A Day In A Life...

Rach is too lazy to blog so I'm going to entertain you....with photos! Photos of things and events Rach and I experience when we are together, followed by a short caption...because writing the amount Rach usually writes is way too time consuming and bring brain much pain. much much pain.

-Dan

Pets:





Wonderin' Around:
China Town, Vancouver



Food:This is a Japadog. The person who invented this is a genius.
P-Toro Ramen. There's nothing more addictive than this...

I forgot what this is called, but I'm sure Rach will do a blog about this place later.

Learnin':

CRAMPED

I've known this for quite some time now. Being in the state of denial for quite awhile, I've finally come to accept the fact:

Maintaining, upkeeping and cooking up good entries for a blog is HARD.


I know, I know... you probably think that this is another one of those excuse of a blog entry that apologizes for my recently sporadic visitations to my blog dashboard. It seems that I only have some arm's length involvement.


Well, what can I say? The ever so apologetic Allegro can only do what she must at this point of time, apologize. Sometimes when I do ever get so bored, I go to this blog. This stands as evidentiary support that a small-town girl from one of the smallest city-states in existence can become world-renowned in the blogsphere. I do understand that if you do not hail from south east asia, you will probably have a hard time understanding the lingo and colloquialism inherent in the area. You may need this , to demystify the jargon. After understanding what this lady(if I can call her that) talks about, you'll probably form some opinion that she is rather catty on all circumstances.


My point is: Her success can be contributed by a few reasons, some being that she provided a service in a timely manner, catching on to a fast and growing trend of blogging/surfing, her outspoken-ness (beit uncouth at times) her notoriety creating an upward surge and last but not least, her constant updating of her blog with key information of relevance. I have a good feeling she gets paid to be a blogger. But one pivotal question resonates:


Can a love be made into job and still be loved as much?


At times I imagine (did I tell you I love to dream?) if I had to be a resident writer to The Economist or Vogue, I'd probably slowly brew a resentment to my work. All that pressure to make deadlines and yet present works of art... inconceivable. Assuming 12 articles annually, there are bound to be some works of "rubbish" churned to meet a deadline. Although I'm not really supposed to say this, Commercialism takes the romanticism out of things.


I blog. I love to take opportunites to express myself. It's my sheepish way of having an alter-ego, preppy push-over Dr. Jekyll in the day, uninhibited admirable Mr. Hyde at dusk...
The greatest reason for it is because I can write whatever pleases myself and whenever I please. Isn't it wonderful to have freedom?


To anyone who's interested
Currently.

• Researching economic data for 20-page paper on finance
  
• Keeping up with readings
• Panicking about graduation
• Perfecting skills in the kitchen (hopeful graduation of cooking skills to culinary skills)
• Dragging big booty to the gym
• Consistently on the job-hunt
• Enrolling for the CSC

Be on the lookout for my rant: MY PARENTS ARE FUNDAMENTALISTS!

And so it begins...

Well, the 2 weeks have just whirled speedily past me and in my opinion it was a well-spent vacation. You might be expecting that I experienced something tremendously exciting or spectacular, but I did nothing of such. After combatting tumultuous times during exam period, my fantasy was simply to take refuge in the comforts of my home or his and attain 8 hours or more of REM sleep. It necessarily took 4 days to completely eradicate my sleep debt!
The path to relaxation requires that I hike up the Grouse Grind; spend time with my other half; hang out with girlfriends, have a day with dogs at the beach, hit the gym, have an insane amount of barbeque parties, and another day-trip to Seattle.


But of course, it is supposedly true that if anything is wonderful, it must cease to exist at some point, and in any case, I happily go back to my work feeling refreshed. I'm in a slight state of distress currently, seeing as it is my last semester at school even though it is to my knowledge that it will not be the absolute last. Graduation really frightens me. In the end, because I've spent all my life doing it, I've come to love reading, studying.



Random memory:


Isn't it peculiar how as one goes through life, life governed by nature, fate or a ubiquitous being rakes up something from your past?
This is one of those horrid eras of mine.
Quite probable that I'm 10 in that picture, standing on the left. I dreaded my elementary school life, almost every aspect of it. From the contemptible bitchy girls and snide remarks that sprung from their mouths, the squalid circumstance of the school giving it creepiness and perversity (hence countless of ghost stories), the distance it was from my home to the poor disappointing grades I acheived.
My dad came to pick me up that day and as I vaguely recall, I was asking this particular girl something and she gave me a usual rude response. Seeing that we were speaking he assumed she was a close friend of mine and told us to pose for a picture. Avoiding the possibility of ruining her squeaky-clean image she complied and I was told to put my arm around her for an effect.
I do not even remember what her name is.