I wish to fall in love the way Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan does in all their movies together, sweet but not saccharine.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
Secret Desire of the Day
I woke up listening to "Enter Sandman" by Metallica (90s song I know, but early enough in the nineties to still have the 80s edge). For a suburban Asian girl, that's my daily dose of hardcore, or having it as a ring tone would elevate my badass. My secret wish for the day: dress in tight leather pants, thigh high-high heeled boots and a tight ripped up shirt, give myself sex hair and start head bobbing like crazy on all fours on top of some Camaro. Then drive off on a chopper. #80smusicdangerousforthesoul
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Today I feel like...Seperate Ways by Journey.
Last night, I learned once again that making declarations and then establishing set consequences for breaking my word is a bad idea. I really don't understand why I make so many declarations.
I had to change my title, it was just so desperate but in an unintentional way which makes it even worse. Also, I do most of my postings at the school library.
I love classic rock love songs. Why? Intensity. That's how I want to love, only sometimes. Like the blitzed, raging, drug-induced haze relationships teenagers shared in the 80s. Where all anyone knew is love, drugs and rock n' roll. Screaming "I WOULD DIE FOR YOU JOHNNY ANGEL!!!" I don't know who Johnny Angel is, but it sounded very 80s. Love nowadays is very tame, well maybe it just seems tamed because I'm heading into an age when nothing is overwhelmed by the id. Of course, my control over it slips more than it does for most.
Sometimes when I need to release, gas is cheap(er) and its a summer night, I go racing down LSD with Thunderstruck blasting, that or Kashmir. Just any classic rock song playing on the Drive. I haven't done that sort of night cruise since high school. I'm missing it especially today, possibly because I'm full emotion from PMSing. Honestly, complete rollercoaster. I'm ecstatic about the color of a pen at one moment, tearing up over people shaking hands, depressed about always being in love (alone) and then vehement on issues I haven't the slightest clue on.
Anyway my diet so far is only doing sub par, I plan to intensify my exercise routine soon, I'm just afraid of the return of my rice patty worker calves. I can say that, by the way (or at least I think I can) because I'm asian. It's tough actually, liking all the things that I do, sometimes I think I might have been better off being born as a man destined to be in a rag tag group of biker gangs. I also thought "flare" was still common adjective being used so what do I know, right? Apparently now it's swag...sounds much cooler than flare. But who knows, there was one point within this century when people found jeans that ended right above our pubic hair live was attractive. We just call that trashy now. Do you recall the fashion statements of 2007? What was that?! It's amazing how much has changed since 2001, fashion, technology trends, food trends, academic expectations, etc.
The more I think about it, the more I realize my life seems to be compose of unintentional mishaps. Like right now, I peeped over the partition of the individual study cubbies in the library and accidentally made eye contact with the creepiest guy here. Long, greasy hair gathered in a low ponytail, with a smile that's just a little too toothy, I would never consider giving this man a chance. This leads me to the next rant/outward contemplation of my own "deal breakers". Maybe it's actually easier to stick to what I like in men. I like hair, but I'm not adverse to bald (No balding, if you are balding, I don't want to see it in progress, just shave it all off), he can't be feminine, strong and silent (but not so silent, where people feel like they're pulling teeth with him all the time) type but with a hidden sensitive side, I would also prefer if he was reserved towards most people but me (I'm the jealous type) and it would be nice if he had a good sense of humor and outgoing but in that casual way. Kind of like Josh Hartnett but with a nerdier twist. It would also be super duper if he had a bit of the western (not southern) gentlemen in him. Minnesotan men or men like Adam from Bonanza! OH YEAHHHHHHH! I'm going to say I should probably never read these entries again after a year, unless I wanted to suffer the embarrassment of fledgling, overwhelming Victorian dramatic flare, dripping with cliches rants of mine.
I had to change my title, it was just so desperate but in an unintentional way which makes it even worse. Also, I do most of my postings at the school library.
