Dear 2009,

You've been quite interesting this year, throwing an equal amount of bad things as good things, leaving me somewhat blindsided. But in retrospect, you brought me some of the best things that will hopefully stay with me for a long long time: Friendship.

A lot of people see Friendship as that less hyped-up, more stable, uglier sibling in the family next to its sister, Love...but you really shined your light on it this year, and you showed me how underrated and truly amazing it is.

Okay, I'll stop with greeting-card like messages and cut to the point:

2009, you have taught me the feeling to have loved and lost; how to cry my eyes out for people who aren't worth it and to stay strong for people who are; how to run out of breath whilst laughing; that sometimes I need to just live a little bit more and think a little bit less; to let go and heal; that there will be times where all my efforts go to waste; that I'm not as bulletproof as I thought; that there's still room for change; and most importantly, to love wholly and unconditionally, without reason or regret.

And with all of this, I'll be heading into the next decade with some of the finest people I've met yet. But don't you worry, I could never forget you; and with that...


I'll be seeing you,

Deanna

"and you dont need protecting"

the truth is... sometimes, I do.

tis the season

I'm sitting here, food coma-ing after an entire day's worth of cooking with my sister; listening to a mixture of the Glee and Wicked Soundtracks along with Christmas music; and it's never felt less like Christmas than now. All that matters is this feeling of content: wanting this moment of pure satisfaction to last as long as it can. There's no longing for anything... I can't say I want anything out of Christmas, or life in general: I'm just satisfied with things as they are.

And that is a miracle all in itself.

Thanks, Ol' Saint Nick...you really got it right this year.

Welcome back

I'm a control freak, just a little bit. But life just gave me a sign: that even when I don't think things turned out for the best.... Everything happens for a reason. And things fall apart all the time, but those that are truiy supposed to stick were never broken at all... Just stretched out. If you're patient enough, what's supposed to happen will happen.

And that's just out of my control.

You said..

You said we were on different pages, and you were right.
Actually, moving at different paces is more correct.
You flipped and skimmed through them hastily looking for best part,
while I was committed to reading it through and through, and searching for the meanings behind the words in front of me.

I wanted a reason, something solid to hold.
You wanted me without any reason at all. Just me.

You quickly found the best part, and then lost interest.
I was just approaching the best part to find that it was too late.
You were gone.

And all that was left was me and my reasons, but nothing to hold onto.


JK12.15

a rush over me

hold still... and you can feel the world rushing over you.
like the clear, cool water that runs over pebbles.
wish-wash. wish-wash.
washing away, their form--
slowly, but surely.

pieces of me.
you're taking pieces of me with you.
i can feel my bones sifting to your shape,
and it scares me.
it terrifies me.
through and through.

bread butts

Facebook has taken over my life. Big surprise. So, it should not be alarming that it has become a part of my daily routine: Come home, pour my books onto my bed, take off my socks, sit myself down at my laptop, arrive at that familiar blue and white page... and all of the sudden, the world is at my disposal.

Nothing was different tonight, and after logging into my account, I saw a status update that read this:

I use to loathe the end pieces of bread loaves; but as of late, I've been growing quite fond of the them.

Now, I would usually peruse through the rest of them quickly and then promptly head off to bed, but this one got me thinkin'.

What if life... is like a loaf of bread (oh, there she goes talking about food again). Seriously, though. A loaf of homemade bread that has been cut by hand, each slice like a different chapter in your life: A beginning, middle and end; your past, present and future.

When we live in the present, it's hard to think back to our beginnings or to our ends...simply because what's done is past and what's yet to come is unknown. It's pretty difficult to relate to ideas so far from us when we're in the middle of everything. We live our way through the stages and find ourselves moving closer towards the end. There we are at the slice of our life: we momentarily stop, and wonder where the heck the rest of our bread has gone to.

And then we come to the realization that we miss the first end of the loaf. We fully appreciate its purpose due to its absence because sometimes the only way to learn the true value of something, is to lose it.

The upshot is that there's still one more bread butt left.

Enjoy it.

i like the way...

