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...