The City, How I Met Your Mother, and N.E.R.D.

In no particular order, of course.

That pretty much sums up my lovely, lovely Saturday. I’m still in my pajamas (and by that I actually mean a white boys’ Hanes t-shirt and pink boxers), and I haven’t really left my room at all. Except to get lunch from the kitchen (leftover Korean food! Chapchae, bulgogi and fried rice from Han Bat). It has been…AWESOME. I haven’t really bummed around like this since summer, during my I’m-all-emo-and-depressed-and-I-have-convinced-myself-that-I-am-heartbroken-and-all-I-want-to-do-is-watch-Grey’s-Anatomy-and-cry stage, so this is a welcome change from the past few, crazy months.

Anyway, how awesome is How I Met Your Mother! I am a little ashamed to admit that I only discovered it recently – and by that I mean, I’ve known about it forever, but never actually bothered to watch. But my love and pride for all things Wesleyan got the best of me…and I only have 3 more episodes to go and I’m done with Season 1 (in a matter of 2 days, really). For those of you who don’t know (and even if you do, you’ll read this anyway) – Ted, Marshall and Lily all went to Wesleyan on the show. Which isn’t surprising, really, given that HIMYM’s creators both met when they were in college at Wes – Carter Bays and Craig Thomas. Woot. Go Wes!

In any case, my I-want-all-the-music-in-the-world self decided to go and find Barney’s Get Psyched mix from the New Year’s Eve episode, and ta-dah!

And then I did some cleaning, and decided that I needed (yes, needed) to watch The City — MTV’s new spinoff of The Hills. The series, in all its scripted-”reality”-TV glory, is about how Whitney Port moves to the city and goes to work for Diane Von Furstenberg and is trying to make friends and she’s dating this hot Australian guy named Jay (who’s rather hot, btw) and she’s all caught between the downtown and uptown crowd, etc etc. Oh, it IS awesome. But, no the point really, is that Erin, Whitney’s BFF on the show, is my friend Chris’ next door neighbor at the Gramercy!! Boo yeah! I believe it was also Erin who caught me standing outside Chris’ door that one night they convinced me to come hang out at 4 am and then subsequently blacked out and never opened the door for me. So I stood there, in all my plaid green pajamas, Wesleyan sweatshirt, pink puffy jacket and…brown leather boots (yeah, no Uggs) glory, waiting, waiting, waiting like a complete moron, banging on the door, as Erin walked out of her apartment (twice, maybe even thrice). I wish I was already watching HIMYM then, then I would’ve known that “Nothing good happens after 2 am.”

Ok. Time to clean. Perhaps listen to N.E.R.D.’s Sooner or Later for the bazillionth time. Clutch vid below. Ciao.

Because pop rocks, obviously.

So here I am waiting for the clock to strike, well, 9:30 pm — which is when that lovely Dial 7 town car will arrive to pick up my brother and bring him to the airport. Ok fine, to pick US up and bring US to the airport, because I’m a good sister and I do that sort of thing. And then we’ll hug goodbye and I’ll get all choked up because even if he can be such a jerk sometimes (fine, most of the time), and is too emo (although he denies it) for my taste, I love him to death. And then because my broke-ass self can’t afford to take another cab back to the city, I’m going to take the $5 AirTrain (still too expensive for me) and then take the A train back home from Queens to my lovely (yet increasingly disheveled) Manhattan apartment. Oh yes, and I’m using my dad’s credit card to pay for the town car.

So that totally wasn’t the point of this entry. I was wandering through the wonderful maze that is the Interwebs when I came across this (thanks to the greatness that is Doobybrain): the most awesome music mash-up ever. Pop songs. 25 of them. And as much as I love non-mainstream music (or those once indie gone mainstream, whatever), I LOVE POP. Like, I love pop with a passion. (Yes, you will soon notice my very liberal use of the word “like”). I can listen to the Backstreet Boys and the Spice Girls and Hanson and the Moffatts for the rest of my life.

Ok, again, not the point. So here it is: DJ Earworm has managed to capture the musical awesomeness that was 2008 in 4:38 minutes:

How mad cool/awesome/tight/clutch is that?

You can download the track here.

Boo yeah, I’m back.

So every once in a while, I manage to convince myself that I am a rather fascinating person whose life people would actually enjoy reading about. Call me narcissistic (which I am, anyway, admittedly so), but I actually think I’m pretty interesting. And I’m interested in a lot of stuff (haha, plus I’m articulate like that). I may have hints of ADD when it comes to music, fashion, art and pop culture, but I suddenly have the urge to share my fleeting obsessions with the rest of the world.

Right now: listening to Slow Show by The National — it’s the last song they play in the last Gossip Girl episode (Brother, Where Bart Thou?). Stephanie Savage and Josh Schwartz are really good at their jobs.

This entry is going to serve as a marker to the awesome blog that I am about to resurrect. I’m crossing my fingers.

Good Friday.

I’m sitting on Jess’ tatami in her lovely Park Slope, Brooklyn apartment. I’ve just finished eating three slices of whole wheat bread…with Nutella (fresh from France, thanks to her French roommate) slathered all over each one. My Wet Wet Wet song just finished (thanks, Jess) and I’m torn between taking a walk and burning off the 530 calories for each 100 g of Nutella that I have just consumed…and…not.

Oh, I also have to shower.

Wiped out.

All I want to do is stay in bed (although my room feels like a furnace), eat a cookie, drink some tea, and pass out. Oh, also, I’m going to need my room to clean itself.

There are probably about 5000 random things in this room right now – an orange Care Bear from Stop and Shop, a dream catcher from Greenhills, a “scented” candle from Target, a half-consumed bottle of Snapple from Weshop, about 100 or so articles of clothing, 40 pairs of shoes, and me sitting in the middle of it all, trying to figure out where these last four years have gone.

And I’m torn between wanting to get out of here fast and hoping for the best-est semester ever.

And all I can think of saying to myself is – good luck. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I guess I’ll figure it out.

So maybe it’s time to watch another episode of Cashmere Mafia and let the rain put me to sleep.

Good night.

Merry Christmas, almost.

I can’t wait to get that warm and fuzzy feeling.

4 days to go.

I’ll be home for Christmas

(This photo is totally stolen, by the way.)

Pasko na, sinta ko. Hanap-hanap kita.

Oh Manila. I miss you so.

One way or the other

There’s nothing like the anxiety of not knowing whether you’re going the right way. I’m really not a big fan of these big, life-changing decisions.

I’ve been walking around in circles and it’s probably time for me to make a right turn. Let’s just hope it’ll take me where I need to be.

Thank You.

Sometimes I forget how great You are.

Good night.

Between problem sets on yellow legal pad and art history papers on Korean Buddhist sculptures, Friday night festivities and missed Sunday brunches, crazy freshman roommates and social calls at the library, lonely nights of homesickness and the all-consuming drama of college life, it’s been a blast.

This one’s almost over, one more semester to go.

It’s hard to believe I’ve come this far.