Finally updating my ipod. I didn’t realize how confining 8gb is. I used to only have 2! A taste of the variety:

• Childish Gambino
• Frank Sinatra
• Ingrid Michaelson
• Grand Analog
• Black Violin
• Maroon 5

lolwut

I haven’t experienced life-changing trials and tribulations, which makes me constantly wonder whether I’m a boring person. My parents had their huge ordeal of being raised in near-poverty and then coming to America, whereas I’ve always known of this cushy, middle-class life. Sure, we visit our family back home, but that doesn’t show the extent to which they grew up in; their families doing better now than they did back then. Sometimes I twist my own thinking, even bashing myself— because I’m one of the lucky few, maybe I just expect the world on some silver platter —although I know that’s not how it works. Sometimes I blame my lack of drive to genetics —a whole slew of my mother’s side of the family, as brilliant as they are, are lazy as fuck. Didn’t do as much as they could with the potential they had.

I don’t want to be wasted potential, but it’s so easy to let today slip between your fingers into tomorrow.

• Helga, though I admire your vernacular, you are a basket case.
• “Criminy!” - Tenzin is secretly Helga G. Pataki.
• Curly - You are my favorite character, you are one crazy motherfucker.
• Biting heads off of chickens, taking ballet, releasing the animals at the zoo —CURLY, YA FREAK.
• I don’t understand why the episodes are in a weird order so that you have minor characters (Mr. Simmons / Lorenzo / Lilah etc) appearing before episodes they were introduced in…
• Harold’s Jewish teacher is Mr. Geller and I couldn’t watch the episode without imagining him in the sound booth.
• Who stuck a rod up Rhonda’s butt, geez, you’re only nine.
• Way to be the stereotypical asian, Phoebe, even though you’re a halfa <3
• MY SHIPPY HEART STILL FLUTTERS ARNOLD X HELGA & GERALD X PHOEBE FOREVER.
• Shipped them even before I knew what shipping was.
• Also, the bromance.
• Poor Arnold, everyone dumps their shit on him. What a perfect person, and yet I don’t hate him.

I am constantly tired, and sleep isn’t helping. My eyes could be closed for hours at a time, yet in those hours I’d be grappling with the idea of maybes and almosts and nevers and will I’s, and there’s a constant quiver in my heart, worrying about my own apathy…

I haven’t been able to write in a while.

MAKE IT STOP

Is exactly what my parents ask.

And I can’t answer, because I don’t think I even know. I fight tooth and nail not to get to every goal people lay before me, hoping to slow down time for some fucking reason I can’t describe.

Most of it, I blame on being scared, but of what?

And I still have a shit-ton of stuff. I might be a hoarder.