Life as a Roaming Badger

edit.

2009-05-06T06:20:00.001-07:00

When did I become such a bad person?

Through my eyes.

2009-05-03T05:33:00.000-07:00

I have a friend, and she's lucky, oh so lucky.

She's lucky because she's still pure.

She has no expectations yet.

She has her whole life ahead of her to become a knowledgeable individual about this game called life and be naively swept off her feet by newfound happiness.

She's lucky, oh so lucky.

She's lucky because she has yet to be truly defeated and stepped on.

She's lucky because she's yet to question herself

She's lucky because she isn't me.

I have a friend, and she's lucky, oh so very lucky.

She's lucky because she still has doubts.

She's lucky because she can still make mistakes and feel bad.

She's lucky because she can still dream of love

And wake up in the morning and still think of adventures.

She's lucky because she's still scared of honesty

And the unknown

And the excitement for what is new.

She's lucky because while I sit here, she's still affected by it all.

She's lucky because she isn't me.

Cinema

2009-04-08T02:00:00.001-07:00

Sometimes you have to force yourself to be something, like forcing yourself to be happy. It's not about fallacies, but it's about getting started and not being a slacker; a slacker at life. Everyday I write "Don't be a slacker" on a piece of paper and tape it to my wall. I look at it. I'm not sure if it ever resonates with me throughout the day, but it helps. It helps to remind me that there is a part of me that has a bright outlook on things.

Lately, I've been tired of living in the "today". I'm always daydreaming about tomorrow, under the impression that a great change will come. There have only been little hints, kind of like a taste. An appetizer to the meal. Life is teasing me.

Lately, I've been looking for love. A different sort. The one that makes me feel complete when I fall asleep at night. And I've come so close each time, my love life is this vast collision of "almost there". Something always stops me; I'm afraid of rejection. Can I stop being afraid? They say fear is supposed to protect you. It's true.

Who was ever content with feeling safe though? I think it's kind of ironic. People often seek love/romance and what not to feel a sense of safety and contentment. The thing is though, love is dangerous. It's a 50/50 game.

Now that I look back on the past 5 or 6 months of my life, there were moments where I've never been happier. So much has changed, so many things happened, and there are more secrets for me to tell. In so many ways, I've become a bold person and maybe unfortunately more impulsive. I can now say "no" and feel ok the next day. I can now promise myself to never see a person again and never look back. Nothing is concrete. Nothing is linear. Everything moves in branches that eventually connect. I wonder what all the new people I've met will mean in my life. I wonder what the person I've always wanted to meet and finally had the chance to meet means in my life.

Bicycles, Cycles, and Life's Cycle

2009-01-28T02:54:00.000-08:00

Walking back tonight, the air felt like jagged little icicles piercing through my skin. It was surreal. Was I still in California? Should it feel this painful to walk in the night? Words of a truly spoiled individual.

Sometimes I think I look into subtle things a little too deeply. Coincidences and ironic situations for example. I live for them or something. I overanalyze every situation, kill it till its dead and then resurrect it through flashbacks.

However,

There's this guy. I know his name now. I even have his number. It's amazing how I have knowledge to all these valuable things; I haven't even spoken to the guy. No, I know what your'e thinking... I'm a stalker/creeper/psycho. No. The matter of fact is, I haven't even done anything.

The name and number came to me as some sort of delivery from a friend. I literally woke up to a phone call one day and got these things.

So let's re-cap.

Sometime at the beginning of this quarter... I felt like a pile of shit.

Some weeks later I start to feel like a productive human being again; I go out for yogurt with friends.

While walking back to the apartment from the parking garage this guy is riding his bicycle behind us. I simply say, "Hey, there's someone behind us. Let's divide." We were crowding his path. I know how difficult it is to ride one of those fancy bikes; I see people on the way to York Hall fall from it and eat shit on a daily basis.

He passes by me and flashes me a smile and says "Thank you."

For some unknown reason, something is sparked inside me. I smile the first real smile I've smiled for weeks.

So I am riding on this extreme, sudden jolt of adrenaline and so as he rides away on his bike I slap his butt... he was wearing really nice jeans. Don't ask, I don't know.

Just my luck, he turns around and catches me in the act.

I could have sworn I saw a hint of a mischievous smile... but I ran for dear life. Oh, how embarrassing. UGH!

Literally, the next night. My friends and I are in a car, the light is red and we are next to a bike lane. Guess who was on that lane? Yes. So my friend rolls down the window (I was sitting in the middle) and yells out "Hey! We saw you last night. My friend slapped your ass. She thinks you're cute." I'm about to hyperventilate and die of embarrassment at this point and then I hear "Oh, really..." I think to myself, "Fuck, turn green...green...green....green" It turns green. I am saved!

So I thought that was the last of it.

Last week of Fall Quarter comes rolling in. It's 2 in the afternoon and I'm still sleeping, sleeping away the torture of finals week. I get a phone call which I routinely ignore with the "ignore" button, but damn, it was a persistent phone call I noticed. I answer on the 5th ring. It was my friend Jackie. Her voice on the opposite line resembles a teeny-bopper me. I think, "WTF is going on?" She spills about her run-in with the "bike boy" and how she knows his name and talked about me and how she got his number for me. I love friends!

Of course, she gaves me the number later on. I store it, and let it rot in my digital phone book. Again, I think, "Cool, that's the last of it."

1st Week of Winter Quarter rolls in... I see him at Muir.

2nd Week, I see him by the Che Cafe hill while I am in bus... I've stopped taking the bus, but I just really had to that day for some reason.

3rd Week, we meet each other at the Institute of the Americas area.

Just an hour later, same day... I see him biking around in circles at The Grove.

4th Week, Laundry room... too much to analyze or even mention -__-

Mood: Overwhelmed.

Rolling Down Hills

2009-01-26T19:56:00.000-08:00

I rolled down a hill last night.
Simple things are the most thrilling at times.

Sex and Sexuality Adventure

2009-01-20T21:04:00.000-08:00

I woke up fairly late for class... 10:21AM. Yes, for a class scheduled at 11AM. haha

After my 11AM class (MMW w/ Prof. Gallant... he's a Micmac) I crashed Jackie's Sex and Sexual Identities class. I decided it was killing like 3 birds w/ one stone. One I got to sort of hang out with Jackie, two Rhett, the guy with this alluring mole that I have a pseudo-crush on is in that class, and three... it's about sex. That's never boring.

The professor gave me that 90's power bitch feeling. I had to laugh a little. Just as cliche as these sort of classes go... your typical butch lesbian finds herself on the seat next to me. Typical. Also, the topic of the day was "Sexual Psychopaths" with a touch of "The Homosexual Menace". Gawwwd, I die for these catchy little titles. hahaha The professor had way more on the board, but damn, this one was just worth sharing; The Homosexual Menace. LOL

I learned that the homosexual paranoia boomed during the postwar era (I'm not sure which war) because people wanted that nuclear family sort of stability. It's just a theory though.

Just after lunch, Jackie crashed my Formations of Modern Art class because "ringlets guy" was in it and I sat next to him like every lecture. Sadly, he hasn't been to class twice in a row now. I'm afraid he has dropped the class and that I am now forced to sit next to his friend who shamelessly wears short shorts.

I'm not sure where the rest of the day went. Now I'm sitting down, trying to finish this damn RQAB. RQ-effing-AB.

You are my voice, my mind, my microphone.

2009-01-16T11:29:00.000-08:00

If I could marry a Jew, I'd marry you.

Jason Schwartzman <3

We can sing along to all your "semi-romantic" tunes that aren't really meant to evoke a feeling of romance. We both fall together if one falls down? You are my voice, my mind, my microphone :)

I Exist. Again.

2009-01-15T18:09:00.000-08:00

I've been trying to re-organize my life, myself lately. It's a tedious process. It's like a mutated jigsaw puzzle that somehow cloned itself, so now there's double the number of pieces that you have to put together. There are pieces that fit without much thought and then there are others that you spend a lifetime thinking about and in the end you only figure it out because everything else fits and there's nothing left. Does that make sense?

I'm taking two Visual Arts classes this quarter. It's refreshing. I'm finally doing something that I love, something my subconciousness gets excited about without effort.

There have been a lot of changes with my life. People have come in and out, but this time around it seems to be more defining. The odd thing is, I seem to be ok with everything that's taking place. Good, bad, in between. Maybe I've just become bitter and apathetic to the point that I have this mentality of "oh, well you and you are replaceable. always." I guess if you think about it, sometimes people really are replaceable, no matter what. Sometimes even your parents are. Although, I certainly don't feel that way about my parents. I can't imagine two better people in the world to love me unconditionally.

I was talking to an old friend a couple days ago. He said that I've changed since high school. I kind of laughed a little; I don't feel like I've changed at all. The experiences I've chosen to have are different, that's for sure, but I think that's only become the case because so many opportunities are much more accessible now.

