javaink: (i need to do something with my hands)
i’m a prideful hufflepuff who doesn’t know how to hufflepuff or can’t bring herself to hufflepuff, and i am a hufflepuff because i value hard work and labor and fairness and damn justice, but i used to be a ravenclaw, as a kid i use to value knowledge over all but that came from deep arrogance, though then and now i value knowledge for knowledge, but it was more of a status thing for me back then, knowledge is power and cunning and being above others and also wisdom and a clear sight of the world and compassion, knowledge was a means to an end, and that end used to be worth in myself, it was a signal that i was worth something, knowledge is edge. but now i value hard work above that – i still value knowledge for knowledge but it’s more about communicating with others and understanding my world, and part of that is ravenclaw like, but hufflepuff overall, and i’m just a puff that can’t puff, ya know. i can’t bring myself to work, i value it, but the effort kills me though i’m in love with the idea. i have no drive, and it kills me.

-
i miss my friend. how do you fall out of friend-love?

-
also, i'm -
i'm something.
this paper i've been given an extension on, and my lovely teacher prophesied that i needed an extension, but my pride was like "probably, but let's try for the deadline" and on the deadline i emailed him saying "please, i need that extension" and now here i am a day later and still a mess. i have been blessed with my teachers.
an all-nighter tonight to get this first draft COMPLETELY done and to get other homework done.
javaink: (wow)
well today's been shit.

- - -
it kinda occured to me that our now 45th (ew)(EW) is all the bad qualities and worse history of America rolled up into one orange flake of skin. i mean, i kinda knew that all along, but the phrasing of such a sentiment hit me today.

- - -
also, a lot of people on campus - and people i KNOW - are obviously upset by this, a few cried, and who can blame them?
me, i just felt - still do actually. just a deep slow burn where my heart should be but now feels hollowed out. and it's a gentle ache of flames, like a low kindling fire, buried in my chest, and there's warmth but also a coolness. a cold anger.
a part of me didn't believe in the goodness of people, not exactly, but in the logic of people. for them to see the bigger picture. i still believe Clinton is the smart choice, but maybe i don't see the picture as clear as i need to. but at least i know droves of people - diverse crowds of people that are innocent and compassionate - wouldn't be crying, questioning their safety. i know people would be on edge whoever won, but at least with Clinton, those people pissed wouldn't question their safety. not so many.
but i forgot. the founding fathers hadn't, but i did. people and the majority: fickle and impulsive they are, watching their own skins and accidentally setting their world on fire.

- - -
p. s. im gonna miss obama's face and biden's gorgeous smile
javaink: (like no other)
i don't think i like nanowrimo.
i was a dumb, and on the 31st i impulsively made an account for nanowrimo, willingly ignoring the fact that i don't have a story planned! i have maybe a couple i could TRY to do, but none i'm feeling too cozy with? none i'm feeling inspired by?
now it's five days later and the anxiety to write and start a novel on there nibbles at the bottom of my stomach, and if i think too hard about it - which means, longer than 30 seconds - i start feeling guilty! hard-pressed to write! and i don't think that works for me, at least not now. i-
this past summer, when i was working hard on my Greek summer courses, i was thinking of doing summer camp nano. my sister was going to do it, she needed a distraction. she had read a siren book, and she was inspired to write about mermaids. me, i love sirens, and mermaids, and sirens, sirens, sirens. bird or fish kind. sirens are one of my favorite mythical creatures. so of course, when she said she wanted to do that, my mind exploded with some ideas. a small plot in mind, but not one that i couldn't flesh out, stretch out into book form. people do it all the time in ya.
needless to say, i started taking notes in a small pocket journal, but i didn't get far. again, Greek courses. INTENSE Greek courses. i needed to finish them in time for the fall semester and i had started late, so my classes were bunched up together, one on top of the other, i felt awful and stressed.
so no summer nano for me.
but that's the only one i would maybe want to do? i have an idea that stems from my sims 2 game, one of the families where there are a shit ton of alien-abduction babies and all angst and maybe i would throw in an alien invasion and resistance. but- no inspiration, not now.
and it's not helping that i left that small pocketbook at home, home which is TEXAS and i am NOT in Texas.

- - -
Ha, the mention of Texas reminds me of a thing that happened in my Short Story class today. eh, tomorrow.
(i WILL write it tomorrow, i swear, this isn't exploration, this is a happy thing, kinda)
javaink: (i need to do something with my hands)
you know, i said tomorrow, but here i am, five days later.
and i don't think i can do it. the feeling isn't gone, but i'm not going back. does anyone do that? try to regurgitate old feelings just for the sake of exploring them?
what did i just ask?
that's all writing is, isn't it? exploring.
well, sometimes i just can't deal, so i won't.
so no real PINS pt. ii? maybe some other day.
but i won't hold my breath.