I've gone through lots of desserts these days: the ridiculously delectable list of french goods to simple american. I've gone through the list again and again: Flan au caramel, with its rich smokey liquidy caramel at the bottom; the tartness of cherry pie; the warm cinnamon nutmeg spell of pumpkin pie; the flaky crisp layers of mille feuille.

I found you rethrown in my direction, and to think I almost forgot about the things that i like about you.

I like the way you're tough to crack on the surface, but then smooth underneath. The way the crisp layer of sugar is bitter, and then everso sweet. I like you inside and out, and this time... hopefully I've cracked through.

You're that type, that everyone likes. That one that everyone is always in line for, whispering great things about. Occassionally, you run into that person that just doesn't get it. They just don't get you.

But I get you.

So bring on the crowds, bring on the lines. Bring on the people who think they know.

Because honey, I don't think. I know.

You might be creme de la creme, but no one knows it better than this connoisseur.

surprise.

Birthdays have never really been a big thing to me... at least when it comes to my own birthday. This one was just as frustrating as the rest for several reasons, but it was different. Why? Because it's been 2 decades since I first came into this world, and I'm lookin at the world differently.

Reasons why today was full of little surprises that eventually salvaged the day:
> "You Belong With Me" at the most unexpected place & time
> Polaroid Camera + Film
> DDR + Doritos (Ranch, thank you very much)
> shit... it's your birthday?
> 85
> Driving around with the windows down, blasting music. I drove down a street... took it all the way down, and ended up right where I started. Life is funny like that.
> T.Swift's "Jump Then Fall"
> day after Halloween = price reductions on all the candies that have orange wrappers
> Little Forrest
> The possibility of sandwiches


Just a quick jot for now. Heading to bed because of work at 8am tomorrow morning.

Embracing 20 already.

tired.

I've always been a runner. Run here, run there, run everywhere. Ha. But these days, I've stopped, stepped back and realized that running has taken on some significant meanings. Running can imply chasing, running away, running to, running into... the list goes on. Everything is moving so fast when you're running that it becomes dangerous.

Dangerous in all circumstances.

>If you're running into something, you've probably underestimated it's size at one point or another.
>If you're running to something, your depth perception is never truly accurate; it might be a lot farther or closer than you had first thought.
>When you're running away from something, you lose sight of what you're actually running away from. Especially, since your back is already turned on it.
>And lastly, when you chase something. The issue with this last situation is this: when you're chasing something, you never really know truly what the thing is until you've caught it. You sprint and exert all this energy on something that you're not really sure about. You run up mountains, come down, endure a roller coaster, and more than often, you catch up to it and realize that it's totally different than what you thought you had been chasing after all that time. So, then what?

I've come to realize that I'm too tired for that now.

Now is the time to walk.

do a little dance and throw a glance my way

I noticed a glow in the corner of my eye the other day. Amidst everything, all the people and all the thoughts, I glanced over and I saw you: something new, something fresh--and I was instantly stuck like a piece of gum on a shoe. I had to peel my eyes off of you, and turn away abashed. Like a moth drawn to a lamp, unsure of what pulls it towards that flickering light.

All I know is that you are aglow, and it feels good to see your face. So let's make that happen.

All the time.

Because I like the way you make me feel when I see you.

It's as simple as that.

reciprocation allocation:

if only it were equal.

natural renditions of a craving

Strawberry crepes, I can't get you out of my mind. I had a taste, and I can't think of anything else. Lightly sweet and slightly crisp: the chunks of strawberries with powdered sugar were unlike anything I've ever placed in my mouth. Its special simplicity rendered a wondering amazement throughout my tastebuds. More--I craved for more, and so I tried to make another batter... all I wanted was just a little more, just one more taste? So I mixed in lingering excitement for them, but it didn't turn out right. Did I do something wrong? Was there too little milk? No, the consistency was fine...Did I add too much sugar? Maybe that was it. That box of frozen Eggos on the counter beckons my settlement of kitchen concoctions. I glare in that direction and ignore its petty attempts to persuade me otherwise.

Because I know that perfect batch is right around the corner.

I just know it.

for what it's worth... i really missed you.

insomniac has hit me hard these past few nights. seems like the hot summer nights beckon me to keep it company. It whispers warm secrets over me as I'm lying down--ready to slumber through the night. But once in a while, when the occasion calls, I quietly indulge in its secret.

