So another movie watched. So another meal eaten. So another day spent. The point? Nothing. I just wanted to be dramatic is all.

I'm so sleepy right now. It's probably from all that eating. Darn it. I'm supposed to write something today. But no worries. I only have a one-o-clock class tomorrow. And we don't have Kom for one week. But then again... The finals are coming up and next week the Bio and Math LT will be happening on the same day! Hell week? I don't know. Every week is hell week so what's the point of calling a week "hell week?" Why not just call it hell? But how can we call it hell? Have we been there? To hell? For all we know we're doing hell a severe injustice. Anyway, I don't care. My head hurts. Period.

So today is "Step Up" day. What is it exactly? Uhm. I got to hang out with the Mean Girls. I'm still suffering a full stomach right now because of this movie-slash-girly-window-shopping excursion. But who's complaining?


I have to be happy. I should. I must. What's the point of wallowing in sorrow anyway if we can have better?

I always screw things up. Everytime I get along well I do something completely moronic. Then back to zero. Or negative sometimes. I even lose some. Am I really wired this way or can I solve this disease?

I used to hate the rain. It's so inconvenient! Why does it have to be so wet? But I'm used to it now. What can I do? It's not as if I can stop rain or anything. So instead of complaining I'll just keep my mouth shut and bear with the circumstance. But the rain can really be a female dog sometimes. Especially if I'm wearing canvas shoes. I hate squishing while walking. Squish squish. It kinda reminds me of Dee Dee.

Why is it that in dance movies, somebody (usually the lead actor) should be from the ghetto? Are they really great dancers over there? If that's the case then I wish I was in the ghetto. In this particular genre, a black always dies. How racist is that?! The story can also be mediocre (a.k.a. crap) but the moves could make you drop a jaw (as if you have lots of them). Step, knee. Step, fan. Tuuuuuurn and contract.

Gosh I wish I could dance like that. A dancing doctor. Hmmmm...