- - -
on a separate note, i have to read Tolstoy's "Kholstomer" for Russian Culture, and then i need to go through some of the books i checked out from the library for my research paper. i'm shakey on my topic, and hopefully i found good books. i'm hoping to compare Pushkin's poetry to Baratynsky's poetry and MAYBE how they influenced one another. i don't know, but i'm intimidated and a little excited. in my freshman seminar class (a year ago, now), my research paper was on the Mexicano/Nuhautal poetry, and that was so interesting! i actually kinda fell in love with their poetry, and even better! i found an English translator! that was able to keep their trochaic meter! but of course, there's always pitfalls to translations, and their poetry was always accompanied by dance and music, so that's . . . lost on readers and to us now, kind of, but i was very pleased. gah, that was so interesting to research. my paper was a mess, and i mean a GIANT mess, and i procrastinated on it, but i loved what i found.
i'm hoping i'll love what i find here on Pushkin and Baratynsky too. i hope it'll be as interesting. i doubt it, but i hope to be entertained. so far i know i really like Pushkin's stuff - again, i LOVED Onegin - and i liked his short stories and the Bronze Horseman that we read in class, so i'm banking on that.

- - -
i wanted to write tonight, but i don't know on what. maybe i'll just read. my friday's been pretty boring. both my friends were studying hard, and we didn't have a movie planned like we normally do on friday's, so i was stuck in my room. i finished season 2 of HTGAWM. wow. no words. just tears. i was crying when Annalise's baby- yeah.
otherwise boring. i need to learn what to do on night's like these. make a "me time" ritual, because what i've got now isn't cutting it.
javaink: (i need to do something with my hands)
do you ever find yourself beautiful? but then in a moment it's gone. or maybe you're wearing something you love, and you feel amazing, but you doubt if you really do look as awesome as you feel. sometimes i'm struck with a thought: maybe i am beautiful. sometimes i like my hands, and in an instant i find a way to not. i don't know.
- - -

i got to ep11 of season 1 of How to Get Away With Murder. amazing. but i had to stop once Analise's sister-in-law showed up. i was done with how many bombs were dropped on me tonight. i exited out of netflix before the next episode could play.
i looked back down at my Greek translation i had been "working on" while i watched. i has only one fourth into the first paragraph of two. i put Marina's "Can't Pin Me Down" on repeat as i sat in the dark trying to do this relatively short translation. and then my stomach started shaking, and my breathing feels like those damn butterflies are trying to migrate out of my stomach, and this isn't as bad as it sounds, but i know it's the song, and my self loathing, and my obsessive thinking of a certain person that i want to tear out of my mind - it's those that are causing my discomfort. as i translate, i think of person, of how tired i am, of how awake i am, and of how my roommate gets to sleep cozily behind me. i half-way waited for her to return to our room tonight so we could translate together, but she came back at around 11:30 already done with all her homework. oh well. it was no set promise, only a mutual realization we were both having a better time working together. but it's alright. it IS alright. i just hate Greek more than i thought i would, and i half-way blame the professor. i also blame Greek, but only because i'm already in love with Russian. i walk to Greek class and i feel the life draining out of me. i'm mostly burned out, and mostly done with the class. it doesn't help that i'm awful at studying. why am i like this - i want to learn, but i can't force myself to do it. no discipline. a fake. ah, well-
oh shit, i think she work up behind me. my typing probably.
i was going to talk of other things, but i think i'm done.
i have a partial cafe mocha sitting on my desk in a grande Starbucks cup, and it pleases me aesthetically? i'm so pretentious. also i don't like cafe mocha's. should've gotten a cafe latte.