As I'm up embracing the company of the fine night, I think about the things that have gone by during the day.

Has it really been 2 and a half years? Geez, time goes by fast. Yes, I'm sorry we lost all that time. I know, I know; we were both stubborn. It seems really silly now, but maybe we needed to realize it: We needed that time to realize how much we appreciated one another, you know? "If you love something let it go, and if it doesn't come back it was never really yours". I don't know how I feel about this in general, but I know it fits here and now. The hardest part was letting go... and here we are, apologizing about a bitterness we both don't feel anymore. We ran away childish, and came back mature. It's good to know that after all that time, our friendship was real.

I'm glad you gave me that time to heal, glad you came back...and I'm glad you missed me.

because you know what?


I missed you, too.
V, II, I.

scrambled eggs and a funeral.

I woke up to the sounds of crying down the hallway at my sister's house in San Diego. What could have gone wrong this early in the day? I stumbled out haphazardly and saw a scene so unexpected that I didn't even know how to react. At the end of the hallway, my niece stood screaming with tears the size of bullets running down her cheeks, looking down at her favorite toy broken with no hope of salvation. It was gone, it was done and it was over. It was the death of the little red and yellow shopping cart. And there she stood near it, mourning its death, crying her little hazel eyes out--only taking breaks for gasps of air. I came over and tried to help heal the pain, try to help her play with something else... tried to help her forget. But she wouldn't take any of it. So my sister and I played the game of statues that morning, wanting to help so badly, but not knowing what to do or how to do it for that matter. So we stood, we watched, and we waited. She looked to us for help: to fix it, to make it better--but there was nothing we could do for it, and that was just the truth.

And it's so sad...but true. Sometimes, as much as you want to fix it, you just can't. As much as you want to make it better, make it the same, make it the way it used to be--you have no control over it. I stood there and watched her pain over her first heartbreak. She stayed there pining over that cart until she reluctantly dragged her way towards comfort: her mother. She clung to my sister's side and cried some more. When suddenly, a flash of quick thought prompted me to look over at the cart, and I knew what I could do for her. The only thing that we can ever do.

I checked to make sure she couldn't see me from where she was sitting, and moved swiftly towards the cart. I picked it up with its broken pieces and set it outside in the corner of the garden. I walked back inside, and could see her glancing down the hallway in search of it. But it was gone. She scanned the room, peeking here and there to see where it was and came to terms with the fact that it had just disappeared.

That was the last time she cried over that cart.

Just like that, we started the day anew with some scrambled eggs. And not once did we mention the cart. Maybe someday, when she's older we can sit and chat about that cart she once loved so much, and laugh. But we all know that time's not now, not yet.

missed it.

honestly, who are the Brits kidding? They really are not known for their efficiency. The bus system seems to have a sort of glitch every other day around 5-6, where the buses just drive by the stops without a care. I sat there yesterday, waiting for the 25 Universities bus to make it's way around. I sat and I waited. I waited and I sat. for one hour of my life. ugh. so after sitting around on my arse for way too long, I decided to get up offa my thang and head to the previous bus stop to see if the stupid red beast would stop there. Impatience at its finest, right here. As I made my way over to that other stop, I saw that red bus heading towards me... not stoppping at that stop, heading towards where I had been for the last hour. Shit. I picked up my bag, and ran with about 20 cuties and a litre of water. Undoubtedly, I missed it. I perked up my head to look at the electronic schedule. 25 Universities... 25 minutes. Damn. Fruitless efforts, once again.

Seems like everything you chase after goes awry. The restlessness of not knowing, it eggs us on to run and to chase. But what are we really chasing in the end? Life really is a test of patience. You wait around for years to pass, who you are, what you'll be, friends, love... death. You chase this and that, never really getting a full grasp or appreciation for it. It's easier said than done: To be able to sit, and wait... to admit that some things are just out of your control, and to live knowing that some things are merely by chance.

I suppose that's the risk we have to take. Take a chance in chance. Sit there, and wait for your bus because chances are that it's just around the corner.

false advertisement.

CASHMERE?

try 20%...

i was jipped.

opportunity knocks, but it doesn't beg.

forever&always

wasting time.

