Category: journal

personal drabbles, what would be my journal ?

the deafening of a heartbeat.

Reading Time: 8 minutes

ie: something that we have come to be familiar with in so many ways.

We are used to the dawning of hope, inceptions of promise — something bland and stupid like love or things that last. Let me tell you that we have seen little bits and pieces of the end, captured the procurement of nihilism and antagonistic self-hatred. We are the beginning of the end, in the stories that should have never been told.

i. in the coffee shop. her name is scrawled on, it is generic and placid — just as the life that is reaming within the lines of creamer. her order was taken wrong but she doesn’t say anything against it; the apron-donned mass serves it with apathy, accent ridden from the dwellings of a hundred miles over. stir, the window is tinged with a hue of emerald. stir, the marbling of the floor reminds her of the corner tile she had grown to memorize in her mother’s home. stir, the eyes of the lone student in the corner are as brown as the earth, downtrodden with the miserly await of the future. they are just as scared as she is, she proclaims in her mind. tap, the liquid flickers and stains cream white tops, antiquated floral transparencies fly off from seams of lace and string. the humming of the air conditioner overpowers her mind. the apronness harbinger shifts from corner to corner, and she thinks she has counted the number of bricks on the back wall completely right this time — 152.

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December 16, 2016

Effete

Reading Time: 14 minutes

When the parents of my batch first gleefully announced a mandatory career talk, I marched my way onto the fourth and final classroom of the day. Another Saturday stripped away from us with the promise of a better future. After hearing repeats of things that I have heard over and over again (yes – med school is incredibly difficult but rewarding, no, I am not really going to tell you how I got there but instead let me flash you pictures of my astounding achievements) perhaps the very last class would prove itself different.

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September 6, 2016

the likes of those of old crows

Reading Time: 2 minutes

I spent most of today coding a little project and listening to old music. Both activities led to the other.

It’s in the dump for now, and you can try it out here. At the moment of writing I only have their ‘middle’ three albums and all of Folie a Deux, since adding songs to the library is boring and tedious and I do not work fast enough because of how easily I get distracted.

I justify this project as a ‘little tool’ that helps you search for song lyrics better. Yes, there is Google. But if Google was reliable enough then I would have stuck with it and not made this, right? The core features are pretty much there but not implemented good enough yet — since I have to learn and figure out how to. It lets you search all available albums, toggle some of them out, click on songs to view the full lyrics and highlight your search term within them. That’s it, and it’s only for Fall Out Boy — because sometimes some lyrics get stuck in my head and actually yeah I could just use Google but this would be faster and more efficient in case I suddenly remember a line, want to know the continuation of it, and paste it on my Twitter bio so I can act sentimental or pass Sporcle quizzes easier. (Speaking of which, I made one today too. God bless.)

I mostly look forward to fixing it up, making improvements, and looking at the code in utter disgust in a few weeks/months until it becomes a godlike search engine for emo lyrics.

“The Piano Knows Something I Don’t Know” has been stuck in my head the whole day — which is strange since I never really cared much for the song until… today, when I realized that hey, I do care about it and it has brilliant lyricism. Today, it also dawned on me that the things I want to happen never probably will, even if they are the smallest of things as hearing my favorite songs live. I am condemned to dusty recordings and staring at glass panes for vinyls that will never be re-released — that kind of girl.

There’s nothing floating around my mind except the urgency to do more – even if it’s confinement to a chair, and creating endlessly. We are so fragile, but our works can be of permanence. At the moment, it’s just song lyrics, worries, self-doubt, meager self-proclaimed epiphanies that in a rational standpoint – would probably be degraded to thoughts resulting from a lack of sleep.

Let me be narcissistic for a while. You make me coffee-stained, ink on brinks and blinks. I know that I myself am a shadow, but that doesn’t mean I’m not better. Smile and offer them pity on the inside, smile in disgust at how ‘infallibly’ helpless you are. Text-book sociopath, prescription-ridden poet. But this is why the songs you hear are all from the broken hearts, and the success stories don’t come with a little bit of fight. I will get there. Hopefully farther than anyone else.

Tonight, the rain resigns to records and words that were never meant for it anyway.

August 27, 2016