I love classic rock love songs. Why? Intensity. That's how I want to love, only sometimes. Like the blitzed, raging, drug-induced haze relationships teenagers shared in the 80s. Where all anyone knew is love, drugs and rock n' roll. Screaming "I WOULD DIE FOR YOU JOHNNY ANGEL!!!" I don't know who Johnny Angel is, but it sounded very 80s. Love nowadays is very tame, well maybe it just seems tamed because I'm heading into an age when nothing is overwhelmed by the id. Of course, my control over it slips more than it does for most.
Sometimes when I need to release, gas is cheap(er) and its a summer night, I go racing down LSD with Thunderstruck blasting, that or Kashmir. Just any classic rock song playing on the Drive. I haven't done that sort of night cruise since high school. I'm missing it especially today, possibly because I'm full emotion from PMSing. Honestly, complete rollercoaster. I'm ecstatic about the color of a pen at one moment, tearing up over people shaking hands, depressed about always being in love (alone) and then vehement on issues I haven't the slightest clue on.
Anyway my diet so far is only doing sub par, I plan to intensify my exercise routine soon, I'm just afraid of the return of my rice patty worker calves. I can say that, by the way (or at least I think I can) because I'm asian. It's tough actually, liking all the things that I do, sometimes I think I might have been better off being born as a man destined to be in a rag tag group of biker gangs. I also thought "flare" was still common adjective being used so what do I know, right? Apparently now it's swag...sounds much cooler than flare. But who knows, there was one point within this century when people found jeans that ended right above our pubic hair live was attractive. We just call that trashy now. Do you recall the fashion statements of 2007? What was that?! It's amazing how much has changed since 2001, fashion, technology trends, food trends, academic expectations, etc.
The more I think about it, the more I realize my life seems to be compose of unintentional mishaps. Like right now, I peeped over the partition of the individual study cubbies in the library and accidentally made eye contact with the creepiest guy here. Long, greasy hair gathered in a low ponytail, with a smile that's just a little too toothy, I would never consider giving this man a chance. This leads me to the next rant/outward contemplation of my own "deal breakers". Maybe it's actually easier to stick to what I like in men. I like hair, but I'm not adverse to bald (No balding, if you are balding, I don't want to see it in progress, just shave it all off), he can't be feminine, strong and silent (but not so silent, where people feel like they're pulling teeth with him all the time) type but with a hidden sensitive side, I would also prefer if he was reserved towards most people but me (I'm the jealous type) and it would be nice if he had a good sense of humor and outgoing but in that casual way. Kind of like Josh Hartnett but with a nerdier twist. It would also be super duper if he had a bit of the western (not southern) gentlemen in him. Minnesotan men or men like Adam from Bonanza! OH YEAHHHHHHH! I'm going to say I should probably never read these entries again after a year, unless I wanted to suffer the embarrassment of fledgling, overwhelming Victorian dramatic flare, dripping with cliches rants of mine.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Idiotic Fads.
So today while walking in the Student Center (DePaul's foodcourt), some stupid hat-cocked, baggy jeans wearing, shod in over-priced sneakers, rubbish brained fool nearly crashes into me with his SCOOTER. What?! People, the campus of DePaul, especially the student center is not that spacious. A young boy in his early 20s has no need for wheels when he is walking less than half a mile to get across the entire campus, let alone a building. So this dickwad, gives me a nasty glare and kick-pushes on. I was in such a state of shock, I just stared after him, baffled and wide-eyed. What I should have said back then was, "Do I need to look both ways before I cross the HALL, Dumbass?!" Susan Kim, has suffered an injustice today, inflicted upon her by the pure ignorance and folly of another stupid DePaul brat.
Chicago, so ILL. Get it?! Illinois?!
Well, my life goal was never to be a comedian so whatevs. I hate meeting people I know at the gym, my face is all red and blotchy, I'm sweating profusely and my is screwed up into this strange, focused expression, closely resembling the one I wear when I'm sitting on the toilet. Sometimes, I feel like I'm the only female, except for the runners, that actually workout. Maybe I just sweat an abnormal amount, but the girls I see always look so immaculate, they sashay their way over to the elliptical, sporting a tight outfit with strategically placed bright colors, accentuating their feminine bits, and their outfits are always, ALWAYS color coordinated. I've been tempted myself to go and pick up one of these outfits (that are really siren calls to men with heightened heart rates and pulsating muscles) but I decided against it. I'm at the gym to workout, I endeavor to attract men at a classier setting. Another reason to my aversion to such a purchase was the high price tag, really $70 for workout pants?! GET OUT OF TOWN.
