Life of the Party

To be honest, I’m probably more of a panel number two. Who wants to deal with real people anyway, right?

Wait, you’re telling me they exist and I’m hurting their feelings? What?

Anyway, there are probably even more stereotypes, but I only get so many square inches of napkin.

You ever sit around wondering how on earth could anyone be enthusiastic about something as dull as a “reunion” with people you mostly don’t know? Or rather, people who ask you if you remember them but you could swear you’ve never met them in your life—but of course you remember them don’t you? You met when you were two years old!

Well, call me a silver-liner, but here’s what I just realised: reunions, or any gathering with a lot of people, are happy hunting grounds for material. So much material. And so here’s the outcome: new material!

What other stereotypes have you seen at gatherings? (Yes, you’ve been to one and had to stay for five hours, don’t hide it. And you observed too. You were too bored, so spill.) Did you run into my characters? And were you the life of the party, or me?

Micro Moments


This is my jacket putting up a fight against a drop of water. I just thought it would make for an interesting picture. It’s all about perspective, you see.

(My source of inspiration? I happen to be sitting outdoors on a bench overlooking the faculty of Architecture. I’m also sitting with my physics book in hand. It does create quite a mood.)

Still going strong

I could go on about the artistic cliché of how it looks like a crystal and everything, but I get the feeling this will end up turning into a discussion about the properties of crystals and how saturated nickel crystals look really pretty and how I kinda miss chemistry and how I’ve been stuck on a single page of physics for the past half hour, so I think I’ll spare you that.

(Also, my daily update on the tree:0301A659-5CFF-4482-BA50-388590FAA5C0.jpeg4191A635-4011-47E0-9121-A73ABA9AB92E

On that note, I think I’ll head over to the architecture building and admire it. It looks awesome.

Happy thanksgiving, y’all!

Soap Suds of the World

“You are not special. You’re not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You’re the same decaying organic matter as everything else. We’re all part of the same compost heap.”

“Didn’t I realise that each of us is a sacred, unique snowflake of special unique specialness?”

“We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are.”


I guess all three of them were right, weren’t they?
‘Jack’, Tyler and God?
We have the potential to be any, we all have it in us to be special unique snowflakes. Or we could choose to be trash and dirt of the world, but most of the time, we just don’t try to be either. We resign to, or just content ourselves with just being.
As ‘Jack’/’Joe’ (depending on whether you followed the book or the movie Fight Club) said, “we just are.”
Nameless, faceless beings, happy to rot away in a cubicle on minimum wage, or conversely, we just are, the label, that image, the good employee, the award-winner, the hard worker, the faceless, well-lubricated wheel cog.
Neither are we essential, nor are we causing trouble.
We just are, and that’s probably why, we’re replaceable.

Do we have any personality? Are you anything other than a well-labelled diagram? Is there any part of you a tag can’t define?
Is there any characteristic of yours that isn’t a Google-searchable Shutterstock image?
Can you define yourself outside of your resumé? Is it too hard, or much too easy?
Are you an online personality quiz? Are you your zodiac?
The daily horoscope?
Can I tell exactly how you’d react to this?
And is something wrong with you if you don’t?
Isn’t your name shared by a million others? Aren’t your traits in fifty others?
Aren’t you a compilation of influences, then?
Are you you? Who are you?
What about you isn’t replaceable? What about me isn’t?
Is this really me, then? Could an algorithm have picked up my style and be writing this right now, then?
Can I be predicted?
Am I just existing?
Not the melted snowflake nor the trodden shit, yet nothing at all?