I know you might not exist.
I know that I am probably writing this only to you A.
That there is a .00001% chance that someone is following our blog.
That our thoughts are only between us.
I write to you, dearest follower.
The one that likes us.
Thinks we are interesting.
If not witty and smart.
I hope you don't think I have a big ego.
I don't.
We don't.
I write to you, imaginary friend.
I guess it is not necessary to have a follower.
That is not the reason we write.
Not the reason that I write.
Still, I think it would be nice.
If you existed.
I think it's a nice thought.
I think I have shared this fantasy of mine before.
Still, I guess I just like to think it is true.
I hope A agrees.
Except she might be a little embarrassed to share this.
I am too.
Except not with you, reader.
Because you know us.
But not really.
Which is what I love.
I love that you know so much but so little.
Don't know our name or were we live or anything like that.
That we don't know you.
I guess this is a little crazy.
Talking to you.
Like you exist.
I hope you do.
Realistically speaking you probably don't.
I am so sorry about that.
Truly I am.
Love,
L
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Crowds
Crowds are not my thing.
They are really not.
I am very afraid of crowds.
Not deathly just very.
I don't feel comfortable in crowds.
They're so anonymous.
Soulless.
I don't mind anonymity.
I like anonymity.
But it is different.
The anonymity of the crowds is not knowing.
Not knowing who those people are.
What they do.
What they think.
I mean, I guess it's the same thing.
Except it scares me in the bigger scale.
A lot.
I don't think I made sense.
I just don't like crowds.
That's the whole point.
They are really not.
I am very afraid of crowds.
Not deathly just very.
I don't feel comfortable in crowds.
They're so anonymous.
Soulless.
I don't mind anonymity.
I like anonymity.
But it is different.
The anonymity of the crowds is not knowing.
Not knowing who those people are.
What they do.
What they think.
I mean, I guess it's the same thing.
Except it scares me in the bigger scale.
A lot.
I don't think I made sense.
I just don't like crowds.
That's the whole point.
not kerouac, but On the road
i found this image on google, when i searched florida highways on the third page.
i don't know why, but i've always seen the open road as one of the most liberating things there is. just the thought of being in control of the wheel, on a ribbon of pavement in a sea of cars, yet still having the feeling of isolation; it's amazing. It feels almost religious to me. I read something the other day about "elevation" being a new emotion; i think that perfectly describes how i feel being on an open road, it gives me chills sometimes.
ironically enough, i've recently come to the conclusion that i dislike driving, but i still look forward to that thrill of being on the open road.
Elevation.
this song me of that feeling, always.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QD7qIthSdkA&feature=related
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Why is it that
in all the television shows when a character is using the computer, he or she never uses the mouse just the keyboard?
Example:
In all the CSI shows, Bones and NCIS, the lab techs use only the keyboard.
Be it to print, look for something in the internet or database.
Do their computers not have a mouse?
Or is mouse usage too uncool for the shows?
I mean even the geekiest of computer repairman use the mouse when they fix my computers.
They know computers.
They use mouse.
So what's up with that?
Example:
In all the CSI shows, Bones and NCIS, the lab techs use only the keyboard.
Be it to print, look for something in the internet or database.
Do their computers not have a mouse?
Or is mouse usage too uncool for the shows?
I mean even the geekiest of computer repairman use the mouse when they fix my computers.
They know computers.
They use mouse.
So what's up with that?
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Oral Fixation II
I have a deep, dark secret.
Well, it used to be deep and dark.
Back in elementary school.
And sixth grade.
OK, probably all middle school.
It was deep, dark secret outside of my family unit.
My parents and brother knew.
And my grandma.
Basically, anyone that knew me since I was a little kid.
CONFESSION: I suck my thumb.
Yes, yes I do.
I am a 19 year old thumbsucker.
It is pathetic.
I even had braces.
To correct my bad teeth.
Anyway, I still suck my thumb.
Part of the whole oral fixation thing.
I won't be able to stop.
I don't think I will.
It is so comforting.
Like a blanket.
Or chocolate anything.
