113009: Don't even try.

Don't even try to hit on me if you're not wearing and stocked up on this product:



LACOSTE'S ESSENTIAL

I will probably never be able to emphasize enough how AMAZING this cologne is. This alone is the reason why I would never give up my sense of smell. True story.

112709: Perfection.

I came home Tuesday night, texted my baby, ate some VIETNAMESE food, laid down by the fireplace and FELL ASLEEP. My dad woke me up and told me to go to my room, so I blindly and effortlessly made my usual sleep walk to my room. [I've fallen asleep downstairs many times...] I slept in my jeans in my own, queen size bed in my freezing room. My phone vibrated repeatedly throughout the night as I slept, but I ignored all the texts and continued to sleep. Roughly ten hours later, I woke to about 21 missed texts and 3 missed phone calls. It felt so good.

I woke up, returned only my brother's phone call and decided to meet up with him for lunch. When I went outside to get in my car, my dad already moved it to the driveway and washed it for me. I got inside, pulled up my seat and saw that my gas was for once, not siphoned. It felt so good to start the engine. I plugged in my phone charger, plugged in my iPod and drove to Redlands. Spent an hour over ice cream with my little brother and went home. Drove to the San Bernardino train station to pick up my older brother. Went back to Redlands to pick up my little brother. Went to the doctor's in Colton to get a vaccination. Went home to Highland to pick up baby Timmy. Around this time, I decided to reply to texts I deemed worthy of replies. Then I lost my phone to play with Timmy. I have seen my phone for a grand total of about 4 hours this entire break. Love it. But honestly, you can't tell me waking up to my own car, washed and with a tank as full as I remember it, is not the most amazing feeling ever. Well, for the last two months, at least. I love home. I'm going to miss this soooooo much Sunday morning.

112409: Am I...

Am I the only one who thinks leaving "condolences" on someone's Facebook wall after their passing is one of the most impersonal things you can do? Not only that, but it's like putting it on blast. Shouldn't a condolence or "farewell" be a humble act? To me, putting it on Facebook is just saying "Hey everyone, look, I showed my respect and said something nice that should bring tears to your eyes. Can you beat me?"

I remember when a simple personal blog was enough to show condolences. You weren't trying to talk to the passed. You were simply telling the world how amazing this person was and how unfortunate the event was.

Eric Kilgore, may you rest in peace.

You were always indestructible in my eyes. To know that you are gone is so surreal to me, no matter how close or not close we were in our moments in high school. It just shows that no matter how strong, weak or wall-flower a person is, dead is still the ONLY THING IN LIFE YOU HAVE TO DO.

Eric Kilgore was a man of integrity. He did not die in vain. RIP.

112209: 2:15AM

I fell asleep at 11PM with the lights on. Woke up at 2AM to the lights on. I can't go back to sleep.

I miss home so much. I want to go. Right. Now. But I am now slightly terrified of car trips. Road trip? No thanks. How about we walk? Shit, even that's not safe anymore.

I miss baby Timmy sooooooooooo much. It's indescribable. No one can begin to fathom how much I miss him. I want to go home just to see him. But again, I am frightened by car rides.

The 20-30 minute car ride to Irvine tomorrow night is scaring me.

I want to go home. I want to see my family and I want to laugh with baby Timmy.
I want to go home. I really, really, really just want to go home...

By the way, RIP Eric Kilgore. In simply leaving the city of San Bernardino you were greatly missed and adored. By leaving this physical world, you will only be missed more and forever remembered in our memories and hearts. Rest in peace. I will be praying for your family.

112009: Random.

Cause I'm sure someone will like that.


Today, I am dropping my first ever college course. And I am going to get a W on my transcript. This makes my heart very heavy and very sad. If I can only make it in time for my appointment...

111709: SAD.

Que triste.
Kuwawa.

111409: Wowww.

Skip to 3:40.


Girl can siiing. I've always loved Lydia Peak's voice. Amazing, amazing, amazing. This is the best female cover of this song I've heard. Even if it's "just for fun." Actually, this is the only female cover I've actually liked. Why am I not talented in the field of music?

111009: Uhh...

Someone sleep with me! Make my bad dreams go away. Dream catcher. Ew, memories. No sleep, no sleep. I have to stop being scared of sleep one day.

