I’m

Still the same, not who i want to be.

I’m starting to have a complex, or a sort of altercation with myself. Increasingly i’m refusing to accept myself, i’m transfixed on who i want to be, or become. I want to be this other person, who even though has her vulnerabilites, her problems, her imperfections – has this impeccable flair for writing that i cannot hope to emulate, has her confidence to voice thoughts, has no self-consciousness of what she says or does because it is what she wants to do (then again, it might just have been carefully edited blog posts ;P)

that, however, was something i’ve always avoided. my constant reading her and wanting to get to know her is bordering obsession, which if not controlled will slowly turn to blatant adoration. I don’t want to be a fan or follower of another person’s traits just because she happens to demonstrate the ‘who’ that i want to be, I want to be… the me that has those qualities i admire.

I find it very disconcerting to talk about another person like that. But… I really do want to get to know her =(

I’m slaving over admission essays, turning draft after draft into unfinished products and starting new ones when that scrooge of an inspiration peeps through the door. This is one of the encouraging aspects I still have left in me, i suppose. I refuse to let an essay go down without a fight!

so many things to do tomorrow, an early morning awaits. Yet even with that knowledge i cannot? will not? compel my body to reach the bed a little earlier. my eyes have been drooping and my glasses falling off the oily bridge of my nose, but one page leads to another and i sit here for the past 3 hours reading. Reading on information i hope will help me in my college admissions, typing and discarding papers i hope will eventually turn into a masterpiece, munching on the only comfort food i have left (since the ATROCIOUS budgeting began – btw friends, did you know i’m starting to have a budget? can only spend 10 bucks on food everyday! death wei) ferrero rocher, which i limit myself to a maximum of a couple a day as it has to last. Almost rm40 for a box of 30! it’s rm1+ for every golden ball.

I’m so conscious about how much i spend now i sound like a stingy old lady.

if i have the mood (haha. i should stop saying things like these) i might detail the whole budgeting plan. blogging’s been a real chore since the move to wordpress. I guess it’s the professional interface. I realised that i am so much more comfortable talking shit back in the blogdrive days (which i miss terribly) and typing long posts because the space they provided for writing posts was so much bigger. the huge portrait pictures were posted in regular intervals too. sigh to superficial changes

oh. and i think i know how to draw eyebrows already. it came with the late revelation that whatever i do, my eyebrows will look fake nevertheless BECAUSE THEY ARE. and then the realistic-looking drawn eyebrows started appearing.

hm. should take one of those big-ass camwhore portraits and put one here.

see lah.