It makes me feel happy.
It calms me down.
It's my best friend.
I feel secure.
I know it is a lot for a mere finger.
But it is an important finger.
It is opposable.
It separates humans from lesser animals.
Let's us do a great deal of things.
It is a special finger.
I used to be embarrassed by it.
I still am a little.
Except not much.
I suck my thumb in front of my friends.
The ones I feel comfortable with.
I don't try to hide it.
It is a part of me.
A part of who I am.
Physically and mentally.
I am a thumbsucker.
Mock all you want.
Well, it used to be deep and dark.
Back in elementary school.
And sixth grade.
OK, probably all middle school.
It was deep, dark secret outside of my family unit.
My parents and brother knew.
And my grandma.
Basically, anyone that knew me since I was a little kid.
CONFESSION: I suck my thumb.
Yes, yes I do.
I am a 19 year old thumbsucker.
It is pathetic.
I even had braces.
To correct my bad teeth.
Anyway, I still suck my thumb.
Part of the whole oral fixation thing.
I won't be able to stop.
I don't think I will.
It is so comforting.
Like a blanket.
Or chocolate anything.
It makes me feel happy.
It calms me down.
It's my best friend.
I feel secure.
I know it is a lot for a mere finger.
But it is an important finger.
It is opposable.
It separates humans from lesser animals.
Let's us do a great deal of things.
It is a special finger.
I used to be embarrassed by it.
I still am a little.
Except not much.
I suck my thumb in front of my friends.
The ones I feel comfortable with.
I don't try to hide it.
It is a part of me.
A part of who I am.
Physically and mentally.
I am a thumbsucker.
Mock all you want.
Oral Fixation
I am not an aficionado of nails.
I am not good with nails.
In fact, they are my worst nightmare.
My most shameful secret.
Except it is not a secret.
Everyone knows.
My most shameful addiction.
That's better.
I, rii, bite my nails.
Hardcore biting.
For lack of better adjective.
Extreme, perhaps?
It does not fit.
I have bitten my nails to the core.
My pinky's nail was so small it was around 3 or 4 mm from the nail bed.
How disgusting is that.
I hate it.
So much that I covered them with band-aids.
Lied about them too.
Because for some reason people love to ask about the reason for the bandage.
"What happened?", people would ask.
Seriously, does it matter?
I am obviously OK.
If that's what worries you.
There is no need to ask.
It is not important.
And it probably involves disgusting details.
Yet people always ask.
ALWAYS.
So I lied.
I would say, "oh yeah, I hurt it while using my scissors."
"I scraped my finger."
"I stapled it."
"etc."
I have now stopped biting my nails.
It has been around 3 weeks.
3 weeks is a long time.
They look like normal nails.
Short but normal.
I have battled my nail addiction with gum.
Gum makes me not bite my nails.
So, I chew on gum.
It is not a better habit.
But it is healthful for my hands.
I do not want to have fat fingertips.
I heard this is the effect of biting nails.
I like my fingertips unfat.
How superficial of me.
But not really.
One teacher told me I had an oral fixation.
I thought it was awkward that she would tell me this in front of the whole class.
I agree with her now.
I bite my nails.
Pens.
Pencils.
Gum.
Chew gum not bite.
Anything really.
I hope I stay true to not biting my nails.
Only time will tell.
Oh wow, how cliche.
Gross.
I am not good with nails.
In fact, they are my worst nightmare.
My most shameful secret.
Except it is not a secret.
Everyone knows.
My most shameful addiction.
That's better.
I, rii, bite my nails.
Hardcore biting.
For lack of better adjective.
Extreme, perhaps?
It does not fit.
I have bitten my nails to the core.
My pinky's nail was so small it was around 3 or 4 mm from the nail bed.
How disgusting is that.
I hate it.
So much that I covered them with band-aids.
Lied about them too.
Because for some reason people love to ask about the reason for the bandage.
"What happened?", people would ask.
Seriously, does it matter?
I am obviously OK.
If that's what worries you.
There is no need to ask.
It is not important.