111009: Sucker for..

acoustics. Yeah yeah yeah, every girl says they loveee acoustic. But really, I do. But really really, I love anything music related. I started with piano<3. Violin, clarinet, alto sax. I'm still trying to learn how to play the guitar. I've always wanted to play the drums. Then maybe after I master guitar I can learn bass. Someone who can play music AND sing has my heart. After all, singing is a form of music...

110909: XXX.

AIM: xideallove
BlogSpot: xxchristine
Facebook: /xxchristine
Myspace: /xxchristine
Skype: xteenybaby
Tokbox: /xxchristine
Tumblr: xxchristine
Twitter: /xxchristine
Xanga: /littoXtomato

I'm sooooooo original/creative... I use x's like they're the most common letter in the English language.

110909: Wouldn't it be nice..

to be able to italicize in text messages? That way I don't have to look like I'm yelling when I'm trying to emphasize something. That's all I wanted to say.

110509: Reading...

Reading fiction takes me away from the real world. I am not in the eyes of the first person narrator. I am now the omnipotent third person narrator. I love escaping in the life of someone else. Or reading myself into someone else's life. For some reason, no matter how badly the antagonist is treating me, I feel like the me in fiction novels is so much better off than the real me. Cause drama in the real world is nothing to compare to. I read for style, for content, but most of all I read to escape. My three weeks away from my Wednesday night classes will be devoted to fiction, fiction, fiction. I am so tired of textbooks. I just want to read novels.

110309: Song titles.

I meant to write this in my "independent individual" post, but it's too long to edit now.

I was going to open with something about how...

When the song "Miss New Booty" by Bubba Sparxxx came out, my friend James immediately started calling me that. For a while, I was referred to and known as, Miss New Booty.

When Ne-Yo came out with "Miss Independent," I suddenly got a new AKA. James says both songs capture two parts of me perfectly. I would have to say they are rather accurate hahahaha.

Teeny.
Miss New Booty.
Miss Independent.

110309: Sunglasses? Really, guys?

So I get headaches from the sun. I've come to terms with that. I keep Zomig in my bag 24/7 now. I also know that sunglasses don't work for me. I mean, I have been alive for 19 years, after all. I forgot to tell you guys that on my 19th birthday. [technically, I've been alive for 20 years but I'm not going to get into that because people will just argue with me]

Anyway, did you really suggest me sunglasses to cure my headaches? Like I hadn't already thought of that? Hey, thanks for the innovative new idea, you guys. Like I couldn't come up with that after 20 years of life. Why don't you learn to present your words? You know I'm a literal person. I love metaphors, but I interpret literally before I even consider going figuratively.

110309: Social Norms001.

I was at Pinks on a Saturday afternoon. A foreign couple had a baby, between the ages of one and two. He was being rowdy, and began crying. His dad picked him up and yelled at him. The baby hit his head on the table and the dad continued to yell in a foreign tongue. Everyone stared. I glanced, then looked away. I couldn't help but notice all the other people staring at the couple, though.

In sociology, I learned that it is out of the norm to take a young child to a nice sit-down restaurant to eat because the child would most likely not be well-behaved and therefore a distraction and annoyance to the other guests. However, Pinks is hardly what I call a fancy restaurant and its sitting area is outside. So why was it so hard for people to understand that a baby actually cries? It was so hard for people to grasp they they had to stare. It must belittle the parents' skills and they probably left questioning whether or not they were adequate parents. Way to fuck up another person's (couple's) ego, society. We're a fucked up world. We can destroy by looks.

110109: Dream001.

So this is kind of late, but I had a bad dream..

I was at home, in San Bernardino, but all my friends everywhere were in there. And I guess this was their moment to meet each other, and my parents. So I guess Stina doesn't like me (in my dream) and while I'm sitting on the stairs, I hear a dog bark. I wonder when my neighbor got a dog and why it's so close to my house, because it sounds so loud. Then I see the HUUGE dog sniffing my boot (trying to find my scent, but probably smells the throw up from when Rio yaked all over my boots). It moves on, looking for my scent. I go upstairs to find my mom and tell her there's a dog in the house. I find myself in a room, close the door behind me because the dog followed me. It begins to try to knock down the door. I have to hold the door up against it. After fighting with it for about ten minutes, it leaves. I go downstairs and my house is cleared. That's when I knew it was a prank. A dirty, dirty prank. My brothers and I are pissed. Dis-re-fucking-spected.