Lying in bed these past couple of days has highlighted some really important things to me. I don't know if it's the effects of the highly addictive strawberry lozenges or if it's the mildy sedative spicy jar of liquid pholcodine, but I realized where I was in my life for the first time. I'm 19. I'm young, and I just want to be happy. We spend all of our lives running around worrying about the past and the future, while we let the present slip by. I thought about the months before when I was still training for the marathon and those fateful early spring evenings when I stopped at a dandelion field for a rest. I stood there and I watched in awe as the wind caressed and tickled its way through the field, blowing and twirling the seeds in all sorts of directions, leaving the crystal blue sky speckled. I held my hand out like a net and allowed them to rest softly on my palm. There was nothing blatantly significant: nothing grand, nothing exciting... but it made my heart flutter and sing.

I guess what I'm trying to say is what everyone else has been saying all this time: Life is short, don't waste your time dwelling on things you think will eventually make you happy. Because all it takes is a gust of wind, and all of the sudden everything is changed.

Hold your hand out, catch the good ones, and hold onto them before the moment has gone and passed.

fed up.

i hear you. i see you too. so when are you actually going to show me something?

16 oz of yogurt and a broken heart

I went to the store this morning after my hearty breakfast, quite satisfied with myself. I strolled down the aisles, past the colorful packages, boxes and bottles. I reached the refrigerated aisles that I dread when I'm not wearing a jacket, and swiftly made my way through when all of the sudden, you caught my attention. God, you were everything I ever had ever wanted - that I had ever dreamed of. Blueberry yogurt: tart, yet sweet with real blueberries bits for character - just the way I like it. I can't pass on a good thing when I see it, and I quickly swooped you up. Throughout the bus ride home, I was bubbling with excitement. I was so anxious at the thought of having something so light and sweet after that heavy traditional English breakfast. I ran up six flights of stairs, threw my door open and grabbed a spoon. I carefully placed you on the table and gently peeled the top off. It was time. I looked down into you and saw the swirl of blueberry compote against the white yogurt. I swirled my spoon around slowly and got the perfect spoonful. The cool touch against my tongue sent chills throughout my body, and I was itching for more. As I reached down to scoop for more, I felt my heart sink. You were nearing empty. I felt the scratch of the metal against the plastic container, the empty clanging, and I felt betrayed. You told me you had 16 ounces - you said it was all for me. Guess that's just what you say to people, isn't it? You try and sell yourself to everyone you see, but I'm not falling for that anymore.

That's the last time I stop by the grocery store after breakfast.

permanent marker.

i found that picture
of you in that white dress
he sure had a good time
cleaning up that mess

he found thirty other pieces
but he'll never find them all
tried to put it back together
now he knows to keep it off the wall

and i don't appreciate you calling him to reminisce
the only reason is you're seeing how much better off he is.

X is the shape i drew through your face
in permanent marker.
just like the mark you knew you were making,
who do you think you are to draw on his heart
in permanent marker?

oh taylor swift... :]

please stop.

Say it once: That's enough, I swear to you. I'm not a child, I'm not deaf, I'm not dumb, either. I'm fully capable of making my own decisions. To tell you the truth, I don't think I respect the fact that you're trying to make your word count to me now. You don't deserve it. Where were you when I needed it- when I actually wanted your opinion? Please don't stand there and ask me questions like you care, and then walk away with no alternative plans for me. You lure out my dreams, you highlight them, and then you break them apart. So you don't want me to go to law school. What now, then? So you don't want me to go to England. What now, then? What should I do? How should I live? Who should I be?

Oh, I'm sorry. Did you not have suggestions ready? Perhaps next time, you should come prepared. Because I'll always have a rebuttal. Until then, please just stop.

I can tell this week is testing me already. It's going to be a combination of all the things in my life as of right now: school (two essays, one of which I just realized is due tomorrow), work everyday starting yesterday through wednesday night, a statistics test (that I will DOMINATE... hopefully :[), family stuff, eap stuff--oi. I better stop there. I feel dizzy talking about it already.

promises to stop writing love letters to food. there. are you happy now?!?!?!?!

love inside a cereal box.