I can't decide whether I'm happy or not at this point of my life. I can only say that I'm satisfied and that I seem to be at a stable place. I wake up each day and think with the same sort of mentality I had back when I was a freshman in high school. I was that person who woke up at 5:30 in the morning everyday, no matter what. I had to take my morning shower, put on my make up, put together a cute outfit, have my morning coffee, watch VH1's Nocturnal for my daily music fix, and get to school super early to converse with friends. Wow, I sound like a total social-concious bimbo. But no, that wasn't it. Doing these things, the tedious daily routine... it made me feel good. I'm starting to do that again.

As far as relationships go. I feel others have gotten stronger, while others I'm starting to realize simply exist as a malignant tumor that must be cut off. I've certainly gotten into the phase of "simplicity". I find myself only buying black and white clothing now. My sheets are two-toned; an off-shade of white and black. My hair is now too short to even keep away from my face. My taste is reverting back into simplicity. I kind of like it. I feel like Picasso and his primitivism movement and that whole Cubism style inspired by African masks.

Gah!! Homework time :)

Selective Memory and Selective Everything

2008-12-24T21:27:00.000-08:00

It puzzles me, it really does. What am I doing wrong? I seem to give so much, care so much... it's not enough. People still just forget who I am, toss me around, throw me away. They get tired. I hate it. Maybe I need to take a second and be a jackass to everyone. Maybe it'll reassure them that I'm human so it's ok to care about me again, to recognize me as a human being... because I'm flawed and cruel just like they are.

Another thing, people seem to block you out of their lives because they want to lie to themselves because their own betrayals and carelessness has transformed you into a symbol. Some symbol they no longer want to recognize because it hurts them and it hinders them from realizing that they're "happy". Fallacies and ungratefulness, that's all people seem to be capable of. Nothing is sacred.

My friend, I call her my best friend... and she can't even make time for me. She can't even send me a text; we both know this should not be any sort of inconvenience to her because it's all she does.

There was this stranger, I thought I loved him... he really was just a mirage, false comfort, to reassure myself that I'm capable of being soft.

There are my parents, sometimes I think they take me for granted.

There is everyone else... they don't appreciate me and take me for granted.

There was this old friend, I met up with her a couple of nights ago; she's still the same. I love her, despite the fact that the tone of her voice has changed; she's become less convincing in tone... she may even be faking, but she's the epitome of what a friend is.

There are these admirers, I worry that I'm not what they expect; they should move on, not bother at all.

Current Addictions

2008-12-16T22:09:00.000-08:00

What? I'm watching a vampire series on HBO? Hmmm, there's not a big enough analogy enlaced with sarcasm to tackle this one... tsk, tsk.

"maybe it's life's way of clearing things out that aren't working out" -why life sucks according to this show.

the girl who only believed in lies.

2008-12-14T07:52:00.000-08:00

speaking in metaphors never helped anyone.

Life on a Dentist Chair

2008-12-13T13:37:00.000-08:00

Just came home from my dentist appointment. They took x-rays after x-rays of my fugly teeth today... it seemed endless. Anyway though, as I sat there, feeling as if I was unaffected by everything. Frankly, everything is affecting me all at once at the moment. I am overwhelmed by this ongoing battle between overwhelming happiness and abyssmal depression. Which is it? Am I whole or am I broken? Well, actually overwhelming happiness and abyssmal depression are both "wholes", it's subjective. Almost two years in college and all I've learned, all I've kept coming back to is this line between surrealism and "sub-realism". No, I really don't mean realism. I only have my former Vis 84 professor to thank for what I know about life now. Well, not "know" but "grasp"; you can never really know anything. Knowing that you'll never really know anything makes life's transitions less painful. Which actually reminds me of a random thought I had the other day...

There I was, 3 in the morning, procrastinating, not studying for a final that's about to take place in 5 hours... and all I can think of are the words "lost in translation", which lead me to ponder about the movie about how it related to life. Life is nothing but a myriad of transitions, edited together by people's so-called "free will"/ choice and then held together by the lifetime you live, from the time you are born to the time you cease to exist. Now the whole concept of "lost in translation" is the realization of a previous scene to the next; if something is edited, then it is not at all continuous... this is how all things become lost in translation, and I think this is how people begin to change... great friends one day, bitter enemies the next and so forth.

Lastly, I realized that the only man I can really fall in love with, ever, is Chris Carrabba.

Morning Wood

2008-12-13T06:55:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had an unsaid connection with someone? As if there was something greater, lurking silently in the air? Between you and someone else?

Cliche, I know. Right? I think I had that tonight, with the most un-obvious person. I'm not sure if I'm the only person I know that knows who he is, but he was there tonight, in a striped sweater. Stefano. Mmm with his beautiful eyes... I feel like a stalker. haha

Life has so many minute details that we often miss. I'm noticing those details more and more now. I don't know what's changed... perhaps my appetite for living life? I think I might be on academic probation once again this quarter. I'm not as worried I suppose, I know what to do. It's a lot like life I guess. Life puts you on these probations when you fail at something and then you bounce back... well, and if you don't you end up 6 feet under from some sort of vice; much like with school and procrastination and everything in between. Except with life it's drugs, sex and alcohol... and then maybe you end up in the streets as a bum begging for a second chance; much like with writing an appeal in college. You may get it, you may not I suppose... and once again that's how people end up dead, either literally or as in a state of mind. Isn't that true about bums? Are we all bums? Transients really. I guess that's where whoever refers to bums as transients got that concept from... we're not constantly on probation.

In other news, if I could love my friends and family more... perhaps I would explode.

let's chronicle today...

2008-12-13T02:41:00.001-08:00

-woke up at 2:36 PM

-elma calls
-elma comes over
-we go to divine pastabilities
-carb coma -__-
-chill with rena and stella
-more carbs= alcoholic beverages, yuck!
-a blurry night filled with food and random conversations
-journal therapy
-semi-manicure
-planning out the weekend

p.s. i need to sleep less and face the world >_<

currently obsessed with: boy with squirrel on top of his head and thrift stores haha

life.

2008-12-13T02:05:00.000-08:00

i need to become a happier person.

Language Barriers

2008-12-01T17:05:00.000-08:00

I saw this picture today from high school and it triggered a certain memory. It reminded me of this boy, his name was James San Roman... he was beautiful. That's really the only way to describe how I remember him. I also remembered really liking him. It was one of those adolescent crushes I guess, but I just thought about how many "what if" thoughts and memories I had about this guy. You see, we had this thing going on called a language barrier -__-. What if he was able to understand me? Would it have been a silly adolescent crush still? Or what if he would have realized how much of a waste of time I was? Who knows... Fuck, you language barrier.

the world is sleeping but i have so much to say.

2008-11-30T03:22:00.001-08:00

fuck. no need for an exclimation point; i am simply pissed. pissed; that's a funny expression. pissed because i "pissed" my pants for being so mad? that makes sense.

GAH stupid library... i just got an e-mail saying that i still haven't returned ONE frickin' book. wtf i swear i returned all that shit... i counted! i borrowed EIGHT, i returned EIGHT. secondly, i hate LIARS!!! oh, and people who think higly of themselves... actually, i like to group those two together; liars and those who think highly of themselves oh, and let me just interject "assholes who talk shit about you behind your back!". THIRDLY! i effing hate the people who live above me. i think they're on the verge of a break up... but FUCK! do it already bitches!!! it's 3 in the fucking morning! kick that bastard out and call it a night! obviously, fact; guys are assholes! you're gonna meet and greet plenty more of them; just accept it! move on to the next asshole please!!! let me get my fucking beauty sleep!!!! yeah, because i need to look fucking gorgeous for the next guy i'm gonna meet and then treat me like shit ok??? yeah, fuck you cycle of life. i wish life could be personified into some sort of organism right now so it can see my giant middle finger up in the air. ugh -__- i feel like kanye west minus the fucking caps lock... but i think the exclimation points were necessary.

p.s. i hope i fucking find that library book. shit.

My Fashion Icon

2008-11-23T11:08:00.000-08:00

Fugazi

2008-11-23T02:20:00.000-08:00

I'm in that Fuguzi-listening, angry college girl from the 90's who wears ironic glasses phase... where's my alternative guy? Wait, those girls don't keep guys; it's taboo. Oops.

In other non-idealist news...

I saw some black guy getting arrested today at LJ shores. He had some cup filled with alcohol. The cop who arrested him was as typical as it gets; beer belly, bald, donut-eating mutha fuckaaaaa. Whoa, excuse my language.

Conundrum, I think I just farted.

I just realized that my blog/ blog musings are well... immature. Perhaps because it's full of honesty.

Clever Stories Await

2008-11-22T04:58:00.000-08:00

*SIGH

I want to feel like that girl again who falls asleep listening to pseudo-love songs and smiles thinking about silly things like falling in love.

Lately, it hasn't been like that. Life has been feeling more like a risque indie film with no plot; just full of provocative moments.

I got my first booty call tonight. I never thought I'd get one of those. It was like a bad car accident waiting to happen that you couldn't stop watching. I knew what it was, yet I couldn't hang up; I wanted to hear... Now I know. Let's keep it at that.

It's 5AM, I find sleep to be overrated these days. Whenever I close my eyes I feel as if I'm missing something; everything is significant I feel. When I blink, I miss that moment. It's gone forever.

