"perceiving life as a perpetual film."

life in short spurts of snapshot sentences: not in chronological order

playing frisbee in the pollock fields with people of different nationalities
eating pizza and drinking sangria as the sun sets on a black and white war movie
falling asleep in schwab with half a headset on and my head upon jon stewart's america the book
while someone lectures upon globalization
climbing to the rooftops to adjust the shades on the ceiling lamps
cotton candy insulation fluff sticking out everywhere in the moth eaten walls
immense irritation felt while watching sankofa and the history of black slavery
sin city: neon glow graphic portrayal done quentin tarantino style - booya! i see this one running the gamut for film analysis in the years to come
lying on my yellow blanket in the sun and listening to my laptop's tunes with friends
cutting my own hair (and what a chunk we cut!) with belinda and anya in my dorm toilet
getting told i look like "a rock chick" "a japanese girl" "something out of the flintstones" and "yebuda" (oh thanks dearie jiwony) in succession, thus leading to confusion as to what i look like exactly
thinking that this may mean the end of ever paying for a haircut
imbibing copious amounts of earl grey tea and honey water to avoid the onslaught of another sore throat
getting locked out by angie and being made out to be a poor thing "who has nothing, basically" on angie's answering machine
feeling weird with nothing in my pockets and strolling to the hub for a film project meeting in the cold wind, tshirt shorts slippers and all
climbing a tree beside the library for a photoshoot and getting scratched on the forearms
immense awkwardness as i keep on imagining how fugly i look and how i'm undeserving of being the subject of anyone's photography presentation
not being able to bleach my white shorts free of the strange yellow dotted stains that look like i spilled laksa on it (but how the heck, this place has no laksa)
jessybaby's angelic women's chorale concert in pasquerilla with the white and pink blossomed tree just outside
walking to carnegie at half past midnight alone in the knife that cut cold wind
beeyan's place making me feel wistful for something like that of my own where mom could run free with her imagination and design the interior whichever way she likes
playing taboo out in the open grass, saving a leaf for memory's sake
shannon allowing me to carry her everywhere, her hands full with a musical horse
working in eisenhower with my fingers full of splinters, operating the orchestra pit lift
learning that i should say "ahora, estoy despierta!" in spanish class to show i'm awake
watching little black book on my laptop and getting morbidly thoughtful
not believing in happy endings
director of life's photography - me! manual camera taking makeshift soccer team
getting primary-school-like grades
tilting my head in yihpin's car to look at the black expanse of sky diamond-studded
feeling insignificant yet very much alive
every second estoy despierta.