So I grab my car keys to go to Stina's house. As we're walking outside, I hear voices. My breathing quickens, my pace slows. I thought people stuck around to make sure I got punked good. Turns out it's a group of people waiting for their ride...and they're my friends from SB. So I go up to them, and one of them is my best friend. He's laughing. I yell at him. I hit him like crazy. Then I woke up.

I don't like big dogs...

103009: Be Tee Dub.

BTW, by the way, being locked up in your room, hidden under two layers of blankets and a sweater for 3 days is not the way to live your life. It felt so good to go outside today. Feel the sun on my [facial] cheeks. Feel the wind go through my hair (and ultimately tangle my hair -___-"). Hear the birds chirping in the distance. Seeing the leaves rustle. Watch a butterfly fly. Probably missing the already under-appreciated natural beauties of nature is what made me get worse yesterday. I believe my walk made me better, up until I threw up. But you know what I mean. I'm too much a fan of walking and nature to be deprived of it for 3 days like that. Never again.

103009: Flashbacks!

Today I was at the store, and someone asked if I was his "girl," which immediately brought back memories. Like when I was at the Long Beach post office with my "ex" and a man said I looked like a good girlfriend, taking care of my "boyfriend" and how my "boyfriend" was such a lucky guy to have me. Like when I was at Barnes and Nobles with my ex best friend and people asked how long we had been going out, when we weren't even going out. Like when I went shopping with my best friend and everyone thought we were a couple. Like when I was at Citrus Plaza with a kid who STILL likes me, a year later, and we would run into people he knew and they would later ask him who his girlfriend was. Why does it always look like I'm the girlfriend? And why is it that I never am? hahah.

Why is it that Michael was my most serious relationship, yet we never came out as official? Just "exclusive"? I always just keep my mouth shut. I have no idea what it's like to be in a relationship.

102809: SICK.

Not sick as in cool. Sick as in ill. Not ill as in cool. Ill as in FEVER/FLU/COUGH/COLD.

So someone tell me why we use all these terms as slang now?

I hate being sick. I haven't been this sick in a whiile. Sniffles and cough are what I'm used to. None of this 102.6°+ shit. None of this... feeling like I'm gonna die, shit!

But my friends came over with enchiladas, soup and pho. Then my parents drove an hour in the middle of the night, on a Wednesday night, to bring me apple juice and food. I have to admit, my family and friends have not once failed me this past week.

I hope I don't forget this feeling. Not the sick feeling, but the feeling of being cared about and cared for. I haven't felt this way in such a long time.. Almost too long..

102209: Updating.

Tonight, I am going to update my Tumblr...

xxchristine.tumblr.com

101409: Normal.

I kind of wish I were normal sometimes. With the whole, sleeping thing. I think I would function perfectly if I could sleep the afternoons away and work at night. The only thing is that most people don't do that. It's not... "normal."

I have no doubt in my mind that I would be a straight A student if I could sleep from the moment I get home from class to whenever. Wake up and just do work until I go to class. Repeat. Perfect formula for straight A's, iff you are Christine Nguyen.

I'm now torn at a point in my life: fuck the status quo and just do what I gotta do (sleep during the day) or try to condition myself to be normal (sleep at night) and do my work at what would be considered a reasonable time. I mean, it'll do great damage to my social life. But God, I would be healthy and doing good in school. It's a tough one, because it'll set me up for the rest of my life...

In the mean time, I JUST now found my motivation at 2:35 in the fuckin' morning, like a week too late. So in 4 hours, I'm going to wake up in full-work mode and just rip holes in all my assignments. Not literally, of course. Figuratively.

It's raining outside. Late night/early morning rain is my favorite. During the day rain, not so much. But tonight, I'm going to stare out my window watching and listening to the rain sing me a lullaby to sleep :). Goodnight, world. Status quo, here I go.

100809: Invasion.

So why exactly are you invading in on my life? You went to my high school, you were my brother's ex friend, and now you want to move to Long Beach? And you're just going to try to leech off of me? Try to meet all my friends, hang out with me, all this business? Excuse you, but no. Stop trying to invade on my life. You would be the biggest mistake ever. You would be the leak and source to everything I once hated in high school. I can't afford for you to do that. I am happy and I don't want anyone to interrupt my happiness.