Maybe I'll read. I haven't read in a while. I miss spending each weekend just snuggling up to a good book with some good music in the background. I miss the "weekendly" trips to the record store with my dad. I miss buying a new CD each weekend and finding something new each time; I miss the feeling of being underground, being "cool". I miss my teal room with the lone white heart in the center on Via de la Bandola. I miss the green house with its green carpet... I miss my neighbor Jose who used to throw rocks on my window yelling at me to come outside and ride bikes. I miss the little sketchy short cut behind my school. I miss my teal-colored walls and the lightly dimmed room that captured my imagination; I miss childhood.

*SIGH

What clever stories await?

Coward Boy

2008-11-18T22:48:00.000-08:00

You tell people lies.
You lie to yourself.
You lie to me.

You spread words,
You've told someone that I was pathetic,
"... I kept coming back to you."
YOU know the truth.

Your existence is meaningless.
You'll only ever have your acquaintances
You'll only ever have the mindless girls who fancy your looks; but looks are fickle.
You'll only ever have yourself.

You're heart is made from the fumes hell's unforgiving flames,
You're at fault.
You won't let me speak my mind to you because you can't handle the truth.
You can't handle honesty, you have no ounce of humanity.

You've hurt me, but you've only made me stronger;
Revenge will find its way to you;
You disgust me.
You deserve nothing, you have nothing, you'll always be nothing.

I knew more than I knew before.

2008-11-18T13:24:00.000-08:00

Why do people hurt so much? Why do I choose the wrong people?

Are we built to self-destruct, destroy; to disappoint?

Will I have the rest of my life to look forward to? Will things be different?

Am I a horrible person? Why am I getting trampled on?

What should I change about myself? I have a fear of anger, I had a fear of anger; it drives people to craziness. Why have I given in? I don't want to be angry, but it seems inevitable. Will he get what he deserves in the end? Does he know I'm talking about him, does he know what I'm talking about?
When will the next significant person in my life come along? Why won't they hurry? I'm drowning.

Rage on the Page

2008-11-18T04:03:00.001-08:00

Ugly, messy, disorganized... that's how I feel right now; it's almost empowering.

"... hard to be soft, tough to be tender."

-you're so right elma, this really is my favorite line as well ^_^

Emily H. so powerful... so inspiring.

I know what anger feels like right this second.

Thanks for everything Erk, after all these years of separation... we're still connected.

Disposable Beings

2008-11-18T03:07:00.000-08:00

It's 3:08AM and my life is in great chaos. There's so many things due but I'm behind. Life demands me to be happy again because it's time to move on... but where has Jenny gone? She's been destroyed forever, she can only be repaired but never again be the same.

why are you such a miserable person alex? how do you ask yourself if you've ever been in love? you're only in love with yourself. you fool yourself into thinking that you're capable of loving another being other than yourself by thinking you're in love. love love love... what a miserable word. love has always been toyed with, tarnished, distorted, lied to, betrayed... it's such a helpless matter. if you ever read this...

you've made me feel worthless; i meant something once... to myself. now i don't know who i am. i've gone out and done things i'm not proud of to experiment and find out who i am again. am i loveable? am i worth anything? you've made me feel like a disposable being. you've used me to feed your need to feel like you exist, that you mean something in this world. no, it's not that others have a misconception of you... in fact, they're usually quite right. you are an asshole. you're not worth loving; you're ungrateful and you deserve nothing.

yes, i will go on living forever thinking that you are the biggest asshole on this planet. you've deceived me so much and disposed of me like garbage, like an evolving life killed prematurely. you've made me question myself, you've made me feel like dying, you've made me feel like i can never attain anything real anymore; real love, real connection, you've made me feel like giving up, it's all your fault. it has nothing to do with me at all... i believed you for some time that I am the reason for the way i was feeling after we broke up... but no your intentions and your actions now are causations for all the hurt i'm feeling right this very second. it hurts so much that it no longer resembles pain; i feel half alive. i can only hope you'll lead a life that's as meaningless as mine is now. maybe only then will pain begin to ease and subside...

cognitive distortions

2008-11-17T03:41:00.000-08:00

sometimes people distort realities to fit their particular desire... they want to believe things are a certain way to coincide with their assumptions or how they want situations to play out. i thought i surpassed anger at this point, but disagreements are giant road blocks to carefree recovery.

"should"; i despise that word. puke.

i should do this, i should do that... i don't want to.

i think i've realized just a little bit that certain people in life are and will become negligible; they are not worth the efforts of cognitive distortions. sentiments just get people into trouble... i think that's the only thing i've surpassed thus far; having a sentimental heart.

morning, fuck.

2008-11-16T07:11:00.001-08:00

it's 11 past 7AM, i just got home...

i'm tired, cranky, indifferent...
i finally can fall asleep and as i pathetically attempt to do so there's that annoying piece of sentiment that rings that makes me remember something i no longer have... i know, wtf am i talking about? it doesn't matter, i can only be ambiguous about certain things now. my life can only be one honest ambiguity after another...

lately, i have not been myself.

who is the person i see in the mirror everyday?

she's gone out and done things... differently. she's lived/living differently.

Garcon sur le Velo Part Deux

2008-11-13T22:10:00.000-08:00

Ran into him again tonight. It was at a red stop light :)

Frustration.

2008-11-13T09:11:00.001-08:00

Most things in life are incontrollable... the only thing you have control over is to lose control.

I have 2 midterms today. Basically, I'm fucked.

I've spiraled out of control as of late... I've let outside forces affect me so greatly. I allowed grief to blindfold me and lose track of things that are truly important. What once felt like the greatest high was simply temporary and the consequences and obstacles that surrounded it were beyond my control; but it was attainable for everyone else it seems.

It's 9:14 AM and in about an hour I will witness what weakness and momentary foolishness has created. Dwelling is for the sentimental and the stubborn and those who care a little too much... that sounds just like me.

In the end what was lost is just a reflection of what has been gained... there are new things to pursuit now; I shouldn't be so down on myself. Yet, there are so many things and people to blame and pinpoint and feel animosity towards... are they all just disposable? Yes. At least they should be.

I am going to fail.

At least for today.

Garcon sur le Velo

2008-11-13T00:51:00.000-08:00

-Have 2 midterms tomorrow
-Haven't studied much
-10:30 pm Yogurtland trip
-Beautiful boy on a bike gazes into my eyes and says "thank you"
-Tried to slap his butt as he biked away
-He looks back and notices and smiles.

Le fin.

comfort in cycles

2008-11-11T23:45:00.000-08:00

i was at work the other day when i realized that everyone seems to find a sense of comfort in cycles...

it's like everyone at work is so comforted by the fact that they'll always get a 15 minute break every 2 hours or a 30 minute lunch

or

a girl with menstrual cycles... it's comforting to know that you're still young enough to have a cycle or that you're not fucked yet; you're not pregnant.

or

the cycle of seasons... maybe this cold winter will pass, maybe this long summer will pass, and maybe... spring will come again.

or

the cycle of the weekend coming and ending the endless weekdays

or

the cycle of relationships ending and starting

or

the cycle of life and death

or

the cycle of knowing everything and not knowing anything again

i seem to find solace in cycles myself. it's comforting to know that what comes around will go around... not necessarily in the same way, sometimes what returns is changed.

It's Morning, I'm Awake

2008-11-04T10:56:00.000-08:00

I wake up to lost and confusion, my true companions.
There's no answer and so I cry, overwhelmed.
Eventually my mind begins to get weary;
I lose track... why am I so sad?
The day ends,
I fall asleep in the arms of hope.

Training Wheels

2008-11-04T00:30:00.000-08:00

Devastation exists to confront weaknesses, testing them, stretching them... how much you can really love is tested; this is why pain is intangible yet so palpable.

12:41 AM, Monday, 3 Nov 2008 ----> Rise with fists.

Jenny Lewis

2008-11-02T11:23:00.000-08:00

I saw Jenny Lewis last night. She's so empowering and real with her silky voice that makes anyone believe what she sings. She's been around since the 80's and I could tell she was getting old now. Her hair slightly lost its sheen and the sadness in her voice as she sang each word became more and more palpable. You can tell, she's been through a lot. Her lyrics tell you that she was there at some point in time; she was at heart ache, bliss and everything in between. I wish she could give me some of her strength because just when I think I'll be ok I falter, lose control again. I hate how circumstances have left me short-handed; I'm the girl who drew the shorter straw. I'm sure though, she's been through rougher storms. It's odd how a stranger can treat you better than the one who loves you or loved you or pretended to love you... Jenny, she comforted me last night. She cradled me in her arms like a newborn baby, unaware and innocent of the world again. She sang me lullabies that took away the pain, she made forget; there was only me and her. She's a true artist. She manipulated me, she used her tools and weapons to made me feel again... I was her finished piece. At the moment, someone's just kicked me off the pedestal and I broke into a million pieces again... someone will come around to care and fix me one day.

c'est la vie

2008-11-01T16:15:00.001-07:00

"so it goes..."

-Kurt Vonnegut in Slaughterhouse Five

Life is love is like a slaughterhouse five in Dresden where you meet the good and bad that make up your story.

