I’ve been seeing stars for a few days. I felt like I needed to work on some eye-hand coordination to where it was. Then I discovered it, an opened figure drawing session out in Park Slope.

For 8 dollars, you get to sit in this laid-back studio with about 10 other people for two and a half hours with a nude model. No one is telling you how to draw; you don’t have to talk to anyone if you don’t want to. And did I mention wine?

Too good to be true? It’s not.

It felt good. It felt right, unlike everything else in my life. For those two and a half hours, I’ve gained a part of myself back.

…And it’s fantastic to know I’m still here.



. Discovering music: Lali Puna.

" It's not the worst I've ever looked, it's just the most I've ever cared"


. battle wounds.

My dad and I always play this game. It’s the game where one of us would say movie quotes and the other one has to guess what movie that came from. He always uses this quote, even though I’ve guessed it right many many times.

“ Why do we fall down, Bruce?” He would say with a serious face.

“ So we could learn to pick ourselves back up! Batman Begins.” I would say with confidence and enthusiasm, just ‘cause I like to be right.
My dad and Mr. Wayne just happen to have the same principles.

Since I fall a lot, it seems like I’m in a perpetual state of picking myself back up. And I’m alright with that. I’ve become quite good at it actually. However, when I fall really hard though, I still haven’t quite figured out if I have the timeframe that I need in picking myself back up.



It’s amazing to think about how unnecessary drama tends to follow you everywhere. It doesn’t matter if you move cities or countries. I blame the Internet mostly. It’s the land where the lines are blurred, not to mention that majority of it is passive-aggressiveness. And with just a few harmless clicks, you get to enter somebody’s personal information; who they are hanging out with, what kinds of music or movies they are into now, pictures of their recent roadtrip, so on and so fourth, and before you could even say sign out, it’s boarder-line stalkerism.

I also blame the human nature to talk about other people. Don’t get me wrong, I do it too. To think about the secrets and scandalous stories that is being passed around like tampons in the girls’ bathroom. It’s like a tub of Half Baked ice cream from Ben & Jerry’s, it’s so good that you KNOW it has to be fattening. The newsstands full of tabloids are a strong enough evidence of this very fact.

However, as much fun as it is, when does it ever end? When does the line ever get drawn between being completely driven crazy and being adorably neurotic? Where do you put the line between the little social interactions that people get into and having it straight up ruin a relationship?

I’m taking a minor “emotional embargo” at the moment, mainly because I’m done and I need to take care of myself. It’s like the moment you realize at an-all-you-can-eat buffet that you’ve eaten so fast, you didn’t even notice that you were actually full about 30 minutes ago.

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