092309: True Nature.

Today, someone posed the idea:

You'll never see a person's true character because it only comes out when no one else is looking.

and requested that I "think about it."

So I thought about it briefly and decided to write about it. See, if no one else is looking, how are we to judge that this "true character" is so different from what we do see? If no one else sees this other character, how can it be real, or, so different from what we do see? We don't know what we don't see.

It also brings out the "if a tree falls and no one hears it, does it make a sound?" philosophy. But, that's beyond the point. The point is, whether or not we are lying or telling the truth, being rude or being polite, being mean or being nice, we are always our true nature. Our true nature is what we do and how we act at any given time, not our "general characteristics."

I'm wondering if this even makes any sense =/. I can be the nicest person in the world, but if I am in a bad mood, does that mean for the time I'm in a bad mood, I'm not of my true character? Or is being in a bad mood every now and again PART of my true nature?

This question can forever go unanswered. But who died and made me boss of defining things?

092309: Thoughts001.

Geez. It takes me longer to do my homework now cause I keep looking out the window to watch people parallel park. I'm scared someone's going to hit another car while trying.

072809: I love

to laugh and smile. And when I can't do either or, I like to hug.

070809: :D

I get these butterflies in my stomach that I can't suppress. Like a yawn can induce other yawns, a smile can induce other smiles. I've finally grown out of that egocentric mindset in which I feel that I am only successful when the source of another person's smile is on account of me.

I just think that in a world so negative, there is nothing more beautiful to the eye than a smile, nothing more beautiful to the ear than laughter, and nothing more amazing to feel than a warm embrace.

062209: Blast.

Saturday was a lot at once.
Suicide was my freshman year of high school.
Drugs were my sophomore year of high school.
Education was my junior year of high school.
Sex was my senior year of high school.
If you know me, you'll know which pertained to me and which didn't.

My first year of college was unique. It didn't have a central theme revolving around others. For once, it was about me. Which is probably why I loved it there so much.

My first college summer is a mixture of all the above mentioned high school attributes. For the first time since college started, or since the day I graduated high school, it's taking me more than a couple hours to get over something. More than just even a weak night's sleep.

Both fortunately and unfortunately, I am not who I used to be. I am both proud and ashamed. However, more so than either of the two contrasting feelings, I am a moderate shade of content. I am happy in my own skin. I am comfortable in my own skin. I am smiling and laughing. I am looking at the world through open eyes and listening with open ears. I thoroughly enjoy nature and the arts. I enjoy being educated and taking care of myself. I enjoy the luxury of leisure time. I enjoy the diversity and the aspiring scholars around me. I enjoy the studious college environment and the competitive nature of those in my impacted major. I enjoy the lack of dependency and the reliability of those I seek trust in. I admire the goal-oriented competitors of every impacted major, of every minority, of every doubted teenager and of every working student. I admire the dedication of good professors. I admire the will of those who go above and beyond, not just the bare minimum of 12 units to be a full time student.

I appreciate the new faces and the care they provide. I appreciate the honesty and those open-minded. I appreciate variety and the intelectual conversations. I appreciate a helping hand and the late night study sessions in the library. I appreciate helpful faculty and adequate phone opperators (that RCC heavily lacks). I appreciate the value of a dollar. I appreciate volunteering. I appreciate friends.

But most of all, I appreciate the maturity level. The fact that people can take an unfamiliar concept and accept it as another peron's outlook. The fact that people can articulate their opinions without being offensive, overbearing or preaching. The fact that people can have a civil debate that doesn't conclude in "friends fighting". The fact that people can adapt, compromise and come to a consensus or "agree to disagree". The fact that people here are accepting of others, open-minded and act their age. It's the maturity of college students and responsible students/adults that I miss.

Since my return to San Bernardino, I have come across quite a bit of non-theatrical dramatic pieces. That being what I categorize as "high school drama," however very few of the people involved are in high school. I did not and DO NOT miss "high school drama". I am unable to wait for those are me who are still immature to grow up. I am getting on with my life, regardless. You already know how I feel, what I think and what I want to do. Get on my level or get off the playing field.

060809: Confidence.

See, I've always said that confidence was attractive, but arrogance is just a major turn off. When one crosses the line between confident and conceitedness, I develop a quick disliking for that one.