Your Heart is an Empty Room

2008-10-30T13:59:00.000-07:00

Over and done but the feelings linger,
thin and invisible like the air creeping over.

War of head versus heart
My mind is weak, my heart always speaks...
But you can't find nothing at all when there was nothing there all along...

<3 Ben Gibbard

Anger

2008-10-30T10:48:00.001-07:00

I feel like being Alanis Morisette... I don't even know how to spell her name. Doesn't matter, I feel like being her; to be writing angry songs about the men in her life who have betrayed her.

I feel as if I've been reduced to nothing. I'm just a floating particle no longer wanting a stimulus... I don't wanna feel.

Love Lost; I Fought the War, but the War Won.

2008-10-29T16:24:00.000-07:00

Usually when it comes to blogs or any form of writing I prefer to speak in metaphors. I'm good at it. I guess I'm an awesomely vague individual. No need to be ambiguous this time around though. There's plenty of that in the world already. I know that now.

This past weekend I lost the love of my life. No, he hasn't died, but it's similar. He's fallen out of love with me and I think I'm getting there myself each day. I think we just never really fell in love with each other at the same time. In the beginning he loved me more than I loved him and towards the end it became opposite. I say that the world is filled with ambiguity not because it's obvious... but it's the only thing left that's real. How you fall out of love with someone you felt so strongly for before is really a mystery. Perhaps I've changed, perhaps he's changed. In that sense, I guess love becomes lost and you don't know when you can really love again and believe that it really is love. Heart ache and heart break makes you stubborn. I don't know what's real anymore. Time will pass and I'll know again. Hopefully. We still love each other but we're no longer in love. I find that concept absurd but I guess sometimes nothing really has to make sense; it'll play out.

I've recently been in touch with my past... I guess because it's the only thing I have left that I'm sure of. Next month I'm embarking on a road trip to San Francisco with a bunch of old friends. Ok, so only two not a bunch. I'll be in the car for about 8 hours with an old best friend who I thought I'd lost forever and another great friend's ex-boyfriend. Quite the odd team isn't it? We're all going to see someone who has changed our lives in some way. Erk, that's what I call her. She's wonderful, I can't wait to see her again.

Anyway, I'm only his friend now. I like to believe that I'm his one and only true friend I guess because in some way that still makes me feel significant in his life... almost like the closeness of a lover, but not quite. Hey, but I guess that's alright. I do find solace in being there for him. Currently, he is not himself... just like I was not too long ago. I think I'm learning to overcome. I think I'm learning to forget the ugliness that has happened between us and forgive all the memories that made us special just for that brief moment in life. We did love each other once. The kind of love that you can't live without. We still have love for one another, but I don't know if he can't live without it. Life is tragic, and then you meet someone else... and your wound heals but then you get another. Somewhere down the line you'll stop getting wounds either maybe because you've gotten immune to the pain that you no longer notice or you finally just find that "eternity" that everyone searches for.

I guess I'm human...

I still love him after all... and it doesn't matter what he feels about me.

what style is to jenny

2008-08-14T02:28:00.001-07:00

i feel my sense of style fading. it's sad, it's disgusting. i roll out of bed and wear some hideous, half-assed, slap-together outfit... by no means do i even like it; i just wear it not to be naked. shirt and pants/shorts.

i don't care what kurt vonnegut says; i like semi-colons.

p.s. read Armageddon by Kurt Vonnegut. it's a great read. he talks about his hate for semi-colons in it. i have to say, i was a little heart-broken. i think mr. vonnegut had a little bit of a fall-out there. well, for a brief second.

aside from that... why don't people blog anymore? is it so uncool? has it become passe and "desperate"; (sorry mr. vonnegut) a desperate cry for an ounce of "coolness" or "distinction"?

i think sometimes people waste too much of their lives hating on things or criticizing things. i admit, i part-take in such... i love to make fun of people who listen to "unlistenable" music like... well pretty much any song featured on total request live. is that show even on anymore? anyway, i love to make fun of people who think forever21 summer dresses are chic *ahem ms. universe 200something from japan. i love to make fun of people who think they're so fabulous. i love to make fun of people who are by nature "stupid". i love to make fun of people who think they know what style is or that they even have it. see? i'm a hater. just like everyone else. i can't blame the rest of the world at all. in all honesty, it's fun. no, it's refreshing; it makes us who we are/who we are not.

sure, it's a very refutable sentence. one can simply say that hating or making fun of people lacks substance, that it falls short of being twisted to fit anything even slightly profound. oh, well.

"I was born but..."

2008-07-31T04:19:00.000-07:00

When I was younger I was filled with silly thoughts and understanding of true romance. My head was wrapped around in dreams, grandeur, and varied versions of the moment when I would finally meet my equal. At this moment I can say either that I have been delusional or that all along I have held a perfect understanding of realism. There is a great amount of truth that resides in the observation that people seek to fall in love with someone who embodies either what/who they are or something they are missing/want to be; their equal. I believe it. Then again, if you're as lucky as me... there is absolutely no truth to this. Your interest is merely sparked by the quick first impression of what your potential soul mate dawns on you... and then the world unleashes its best kept secret upon you; you are indeed with someone who has surpassed all expectations. You are with the most incredible human being. Surprise.
It doesn't make any sense. Really, is there a catch? Sure, there is the possibility of a shattered, beat-down, broken heart. But it's a rather small price... or actually it's just a rather insignificant matter. Just love and be loved.
The 8th day of another month is approaching yet again. It seems longer than just 8 months. Then again, what is the number 8 but an upside-down infinite symbol?
I'm lack any evidence of the human condition; I am neither expressive or emotional. But somehow, right now, I want to tear up and curl into a ball.
I'm in love...
with him
with the infinite spaces between all matter
with love.

A Bland Epiphany

2008-07-08T03:18:00.000-07:00

I've come to the realization that what's been missing all these years is a hint of rebelious spontaniety. Ultimately, that's the missing ingredient that's hindered me from achieving feats from all aspects of my life. Yeah, really. An old friend has taught me this. Perhaps what's funny is that I haven't spoken to this person in years. You know when they say everything happens for a reason? I'm beyond glad that we became friends. We're neither friends or foes at this stage of our lives... but she'll always be there in some odd way, pushing me, motivating me, and always provoking me with the loud whispers of "Come on, Jen"... to finally experience the essence of life and living.

I am a pescatarian today, tomorrow I shall purely be a vegetarian.
I am a procrastinator today, tomorrow I shall be an all-nighter master.
I am jobless today, tomorrow I shall be successful.
I am hesitant today, tomorrow I shall be unstoppable.

Life as a Neglegent Blogger

2008-07-03T00:41:00.000-07:00

So it's been a while since I've updated this blog with any serious intent. Yes, I start off entries with "so" too often.

It's 12:55 AM. I am on a quest to stay till 7AM this morning. I plan to battle the inevitable curse of slumber by watching old Sailor Moon episodes.

Nostalgia. More specifically, childhood nostalgia. I sometimes wish that there was a store that simply caters to all of my childhood nostalgia needs. It would be great to be able to buy old Daria episodes, Sailor Moon pens and bubble necklaces, and Barney blankets. Anyway, that's just what midnight boredom and lack of routine productivity does to anyone with a sane mind.

Also, what I've noticed about blogs is that readers only read matters that are generalized. Of course everyone floods in when you bitch about a recent break up and pour your heart out with the use of pseudo-insightful anecdotes. Also, the seemingly endless longing for a Romeo to sweep you off your feet is never out of style either. Yeah, that kind of stuff is a great seller. Who doesn't like hearing about angst?

Well, what I'm getting at is that I'm tired of angst. Let's talk about real stuff. For once. Happiness, what's wrong with it? Bliss? Isn't one allowed to be selfish for once and brag about how great their life is without sounding fake and making things up? Yes, things are great on my side of the fence right now; I have the white picket fence and everything. At least in my mind. Yes, that's a metaphor.

Anyway, summer's been fantastic thus far. Aside from me gaining weight; I can feel my face turning into a donut as I ponder this thought. And oh god, I hate donuts. My fat face could at least turn into cheese. I love cheese. Cheese melts, which gives me the false hope that the fat on my face will as well.

Also, here are a few things that I've decided to add to my summer list:
-Have as much boba as possible.
-Be a movie-rat... watch all the great movies coming out this summer.
-SHOP, I know redundant, but I LOVE SHOPPING 0_0 omg it's 1AM why are the stores closed???
-Sculpt cheese
-Successfully complete the Special K diet

Summer List... for the summer.

2008-06-16T01:37:00.000-07:00

-take the broken yolk challenge
-water gun fight at the beach
-lose weight
-read The Arabian Nights
-get a make over
-get more clothes
-get a job
-get driver's license (!!!!!!)
-spend everyday w/ alex
-hang out with friends as much as possible
-make a purse/tote
-have an adventure
-blog more
-buy more american apparel
-thrift shop!
-make a youtube video
-go on a real photo safari
-scrapbook more!

...err to be continued!