Anyway today was officially my DAY 2 of crash diet/forever diet:
Today my gym grade was a C. I ran for 17 minutes only did 40 reps of ab work out and spinning (spun?) for 40 minutes.
To get an A I would have to run for 25 minutes, 100 sit-up (a variety of positions that up to 100), i get on the spin for 40 minutes (rethinking this one, I think my calves are starting to make a comeback), maybe do the elliptical.
Calorie count for the day 1101, exercise -587 calories, calories left 300.
Little bit of happiness of the week:
I'm in love with one of my professors, can't say much more other than that he's devastatingly handsome. Recently I wrote him an email about an assignment, his reply: blah blah blah smiley face. BOOM, I nearly keeled over from heart palpitations. "I Love Him" - Kenneth Parcell, 30 Rock. A surprisingly black name.
Anyway today was officially my DAY 2 of crash diet/forever diet:
Today my gym grade was a C. I ran for 17 minutes only did 40 reps of ab work out and spinning (spun?) for 40 minutes.
To get an A I would have to run for 25 minutes, 100 sit-up (a variety of positions that up to 100), i get on the spin for 40 minutes (rethinking this one, I think my calves are starting to make a comeback), maybe do the elliptical.
Calorie count for the day 1101, exercise -587 calories, calories left 300.
Little bit of happiness of the week:
I'm in love with one of my professors, can't say much more other than that he's devastatingly handsome. Recently I wrote him an email about an assignment, his reply: blah blah blah smiley face. BOOM, I nearly keeled over from heart palpitations. "I Love Him" - Kenneth Parcell, 30 Rock. A surprisingly black name.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
First Post
Well here it is, my first real blog. I'm a girl, of many words and little action. Lately I've been on a mini crusade to switch it around. I think I've made some progress, which is rare, any declaration I make about losing weight, redoing my wardrobe, becoming an actress and maybe even highlighting my own hair seems to drift up and be carried off by the wind as soon as the words leave my mouth. Little ever changes and when it does, I'm afraid its rarely for the best.
*Side Tidbit: deciding to write this in a school computer lab was a very large mistake. Why? Two reasons, the title of my blog is very misleading and very large, any "over-the-shoulder" peeper can right away register "Very Single", now I seem like just another match.com-er, seduced by the idea of having strangers find my future husband, saving me the trouble of 5 inch high heels, $30 dollar bar tabs and the droll experience of being picked up by men with only half their usual level of cognizance. The second reason is that a man-boy (a boy that looks like a full grown man, but not in the good way) is now staring and giving me that oh so creepy smile. Perhaps I should cross out "Very Single" and put "Very Gay". Hrm...actually I take that back, it may lead to some unsavory images (on my part) in his head.
Anyway, back to whatever it was I was trying to get at before. This time I made the declaration of starting my own blog, and of course this was met by mockery, so to prove her (my close friend, we'll name her Bowzer) wrong I made this blog.
As if you already haven't had enough, here's a little more about me:
I'm 5'3, a small Korean girl weighing in at about 130 (at the moment, due to change) lbs. I am currently on the Forever Diet, my self-esteem is sub par at best and I have unresolved daddy issues which leads to me into bad relationships with men and even worse hook up situations. Usually my temporary (very temporary, like one night or a month at best) scarlet affairs lead to spontaneous outburst during inappropriate times. No, I do not have Tourrettes, although some might argue otherwise. The memories of affairs tend to flash back and in a fit of disgust, I physically retaliate against the offensive image.
Despite growing up in a somewhat traditional korean household, complete with smell and snide comments, I possess, what I believe to be extremely American traits, such as my love, nay, obsession with men from Minnesota and my general contempt for other countries. I also have a secret passion for cowboys, country music and potpourri.
Bowzer, sometimes tells me that I'm a grandma trapped insi.de a 22 year old's body (but what she's really thinking is a raunchy old woman). I admit it, I'm a perv but what's a girl to be when she's sexually deprived but surrounded by young beautiful men who are gay all the time? No, I am not one of those girls who has multiple gay friends. I go to a school which is located next to the gayest part of the midwest.