Ahh cereal--Every time I approach the cereal bar I know what I'm looking for-I know what I'm expecting and what I want out of my cereal. Coco Puffs, you make me jubilant as I twist that dial and there you are... There the moment I want you, the moment I need you. Are you aware of the way you make me feel? The sound of you falling against the plastic tinkles like bells in my ears, and my heart gleefully skips a beat. My thoughts flutter your way whenever the occasion calls, and my heart, it runs-no, it sprints towards you. But you weren't there last week. Where did you go that day when I needed you most? The others were there: Pops, Fruit Loops, Cheerios, Apple Jacks, Cinnamon Toast whatnots... I decided to go with the Cinnamon; have I ever told you that I used to love the Cinnamon Toast Crunch? It doesn't really matter anyway, because it wasn't the same. It fell listlessly into my yellow bowl, clanging. But do you know what the worst part is? My heart kept running, blind and aimlessly into the dark searching for you, Coco Puffs.

emotional kitchen concoctions.

I've been craving strawberry crepes for the longest time, but every time I even come close to making them something always gets in the way. Why, strawberry crepes? I get excited to make you, then I realize that something is missing--something so vital, how could I have forgotten? I've done this before, this... this should feel second nature to me, but why has it become so difficult to even get started? Is it just not the right time? Am I not ready for this? I've gone on to other things in the meantime: waffles, pancakes and french toast, even. But none of them have come close to what I have been expecting from something like you, crepes. I feel like every step I take, you take two back. Perhaps, I just have to settle for something else. Is this what I've been left to? But no, I won't settle. I'll wait for the perfect moment, and then you'll be mine.

and yes, this is my second blog inspired by food. you have my permission to call me a fatty. :)

i hope you know

I hope you know that sometimes, you can't be selfish-especially when it comes to your kids. I've never asked much of you-if anything, I've tried my hardest to bite my tongue when I saw something that bothered me, but made you happy. I hope you know, that I hope my kids can come and talk to me, knowing that I will be supportive of their dreams and aspirations; that I'll be there for them, understanding as I can be though times have changed. I won't look down upon them as if they were constantly lost: because I'll know that I had taught them well, well enough to know that they'll have direction and I know sometimes they'll get lost, but I will be there to help them when they need it. Practical... of course I'll be practical, but I know my kids will be too because after all, they're my kids. I promise to know their characters: strong-willed, determined, dreamers... I'll know them better than I know myself. Your indecisiveness hurts me; your lack of appreciation for the person that I've become pierces my heart a thousand times. I hope you know that I love you, but you have disappointed me.

good days to come.

woke up with this song in my head.

i'm a new soul
i came to this strange world
hoping i could learn a bit 'bout how to give and take
but since i came here, felt the joy and the fear
finding myself making every possible mistake

see i'm a young soul
in this very strange world
hoping i could learn a bit 'bout what is true and fake
but why all this hate? try to communicate
finding trust and love is not always easy to make.

shower time.

dispose after use.

I've just come home from an 8 hour long drive with one of my dearest friends: I felt the weight of my eyelids as we were driving southbound on the starry 5 highway, but they have since perked up at the sight of my laptop. They'll stay open for the chance to write and to share--every key typed, tinkers the drowsiness away.

San Francisco was beautiful yesterday: the sun was bright and the sky was clear--I could have sworn SoCal weather was following me. :) It made SF and Berkeley about 100 times more enjoyable than it would have been, had the usual foggy weather accompanied us; 100 times more enjoyable minus the cost of a dehydrated Nancy, of course. Fail.

As I should have expected, I couldn't find my camera as I was grabbing things on Friday, so I was forced to buy a disposable camera. Yes, you heard me. A DISPOSABLE CAMERA--the ones that use film and have a rotating dial that goes clickety-click. That one. 27 Frames, and you can't even see them until you print them out--oh, how digital technology has spoiled us. Some will be great, some not so great and the rest down-right terrible. Maybe one of them will be picture perfect-if you're lucky. And as I was fiddling with the thing, something in my mind clicked: this is what life is. I held the model of life in my hands.