Nothing Blatantly Interesting

2008-06-12T14:03:00.000-07:00

It's Thursday, 2:03 PM. I'm in the process of writing a 10 page paper due tomorrow at 3PM. I'm currently on the sixth page which literally translates to about 3-5 since I have notes and other crap on there. Everyone else is done with finals or at least don't have to deal with this paper-writing bullshit. Yeah, I'm angry. There, I just let out a bad word. Yeah, I'm also pathetic...

i wish i had a camera... the moving kind. so i can film myself and catch all the interesting footage such as me crying a little over frustration... you would too if you had to write a 10 page paper and study while everyone else around you celebrates and moves their shit out! ggrrrrrrrr

Pathetic, the path of this day.

2008-05-23T12:38:00.000-07:00

A second attempt at xanga... www.xanga.com/jennyjunebug
Yeah, I doubt it'll get much update. I say this with utter confidence since I've never been one to have the keen ability to chronicle my less than average days. By average of course I mean "exciting". I think they key there though is that I can never be that publicly "honest" about my life.

I woke up this morning. It was 9:49 am. Just in time to get ready for my 11:00 am Intro to Asian Art discussion. I got up and went to the bathroom where I spent a good twenty minutes just sitting on the toilet... reflecting. Finally, I washed my face and brushed my teeth. Truly exciting stuff; I did my newfound brushing technique... You know, the circular stroke type. 10:25, left the bathroom. I changed. Not quite the outfit I would really approve of... but it's college and well academia can care less about your fashion sense. I think I've even sort of developed this theory that the crappier you dress, the better you're bound to do in college. Next week, I plan to wear sweats and sweats only. If you see me around campus wearing anything remotely what might be considered an upgrade from such a get-up, please, please, feel free to stop me and point out that I will fail in life... Thanks.
So 12:45, class finally ends. I rush to the shuttle stop seeing that mother nature was about to lash out and pour some rain on my beloved laptop that I was carrying with me. Well, actually luck was on my side though... I got to the shuttle stop and exactly then the shuttle arrives. I get on it. It was nice. As the shuttle made the turn from York Hall to the Muir College area, "Kiss Me" by sixpencenonethericherextremelylongtitle began to play. And right at this exact moment I happened to be staring out the window. It felt like the quintessential scene from a short film IFC would be proud to showcase on one of their festivals. The Toronto one maybe?
So I get off the shuttle and walk back to my little cubicle (dorm). I immediately felt the need to plug in my laptop and open the iTunes... it was on shuffle of course. The first song that played was "No Lies, Just Love" by Bright Eyes. Already, I can tell this was going to be a pathetic day. So here I am, sitting in front of my computer blogging, ditching class, drinking chamomile tea... just as I had predicted.

Amputations of Thought

2008-05-16T01:26:00.000-07:00

I am stuck at the limitations of limited thought.

Every potential idea is blocked by an over-analytical mind that ceases to be anything but critical; in short it is writer's block.

I met a Kelvin tonight. No, there was no interaction between temperature and I. It was simply a boy named Kelvin. An interesting figure. He wears green, sporting that sort of flippy hair that would make slutty girls at my old high school swoon. Except, no I don't think he has a studly bone in his body. He is simply like me. I am intriguing... that is our power. At least I would think. He's an interesting sort. Why? I don't know what his appeal is, but I would like to be his friend. And no, I don't mean the perpetual hipster I would end up talking to online on occasion about "cool happenings" and odd blogs and nerdy talk being the subject matter. No, I'd love to be his friend.

Genetic Disability

2008-05-13T14:12:00.000-07:00

Interesting session today in my "Disability in Film" seminar. We discussed the complexities of disabilities; where political correctness and blatantly wrong labels meet in a spectrum of an overall losing battle. It seems that no matter what, words seem to fall short of ever satisfying a feeling, an emotion, even a description. It makes me somewhat disappointed, somehow I've now developed this defeatist attitude towards the power of words. How much power could it really hold? After all, it's always going to fall short, no matter what. Of course, I guess this is somewhat of a pessimistic perception because really perfection is neither attainable or desirable. Well, at least it shouldn't be desirable.
It's like the relationship between the potentially invincible perfection of genetics and the non-duplicable trait of what it means to be human. I think that perfection is neither attainable nor should it be ever desirable for the fact that life revolves around the power of genetics and the miracle of being "human". For example, the "heart"; we can mean heart as in the bleeding, beating organ or the more existential kind dealing with matters of courage and faith and the ability to love; to be human. Then again, the definition of either one by itself is nothing without the other. You can't live without an instrumental heart and you can't truly live without the other because then really what are you living for? Courage and the ability to be "attached" is what drives human existence after all... It's what inevitably what makes anyone want to live a life.

... Hmmm I think I'll nap on this thought for now.

Blogs are not stupid.

2008-04-30T12:20:00.000-07:00

I would like to apologize to... myself. Blogs are in no way stupid. It was said in a frenzy of anger and ambiguous state of mind. Indeed, I love blogs. It's a refreshing form of literature. Yeah, sure calling it literature may be a stretch but come on how do they publish those sappy romance novels with Fabio on the cover in the first place? I strongly think my blogs compiled into one volume is a far more exciting/interesting/enriching read.

Good day =)

The Morning is Bright

2008-04-26T09:17:00.000-07:00

Just when you're having a good day, think you're about to have a good one... the juxtaposition of bright sunshine and mother-of-god you're fucking up my mood moments arise. What can you do? You can be a fuck face about things and well continue to be bitter (exactly what I plan to do right now because I think I reserve the right to), or you can be a pansy and let life/the people in it fuck you in the ass willingly. Yeah, I mean that metaphorically speaking. Not that there's nothing wrong with butt sex; some people are into it. All I'm saying is that it hurts, that's really the comparison I'm trying to arrive at. Sure, a rather gross one... but can you really think of a more palpable example? If there's anything I can compare th pain I'm feeling right now to something physical that one would even begin to under stand... it's butt penetration ok? Just watch an episode of Oz on HBO. I'm not sure if it's canceled yet but that show will give you a great effing idea of how this day has been going.

Selfish... yeah, what exactly is in that word? Self. Right. "ish"... so no not really, technically even that word alone does not give someone license to be totally and completely full of themselves. Key element here is "ish"... not fully. I hate selfish people. Just commit, call yourself "full of it"/"full of yourself". Don't allow yourself to be called selfish. It's just not right. It's like concentrate juice as opposed to the fresh squeezed.

Blogs are stupid.

Scramble

2008-04-25T15:31:00.000-07:00

surreal

surr=blurr--> sub-real

real--> reel--> movie reel

real--> reality

real life? or reel life?

Independently Dependent

2008-03-31T23:38:00.000-07:00

I was doing so well just now; actually reading for MMW and LTWL... not due till Wednesday of course, even better. It's only Monday.

... and then I was disturbed by a thought, a feeling, a mere sudden jolt of emotional realization.

In theory I would consider myself an emotionally independent person. At least I was before, at the moment it doesn't feel so. I'm alone in my room right now, a room which I have to share with two other people. Kind of a first, kind of nice. Then again, I find myself being a bit of a recluse for not socializing outside. But honestly, as honest as I can ever put it... I don't care much to interact any longer. There are people you "know" you're going to spend the rest of your life with. Your true love, your best friends, recurring acquaintances, your parents... yeah. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't feel putting any more effort than I have to... or than I "want" to in things that I don't find worthwhile. Among them would be vapid interactions that mean no more than superficial exchanges of "oh-yeah-how-cute-i-know-rights" and overall meaningless sharing of existence. A little harsh? Sure. Why bother with formalities here though? There's nothing nice about the situation in particular; there's nothing kind about the truth. There's also nothing brutal about it, it is what it is. I no longer feel that I have to try and interact with the people I live closely around any longer. Primarily for the reason that this person has in some unspoken method has chosen to drift away from me. The reason? I don't really know. Let's be blunt here, I harness no unattractive qualities when it comes to common mannerisms, consideration, and kindness. Then again, all of that is relative I suppose when assumptions become the basis of one's perception. Another thing is the hint of the "superiority factor". All in all it's just annoying. People should get over themselves. Sigh. Another excuse for me to become noncholant and well... a bitch. Sometimes it's just asked of me.

Well, I went on a tangent there...

I find myself becoming more and more emotionally dependent lately. At times I find myself just accepting it; I'm human after all. At other times I find myself worrying... in ultimate truth you and I, he and she are alone. Hmmm I don't like it.

