Oh boy…

All day I’ve been forcing my brain not to freak out so far I managed to contain myself and not think about it, but all that went down the drain when I realized I’ve got computer graphics yes I know the course sounds cool, but the thing is I’ve been preparing myself all week thinking I’ve got game design so hours before class I check again and realize nope nope it’s not game design, it’s actually computer graphics

And here is where the self doubt starts and I lose it. But then I got this message from Bem but it lifted my spirits up! And I started to think
And so I go to class.

Oh boy…
Oh boy…
Oh boy…

From this 3 hours, what I managed to conclude:
1- I fucking need coffee to actually stay focused in class

2-shit shit shit. I have to teach myself EVERYTHING because this dude doesn’t explain shit.

3-math needs to be my best friend. Especially geometry

4-am I the only one lost in this class?

5-wait what we finished 4 chapters already

6- I need a study group I have to interact with people who clearly don’t want to but damn it we need a study group!

7- wait we have a homework? With code but we didn’t take any coding. You didn’t explain anything.

8-apparently images are made up of triangles

9- send help please

So yeah I’m freaking out. Help?





oh my god
Yesterday, I’ve found a basketball court next to where I live.  so finding this court brought so much joy in this heart of mine. 

Today was spent me contemplating whether to buy some sports gear and go play or not. Hours past and still trying to  decide. Finally came around to going out and buying the ball, and sports wear. 
-Anxiety started kicking in-
But to hell with it. 
Dress up.
Grab the ball.
Head out.
Start walking towards the courts.
The freaking out starts. 
Still walking towards the courts. 
Arrived at the court. 
Stares [all those buffed up lads playing basket and damn they’re buff] 
I leave. 

And I am a woes. Here I am sitting disappointed in myself. So yeah leaving this here to remember how much of a fail I am…

Lead Us  by Tony Delfino

The true poet has no choice of material. The material plainly chooses him, not he it.

J.D. Salinger (via aestheticintrovert)

(Source: nickiland)