the sea

artist/band: The Civil Wars
telly on: on everything Josh Hutcherson
soundtrack: Summer House - Gold Motel
flick: Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961)
book: Star Girl - Jerry Spinelli

"The fool looks at a finger that points to the sky."

- Amelie

You know I love you, don't be a fool.

hullo stranger

Kira de Ocampo. Singer-Songwriter. Creative Writing student in UP Diliman. I am basically a grandma inside a 21-year-old body.

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8.01.2007 @ 9:30:00 AM
sicksicksick (today)
the dance : crushcrushcrush - paramore

i didn't go to school today. i didn't go to school today. i didn't go to school today.

why? why? why?

'cozzzzzzzzzz... i'm sick. arggh. what could be more horrible than lying in bed all day ( which i'm obviously NOT doing ), and suffering cough and colds, torturing you not to breathe?? not to mention, missing lessons ( and modulars. darn modulars! ) in school ( okay that sounded dorky) and having to catch up with your classmates because midterms are coming? ( gasp? )


except if you're not really sick, and it's not a sickness you're sick of. which is, you're sick of schoolwork or you actually WISHED to be sick in a way that you're sickly feeling this sick, and not.. uhm.. whatever that means. anyway, THE POINT IS, i didn't wish to BE sick ( unlike.. ), i really didn't.

pressure is, like rising. and the real college battle between students and the pursuit to survive profs, homework, and nasty girls is on its way to torture freshmen novices, like me. next thing i know, it's temperature.

am i just gonna lie down and wait for profs to fail me? NO. am i just gonna relax and wait til they dump homework on me without DOING anything. NO. am i just gonna watch mean college girls bring me down. uhmm.. NO?

unfortunately, i'm sick.

coughcoughcough? sniffsniffsniff?

uhmm.. i don't really think i know what i'm babbling about right now. maybe because i'm.. SICK.

i'll never say the world sick ever ever again,
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recent entries

bumming around school such bad fall = such bad day. malayong malapet new haircut summer. swings. and tweaks. a way somehow our existence has no trace still. breathing. i'm not your star. i'm not a star. four days since cinco de mayo