Reluctant Hello(s)

2008-03-05T16:11:00.000-08:00

I hate reluctant "hello"(s); they're awkward. I just experienced one today. Of course, I waved and said hi back... I just hope there was no one behind me. Actually, that brings me a "sort of" point. Why exactly are people reluctant to say hi to someone they've just met the day before or someone they see regularly in class? I don't know. Sure, they don't want to feel rejected because there's always that possibility that hangs when the recepient of your kind hello decides to be an asshole and pretends not to notice or awkwardly says hi back either because they think they're too cool for you or they're just dumb. Well, no let's be honest here... no one wants to feel stupid. Yes, I just felt stupid. It's been about 30 minutes ago exactly I believe. I walked into Cafe Ventanas for a drink. Simply just a drink. Of course, me being me, it's never just that. It can never just be about getting "just" a drink. I always have to run in to an awkward acquaintance, some socially awkward person that I've vaguely made friends with, someone too shy to say hi for me (therefore instigating an awkward exchange of hello's), etc. Seriously, there's nothing wrong with this, there's nothing absurd or special about this; it happens to everyone routinely. I'm sure of it. The only thing is... I guess I give off this false sense of confidence to others... it's an especially popular thought shared among kids I've met in one of those "hipster" classes like "History of Film" for example where our first conversation was sparked, usually, by an obscure band or indie film... anyway, back on point. I give off this false sense of confidence to others that somehow radiates, "Hey, I spoke to you, however I'm too cool for you; therefore only greet me with awkward hello's whenever I see you out in public". Yeah, terrif. Sometimes I wish that I didn't come off as cold, snobby, or whatever it is. I hate life. I realize that this blog sounds a lot like me selling myself with hyperbolic anecdotes; well, let's be honest here... I sound full of myself. So full, in fact so full that it's obese. I just felt like making it known that yes, I'm human too. I deserve warm hello's, not awkward ones. Yeah, it's also a really sloppy blog, poor on the grammar end, sucks on structure, definitely lacking on both diction and syntax... perhaps lacking a little on direction?

On another note I guess, I just feel like sharing my class schedule for Spring Quarter. Just because it's fabulous. No, because it took me 3 hours to figure out. haha
Well here it is:

Monday:
-LTFR2A (Intermediate French Lit) 10AM-10:50AM
-LTWL19C (Literatures of the World, Greek and Roman Myth) 2PM-2:50PM
-MMW3 (Making of the Modern World, Medieval Ages) 3PM-3:50PM

Tuesday:
-LTFR2A Section 10AM-10:50AM
-LTEU110(European Romanticism) 12:30PM-1:50PM

Wednesday:
-same as monday
-plus MMW3 Discussion 4PM-4:50PM

Thursday:
-LTEU110

Friday:
-exactly the same as Wednesday

Printemps

2008-02-27T15:53:00.000-08:00

bonafide hustler, making my name.

... ah, i love M.I.A.

The view from the balcony is quite reminescent of Hemingway sitting on wicker chair outside some exotic locale of his... writing about bittersweet romances; too much like his life. I love the contrast. In short, the day is nice; I'm stuck inside pondering when I should begin to study. Oh, I love the contrast of dull and understated excitement that is nature. I also love Lou Reed and his crap ass music; a hybrid of pseudo-talent and drug-infused vision. No, I'm not on drugs. I detest any sort of narcotic. On a side note, I miss wearing my beret... would it be silly to wear one in spring? Perhaps I should have bought a yellow one. When I think spring, I think yellow and daisies and chocolate eggs and easter bunnies.

I haven't posted an "insightful" blog for some time now... as insightful as a blog can be. However, I do look forward to posting another blog about rolling backpacks and absurd characters. Yes, watch out for that.

Alas I shall leave you with this message... take it easy, it's not the end of the world; some guy during a Bio midterm had a seizure. Chill.

Golly, Gloomy Day.

2008-02-13T15:33:00.000-08:00

I am here. I swear, I still exist... as I know that you both do as well. I miss you guys.

It's midterm season again... -__-

I'm really sad about the ceasing of polaroid production.
I passed by that Pinkberry-like place Pure recently. Interesting. There's also Fruberry in Downtown, similar. It was ok I think.

Vlad, I passed by the Invisible Children booth today at Library Walk and they were selling hats with the design you had on the shirt you made to raise money. I wanted to buy one, but I was broke and what's more... I was starving. I felt like a true broke college student right then and there. haha

Elma, where are you? 0_0 hahaha

Checklist, a continuation.

2008-02-05T16:17:00.000-08:00

In response to your theory of checklist existing as guideline for human or personal progression...

Well, it's all subjective. In the end everything exists on a subjective level. Why do we bother to follow laws? No, the better question to raise would be, "why do we bother to follow laws which are subjective and made by human thought, which also rely on the theory of subjectivity?" Fuck, whatever. The only purpose of this example is that I perceive a checklist being similar to laws. Checklists are simply guidelines, guidelines which essentially translate to what we define as "laws". Sure, I guess you could say it exists for the sake of human or personal progression. Why bother striving for progress in the first place? Is it simply human nature? That's easy to argue. It's harder to justify however, because hey... who can justify what human nature actually is? Actually, who can justify anything? It's all subjective. Can justification even exist under the reign of subjectivity? Where am I getting at? I feel crazy. I forget sometimes.
Are you a "subjective interpreter of objective truths"?
Maybe humanity's impulse to have any sort of checklist for anything at all is that underlying fear of death. Having a "checklist" gives one something to fight for, something to live for... and by striving to accomplish anything on this checklist only makes that "something" truly ours. Therefore, the fear of death is really the fear of losing subjectivity and vice versa. It is not life that we fight for... We are subjective beings. ie: "This chair exists because I exist". We live/fight for subjectivity because we want to prove ourselves real, our existence real, we exist. Then there is death... deep down, whether we know it yet or not... our existence becomes something else when we die... we become objective. And hey, that's the point; we don't want that.
I think objectifying oneself solidifies our own subjective truths. That is my interpretation (rather dare I say purpose?) of having a checklist at all.

Checklist

2008-02-04T23:10:00.000-08:00

Life surprises you sometimes. People always have pre-set ideas or pre-set whatevers. Radio stations, goals, beliefs, judgements, standards, really... pre-set whatevers. Then it happens, one of those things on your pre-sets takes place unexpectedly and... I don't know. What should you be feeling at that point? Who knows, no one's ever told you. Just say "check" I guess and go about life like that idea still exists as unaccomplished.

Momentum

2008-01-30T22:29:00.000-08:00

SIGH

Writer's block. To the extreme.

I haven't been able to write much lately. Just the other day, it took me 12 hours to compose a 4 page paper. I suppose it was because I had too much to say about the topic at hand; overwhelmed much? Yeah, that was the feeling.

Anyway, today I am forcing myself. I've always been so against forced, puked-out writing... but I have no choice. I feel like a little piece of myself is somehow disappearing, fading away, melting like ice that's never to become solid in the same way again.

So here's what I have to say...

I listened to this song today, and I've listened to many songs, and it changed my life. Maybe not my life, I always seem to end up saying that when something great comes along. But yeah, anything that has the ability to strike an eerie feeling inside me... or any sign of emotion at all is a good one. Whatever good maybe... but I'll get to my perception of that later. Anyway, rather than ranting about it... I think if you're reading this post, you should give it a listen and form any inhibitions for yourself.

http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=308316023

Binary Opposition. I finally found out the proper title for my perception of the world. I hate titles. I guess my perception of the world is slightly shattered now. I despise humanity for having to put titles on everything... then again, it just loops back to how I see the world.
Contrast, without contrast nothing would be in existence. What if the whole world was dubbed as "white". Just white. What would everything else be referred to? White. So what's the point? There would be no sense of communication, no such thing as the concept of "different", no sense of identity, just a false existence surrounded by dullness and lack of everything else aside from this idea of "white". Try imagining the world without contrast... you can't. I know you'd be lying if you said "Oh, yeah. It's possible. I see it in my head as I speak." To think at all requires some sort of contrast. Think right now, how do you know you "are" thinking... you'd have to know the meaning of what not thinking is... and how else would you know this? Contrast. There are only two things that can exist at this point, if you've gotten this far. You're either thinking or you're not. To know at all requires some sort of contrast. You can you say that you are indeed thinking because you know that you are not not thinking. Hmmm a bit of a confusion. Anyway, let's leave it at that.

2008-01-22T01:13:00.000-08:00

So tonight I defended American Apparel against a very mislead individual, apparently lost and on the beaten path... Let's not mention names here, I live with this person.

What's so great about American Apparel? Yeah, it's over-priced basics that come in a plathora of shades. From dull grays to adventurous neons... Anywho, let me avoid going crazy expressing my love for American Apparel. The truth is, it's simple. It's not just the same basics you can get anywhere else, it's an overwhelming amount of cuts, variety, style... which force you to find your own niche. It's a blank canvas that enables the most bland individual to spark a newfound creativity within themselves. Fashion versus style. What is it? I see fashion as a constrained, controlled, diluted version of personal style. Style exists in all of us. That's the beauty of it. What's a couture gown without presentation? Minus the hair, the make-up, what is left? An extravagant creation. What's a simple American Apparel dress without presentation? A blank canvas. I think that's what I like so much about American Apparel... it strips down the superficiality that accompanies the world of fashion. Fashion is either in or out. Style isn't. It's always there. Permanent and true, just like the simplicity of American Apparel... the simplicity of being simple, being "you". So dare you ask again? I'd indulge over and over again to invest in expressing myself. I know, a bit set on stone... conflicting with the rules of style, but then again there are no rules...

Like I Said, Enough Said.

2008-01-08T00:56:00.000-08:00

I...

"Always do what you are afraid to do."

