you.

I hate these taxi drivers

for good reasons. most of them talk too much, they uninvitedly ask you personal things, and they are totally lacking of respect. especially when youre a girl, alone, and don’t look like either korean or white. at first all the talking was ok, until im sick with all the daring questions, and recently, the daring stare.

gawd, how can there are so many people in this so-called developed country, still thinking that staring up and down all over someone is something acceptable? it happened last time with me and Yulia. and last night, oh for goodness’ sake, last night was the pinnacle of the taxi drivers’ douchebaggery. I was so mad last night when my taxi driver turn around to examine me, stared at me up and down, that i wanna punch his old freakin ugly face, but instead i just said ‘just drive’. im still so angry right now, how i couldnt say it in proper korean that he was the face of uneducated trash and i feel sorry for his tiny old useless dick.

ive had enough of them. if any of you reading this happen to know a korean taxi driver or two, please tell them, it is nice to have a friendly driver, but being a disrespectful asshole, is a totally different story.

And one week later..

this infamous poster pretty much sums it up.

The Lord Has Gone!!

..into oblivion…not. Thanks to Skype, and not so thanks to the crappy MSN. The Lord of Dipshitness aka the boyfriend just moved to Copenhagen on the first of September. Pretty sentimental cos the day marked the start of our (then) new life in Korea, when we started the school back in 2008. And he ended his Korean life right on the same date. ah~life..
And then there were none, but me. No more trips to seoulslashgwacheon every weekend or so, no more..hm yeah, all in all the meaning of his presence in Korea was just that i got to go to Seoul every weekend without spending much for accommodation.
jk. I know he reads this stuff. Joking, My Lord!!please don’t cyber whip me with your cyber belt!

Anyway, yeah..back in Gwangju now. Ah~so hard to see a departure, especially when you’re the one left behind. Everything is so near yet so far. Remembering good times when we were living in Sinchon.  Wondering will you ever go back to Gwacheon, the city we want to live in forever (i didn’t make that up, it’s really their tagline). How the pretty cat we usually fed tuna and spam and cheese will miss us.  Oh and the band. The death metal band. How I’m so gonna miss sitting there at the club watching the gig, trying to stay awake and look like an enthusiastic fan/girlfriend. Seriously, death metal makes me sleepy.

This kinda makes me wanna sing Nelly Furtado’s why do all good things come to an end..come to an end..

To add the sentimental value, here’s a photo of us, in our romantic as per usual state:

by the look of his veins, think he really wanted to beat the crap out of me.

yeah yeah be good there, Bibi..

(and the goddamn budaejjigae *shiver* the only good thing about his leaving is that I don’t have to eat it anymore).