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Desktop Confessional

Enough of William Hung

Monday, March 08, 2004
4:44 PM

(No pictures today. Camera has no batteries.)

Aw. I pity the poor guy. However, I don't think that Mr Hung particularly minds being the laughingstock of America (or is it the world right now?). I hear he's got his very own fan club with really cute chicks dying to marry him or kiss him or hump him. And his education at UC Berkeley is also being sponsored by the university itself I think. I have half the mind to go audition and make a complete ass of myself in hope of achieving his 15 minutes of fame.

However, William Hung SO does not deserve the credit for being the worst singer ever auditioned. All congratulations for the WORST audition ever (read: freaking hilarious) should go to Keith.

Who's Keith? Click here and WATCH. By the way, the song Keith auditioned with was Madonna's "Like A Virgin".

Just an effort to make ya'll laugh. :)

Obsessing over ending obsessions.

Tuesday, March 02, 2004
11:24 AM

I think it's not just me who thinks too much. I am surrounded by people who overanalyze, who overthink, who dissect every sentence and every gesture.. people who wonder about the meaning of life, who question their very own existence, who fret and ponder about whether there is a God.. deep thinkers all alike. Birds of a-feather do flock together.

I guess I'm a lot like that at times, thinking too much. Getting affected by harmless sentences and random situations. Spending hours in my mind, just thinking and thinking. And getting no where. Not like I ever expected to find out the solution in the first place anyway. I set myself up for disappointment most of the time.

It would be great if I would just stop being like this. Stop overanalyzing everything. Stop being a forensic scientist in the art of wondering about situations that are already in the past. It would be nice if I could get over myself and move on with the world.

Think about it. Wouldn't it be fantastic if we just stop being deep thinkers and start thinking about things you can find the answer to? Wouldn't it be more satisfying that way? To just accept realities as they are instead of trying to finding the 'meaning of it all', or supposed hidden agendas when there are none. Stop questioning the metaphysical and start indulging in the physical, the materials. Things you can touch and feel, things that exist.

But even things you think exist may not even fundamentally exist; they're barely images in your mind. I read about this concept in the book 'Sophie's World' and again yesterday when I was studying for an exam. They call it the 'Postmodern View'. Now, that certainly adds a new twist to the world don't it? However, I will not obsess about the meaning of this new twist. Why bother? No answers will be found. I'll stay in the middle ground where I accept the gray as well as the black and white. I hope it exists.

I blame John Mayer for all this. I have a strong urge to hit him where it hurts for being able to write about things I can so identify with in melodies and choruses.

New Deep
I'm so alive, I'm so enlightened
I can barely survive
A night in my mind
So I've got a plan
I'm gonna find out just how boring I am
And have a good time

Cause ever since I tried
Trying not to find
Every little meaning in my life
It's been fine, I've been cool
With my new golden rule

Now it's the new deep
Down with the old me
Talk is the same cheap
It's been

Is there a God
Why is he waiting
Don't you think of it odd
When he knows my address
And look at the stars
Don't they remind you
Just how feeble we are
Well it used to I guess
Cause ever since I tried, trying not to find
Every little meaning in my life
It's been fine, I've been cool
With my new golden rule

I'm a new man
I wear a new cologne
And you wouldn't know me
If your eyes were closed
I know what you'd say
This will last longer than the rest of the day
But you're wrong this time
You're wrong

Numb is the new deep
Down with the old me
I'm over the analyzing tonight
Stop trying to figure it out
It will only bring you down
You know I used to be the backporch poet with my book of lines always open
Knowing all the time I'm probably
Never gonna find the perfect rhyme
For heavier things