What's the difference? An aura of superiority is prominent in those who are conceited. An understanding that improvement can always be made is evident in those who are confident.

I don't claim to be the best, but I strive to be the best. I don't try to dominate all fields and all aspects of life (academics, sports, health, appearances, etc). I simply try to be the best at what I need to be in order to compliment those around me, most especially my family, friends and significant other.

In order for one person to be the best, someone else has to be worse than that person. If you think you're the best at everything, what you're really saying is everyone else just isn't as good. So what you're really doing, is putting everyone else down. If others can't put you down, what right do you have to put others down? You son of a bitch.

Competition is both healthy and beneficial, but only when done in moderation. If someone revolved solely around competition, it means that person is unable to see those around him/her.

I see the people around me. I apply praise, compliment and acknowledgment to those who deserve it. I provide comments, suggestions and advice to those who need it. I know when to apologize and when to show gratitude. I know when to seek help and when to listen. I know when I need to admit defeat, and I know how to celebrate victories. I know when I need improvement, which is always. There will always be room for improvement, no matter how good I am.

I am finally confident in myself. I am content with myself, my lifestyle, my aspirations and my future. My present will make my future plans true. I have so much to learn, but I already know so much. There is an abundance of people out there and I am excited to meet them all. Absolutely nothing will get in my way. Only the right people are in my life now :].

CSULB class of 2011.

050209: Timing.

Since the day I was born, my timing has either been perfectly spot on or way the fuck off.

My favorite number is 11. For a few stupid reasons: I was born on September 11 at 7:11AM. On my 11th birthday, the twin towers were attacked.

Right now my biggest annoyance would be my inability to be on the same page as those surrounding me. When I am in a good mood, everyone is in a bad mood. When I am feeling productive, everyone is feeling lazy. When I want to run, everyone wants to walk. For however long my good streak lasts is however long everyone's bad streak lasts. When I want to stay in, everyone wants to go out. When I follow through, everyone bails. When I am positive, everyone is negative. When I love, everyone hates. When I whisper, everyone yells. When I want to smile, everyone wants to frown. When I want to laugh, everyone wants to cry. When I'm awake, everyone is asleep. When I am feeling like sleep, someone needs me to stay up and listen. I haven't the heart to turn down a needy friend.

[It's been 11 days since I've gone to sleep before 4AM. Today, I forced myself to sleep for 11 hours (which, by the way, was completely unnecessary and more so painful than it was relaxing or restful). 11. 11. 11. A number of no specific significance. Just a number that I relate so many quantities to.]

Nothing has ever gone in opposites in my favor. It has never been, when I want to talk, everyone wants to listen. It has never been, when I fall, everyone catches. It has never been, when I want to write, everyone wants to read.

Now, just as I'm finally feeling good about myself again, everyone feels the need to feel like complete and utter SHIT. To be honest, I can't blame them, either. It's their life, their own stuff happens. I can't expect them to suck it up and be happy just cause I'm finally happy. But it would also be a lie if I said it's not a major fucking buzz kill.

I. Want. To. Be. Alone.

I want to be locked up in a room for the next three weeks with books (novels, not textbooks), stationary, envelopes, stamps, pens, pencils, composition books, iPod and crayons. I want to walk out of that room, ace all my finals and move out of Apartment 9. I want to go home and I want to see the most amazing people in the world--my family & baby Timmy. I want to then go to the house of my favorite person--my cousin. I then want to go out to breakfast with my favorite girl--Ashley G. Zapien. Then I want to go to lunch with the best friend I ever had, and the most real person I know--Kevin B. King. I want to go to dinner with my favorite boy--Kevin A. Schaefer.

I want to see people like Mike J. Delaria, Alex E. Hedstrom, Andrew Hedstrom, Kevin Andrade, Jeff Greenan, Gage Ramirez, Kameron Qureshi, Andrew Duenez.

In the meantime, I will be a recluse. Since my timing here is so poor, I want to save the best of me--this good mood, this positive attitude, this healthy being, this smile--for the people who will appreciate it.

I'm not saying the people in Long Beach aren't appreciative. I'm not saying that the people in Long Beach are fake or anything of the sort. It would just be refreshing to return to the people who bring out the best of the best in me for a while. I'm already in a state in my life where my health is starting to fail me. I've reached and surpassed the point in my life where I need to care about myself.