2008-01-04T08:50:00.000-08:00

I woke up early today. It was the most dreadful thing I've had to do in a while, no time wasn't the issue. Fear more like. I had this agenda to speak with my somewhat estranged aunt today about a very important matter. Seriously, I avoided this for about an hour. I ridiculously held on to the phone and stared at it looking defeated. I couldn't do it, I just couldn't. I thought I knew her answer already, I thought she'd be the big B that she was... but somewhere in there like the Grinch who stole Christmas, I guess she had a heart.

... hmm, I guess somebody knew what they were talking about.

Thanks Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Peace is Expensive

2008-01-03T23:42:00.000-08:00

... and humanity is cheap.

we sure are cute for two ugly people...

2008-01-01T22:52:00.000-08:00

... I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else,

but you...

Comfortable Silence; ""... i can't be myself, i can't be myself and i don't wanna talk"

2008-01-01T13:58:00.000-08:00

... awkward silences define my life.

So two people in a room, exactly alike, face each other... what you usually get is silence. Is this right? I like to think so. The two of them should just nod their head as a sign of agreement and that should be enough. Isn't that the best sort of conversation? The ones we never really had? The ones we imagine in our heads to have occured but hasn't really happened? Yeah, those are the most powerful.

Silence lingers in the air, unsaid thoughts intertwine one another, colliding without a sound... you smile, she smiles, I smile. Audible words are seemingly difficult to find.

You can't truly confirm that you "know" a person unless you've shared an awkward silence together and found it refreshing. I find every awkward silence refreshing, it's not at all awkward. It solidifies my belief in everything happening for a reason.

Conundrum.

Damn, Elliot Smith's "Needle in the Hay" just came on. Damn good song.
It would make the best soundtrack to an awkward silence.
Next time I'll have this playing in the background when we have another silent conversation.

allsortsofvague@gmail.com

2007-12-29T14:52:00.000-08:00

... that has now become my login name for everything once i clicked the "yes" box while logging on to gtalk. Every action I seem to do online now is somewhat mandated by google; I sold my (non-existent) soul to Google... a couple of self-made yuppies from Stanford; once a Rushmore of mine.

it's funny, technology... reminds me a lot of Frankenstein.

I'm sure those who read my blog are familiar with Victor's story. He's quite the epitome of mankind; well, for the most part. I don't see myself in him much... at least not conciously.
I had a moment in Costco today, while passing by the plathora of plasma televisions. Each one was telling me to buy one, that redundant, overplayed, monotone, in human voice looping again and again, undoubtedly subliminal, designed to give the full brainwash effect... "Yes, damn it I will buy one".

Just in case you're wondering, of coures no I did not buy an idiot box. It seems so illogical, frankly a waste of money. Money to be spent changing the world. Like buying coffee to make Cuban tycoons even fatter and richer while the poor malnourished kids (field workers) have even less to eat. Screw it, I love coffee beans. There is only so much you can do. Let's not start changing the world with boycotting coffee beans. Avoid at all cost -_-.

Conundrum.

Wes Anderson is the man. If you think otherwise, I think we are unproclaimed enemies.

Someone told me they hated "The Royal Tenenbaums" today... I feel defeated.

Dear Life, Merry Christmas

2007-12-25T00:45:00.000-08:00

For once, the year ends on a genuinely good note.

I've always promised myself that "life begins at 18", and so far it has overcome any expectations I've ever had about what "life" is. Perhaps I could have started what I call "real life" before, but I guess I needed that false sense of aspiration and mind-set... aka being 18, an adult. I don't feel like an adult, I feel like me. Whatever me is, whatever me becomes.

Well, anyway... that's too much of a tangent.

Really, all I want to say is that I am lucky. I've been lucky all along.

I have my parents, I have Alex, I have friends (extraordinary ones)... that's how great acceptance can get.

Pocket Journal

2007-12-24T15:52:00.000-08:00

... Hemingway would be proud.

Sitting at a French institution writing about the woes of life on napkins, paper, and pocket journals.

Mr. Hemingway, you're my inspiration.

p.s. I can almost excuse your alcohol abuse and wife-beating.

The What-Ifs of Life...

2007-12-21T14:21:00.000-08:00

"So What"...

What if the boy you used to like hadn't been interested in men? Would it have worked out? Would anything have happened at all?

Actually, how this post was inspired was kind of comical.

Logged in to myspace to be greeted by a new message from an old friend. A friend who I always thought would someday grow up to be interested in men. Not to exude feelings of stereotypicalities (I know, not a word. Oh well). I remember liking him. You know adolescent infatuations. Then I wondered "what if". What if he hadn't been gay. Would my life be different? Simple. Yeah. To what extent?

... I turned on my iTunes, shuffle of course. "So What"-Miles Davis came on. Coincidental? I think that is the answer. The answer to these so-called "what-ifs" is a "so what".

There's also other sorts of what-ifs that go on and on towards tangents. It's disgustingly enough a lot like calculus... What ifs are the functions and answers or estimated answers are the so-called limits that it approaches. Yeah, I think I've mentioned this to someone before... I hate how it keeps coming up. It just really does. It makes sense.

MAH

2007-12-19T19:16:00.000-08:00

mission accomplished.

haha... i love myamericanheart.

man at coffee shop

2007-12-19T00:40:00.000-08:00

a bearded man sits on a wooden chair,carefully analyzing each bite of a muffin.his features are rough; bearded, salt and pepper hair and a face that reflects the passing of time. he sits with legs crossed, looking out the door as if waiting for someone or something to arrive... only to be bothered by dipping his muffin into coffee every now and then. he chews so silently, patiently, a distant look upon his face. he brushes crumbs off his dirt brown slacks as he takes another sip of his caffeine addiction. one hand crossed, placed on top of the other drawing attention to his opaque noir and white plaid shirt; almost flannel. he taps his finger lightly on his lap; another arm crossing action. his gazes are longer now, each moment becoming more and more about him; his life, his emptyness, the beauty of his undefinable dillema. oh a sudden rush of laughter, almost a cry for attention tucked neatly in between desperation and loneliness. oh how this man fills my heart with unfounded emotions. he's a stranger, i am a stranger. he sits there longingly... waiting for something, someone. am i that someone? his coffee is cold now, cold as his heart has gotten; hopeless yet full of wonder. his smile lingers now, ready to fade at any second. his presence is most palpable now as he glances at the reflections of a glass window. he holds conversations with himself, laughing, joking, mocking his own misery. alas, his saga is an endless one. how long will he sit there, that is an unknown truth.

15 mins Lunch Break

2007-12-15T12:06:00.000-08:00

finals are feeling a lot like this...

metric said it best...

"... i fought the war, but the war won!"

last final today in 3 hours -_-

Dear Friedlander,

2007-12-14T00:09:00.000-08:00

In a way I felt connected to you. Despite the unavoidable fact I have only gone to your lectures twice maybe thrice this year... you left an impression on me. Sure, the last time I ever decided to attend your lecture ended up in a slightly comedic, failure. I got to Solis, literally sat on one of the plathora of seats for a second and got up to leave, which of course turned many heads and some asshole in the crowd said it best; "are you kidding?". To which I replied, "yeah, seriously". Good times.

On a more serious note though, thank you for being so caring. Thank you for catching my mistake of tucking in my scantron inside my essay packet and being so kind about it. Thanks for smiling and caring to know what my name was when I came to see you during office hours. You'll probably never see my face again; you rarely saw it to begin with even though I was in your class. Oh, well. Most of all though, thanks for making your midterms easy and breezy... although, I'm not too sure about that final you made just yet. -__- yes, this is a face of bitterness. But it's ok, I think I can still overlook that slight slide on your part. Au revoir, Friedlander.

I Exist.

2007-12-11T12:08:00.000-08:00

It's a funny thing, but sometimes my roommates don't realize that I'm in the room. Sometimes the lights get turned off on me or I give out the occasional awkward moments where it kinda goes like this... "oh, oops i'm scratching my leg... i didn't know you were here" where I respond with "Oh, were you scratching your butt too? Oops, wait sorry" Why? Is it my intense concentration as I read about The Iliad... Film History... or am I too sucked in to the virtual world at times? Whatever the reason, I just want the world to know that I exist. I live a quiet existence, that is all.

Wow... extremely poor use of grammar and vocabulary. I guess I can excuse myself for now; I wrote 8 essays in 2 hours last night.

... now back to self-destruct study mode.

P.S. Finals can suck it... and so can Emile Hirsche -_-

allinyourhead.

2007-12-09T19:16:00.000-08:00

"all in your head". I never really once believed it before. Sure, I'd comfort myself with that idea whenever something seemed impossible. Then maybe sometimes everything would just fall into place and I succeed just by chance, by accident. Today was different. I'm experiencing this whole "sub-reality" of life more and more.

My agenda for the day was to successfully ride a skateboard. Yeah, I did it. How surreal, sub-real. I can do it. No fear, no hesitation, I can just do it. Imagine if the rest of life were to happen this way. It'd be 5000 dimensions of chaos, no control, just impulse.

... now all there is left to do is to apply it.

"Finals, they're not hard. It's all in your head."

psht.

Kubrick Part Deux

2007-12-08T16:32:00.000-08:00

"... any piece of reality can be manipulated to become a fiction."