Very single...where to begin? Long story short, I only go on first dates, even if I wished otherwise and my longest relationship was for 3 months, sophomore year of High School. I've only had sex 3 times, each time I would say is replaceable for an evening at home with some Dairy Queen and a Netflix movie, I would still receive the same amount of pleasure, maybe even more.
I'm not really expecting anyone to notice my little blog, let alone read the posts but it does feel nice to write.
Have you ever felt this way? Like you're not your own person? Trying to be some pseudo-Carrie Bradshaw from Sex in the City? I'm young, but I feel old and burnt out already. There are so many things I want to do, but life keeps telling me that I've made one too many mistakes already and I pretty much have to spend the rest of my life paying it back, literally. Loans and interest rates, scarier than STDs at times.
*Note: The more I write, the less likely Bowser will finish reading it. I hope she never finds this blog, although her internet surfing skills are uncanny. Whelp, if she does, the only consequence to be suffered is intense embarassment.
*Side Tidbit: deciding to write this in a school computer lab was a very large mistake. Why? Two reasons, the title of my blog is very misleading and very large, any "over-the-shoulder" peeper can right away register "Very Single", now I seem like just another match.com-er, seduced by the idea of having strangers find my future husband, saving me the trouble of 5 inch high heels, $30 dollar bar tabs and the droll experience of being picked up by men with only half their usual level of cognizance. The second reason is that a man-boy (a boy that looks like a full grown man, but not in the good way) is now staring and giving me that oh so creepy smile. Perhaps I should cross out "Very Single" and put "Very Gay". Hrm...actually I take that back, it may lead to some unsavory images (on my part) in his head.
Anyway, back to whatever it was I was trying to get at before. This time I made the declaration of starting my own blog, and of course this was met by mockery, so to prove her (my close friend, we'll name her Bowzer) wrong I made this blog.
As if you already haven't had enough, here's a little more about me:
I'm 5'3, a small Korean girl weighing in at about 130 (at the moment, due to change) lbs. I am currently on the Forever Diet, my self-esteem is sub par at best and I have unresolved daddy issues which leads to me into bad relationships with men and even worse hook up situations. Usually my temporary (very temporary, like one night or a month at best) scarlet affairs lead to spontaneous outburst during inappropriate times. No, I do not have Tourrettes, although some might argue otherwise. The memories of affairs tend to flash back and in a fit of disgust, I physically retaliate against the offensive image.
Despite growing up in a somewhat traditional korean household, complete with smell and snide comments, I possess, what I believe to be extremely American traits, such as my love, nay, obsession with men from Minnesota and my general contempt for other countries. I also have a secret passion for cowboys, country music and potpourri.
Bowzer, sometimes tells me that I'm a grandma trapped insi.de a 22 year old's body (but what she's really thinking is a raunchy old woman). I admit it, I'm a perv but what's a girl to be when she's sexually deprived but surrounded by young beautiful men who are gay all the time? No, I am not one of those girls who has multiple gay friends. I go to a school which is located next to the gayest part of the midwest.
Very single...where to begin? Long story short, I only go on first dates, even if I wished otherwise and my longest relationship was for 3 months, sophomore year of High School. I've only had sex 3 times, each time I would say is replaceable for an evening at home with some Dairy Queen and a Netflix movie, I would still receive the same amount of pleasure, maybe even more.
I'm not really expecting anyone to notice my little blog, let alone read the posts but it does feel nice to write.
Have you ever felt this way? Like you're not your own person? Trying to be some pseudo-Carrie Bradshaw from Sex in the City? I'm young, but I feel old and burnt out already. There are so many things I want to do, but life keeps telling me that I've made one too many mistakes already and I pretty much have to spend the rest of my life paying it back, literally. Loans and interest rates, scarier than STDs at times.
*Note: The more I write, the less likely Bowser will finish reading it. I hope she never finds this blog, although her internet surfing skills are uncanny. Whelp, if she does, the only consequence to be suffered is intense embarassment.
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