It’s about 3 in the morning as I commence writing, so be prepared for some nonsensical blabbering about assorted topics that pop haphazardly in and out of my mind. I feel like I haven’t written in a while so it could get lengthy as well. Grab some popcorn and take off your shoes and socks, folks.
I think Life is telling me that it is one coincidence and irony after another. It just so happens that a few weeks ago, I saw this obscure (but budding) rapper by the name of Rob Roy perform alongside on of my favorite artists, Astronautilus. He piqued my curiosity with his bizarre rhymes and so I looked him up, found some of his mp3s. Needless to say, I was pretty hooked right away. Turns out one of my favorite tracks is called Rollercoaster Baby. I realize this is not the norm, but my life, as of late, is summed up quite well by an R&B joint. The way I see it, Life is a rollercoaster, complete with those endlessly long, and annoyingly loud inclines followed by drops and spins. It is serpentine and I never quite know where it will go next. I realize that this is as cliche (I am too lazy to figure out how to type the e with the tilde) as it gets, but I figured hey, I can do what I want!
One moment I am sitting in Moore 100, sweating and squinting at a piece of paper bereft with empty and full circles. The next, I am 9 stories above the ground, sitting atop a ceiling above a ceiling, pondering what a journey Life is and how quickly the ride goes by. I feel like all too often I see Life as passing by too quickly, akin to those rides at Disneyland, Six Flags, and those other overpriced amusement parks. This struck me especially when I turned 20, an age balancing perilously between still young and somewhat old, with emphasis on the latter. During the ride, the concept of time gives way to gravity and stomach-turning; you don’t just think, Hey this ride is 30 seconds in, 45 seconds left to go. Instead you focus on the turns and dips and drops, the events that leave you gasping for breath. It is only afterwards, in those dizzying moments when you step off the coaster in a state of disorientation that you are conscious of the fact that the ride was really short. Too short. I suppose this is as transition of a thought that I can procure at this hour so…
I remember last year having this “friend”-of-a-friend named Adnan (I put friend in quotation marks because he wasn’t that great of a character, Jeff can attest to that). I was in the lounge once, just minding my own business. I was pulling quotes out of my butt. You know, those retarded ones that consistently don’t make any sense. Well this one kind of did, at least to me. It revolved around the purpose of Life and went along the lines of “Live, Love, and Leave.” Let me clear this up: it wasn’t supposed to be sexual, poetic, or anything of the sort. I figured it was a clearcut blueprint of Life. Adnan didn’t, though. He just gave me the most malicious look and said, “Nghiem, you’re full of sht, just like you always are.” What an arsehole. This is the same dude that had a dream that consisted of him beating the snot out of me. I knew this because he told me about it when I was on the floor, just minding my own business. What an arsehole.
Boom! I am segueing from violent dreams to Prom. What a move! By the way, my heater is on for some otherworldly reason and it is so daggum hot. Ok, the heater is off now. Had I been asleep I might have woken up tomorrow as a piece of toast. That wouldn’t do. Heeeeey I can make a connection with bread, seeing as we had some at this fancy-schmancy Italian restaurant the twenty-odd of us had last night at PROM. Yes, that’s right - PROM. Hold up, you say. Isn’t that for highschoolers? I mean, I’ve been mistaken for one more than a few times, but no, it is not exclusive for the 18 and under club. The idea sprouted from the minds of a couple of my friends and, soon enough, plans involving dressing up, a classy dinner, and some ghettofab dancing were set into motion. Prom was different this time around. I had gone it to twice already, junior and senior year of high school. Granted I had plenty of fun back then, I can safely say this one was more than memorable, in part because of the following:
• having a dainty date who is both too cute and too tall :]
• astronomical amounts of high-effing-quality pictures that I will continue to obsessively look at
• some dank pumpkin ravioli, duck with cherry sauce, and risotto fit for only Chinese emperors
• the most awkwardly fun dance party back at the dorms (short-lived, but pretty sweet)
If I had the energy and patience to do a write-up for some of my favorite pictures, I would. Lots of little quirky details and memorable moments behind each skillfully taken snapshot.
Haha one of the glaring trends that is apparent throughout the 200-some pictures is the healthy amount of finger/tripod guns. Boys will be boys. I think we’ve been interested in guns, explosions, violence, boobs, and sports since the dawn of time. Who on earth knows why…it beats me. PSHOO PSHOO!
Which reminds me, I am getting increasingly fond of activities fit for Men, like sports and video games. Primarily basketball, the gym, and recently football. I guess it’s better late than never to finally grasp manhood, right? AHH AHH AHH IT FEELS SO GOOD! Geez, no homo.
A few hours ago, for an all too brief 24-hours, it was Mother’s Day. While I appreciate society taking a day out of the calendar and dedicating it solely to mothers everywhere, I don’t think calling your mommy or sending her flowers should be limited to May 10th. I like how Tenneva Jordan defines mothers:
“A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie.”
My mommy would never be one to fall under this categorization, though. She would have made 20 pieces of pie, 4 for each one of us. Yes, folks, she is THAT amazing. Oh, and it is so kind of her to deliver me (I could end this sentence here if I wanted to) 30 home-made spring rolls. She knows how much I love food, notably in those late hours, like this one, where Bruincafe is closed and I have no other means of acquiring edible gratification.
The effing weather has been effing spectacular lately. Sunny blue skies, check. Green grass, minimal allergies, check. Cool breeze, check. How fortunate we are to live in such a amicable place where I can spend most of my days just idling in the grass or wandering around late at night, jacketless but warmed by the night air. It’s wonderful, really.
I am currently at about 140 gigabytes of music, a substantial amount. I’d think over the years that I would get bored of listening to music seeing as what, there are so many chords and instruments out there. HEEEEEELL nah, bro. I continue to discover talented acts that catch my ear with some whispery, heartfelt voice, or an infectious melody, or a skullcrushing breakdown. I mean, not every band is great. Had I downloaded and kept every album I have ever listened to, that number would be 8 or 9 times as big (seriously). But, given my limited hard drive space and fortitude, I didn’t. In actuality, I probably listen, heavily, to only about 20 or 30 gigs of my collection. That isn’t saying that I don’t attend to the others; it’s just that I, like others, go through musical trends where my taste depends on my overall mood. As of right now, I’m really digging the cheesy acoustic pop songs. It just makes me so happy! A fine accompuniment to browsing facebook peekchurs.
This inspires me to make music myself. I’ve decided to partake in a few musical endeavors.
• Emili and the Space Nghiems - 25% folk and indie pop, 75% G.
• FLLWYRHEART - electronica with pop-inspired hooks and melodies. Hushed vocals a must.
• Philip & I, our joint soulful, stairwell-jammin duet. Hopefully we can perform at Hedrick someday.
But yeah, life is all about being inspired. It is not as rewarding and definitely not as amusing without having something or someone to be animated about. This is the academic lesson I have learned lately: don’t be scared to do what makes you happy, and take an interest in whatever can make you feel young at heart.
Rides are short and fast, so take the time to notice the flowers, even if they are whizzing by.