- - -
oh i wanted to talk about my feelings Marina's song dragged up, but with how late it is- tomorrow.
javaink: (i can't explain)
the second half of that title is only relevant in this way: I want to read Chaucer. I need to read Chaucer. I've heard Chaucer is difficult, but lately in my classes and some circles of friends literature has come up and the flow and transformation of languages and Chaucer was one of the ones mentioned. Old English is Beowulf (hardly readable), Chaucer is Middle (kind of readable, difficult), & Shakespeare is Modern English (not our type of modern, but modern as in it's still readable, easily readable to us). I've had a copy of the Cantaberry Tales sitting on my bookshelf at home for a good year or two, and I've only opened it once. But now I want to and now I'm at university. On that note, I want to reread Onegin. Dammit I love Onegin. And I'll be reading Gogol's The Nose pretty soon! I think I just miss having a literature class. They killed me with their papers, but I loved the literature. This semester I opted out on having a lit class because last semester I had two at the same time, and that was nearly a nightmare. Bad, but could've been worse. I wanted a break, so no lit classes this semester. It was probably for the best, but sometimes this semester feels stale. Right now I have four books stacked next to my bed, and I can barely open one. I crawl into bed and I can't read. Last night, I started too, but not for long. It was already 1 AM, and I couldn't force myself to keep reading. It was a borrowed book, Cyrano de Bergerac, and I'm only on Sc. 2! Oh well.
I have some fanfiction that I'm thinking of posting soon. One tiny little drabble, but I think I have a little inspiration to give it a little more life, one more scene. I had planned to expand this drabble, but it was based on an early episode of Inuyasha that I had not finished - I watched half the episode, inspiration struck, I wrote down my draft for the fic, then watched the rest of the episode and realized that my idea was MAJORLY NOT A THING THAT WOULD BE CANON. But I was able to sit down and write the opening scene, and it needs work, but I won't touch it because I actually like it, even if it does seem like one of those pretentious fics. I can't describe it, but it feels out of place and . . . melodramatic. Oh well. MAYBE I will post it. I'm indecisive and forgetful.

---
Today I was hit with a giant wave of nostalgia and loss. Not the physical loss, but- do you ever think of who you could have been, if you had the resources and time and patience and diligence and etc., who you could be, right at this moment, if things had gone differently? I'm assuming there's a resounding yes to that question. It's regret, but not regret you could exactly control, just regret that you couldn't go through with who you wanted to be because you had no control. So not a loss of life or someone dear, but a loss of who you dreamed to be?
Lately, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, before my Russian class at 3, after lunch at 12, I go up to the university library, the fourth floor, to this room that I can usually count on to be open. Our university library is kind of like two merged libraries, and this half of the library you can only access on the fourth floor and all the open study rooms have chalk boards, not dry erase boards like the fancier, upgraded other half. I love this room, room 400. I love how smooth the board is, how the table isn't too wide, how mainly the room is open after 1 and I can sneak in and use it. No one rents the room, so I'm never kicked out. At least, not yet anyway. And since it's a chalkboard, the chalk is provided, and since it's in the library, there's usually fresh chalk or at least pieces that are long enough to hold onto, not little nubs. I go in here and study my Russian before class, fill the board with vocab terms I need to practice and cram. If I need to practice saying sentences out loud, I write some of the key terms on the board and have enough room to pace around, saying them over and over again. I get dizzy sometimes, but it works.
So I'm writing the terms on this board, and the board is so smooth, and I look down at my hands at some point, notice the chalk dusted on them, and I think "Ha, I think my personal aesthetic is now chalk and chalkboards." I used to hate chalkboards, but now I love writing on them. Instantly it was like a punch to the gut once I thought it- or no, like a sudden tug in my stomach. "My aesthetic" refers to how on Tumblr, on the fandom side, you can constantly come across "aesthetic posts" for some character or show or movie, and it'll be abstract images of half faces, clothes, objects, whatever that match the subject. They're usually quite pretty, the ones that are spread around. So I was thinking of my own "aesthetic post," or "mood board" is what they're actually called. One of my pictures would be of chalk. And as previously mentioned, that thought hurt.
I used to be a gymnast when I was little. I loved it. I loved tumbling, the pit, kind of the vault, rarely the beam, and my dad loves to tell how fast I'd climb the rope, a three inch thick rope (or more in my memory! but then back then I had such small hands) hanging from the two storied ceiling. They'd have us climb up and down those ropes, and we'd be careful not to get rope burns but sometimes you couldn't help it, coming down with small burns on the insides of our feet's arches and hands' corners. We'd race up and down them, proud to reach the orange tagged top and to climb back down, counting the knots as we went.
The bars were one of my favorite things, and I always was excited to go on them, but as time went on, we rarely approached them. But I remember bathing my hands in the chalk bowls, getting ready for them & then us trying to avoid being scolded for putting too much on. I remember watching the older girls (the true athletes! the ones i'd look up to, so strong and swift and serious) snap from bar to bar and wanting to do the same. Instead, we went to the beams more, used the chalk for that - though my memory might be fuzzy here, I can't remember if chalk is used for that.
And then, I made a friend! One that I might continue to see each week on Thursdays. And then, that same day,I stood at the counter with my mom as she unregistered me from the program. A two week break, she called it. I understood we needed to save money right now, just for a while. And then I never went back to gymnastics. Every time I watch gymnastics, like at the Olympics, I feel a little pang, engulfed in nostalgia and regret.
I wish I had stayed with gymnastics, even if all it would be was an intensive hobby, but I know that wasn't possible.
javaink: (not today satan)
ha, i was feelin like posting YESTERDAY, but i stared at the screen a good five minutes, thinking "yeeeh getting my study on" and then nothing. it's fine. now i'm kind of studying?
i'm going through some submissions for my internship, so i'm ahead of schedule! or right on schedule? you're not supposed to do them the night before they're due, so i guess for once i'm doing it right? i'm reading through them all, which is a MISTAKE but i haven't felt the need to stop reading some even if they suck, so not too much of a mistake.
for my other internship i met with my adviser, who is also the head of this internship, and we got some shit done, going through some submissions together. she showed me some of the ropes, and i just have to finish the other things she told me to do. we're in no rush though, so i don't feel too stressed about it.