Life is a disposable camera: you go along, with however many frames allotted to you, and that's it. You pick and choose which memories, images, people, places you want to capture within your number of frames, and it eventually ends. When you run out of frames, you look back in retrospect, not knowing at the time how the memories turned out-not knowing what the outcome would be when you went into it. Then the camera is gone, and all that is left is the pictures: the moments you chose to capture, the decisions you took. You look back and find that some were greater than others, some didn't turn out the way you expected them to, and others that were flawless, unforgettable moments. All captured because you wanted them to be, because you chose carefully which ones to bet your frames on.

After all, we only have so many.

Digital cameras really distort this notion: it gives you the power to unlimited frames, leaving us the option to attempt and seize all opportunities (all that we can hold onto) without really making choices. Because after we hoard all the opportunities, we can go back and pick-and-choose which ones we want based on the outcome.

Thank you, $5.99 Kodak camera--I might have lost six dollars, but I just gained a new perspective.

( P.S. It's quite a selling point, Kodak people. If you decide to market it with your camera-please don't charge me extra--like: face value $5.99+$100 epiphany-about-life-fee.)

But, when I'm out of frames and out of time, put them together for me in a book and judge me based on those: because I chose each one carefully. Dispose of me, but keep the book, and I'll be a happy camper.

And finally, this frame is dedicated to the mini road trip.

fifteen.

'cause when you're fifteen
and somebody tells you they love you,
you're gonna believe them.
and when you're fifteen,
and your first kiss makes your head spin around,
but in your life you'll do things
greater than dating the boy on the football team

I didn't know it at fifteen.

when all you wanted
was to be wanted,
wish you could go back
and tell yourself what you know now.

back then I thought I was going to marry him someday,
but I realized some bigger dreams of mine.

I didn't know who I was supposed to be, at fifteen.

Ode to an Egg

I think I fell in love with you and I didn't even notice. I was too busy thinking about other things when we first met. I was thinking of things.. to do to you, and I fell in love that night you were boiled. That smooth porcelain skin of yours broke apart as I tried to reach the center, yearning. As I tried to get closer, the broken fragments of porcelain scarred me, and I almost gave up. But I didn't want to leave it halfway, even if it was painful and I continued to dig past that veneer and destroyed it, looking up to see you at your best. I bit into the intoxicating smell, the softness of your state and reached your heart of gold. Now, I'll never be able to turn away from it even if I tried.

2:35 A.M.

This is what 2:35 A.M. looks like: arriving home from yet another fun night--to realize that your blog was all weird and everything you thought was kind of wrong. Haha. Could I have possibly been more wrong? Reason and insight reach me at strange times, and the weird thing is that I don't even feel estranged by it one bit. So I changed it in order to better suit me.

I started writing again. Opening up my notes felt like unwrapping a parcel that you've received by complete surprise: the kind that's wrapped in thick brown paper with twine and scratchy handwriting that makes your heart melt like butter on toast. I rummaged over the contents of my notes--it made my heart smile. A time capsule had been awaiting my acknowledgment, with poor excuses for notes collected from the past 7 years of my life.

I won't forget you anymore, I promise.

Sunday.

Today was a nice day... no work, no running around like a crazy mad woman--just nice and easy. I feel kind of lighter than I have in a really long time, and I can't really pinpoint it at this moment. I feel like I'm in this vacuum where time is stagnant, yet I see everything flying right past me on the outside. It's a weird feeling, haha not really sure if I like it or not. There are things I should be worrying about, but I'm just sorta floating around without a care: That will probably be a mistake.

Things I should be worrying about:
1. England (this is an iceberg: it is more complex than it seems)
1a) the whole ticket situation with Kevin: I might be stranded in England for a couple of days.
1b) country project
1c) orientation
1d) umm loan whatevers
1e) there are probably more that I'm totally oblivious to at this point...

2. School
3. Personal-straightening-myself-out-stuff
4. Getting my work done out of the way for this upcoming weekend

making lists tires me....

I'm off to do some homework.

Dead.

I am super tired right now, and I'm supposed to be doing my homework and studying for stats... that is obviously not happening right now. I feel as if I'm about to pass out any time soon. and soon is now.

work = fail.
would rather be doing about 6 other things.
1. spending time with friends
2. eating ice cream with excessive amounts of chocolate and strawberries
3. cooking
4. running
5. reading
6. _______ (something which I'm not quite sure I can share yet).

