Month: August 2016

the likes of those of old crows

I spent most of today coding a little project and listening to old music. Both activities led to the other. It’s in the dump for now, and you can try it out here. At the moment of writing I only have their ‘middle’ three albums and all of Folie a Deux, since adding songs to the library is boring and tedious and I do not work fast enough because of how easily I get distracted. I justify this project as a ‘little tool’ that helps you search for song lyrics better. Yes, there is Google. But if Google was reliable enough then I would have stuck with it and not made this, right? The core features are pretty much there but not implemented good enough yet — since I have to learn and figure out how to. It lets you search all available albums, toggle some of them out, click on songs to view the full lyrics and highlight your search term within them. That’s it, and it’s only for Fall Out Boy — because …

day 5-6; Inner Mongolia

I learn that I fall in love too easily with things that I’ll never see again. I keep doing so anyway. Overanalyze every detail, take in air over and over again, regret things before the reasons begin to come. Fall in love with nature that has always hidden itself from you that you promise to never lose again, begging to recapture moments and memories in your mind as you had seen them. I am victim to countless mistakes. The backseat of the bus that bets everything on things beyond — never knowing what they’re truly like. This is the second and final part of my trip to Inner Mongolia. A wonderful tour, thoughts to keep forevermore and photos to stare at longingly. Apparently, long bus rides are a thing that I enjoy now.

day 1-4; Inner Mongolia

I visited Inner Mongolia at the end of July to participate in a Robotics competition. Aside from the sleepless nights, team huddled together in a hotel room with the scent of soldering and endless talking until the words seem to get so muffled and lost, unable to understand anything and everything – realizing we take language for granted — it was beautiful. Waking up every single day to a beating sun that reminded one of home only to be swept with a foreign breeze that was far too cold to be named familiar.