Wednesday, April 21, 2010

from now on, all of my entries will be found on:
thank you (:

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

bleu ciel

favorite spots to study at UCLA:

1. Covel 3rd Floor Balcony
2. Humanities English Reading Room

Set-up tables and chair outside
Very few people
Perfect weather (6:30 PM, slightly cool, but still shirt & shorts type of weather)
The golden reflection of the sun against the old brick buildings on campus
Auditory time machine aka old favorite songs
Learning about ancient civilizations

Despite having two finals tomorrow that I'm unbelievably unprepared for, I feel good.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

receiving an up-to-date update

more than 6 months ago, my friend's boyfriend passed away.
I just found out right now.

It's true when they say you can find out just about anything from Facebook nowadays. All the latest news you need about your circle of friends/enemies/strangers' lives are within a mouse-click of your grasp. Having deactivated, reactivated, deactivated, and reactivated my Facebook (with the possibility of re-deactivating again), I have struggled with my love and hate relationship with this social networking site.

But I never expected to find out something like this.

A friend-acquaintance of mine updated her status expressing her anger against Christian posts on the Santa Maria Times regarding the death of an Eric Okerblom.

Eric Okerblom.
Eric Okerblom.

Sounded so, so familiar...

Natural response: Google it.
Led me to his Facebook.
Naturally, this is a very creeper/stalker-esque thing to do, but I needed to know why he sounded so familiar. And lo and behold, his profile picture was of a guy smiling widely, zoomed in next to a girl who I knew as one of my best friends in junior high.

The next fifteen minutes were so surreal.
I hadn't talked to her in over a year.. but when I did check up on her profile once in a while, I would see pictures of her and her boyfriend; it even still said "in a relationship with.." This whole time I was thinking she was going out with someone who had long since passed away.

I wonder how she is doing.
The last time I saw her was two years ago in my high school gym, which was also the first time I had seen her in maybe the previous three years. She was a good friend, I remember. In fact, I now live on the same street that she moved out of once our family moved in.

I don't know.

Today's been a long day.
Time to get cracking on my history paper.

Saturday, February 27, 2010

this is the account of sarah h. chong on saturday, february 27, 2009:

8:45 AM- wake up for work
8:46 AM- check clock, recognize headache
8:47 AM- call in sick
1:00 PM- wake up to sunlight
1:05 PM- close curtains
1:06 PM- go back to sleep
5:00 PM- wake up

total hours of sleep: approximately 17 hours

never again.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

i want to write, i really do..

yeah, i don't know..
hopefully soon.

Monday, February 8, 2010


I really want one!

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

invisible sweet tooth

photo credit to: taminsea

I wish I was more of a snacks/baked-goods type of person. There are times when I crave something sweet (usually only ice cream), but for the most part, I'd rather eat real food. But maybe, I'll try to get into this sweets business. I always come across pictures of the prettiest desserts and pastries, and it's a shame because I don't think I'd really enjoy tasting them as much as looking at them (with the exception of a few things). Funny because, in addition to this, I am horrible at baking. I never really understood how poor my skills were until the failure of my mom's tiramisu birthday cake. I guess not having an electric mixer makes a big deal.. and I suppose not being very exact in my measurements could have something to do with it... but c'mon, how much of a difference could that make? Apparently, a lot. But with a lost bet resulting in baking 300 cookies (I really must learn how to make bets I'll win) and a number of other factors-- mainly just an excuse to visit hole-in-the-wall bakeries-- I think I'll try to start forming a sweet tooth.

fico assim sem voce - adriana calcanhotto