If you want to reach me, I'm not sure how you're going to be able to, to be honest. The chances of me answering my phone or replying to texts from people I care little to nothing about are slim, if any at all. The chances of me even carrying my phone on me at all times anymore is slim, if any at all. The chances of me replying on Facebook, signing onto AIM, checking my Myspace--all slim, if you haven't already gotten the picture. I know this is the complete opposite of my normal mindset, which is to be easily reachable and accessible, available to listen at all hours of all days, and to ALWAYS be there for anyone and everyone. But what better way to put it, other than:

I AM SICK AND TIRED OF EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING BEING SO FUCKING NEGATIVE.

And I just want to appreciate my own happiness, even if I have to do that alone.
IDCWYT. CONSISTENCY.

Estoy muy contenta y alegre. Y no hay nada que tu puedes hacer acerca de que.

042809: Mature.

Don't you like how some words are more than just one kind of word? Like how mature is both an adjective and a verb.

I am mature.
I am maturing.

This entire blog is going to revolve around how I'm growing up. It will revolve around quotes I have created or gathered, along with analysis of said quotes.

Unhealthy/healthy. I am getting rid of and have gotten rid of the unhealthy things and people in my life. No bad substances, no bad people. That leaves me with a clean body and a clean mind/heart. Funny, because this entire year thus far (as in 2009, so the past 4 months) I have tried to BE healthy. That means, I took medicine, I took my migraine pills, I drank milk and I ate daily. Granted, it was not consistent the entire 4 month period, but I had probably at most a week break in that 4 month stretch where I broke the healthy-run. What ended up happening? I got sick, I had a cough that would never go away, I was constantly in physical pain, I got migraines and I developed a disorder. Taking on healthy activities, habits and consuming healthy is NOT the only key to living and being healthy. It just totally conflicted with the unhealthy things in my life, thus causing a contrasting front that ultimately could have left me dying of a panic attack. Not. Cool. So I got rid of it. And now here I am, feeling like a little less than nothing. But completely breathing, attentive to my hunger and respectful of my body. Not once did I say changing to be healthy was going to be an easy process. Every now and again, I wonder if I miss that unhealthy thing. Every now and again, I have a severe attack of insomnia. Every now and again, I have a mild panic attack. But you know what? I FEEL good. Although my physical health is questionable, my emotional health is strong again. Strong. Something I have not felt in over half a year. I forgot how amazing this feels. And I never want to forget it again. I am finally taking care of myself. Isn't that what everyone wanted from me? Well, here it is. I get rid of the unhealthy and take on the healthy.

This is right. Plain and simple. What I am doing, is right. I have no more doubts. I wonder no more. It doesn't matter what you think, what he thinks, what she thinks. This. Is. Right. I can't really break it down any more than that. I will not doubt myself this time. I will not go back and I will not repeat the cycle. I will break free. I will be liberated.

Music soothes where friends fail. When no one else can help me with what I'm going through, some talented song writer will have put just what I felt into the perfect words. They have this uncanny, innate ability to put feelings into words. Add a tune to it, and you have a beautiful piece of art called music. Music is what I want to hear but never heard before. Music is what calms me down. Music gives better advice than any human can, to be honest. Music is one of the most unique forms of expression, and it is the only thing that won't makae me cry.

Finally, the hardest part of moving on is letting go. We all know that I have a hard time letting go. Is it because I'm overly attached and needy, or is it because I care too much to let a good thing go bad? Most would say the former. I would have to say I honestly do not know. I am not surprised, however, that the majority of my friends would say the former. I feel as though oxytocin is produced from my brain as the outcome of ANY friendship. I feel like my brain mass produces it and uses it out of context. I have a hard time letting go because I love people. I hate to admit it, but I love people. I love making people smile and I love when it is reciprocated. I don't like the idea of walking past someone and having to think to myself "do I look? do I say hi? do I wave? do I smile? do I acnkowledge them? do I try to talk to them? do I catch up? or do I do the complete opposite of everything?" I hate thinking "I remember when I used to be so close with that person... I remember when..." and begin reminscing. Alone. I want to reminisce with them. I love sitting with friends or family and just going in circles saying "remember when...?" and laughing. Add to the story and go on with the next memory. I am sentimental. I hold on to the past that I remember because I'm afraid I'll never feel the same way again. I don't understand why friendships and relationships have to end. I don't understand why everyone can't get along. I don't understand why people can't be friends after breaking up. I don't understand why people hurt other people. I can HONESTLY say, I never understood the ends of anything that once made you smile. But I have had to live through numerous experiences of that because that is the way the world works, regardless of whether I understand it or not. The world is going to keep working that way, no matter what. I have to learn to live with it, or quickly find a reason for it. I try everyday to find a reason. I just can't seem to do it. I need to let go to be healthy. So whether or not I want to do this, I have to do this. I never get what I want.