I think I've figured it out. It's not so much fiction that results from manipulation, it's more like surrealism, which I guess is a form of fiction when it comes down to it... but just an attainable sort of fiction, one that you can grasp, one that exists, one that you can be sure of.

The weather I think is the epitome of such a manipulation. It alters the mood of the world around you, affecting the way you feel, react, or don't react. The weather has this distinct ability to strike the "unreal" chord in you, one that you cannot ignore. All of a sudden you find yourself not really existing at all, but at the same time you've never felt so real in your life. You're put into a daze, co-existing with time as it slows down, slows you down, making everything clear to you. Just like that, you've realized something that you hadn't before, maybe you haven't even noticed it before. Whatever "it" is. It'll hit you at that moment. What do you feel? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. All that remains is the gushing of all the endless thoughts you've once made in your head... unraveling, becoming completely untrue, yet the most honest it's been for the first time. And so the weather has done what it set out to do. It hoped to do, knew it would do. It has challenged your deepest insecurities, washed it away for you. In that sense, is my heart really still made of diamonds? Am I becoming more human? I'm challenging myself.

This weather, this so-called manipulation has reached an intangible fiction.

Screen Test #1

2007-12-07T01:11:00.000-08:00

People-watching, I'm sure you or her or him or someone over there who has no idea who they are has done it. Has any of us really experienced this in the purest, most honest reality? No. I have...Watch Screen Test #1 and #2 by Andy Warhol, if you ever do get the chance. I feel as if only a few are lucky enough. Many will ignore this not knowing what it will/can do for them.There you are, you sit in a dark room... as tiny as you'd like to make the experience that much more intimate. A 60's icon stares right back at you... could be Lou Reed could be John Ashbury, meeting you eye to eye allowing you to see through the depths of their soul. You sit there, 2 whole minutes of connecting... apprehensive, creeped out, perversion, an intense eye-staring contest, discomfort, honesty, puked out honesty... and most of all. desire. the desire to connect, at some level, in some way. could it ever be fulfilled? at the end you are left with "..." that, and exactly just that. your mind is in auto-pilot mode, dispersed, racing at the speed of light ready to go at any second.then it gives, so tired so weary so accomplished yet left with the biggest gap of all... the feeling of desiring even more. to feel, to hear, to watch... it's simply not enough. honesty sometimes feeds you the very lie that you don't wish to know. or maybe lies are just truths that have no answers when asked about. p.s. thanks andy.

Kubrick

2007-12-04T02:03:00.000-08:00

"... any piece of reality can be manipulated to become a fiction."

Silent

2007-12-03T19:26:00.000-08:00

... so a failed attempt at napping has occurred. Why this rare occurrence? There seems to be an odd noise outside as I type this. The sound of inconsiderate pricks who sound like dying cats thinking they're funny.Hmm, I think I'm officially angry. So now I lay on my bed, silent. What can I do?

selective memory

2007-11-28T15:55:00.000-08:00

why are some memories more vivid than others?

the good and the bad are often what prevail and everything in between remains lost and forgotten somewhere just floating around... floating till its magnitude dawns and hits us in the face one day when we least expect it. like playing on a playground one day when you were little. i'm sure a memory like that doesn't come up much in someone's world, but there are times when that minute moment becomes inevitably significant. it's subtle. a sense of subtlety that over-powers the obvious. so i guess in conclusion the good and bad that are vivid in some way really are just insignificant memories. they merely serve as melodrama that keeps life moving... those subtle memories though, that's where the real substance of the plot is. there are the good and bad and then there's the in-between that define who we are.

... i have so much on my mind today.

... so the past transcends

2007-11-27T23:57:00.000-08:00

i suddenly miss the past. to be honest, i never really have before. i've always been the kind to look forward to the future; oblivious of the present and forgetful of the past. there's something about this point in time, this moment in my life that makes me want to go back, almost enough to relive it all. who wants to do that? i'm blogging right now almost in a state of panic... almost as if i want some sort of time travel to be real. i want to go back to a time where just being yourself ensured genuine friendships, love, appreciation, affection, a shoulder to cry on, someone to push you on the swing, hold hands, sing songs, having good memories, a good time, satisfaction... where being yourself was enough. i think i'm approaching that so-called limit more and more; i'm beginning to find an approximate answer to why i'm still in san diego... why i've been denied of my dreams of grandeur. i think i need to reconnect. perhaps the past has a bigger role than the now and what's to come. in this way, i don't think living in the past is such a bad thing. living in the past ensures something real, something that can't be changed; permanence.

wishful thinking

2007-11-27T01:31:00.000-08:00

*christmas list*
-an A in college
-new digital camera
-red french beret (as seen on Rushmore worn by Jason Schwartzman)
-green le tigre pea coat
-Rushmore, Criterion Collection release on DVD
-kissing zebra bracelet from day-lab (www.day-lab.com)
-1 year subscription to death+taxes magazine
-dark wash yanuk jeans
-cell phone key chain
-journal to write simple thoughts in
-a pack of polaroid film
-holga camera by lomo
-team zissou: unpaid intern shirt
-japanese novelties

the wheels on the bus really do seem to go... well, round and round...

2007-11-26T18:41:00.000-08:00

i know, there's been so many posts about buses and bus rides lately... but it seems inevitable that i have to write about it again this time. i dont know, bus rides seem to strike a chord in me sometimes; i feel so anonymous, distant, and free to be observant.
today it kinda dawned on me, bus rides and life have a great resemblance. how far that resemblance goes, i don't know. people come and go, coincidences are often fulfilled when you see a familiar or recurring face or when you catalyze a moment with another person with just a single look, change in pace of environment, different destinations and stops that mark a different part of your journey home... wherever home may be. the thing is when you do get there, to your stop that is... is that really home? what is the true significance of where you get off? just like in life, what is the significance of the place you go back to everyday? is it really home? sure, it's love and comfort that makes a home but why there? is it necessary to have an established destination for home?

Bitch on the Bus

2007-11-19T17:47:00.001-08:00

... so another Monday, another interesting bus ride to Center Hall.

At first I was bummed, angry, and unappreciative of the fact that the only legit UC I had gotten into was UCSD. Sure, it's third in the system but who wants bronze? I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've become fond of this place and it bothers me when I meet the occasional Debbie Downer who hates on the institution. No one asked you to go here, trust me UCSD could care less. There's seriously other deserving individuals out there who would love to occupy your useless space. Please shut the fuck up and transfer to Irvine. It's not the school that's great, it's the attitude and efforts of the student body that can even begin to make a university great in the first place. I especially can't stand those who complain every waking minute about how socially dead this place is; hello, you're not here to get fucked up and vomit your liver out from excessive drinking. It's sad how there's so many out there reliant on the shit, vapid aspect of life to have a good time. Yeah, I think I'm done ranting. I seriously hope that I'll never have to see that bitch on the bus again who resembled the appearance of a butt-ugly horse.

Good Day.

Waking Up in the Bathroom

2007-11-06T13:44:00.000-08:00

in some way or another it's a form of a metaphor and in some other way it hits reality far too close. today was one of those days where you realize there's something missing... effort, aspiration, inspiration, even a symphony playing in the background that serves as the soundtrack to your rebirth.

life is a never-ending turning wheel; one day you're at the bottom of this wheel and the next you're on top. now, somewhere in between the top and the bottom you see everything all too clearly... you know where you'll end up next; the top or the bottom. currently, i'm at the bottom unable to see anything... but the wheel is slowly turning and soon enough i'll be in between again. i know where i'll end up again soon enough. the top.

Waiting for the Bus

2007-10-31T16:20:00.000-07:00

today i'm a walking curse,
with a bright neon purse.
i sit, i wait...;
a catatonic state.

strangers so absent-minded;
they hardly notice.
thoughts to myself,
i am engulfed by the frigid embrace of a meaningless existence.

i sit, i wait...
moments pass by;
there goes a glance that can never be understood.
there goes a a smile unnoticed.

What Would you Name Your Penguin? A Real Philosophical Question.

2007-10-30T23:40:00.001-07:00

First off, I'd name my Penguin Pele... maybe Gangrene or Chode.

College is a funny thing. You pay hundreds of thousands of dollars to get what out of it? What exactly? I didn't know before, but I do now... You pay for it to get questions like "What would you name your Penguin?" on midterms. Why? Because it's a reflection of life; every detail that we associate ourselves with... like naming your penguin for example... is a reflection of who you are, what you're about, and what you'll end up dying for.

Inflatable Rafts

2007-10-30T15:06:00.000-07:00

... if only life had some sort of floating device to hold you up when your head is about to go under water because it's all too much to handle. Like an inflatable raft.

The Cliches of Home

2007-10-18T13:58:00.000-07:00

Why do we often miss where we come from?
Why do we always miss the little things we never really once appreciated before?

We can say right at this very moment that we don't care about anything or anyone. Right now.

Across the galaxy and some passage of time later... it's almost a guarantee that you'll be reduced into the most human of forms. Homesick, irrelevant, and desperate to get back the doldrums of familiarity.

... Then again, I've thought this out. Just for myself.

How will I ever show my appreciation for where I've come from?