weaksauce.

As Jin so aptly put it, "WHY are you getting weaksauce??"

Couldn't tell you. All I know is that one second I was in the bathroom messing with my earrings at 3am this past morning and the next thing I knew I was looking up off the floor. I have no knowledge of what happened between those two moments.

Not sure if I actually believed what had happened until my brother asked me what I'd dropped around 3... I don't remember a crash, so... I'm assuming it was me.

fast forward

I've been looking forward to going back to school. Nothing too exciting happens here in Steilacoom, WA (location: puget sound; population: old and retired). However, things have picked up speed now that only a week remains until my departure.

In the past few days I:

1) Got my hair straightened
2) Got a new phone
3) Got my ears pierced

The gory details of Dr. Lee stabbing my ear with a sterilized needle... I'll leave for some other time. But life has been surprisingly eventful. Wonder what the next few days will bring~

pen and washer crisis

Trying to convince myself to pack 6 days in advance has proven a more difficult venture than initially expected. Midnight came and passed with no change in the weight of my suitcase, and all the signs were telling me that it just wasn't going to happen. As I toyed with the idea of heading to bed, Mama Lee popped in to say good night...

Mama Lee: (in konglish) "*YAWN* I'm so tired. Go to sleep soon! Oh, but there're clothes in the washer... it'll be done in a half hour. Put it in the dryer and set it for 20 min. and hang-dry when it beeps, ok? Good night!!"

How I was going to obey both her command to sleep and finish the laundry escaped me. But the task was simple enough, and as she has put up with me for the past 19 years, I was happy to do what little I could.

~25 minutes later, the washer beeps and I shuffle over to the laundry room. I pop open the lid, stick my hand in, and out comes... a pen with a handful of my brother's tennis shirt. Not just any pen, but one of the pens Papa Lee had my aunt specially send over from the motherland.

First reaction: "Hehe... it's Abba's pen." Second reaction: "uh... oh."
Uh... oh: the sound made when one discovers black ink spots covering every single article of clothing in a batch of laundry.

This is the reason why I'm still up at 4 am on a Monday morning with thumbs and pointers destroyed by Clorox Bleach Pen and slathered with Vaseline. Also why I've had to type this entire blog with the last 3 digits on each hand. And also why I can't sleep due to the noxious fumes of one-too-many a spot cleaner floating through my air. Woe is me.

here we go again?

"Xanga is a community of online diaries and journals..."

Really. For the year or two that I got sucked into Xanga, journaling was probably the furthest thing from my mind. My friends and I just wanted to out-customize everyone else's page. Hours were spent browsing for the perfect codes that would send my Xanga over the edge. Marquees, splash screens, customized "props" images, I had to have them all. Oh, the follies of youth.

At college I discovered that certain individuals had continued to blog through the ages. I'm sure someone out there continues the quest to the ultimately tricked-out page, but these newly encountered blogs focus more on the content of its writer's thoughts and experiences.

So I've decided to blog. For the first time in my opinion.
It probably won't be a daily thing. Perhaps not even weekly.
But I genuinely wish to start jotting (or typing) down the quirky things that life chucks at me.

NOTE: To prevent the habits of the past, I've decided on Blogger versus Xanga. It's a personal decision; I have nothing against Xanga or its users.