I just want to be happy.

011509: Because Facebook publicizes my every move.

And Xanga is exposed to those who subscribe.

Here's me finally being selfish--just what everyone wanted from me.

My best qualities are also my worst. I'm not jealous and I'm understanding. Despite the fact that everyone claims those are the two characteristics they find most attractive in a person, they fail to radiate the same characteristics. They also tend to fail to appreciate the two when actually given to them. This world is beyond fucked up and I know it best.

I'm understanding, I really am. Don't believe it? Try me.
I'm really not jealous, really I'm not. Don't believe it? Try me.
Wanna know the key? Truth.

I think the truth is probably one of the most beautiful things in this world, and that is why the world can be so ugly sometimes. We hide the beauty of truth and trust and communication with lies, deception and facades. Why? I have yet to understand the reasoning behind this, despite how understanding I am. I just don't see justification in doing someone wrong and dirty. And yet I can find it in myself to forgive.

Want more of me being selfish? I deserve THE fucking best this world has to offer. And let's face it, you don't cut it. I do not deserve to be treated like this, and I WILL NOT be treated like this.

Here's the thing though: I used to give infinite chances. I have, actually, been learning from my mistakes though. Which means, less and less mistakes happening. I forgive, but baby, if you expect me to fix it all by myself, you're in denial. Cause baby, when you fuck up, you fuck up. I don't know who you are thinking I should be the one apologizing and crawling back. Should that not be you on your hands and knees?

I don't get why I let myself develop affinities towards people who don't treat me the way I deserve to be treated. And then I have people on their hands and knees, trying to please me and win me. But what do I do? I leave them in the dust and pay no regard to them. I'm just not interested. I can blame myself for that.

People always try to limit the key to a relationship/friendship to one thing. I noticed that that one thing often varies between trust, communication and various other terms. I guess I cannot limit myself to one term because I believe they all stem from one another. What's communication if it's not the truth? It becomes communication without trust. Then communication is therefore flawed without truth and trust. If communication is the key, and communication is flawed, then is not the key to the relationship/friendship flawed? We all need to grow up. We ALL need to grow up. Stop masking truth. Speak up, even if it hurts. But I just don't understand how people can think that the pain from discovering a lie is so much less than the pain of just knowing the truth from the start. Accept pain as a part of life, because until then, you are no where near ready for death. And unfortunately for you, the only thing in life you HAVE to do, is die.

So tell them what you think, and make the world a little more beautiful.
I know this sounds completely negative, but it's meant to be completely positive.
So if you think this is emo shit, then grow up and get out.

I am absolutely in love with my life, if I wasn't back then, I am now. And I always will be. I don't need to pretend like there isn't evil in the world to make myself think I'm happy. I don't need to find pride in putting others down. I find joy in making others smile, laugh and being true to my word.




My most prominent and prevalent attribute: I keep my promises.
This can be validated by everyone I have come in contact with.
This is what makes me the intrepid, petite person I am. This is what makes me the person you fell for, and the person you lost.

121008: Fucking Up.

Fucking up is a major part of life. And I'm not going to lie, I have done way too much of such in the last year alone. Especially the last three months. Yet somehow, the funniest part of it all is that I am happier than ever. Is that causal or correlation? I would much prefer to say correlation, but somehow I can't help but think it's causal. Unfortunately, fuck ups aren't supposed to make people feel happy. So this logic fails.

When someone asked me when the last time I cried was, I always wondered why I would keep track of how often I cried within a given period of time. I wasn't aware that that was normal or common. So I actually decided to make a mental note of the last time I cried. I don't remember the exact date, but I can easily track it down. It's been ten weeks, I'd say. Two and a half months. If I were at home, I know for a fact this would be such a different count. I think back now, how ridiculous it was that I cried. I got in a fight with my best friend. I think it was the fact that I was alone here surrounded by strangers for my 18th birthday that it all caught up with me. I remember so clearly being prepared to celebrate the big day with my best friends. I was always the baby of every group, and to finally be an adult and not be with them kind of made my birthday pointless.