today i had two language midterms and honestly i could have done better but i'm positive i passed both so that's what matters. i was stressed though, let me tell you. Greek and Russian, by the way. i've heard plenty of people say Russian is one of the hardest languages (as English speakers) but honestly Ancient Greek is kicking my ass. that's not an easy language OR class. i started with Russian last year, and Greek this year, so i'm more comfortable with Russian than Greek anyway. Russian is more personal to me, and it's probably because i started it first and my grandfather spoke it, so it has more sentimental value to me than Greek. i'm sure if i had flipped them, i'd be leaning more towards Greek. but Russian also has the plus that it'd not a dead language. it's immediately accessible to me and my life, i can express myself better, and i can better write it since i'm actually learning how to use the language, not just understand it. there is a major difference between learning dead and living languages. but then again, you can always try to teach people dead languages like you do living languages, but none of my professors in the past or present have decided to do that. i could try on my own, but already with my workload, it's too much effort. i'm also not passionate enough to do that - i mean, i love languages, but i'm not that passionate of a person, you know? i don't have that ENERGY. i don't have enough emotional energy to even write - the thing i most love doing along with reading - more than i do, so i definitely don't have the energy to study my languages more. how sad, but it is what it is, i am what i am.

my plants aren't doing so well. soon i'm going to move them to my desk because WINTER IS COMING, but in the meantime they're still on my window sill, begging for sun from my north-facing window. i'm sorry, babies. my elephant bush is shriveling, that poor thing. my one at home is fine though, so there's that! i shouldn't have split them up, but uhhhh- i need to stop regretting it. in fact, i have, i've accepted it, but then i remind myself.

my friend, my only classmate in Russian, invited me to go to Chipotle with her. she was really craving it. i've heard good and bad things about it, and honestly, i think it's one step down from Qdoba, and i'm not sure if she's tried that. she should, because it's better. way better. Chipotle doesn't even have QUESO, WHAT MONSTERS. they have guac, sure, but only because they'd have an UPRISING on their hands and they'd never sell a thing again. they don't even have the "cheese dip" or "nacho cheese" other places sell. what losers. it was an alright meal, better than my awful lunch sandwich from our uni's coffee shop, and the burrito was okay. they just had the NARROWEST of options! but then again, i've been to Qdoba and Freebirds. i told her about Freebirds, which she had never heard of, and looking it up, yep that sounds accurate because it's mainly only found in California and Texas with a few of them scattered in the Midwest. she missin out. we went to get donuts afterwards - she to cheer her boyfriend up and then me for my friend Katie who's busy studying. i got her donut holes, and maybe stole one. no. i definitely ate one. even though their hotlight wasn't on, the lady at the front immediately handed us fresh glazed donuts. so sweet. the lady and the donut! but yes, a dozen holes, and Katie wasn't at her door immediately when i knocked! i came back an hour later, and she was there! she was so glad. i told her to heat them up, wished her happy studying, and left. Katie's always really generous, so i wanted to take a page out of her book. they didn't cost much anyway.


alright, i think i'm gonna go watch some anime (either rewatch kyoukai no kanata or finish hyouka. i really need to finish hyouka. i've stopped watching anime, but i was really wanting to watch these. a little nostalgic). maybe read a few submissions. play sims. draft my short story. who knows.
g'night.

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javaink

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