on my mind

It seems like a phase that rolls around every few months in coal-fired trains that belch out noxious and black vaporous mushrooms. This selective retreat, this prolonged withdrawal, this seclusion in delusions. It was Week 2 or 3 last semester as well. Pathetic, really. It fills me with self-disgust and self-hatred. Not the best of days, yet not the worst of them either. Maybe what I need is a good run, or an invigorating training, to clear my head. But it would be best if I cleared the backlog of readings first. It is so easy to muddle up or squint half-blind at my priorities. Remembering the love for certain subjects and disciplines is much harder than it sounds. Head over heart, it is time to flip some switches and shift them gears. Some things are better to be left as euchromatic strands of disparate and disjointed thoughts, floating intangible and unknowable, staining lightly upon the blueprint of the mind. Don't think; do. I should recite that mantra more often. Maybe it would actually work that way.

( Week 2 )

As it turns out, I am really a hipster (a wannabe hipster? or heaven forbid, a self-aware wannabe hipster who really doesn't know what a hipster is!?) who likes to post vague images about journeys and road-trips and SPONTANEITY! and edvantures and spells lyke a tw1t 2 m0ck a tw1t and listens to The XX and THE undisputed electro-space-synth-something-band Crystal Castles. It is who I am, okay?? Nobody understands me!!, so I turn to my sick Dr Dre headphones (I wish) for solace. Hahaha painful half-truths are easier to wash down with some mambo-jambo rambling. Okay, all I wanted to do was to elongate the post, so yeah, job done. Doodeedoo, I should get to sleep. It's the lack of sleep, I swear! Here is some lovely Miss Peggy Olson to make up for the embarrassment that is my existence.