But I guess these things will have to wait.

ugh.

So, I'm awake for no good reason: All of my work has somehow magically finished itself. Ha, I wish. But I can't bring myself to do it right now, because my mind is full of all this other crap that I just can't seem to clear. No matter how hard I try to get rid of it, no matter what I do--it's still there. Shit. I wish I could just drop everything right now and head for the beach. I want to lie down on the sand, and just disappear for a short while. This has to be the most fucking emo piece of shit I've ever written before... I say it's because of the rain.

sitting, waiting, whispering-
whispering sounds of my soul
patiently looking forward
to see the light in the view

i tried to scream, i did
but your love stifled my soul
i tried to yell, i did
but your kindness tamed my desires

dreams: i had of being someone
dreams-ha, i can still recall
but i'm just stuck here
sitting, waiting, whispering
quietly into your ear.

i hope that you can decipher this
please tell me that you see it
that you see me wilting inside
each petal falling softly off
until there is nothing.
Nothing left of what made it a flower
nothing left of what made it beautiful
nothing left of what made it, it.



just know that i'm sitting here
waiting, whispering patiently
so that you can save me
because i can do nothing.

The Renaissance

When things are just this great, there really is only one thing to do: write. Can I be honest? I have no idea how we all ended up together as we are... English 28B was just another class, right? But I'm not going to question it because it feels good-I loved English 28B, and crazy as it sounds my mind still wanders back to the somewhat academically fruitless classes. I'm just going to say it: I'm amazed that we actually kept in contact with each other. Seriously though, in any other normal circumstances, this would have never happened-not in a million years. College is like NYC: you've got networks of different sizes, types and people that often cross-over through class or the past; people don't ever say hi or smile (unless they know you); small-talk= get-the-fuck-away-from-me; and "let's get together some time"= hahahaha riiight, more like, "let's get together that one time for obligatory purposes and then that's enough." Because face it: when there are so many networks already, what's the use in keeping in contact with this one person who isn't in any of the one's that you're already a part of? We're all so busy with our lives that we forget that people are individuals: like each person is actually a person aside from whatever network they're a part of.

But this... this is something quite amazing and unprecedented in my books. I feel like my heart has swollen to the point where it's pushing my feelings out through my mouth to let you guys know that you are amazing, astounding, fantastic, marvelous, wonderful--i've run out of synonyms because you guys that are cool--awesome.

Flitting Memories

I don't know what good memories really serve us: whether they positively or negatively contribute to our present and future lives is a question I'll always be asking. Why do we pick and choose certain memories over others as we hold them up under the spotlight?

High school is definitely one of those memories that are truly questionable to me, the intentions of those memories always sends chills down my spine: Because I don't know what I feel about high school. Two years after graduating, I'm still not sure if high school is a good or a bad memory. All I know is that I have truly been impacted by the events that occurred, the people that I met and the things that I went through.

It's strange to bring this up all of the sudden. Two years have passed and I guess the trouble with commuting to your school is being jaded by the fact that you're being followed by your past where ever you go. Although college is a different world from high school, the shadow still follows close behind. I never really understood Facebook--and I still don't to this day. Their tagline is to "help you connect and share with the people in your life." So those outside of this are neither connected nor or they in your life apparently. And there are a certain number of obligatory etiquette rules when it comes to Facebook that I just can't wrap my mind around.

If I haven't requested you, then I don't want you in my life. Or simply, I probably just don't care. If you request me, then I have to request you.. because to do otherwise would be rude-even though you were the person that decided we shouldn't be friends anymore.

What the hell is this about? We've all decided to hide behind putting any real effort into anything. We take advantage of Facebook, using it as a mask for us to hide behind. When you're sorry, you go through Facebook. When you like someone, you talk through Facebook. What happened to actually taking the time to find the person and talk to time... face to face?

The real question is... after all this time, after everything that's happened. Why should I give you the luxury of being my friend through Facebook, when you haven't done more than clicking a link in order to stay in my life?

I wish I knew what to do with those memories, so that I can come up with a solution, but I can't. So, good night--maybe the memories will come back with a solution next time.