Random thoughts.

The pathetic immutability of the piano-level at Yale is getting more and more depressing. What is going on?

The gym is truly a haven for an undeniably static series of mental cases: a) the anorexically-inclined 90-pound female, perpetually stranded on a treadmill, waiting for her ribcage to accentuate her imaginated beauty. The kind of chick you would date for the sole purpose of forcing a 16-oz steak down her throat. b) the isotonic obsessive madman. definition means nothing, and roaring like a manly lion while dropping all your weights to the ground is a definitive public measurement of what's down there. c) the janet jackson idolizing ab-fanatics. she spends 45 minutes on a mat, crunching like a broken rocking chair. the gym is truly a place for the psychotic.

On a serious and unrelated note, many of you know that I have not been doing so well since the semester has started. Hopefully, this is changing for the better. I have since undergone a complex inauguration into an elite family consisting of three older female brothers, a bulgarian boyfriend with c-cup pecs, and a romanian roommate with whom i can commute telepathically as a result of our siamese-esque twinship.

Being single is definitely not what it was built up to be, though I think I am quickly adapting. All asian girls in school are either a) incapable of using vocabulary past high-pitched words like 'unyee', b) taken by white guys, c) ugly, d) all of the above. For those of you that believe Berkeley goggles were the thickest of them all, please.....come to New Haven. You'll be like Ray Charles by the end of the month.

I am tired. This blog entry is incomprehensible, but I haven't written in awhile.

Currently: trying to get my life back on track.