Hi!
My computer screen is glaring back at me like it never seemed to have before. So I think I'm gonna do what I believe I do best, run off to a different land in my head and pretend like my source of agony doesn't exist. So the story is the same, I've been writing for a few years in sorrow and joy, sobriety and wildness, alone and in companionship. Alright, who am I kidding! I can't remember the last time I wrote in joy, sobriety or companionship. That statement just sounded good, maybe rendering writing an omnipresent sort feel to life. I thought this blog bit would be much easier than writing for college magazines, but as I read every sentence that I type out more than twice, checking for errors, my thoughts and fingers feel chained. But chained thoughts and fingers have never really made for happy or fulfilled people now, have they? So I think I'm gonna let go, and just take care of the curvy red lines under my words later. The curvy green lines never made too much of sense to me. I know they're trying to help, but with them just asking me to "reconsider" my sentence fragmentation has never made me wanna do an extra bit.
I'm sitting on my bed, in my room, in my apartment, in my school, in a city which I'm trying to call my own, in a country which is definitely not my own. I'm sure that was useful information is some way. My phone showed me a google card for a storm warning a bit back, and asked me to not take a bath, cook food, use electrical equipment tethered to the wall and so on. There's not much that i can do now, other than fool around till the charge on my laptop lives and then maybe cut up a salad. ugh! This warning thing is pretty neat, but it's kind of freaked me out. I'm quite a wuss to be honest, and now that i see hail striking against my window and hear the thunder, I'm gonna pull the blinds and put on my earphones. Again, pretend like my source of agony doesn't exist. It's such a pleasant thing, this "escapism". I don't know why the sorted (whoever gave them that title) people of the world don't think so. I feel like I have more than a hundred soap bubbles in my head right now going plop plop. I've never associated myself with being a scatter brain, but it's probably cause I haven't written in more than 6 months and there's just so much I want to write about. But then again, life you know, responsibilities; eat, clean, sleep, loiter. There's just so much to do, and the fact that I'm into the last 3 weeks of the school semester as a fresh graduate student doesn't really help. I'm gonna try keeping away from the generic hardships of living that life. There are enough comic strips and facebook status updates for that perhaps.
I want to end this with the story behind calling the blog "of dragonflies and simian men". To start with, "simian men" is just a cooler version of "monkey men". I just wasn't sure if it was "monkey men" "monkey-men" or "monkeymen", but wanted to keep the alliteration alive. So the story, like all other stories is about a little girl. Let's say she lived in a hut in a forest and was always in awe of these things that would fly around. I'm trying very hard to keep away from lines of how that lit in her scientific curiosity and a never ending love for flying objects, because then this would just sound like the initial paragraph of my Graduate School Statement of Purpose. So this girl, she was called Roxanne stared at the skies many a times and wished to spread her arms and be lifted to go for a short flight. She obviously wanted to return back because you know grand ma cooked good food and her bed was pretty darn warm. As she's now growing up, she's been bumping into what can not be better defined than "monkey men". No, Roxanne is pretty nice girl. These men aren't random love affairs (well, not always). Basically, if you look close enough you'll realize that everyone around can be called a "monkey man". I know I called this a story, but it's more like a commentary, cause it's all still happening! Roxanne among the dragonflies and simian swains. You've probably figured by now that this is practically everyone's story, and that's probably why you should come back for my next post!
My computer screen is glaring back at me like it never seemed to have before. So I think I'm gonna do what I believe I do best, run off to a different land in my head and pretend like my source of agony doesn't exist. So the story is the same, I've been writing for a few years in sorrow and joy, sobriety and wildness, alone and in companionship. Alright, who am I kidding! I can't remember the last time I wrote in joy, sobriety or companionship. That statement just sounded good, maybe rendering writing an omnipresent sort feel to life. I thought this blog bit would be much easier than writing for college magazines, but as I read every sentence that I type out more than twice, checking for errors, my thoughts and fingers feel chained. But chained thoughts and fingers have never really made for happy or fulfilled people now, have they? So I think I'm gonna let go, and just take care of the curvy red lines under my words later. The curvy green lines never made too much of sense to me. I know they're trying to help, but with them just asking me to "reconsider" my sentence fragmentation has never made me wanna do an extra bit.
I'm sitting on my bed, in my room, in my apartment, in my school, in a city which I'm trying to call my own, in a country which is definitely not my own. I'm sure that was useful information is some way. My phone showed me a google card for a storm warning a bit back, and asked me to not take a bath, cook food, use electrical equipment tethered to the wall and so on. There's not much that i can do now, other than fool around till the charge on my laptop lives and then maybe cut up a salad. ugh! This warning thing is pretty neat, but it's kind of freaked me out. I'm quite a wuss to be honest, and now that i see hail striking against my window and hear the thunder, I'm gonna pull the blinds and put on my earphones. Again, pretend like my source of agony doesn't exist. It's such a pleasant thing, this "escapism". I don't know why the sorted (whoever gave them that title) people of the world don't think so. I feel like I have more than a hundred soap bubbles in my head right now going plop plop. I've never associated myself with being a scatter brain, but it's probably cause I haven't written in more than 6 months and there's just so much I want to write about. But then again, life you know, responsibilities; eat, clean, sleep, loiter. There's just so much to do, and the fact that I'm into the last 3 weeks of the school semester as a fresh graduate student doesn't really help. I'm gonna try keeping away from the generic hardships of living that life. There are enough comic strips and facebook status updates for that perhaps.
I want to end this with the story behind calling the blog "of dragonflies and simian men". To start with, "simian men" is just a cooler version of "monkey men". I just wasn't sure if it was "monkey men" "monkey-men" or "monkeymen", but wanted to keep the alliteration alive. So the story, like all other stories is about a little girl. Let's say she lived in a hut in a forest and was always in awe of these things that would fly around. I'm trying very hard to keep away from lines of how that lit in her scientific curiosity and a never ending love for flying objects, because then this would just sound like the initial paragraph of my Graduate School Statement of Purpose. So this girl, she was called Roxanne stared at the skies many a times and wished to spread her arms and be lifted to go for a short flight. She obviously wanted to return back because you know grand ma cooked good food and her bed was pretty darn warm. As she's now growing up, she's been bumping into what can not be better defined than "monkey men". No, Roxanne is pretty nice girl. These men aren't random love affairs (well, not always). Basically, if you look close enough you'll realize that everyone around can be called a "monkey man". I know I called this a story, but it's more like a commentary, cause it's all still happening! Roxanne among the dragonflies and simian swains. You've probably figured by now that this is practically everyone's story, and that's probably why you should come back for my next post!
