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A while ago, while I was suffering at the hands of an assignment that was not as dreadful as I made it seem, but felt pretty terrible anyways, my sister told me that should I want to improve my writing, it would be ideal to keep a journal of sorts where I could not only vent, but sort my thoughts, and in the process, bloom through adversity and become the eloquent writer I've always wanted to be. Today, in the shower, I decided, why the hell not? So here I am now, still suffering (but at the hands of a monster much, much bigger than I am) trying to start something new, trying to motivate myself to stay dedicated, and most importantly, not typing in lapslock.
You go, Dhania. Everybody's got to start somewhere.
And so I'll start with me. Dhania. College (University?) student. Possibly working her way through a case of existential ennui (though it's much too early for a mid-life crisis, if I do say so myself). Within this year, I've fallen in love twice, gotten my heart broken twice (and I didn't even try), and so here I sit now, listening to a song that heartbreaker #2 (we call him Stove, here's a little anecdote on him: sometimes he breaks out into random anime OST, and that just may be why I fell head-over-heels-we-are-perfect-for-each-other with him, but was promptly proven wrong when every advance he made towards me seemed to be blatant niceness, until he admitted to me that he is never nice, so what the fuck does that mean??? Whatever, I'm not gonna dwell on it) recommended to me. Thought it was cute. Turns out, it's about sex. I mean, that's fine. It's still a cute song. I lost myself in Volleyball anime, found myself again once I decided that enough was enough, and I had to stop being pathetic, and should attempt to make things better for myself instead. Not-so-lowkey stan of a horrific number of Korean Pop Groups, and one Japanese Pop Group. Nowadays, though, I feel like I don't even have time for the things that make me happy. I'm incredibly cynical, and radically nice-- so radical that should I ever express an ounce of disdain or dislike of any sort (and I've thought about it, and it's awfully difficult for me to hate someone. If I hate you, congrats, you're probably a terrible person) people will slip into shock and awe and space out for a moment before saying so. Sometimes I'm rash, but I do possess a relatively intact, politically correct social filter. Trying to make it in the Music Business. Possibly failing, but right now, everything is 50/50. I live in New York City, a place much too big for a "Villager B" type like me, but also full of incredibly brave people who keep it moving forward. Where do I fit in? I'm still trying to figure that out. Sometimes I indulge in homoerotic Japanese comic books, which sounds pretty questionable at first, but then you realize that Yaoi is basically Shojo manga plus dicks and minus vaginas. I am totally fine with that. One of my goals is to get a tattoo done in South Korea by Seoeon, a lovely artist. I'd also like a tragus and upper cartilage piercing. Let's see how that goes.
I couldn't think of a title for this first entry so I decided to choose astroturf, because the word "astro" is out of this world (badumTSssS) and it makes me nostalgic. I love that feeling. This is really helping. I feel like I'm slowly unwinding because all of my thoughts are pouring through and out of my fingertips and onto permanence and that gives me a little bit of settlement in my stomach and everything is a little bit nicer.
I think I've done a relatively good job of not typing in lapslock. My story is eh, though. nothing special. Here's to days together then, my new friend. Into infinity we go. Through adversity, and eventually, to the stars.
You go, Dhania. Everybody's got to start somewhere.
And so I'll start with me. Dhania. College (University?) student. Possibly working her way through a case of existential ennui (though it's much too early for a mid-life crisis, if I do say so myself). Within this year, I've fallen in love twice, gotten my heart broken twice (and I didn't even try), and so here I sit now, listening to a song that heartbreaker #2 (we call him Stove, here's a little anecdote on him: sometimes he breaks out into random anime OST, and that just may be why I fell head-over-heels-we-are-perfect-for-each-other with him, but was promptly proven wrong when every advance he made towards me seemed to be blatant niceness, until he admitted to me that he is never nice, so what the fuck does that mean??? Whatever, I'm not gonna dwell on it) recommended to me. Thought it was cute. Turns out, it's about sex. I mean, that's fine. It's still a cute song. I lost myself in Volleyball anime, found myself again once I decided that enough was enough, and I had to stop being pathetic, and should attempt to make things better for myself instead. Not-so-lowkey stan of a horrific number of Korean Pop Groups, and one Japanese Pop Group. Nowadays, though, I feel like I don't even have time for the things that make me happy. I'm incredibly cynical, and radically nice-- so radical that should I ever express an ounce of disdain or dislike of any sort (and I've thought about it, and it's awfully difficult for me to hate someone. If I hate you, congrats, you're probably a terrible person) people will slip into shock and awe and space out for a moment before saying so. Sometimes I'm rash, but I do possess a relatively intact, politically correct social filter. Trying to make it in the Music Business. Possibly failing, but right now, everything is 50/50. I live in New York City, a place much too big for a "Villager B" type like me, but also full of incredibly brave people who keep it moving forward. Where do I fit in? I'm still trying to figure that out. Sometimes I indulge in homoerotic Japanese comic books, which sounds pretty questionable at first, but then you realize that Yaoi is basically Shojo manga plus dicks and minus vaginas. I am totally fine with that. One of my goals is to get a tattoo done in South Korea by Seoeon, a lovely artist. I'd also like a tragus and upper cartilage piercing. Let's see how that goes.
I couldn't think of a title for this first entry so I decided to choose astroturf, because the word "astro" is out of this world (badumTSssS) and it makes me nostalgic. I love that feeling. This is really helping. I feel like I'm slowly unwinding because all of my thoughts are pouring through and out of my fingertips and onto permanence and that gives me a little bit of settlement in my stomach and everything is a little bit nicer.
I think I've done a relatively good job of not typing in lapslock. My story is eh, though. nothing special. Here's to days together then, my new friend. Into infinity we go. Through adversity, and eventually, to the stars.
