Lookie, lookie: http://jumbledmusings.dreamwidth.org/

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I haven't written anything in ages - which sucks when you're an aspiring (read: atrocious) writer. It sucks even more when everything you do write is so bad you're scared to publish it in a blog entry. That's a new low, man.

If any of you read some of my work, you would think I dreamed it all up while taking a shit. I would act all flustered and pretend it's true. In reality I spent hours thinking of crap, even more hours wading through the diarrhea and putting it into words, and days of editing said diarrhea to mold it into a solid, respectable log of shit (not too long, not too short, no unnecessary added floaters, enough spunk to grab your attention - you know). But a radiant, stunning piece of shit is still shit I suppose. Point is, that was a weeks worth of work you just took a dump all over, assholes!

I know everybody struggles with writing, but sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who struggles this hard. Damn you creative bastards that can articulate and flow with ease. You make me green with envy (which is a stupid idiom but somehow I get green anyway). Jerks.

Good to be back, Nutang!

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Smoking is your euphoria.

You step outside your house and feel the winter chill bite at your legs. You're in shorts and flip flops, but you don't care, you're never out for long. You light a cigarette and look up toward the sky. The clear black void stares back at you, indifferent except for the stars that scatters the black background. They twinkle at you, but your bad eyes can only make out blurs.

For the first time since yesterday, you take a slow drag from you cigarette. This is your escape. The life you lead, the mundane chores you do, the daily grind to pass the time, your inner demons you have yet to conquer and shackle you to mediocrity... none of that matters right now.

You take another drag and you see a women walking by. It's late. What could this stranger be doing? You can't see her face, but her body language reveals enough. Her steps are slow, head down, hands in her pockets, you see her lost in thought and not aware of your stare. What is going through her head? Does she have demons that haunt her too? You wonder if walks at night are her temporary refuge from the feeling that torments her, just like your smoking. This nagging feeling deep down inside your soul, it enlightens and confuses you, it motivates and depresses you, it drives you insane until you see other people's insanity, it taunts you and mocks the life you are leading... a far cry from your calling. This nagging feeling you can only call your inner demons. And those demons guard the gateway to your real euphoria; a personal legend you've been struggling to define every morning you look in the mirror, let alone realize.

A dozen drags later and your mind wanders until eventually it draws a blank and you soak in the atmosphere. It's quiet and serene, this is why you love the night. Another drag and you wonder how many more you have left before you have to go inside the house. To where your demons are waiting. The smell of tobacco gives you peace, but your peace doesn't last like the cigarette you're about to throw away.

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It doesn't look like I'll finish my story anytime soon. In fact, I forgot most of the important, vivid details. I think back to it now, and I don't remember much, except that the trip was fucking awesome.

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My new years resolution is to finish writing about the backpacking trip.

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I woke up every morning to a view like this.


I finished bombing all my midterms and had a 5 day "reading break" at my university. Supposedly we're to use the 5 day break to finish up assignments due at the end of the month and prepare for final exams, and like, study. Yeah... I don't know what that means.

Friday morning, I finished my Academic Writing class and decided there was no way in hell I could stay on campus for 5 days. I needed to get the fuck out of here. Just get up, go wild. Away from this place. Victoria is nice, but I didn't want to spend my break here. On the spur of the moment, I decided I was going to go backpacking around Vancouver. Bum around downtown. And off I went.

My 5 day experience was one of the most amazing things to happen to me. Walking around 10 hours a day, living in hostels, meeting some awesome people, being scared to shit and nearly freezing to death, all the while taking pictures with my Canon Rebel XTi.

These pictures and words cannot do my trip justice. It was honestly that amazing. Enlightening. As much as I would love to start writing about my trip now, I have a shit load of homework due on the 21st. As soon as I finish, I'll start writing. I know some of you guys still check up on here once in a blue moon. Keep checking. Wait for my next post, it'll be worth it. Cheers.




Live. Love. Laugh. Embrace.

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