So here I am, surrounded by papers and textbooks. My motivation to study and do homework, lost under the papers and mess of colored post it notes. And yet my inspiration to write has found it's way back to me. I miss writing. I miss the freedom of expression I had at home. The ability to write in my now lost notebook of a novel. The ability to draw and sketch, point and sculpt. To create, whether by sight or sound, I had a way to express myself personally. I feel like everything here is exposed to these people I just met.

As I sit here typing, I can't help but take a break between paragraphs, to sit back and stare at the ceiling. So many things run through my mind, my fingers fail to capture all these thoughts into a blog. My mind wanders. I wonder why I can't just think these thoughts and have them typed out before my eyes. I wonder why I can't be at home, sitting outside of my house under a streetlight at 2AM. I wonder why I haven't cried at the thought of losing so much that week. I wonder if I've become heartless again. I wonder if my friends think about me anymore. I wonder if things will be the same when I come back for a month. I wonder why I feel so unchallenged. Mostly, I wonder why.

I wonder why the thought of them losing the baby didn't make me cry. Am I just being too hard on myself? Am I purposely not letting myself cry? Because I know for a fact that I fee the pain and loss. That past month, I learned that it is possible to love someone who was never even born. When I feel the tears pass that initial layer, when I feel the faint breathing of my weak and already damaged heart, I stop what I'm doing. I breathe and I continue with my life. It won't be long now until the tears actually trickle down my cheek, but until then I continue to try to persuade myself that I won't cry. I can make a quarter of a year without crying. Then I can make a third of a year. A half, three quarters, a whole year. Why am I challenging myself like this? Because it's a ridiculous task to put myself up against, to say the least. After all, I'm still writing this unbearably long blog when I have a final to finish.

I wish I had my notebook. My security book. I feel so exposed, knowing that it's not in my possession. I feel like I'm surrounded by strangers I have to call friends. Three short months. Three long months. Either way, it's only been three months. People who have known me for a lifetime still don't know everything about me. It feels so weird having to call these people friends. And yet they're all I have right now. Is what I have what I want? Is what I have what I need? Do I need what I want? Or do I just want what I need? Cause if that's so, then I am lacking something...

That something is probably motivation.
I need to learn how to write again. This piece was horrible.

111508: Words. I’m sure this isn’t the first blog I’ve titled "words".

I remember two summers ago, I did a presentation in front of people from the city on the power of words. I never realized until today my passion for words. The correct use of words, the absence of words, the necessity of the word and the severity of the word.

A simple word like "stupid", for instance. If I do something unintelligible, then by all means, call me stupid. I would in no way be offended. But if I do something, say, disrespectful, then do NOT call me stupid. Call me disrespectful, and I will step back and apologize. Call me stupid and I will step forward while rolling up my sleeves. I have a problem when people use words out of context. At least call me what I am, then I can't deny it.

The absence of a word can be a beautiful thing, as well as a savior for those who speak before thinking. The absence of one word may be the presence of many other words. It allows the listener or receiving end to create their own string of words, their own thoughts, their own conclusions. Silences are room for digestion. Let what has already been spoken regurgitate and sink in. Contemplate. Think for once. Shut up and just think.

Severity of words can mean a lot. A lot of times, people use words without even realizing the impact it can make. Simple words like "gay" or extreme words like "nigga". People defend themselves by saying "oh it's a joke" or "oh I don't mean it like that", but verbatim, it's never funny. Word for word, taking only context into consideration, that becomes vulgar, disrespectful, rude, inconsiderate and completely unnecessary.

I don't even remember what sparked enough in me to write this. I even forgot my point. Other than just be responsible with your words, use them correctly, use them when necessary and don't say shit when you don't have to. Watch what the fuck you're saying, because when you grow up in a place like the dirty dino, you learn that one wrong word, or any word at all for the matter, is the difference between walking home safely or walking home with a black eye and some missing teeth. Watch what the fuck you're saying, because I take every word, big, small, adjective, noun, verb, into consideration. It makes all the difference in the amount of respect I have, or don't have, for you.