怖い

A lot of people seemed surprised to hear that Japanese was my major. Most proceeded to ask what I'd do with it, but I've yet to come up with a satisfactory answer to that question. I know why I wanted to study it: 1. I couldn't get into Commerce/International Relations/Economics because of my poor math; and 2. I really liked studying Japanese. So there. I did well, and for my last year, I enjoyed it so much I began to understand people's leanings towards considering grad school during that period of time. It's like eating a sugar cane backwards, it's sweeter as you go.

However, after graduating, I abandoned Japanese entirely. No Japanese books, dramas, music, magazines, whatever, I didn't come in contact with anything Japanese. The only things I had that were Japanese were the Nana and Death Note comics. When I started reading them I read them in Japanese, so it seemed appropriate to continue to read them in Japanese. But other than that, I completely grew out of touch with my love. I don't usually notice it, because these random stuff I've replaced with English equivalents, like television or books. But sometimes when I turn around, I am reminded of all things Japanese that I once loved.

Like Shiina Ringo (椎名林檎). I looked her up on youtube, and I found a clip of her singing 歌舞伎町の女王 (Queen of Kabuki-cho) live. It's so wonderful. I listened to it over and over again. And I organized my cd's, and uploaded all my Glay songs. Oh my god, seriously, I have so many of them, and it's an incomplete collection at that. But I listened to them, and I missed them so much. So back to youtube I went, looking for live clips, new stuff, etc. Thank goodness for youtube.

This sudden nostalgia was halted by the sharp realization of how much I've forgotten all the things I've learned. For the past couple of days I've been trying to remember what does the construcion v-とする mean. I cannot remember, and it's sad and scary at the same time. Time to hit the books, I suppose. I don't really have much else to do.

Self-explanatory

I'm feeling too dumb to write anything worthwhile.

Glad

I'm quite glad that there's only about 4 people who know the existence of this blog. It gives me a wonderful sense of security. It's comforting to know that what you say and what you put on here barely has any consequence, but that does not mean there's no weight on these words and my thoughts.

Ah, who am I kidding? It's a rant page (rampage, get it? haha) and let's face it, often when one rants, the words tend to be exaggerated a tad bit. So the question is, is there really weight on my words and thoughts on this blog? The answer is yes, albeit very, very lightweight. Featherweight, really.

My indulgence of the day: usavich. It's awesome, I'm so addicted right now. Soooooo funny! Seriously, go, now, and watch it.

Another Night

I like my two-day weekends, just because after living my entire univ/post-university existence with no such thing, it's a nice break to have "weekends". Two days in a row, no less. Anyway, I usually use my second day of the weekend to do grocery shopping so I don't choke on Starbucks breakfast sandwiches because I eat them so much. Today's experience? Let's just say I had numerous thoughts of self-mutilation circling around my mind throughout the trip.

Backtracking a little, I was driving down No. 3 Rd. to get where I wanted to go. The traffic was gawd-awful. And the music, the music blasting from the speakers in my car. God I wanted to take out the car keys from the ignition, stick it in my ears, and puncture my eardrums. I wanted to take off my glasses and smash it, and use the broken pieces to gouge out my own eyes. I wanted to use another piece of my glasses and slash my throat with it, or at least inflict some kind of puncture wounds so I would leave this earth faster than the ambulance can make it through the serpentine of cars in the traffic on No. 3 Rd.

So one can say my day was not good. There were people everywhere. I get cranky when I enter into a crowded space. Plus my throat hurt. Oh how I love to whine.

But my mood got considerably better when I got home and I found the song that I liked so much (secretly) when I was small. It's "Another Night" by The Real McCoy. How did I find this song? Well, it's a long story. I was watching "Listed" on MuchMoreMusic, and they were counting down the 20 best dance hits. Then they mentioned The Real McCoy, the elusive name that escaped me so many years ago. I wiki-ed The Real McCoy, and found out the name of the song! So I found the song, and it takes me back. Sometimes, it's great to wallow in the past, though no good comes out of it.