You know that it's good for you, but you don't want to drink it.
A few days ago, I decided to bring two cans of V8 to my room so that I'll have something to drink when I am thirsty. I decided to open one up on Saturday night. I took about two to three good gulps of it. The can has been sitting on my desk ever since.
My mom has a whole box of V8 at home. She had bought them at Costco last week. Eeeeeeeeeew.

Likewise, I got dreadfully upset over my math midterm. Too much theoretical thinking. Yet really, in the end, it's all good for you. I had started thinking in a broader perspective, why must we learn how vectors move in vector space or how matrices behave when they multiply? Just cuz. Just cuz they enrich you...or something like that.
Well obviously I didn't do that terribly well on the midterm...and there's only one for this class. Academically, high school was much better. I remember the days that I basically zoned out, but when I came back to earth, I still went away with a letter grade made up of three straight lines. Maybe I should have gone to Stanford. Then again, I never liked red. Or birds that tweet for that matter.

There's one thing I want to add though.
Someone was mean to my sister's cake! I admit I was insanely jealous when she got a cake (favorite ice cream flavor too-mint chip, btw I perfer carmel praline!!!) from her bf asking her to the prom. Awww...just too creative! Well that isn't the point though. I was horrified but not surprised when she told me yesterday that our motha was disrespectful to the cake! I wanted a piece of the cake too!!! :( The most saddest thing was when my sister said that our mother blantantly criticized the purpose of a relationship. "Why you stuck with one boy? OPEN YOUR EYES!!!" [Yes bad English too, but it's more painful that way...realizing that immigrant parents can't cross the cultural barrier or simply refuse to.] Huh, what? Sometimes, I wish my sister and I had an American mother. Yet, the poor cake. The cake itself has been ripped of its meaning. Somehow for our mother, it's simply an object of belittling. The poor poor cake!
Yet yesterday after I talked to my sister on the phone for 40 minutes, I felt better. Hopefully, her cake feels better...cuz still I want to eat it too. :) CAAAAAAKE! sniff sniff! Oh and Man also made me feel better too when she agreed with my perspective with our relationship with our parents, especially our mother.
"We are estranged from our parents, but I am not estranged from you." hehe, yes!! Sisters = cool!!

Time to regain my energy once more.

Not by V8, I won't.