And it probably involves disgusting details.
Yet people always ask.
ALWAYS.
So I lied.
I would say, "oh yeah, I hurt it while using my scissors."
"I scraped my finger."
"I stapled it."
"etc."
I have now stopped biting my nails.
It has been around 3 weeks.
3 weeks is a long time.
They look like normal nails.
Short but normal.
I have battled my nail addiction with gum.
Gum makes me not bite my nails.
So, I chew on gum.
It is not a better habit.
But it is healthful for my hands.
I do not want to have fat fingertips.
I heard this is the effect of biting nails.
I like my fingertips unfat.
How superficial of me.
But not really.
One teacher told me I had an oral fixation.
I thought it was awkward that she would tell me this in front of the whole class.
I agree with her now.
I bite my nails.
Pens.
Pencils.
Gum.
Chew gum not bite.
Anything really.
I hope I stay true to not biting my nails.
Only time will tell.
Oh wow, how cliche.
Gross.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
laziness
it's a terrible thing,
i haven't done anything [academically] productive all day.
i explored a field with my sister,
and babysat my neighbor.
i watched my biology lab report that's been taunting me since the beginning of the month, but the fact that it's due tuesday, makes me worry i might not get it done.
i've been putting everything off,
even this post.
i feel like it's kind of expected i write something on sundays, so here it is.
well, this is more interesting:
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXwQF7YQIvBl2MSx3kXw94PEFqlvXxWjZiLtvJ44SLrAaUPdBlhQCt5DwhZAlNuFQ6jgu-79RwkogmS4zmMW8ZLGroeoGNwVQz1qMM4RAI6So56kghIYUq2LTiRZ2EGszb0UN1aNUMXLz3/s1600-h/fakingit.jpg
i haven't done anything [academically] productive all day.
i explored a field with my sister,
and babysat my neighbor.
i watched my biology lab report that's been taunting me since the beginning of the month, but the fact that it's due tuesday, makes me worry i might not get it done.
i've been putting everything off,
even this post.
i feel like it's kind of expected i write something on sundays, so here it is.
well, this is more interesting:
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXwQF7YQIvBl2MSx3kXw94PEFqlvXxWjZiLtvJ44SLrAaUPdBlhQCt5DwhZAlNuFQ6jgu-79RwkogmS4zmMW8ZLGroeoGNwVQz1qMM4RAI6So56kghIYUq2LTiRZ2EGszb0UN1aNUMXLz3/s1600-h/fakingit.jpg
Friday, February 19, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
rii
I have two names.
I have three names actually.
Two that were given to me by my parents.
One that was chosen by me.
Yes, I take credit for it.
I mean, I could have made it disappear.
I could have.
I didn't.
I liked it.
It all started in chemistry class.
Ninth grade.
I walk into class with a nice pink shirt.
It was a dull kind of pink.
Very classy.
This classy shirt had a letter on it.
Not L.
But R.
My newly made friend looks at me and says, "Hi, but your name starts with an L not an R."
Then she gave me a look.
The kind that says you are crazy and I'm starting to doubt me being associated with you.
I look at her and say, "Hi, I liked the shirt; there were no Ls."
I said that.
Punctuation and everything.
She replies, "well, that's not acceptable. You need an R name."
I smile, "sure".
The class starts.
Minutes go by and she whispers, "you are rii rii."
I whisper back, "sure."
After the class ends, I ask her, "rii rii?"
She says, "to go with the shirt."
I didn't realize at that time what it meant.
Even though she denies it, rii rii came from retard.
Except it was BAMF-icated by writing it with to i's.
That was my input, that and no capitalization of the r.
We used to say BAMF in ninth grade.
It was cool.
Whatever.
It stuck.
Like gum on a shoe.
Like a baby on his or her mother's breast.
Or bottle.
Whichever is the provider of the milk.
Except it got shortened to rii.
It has a few derivations: rii sauce, riisita.
Not a lot of people call me rii now.
I miss it a lot.
It was a name I picked.
I answer to my real name and rii the same.
I don't hesitate.
It comes naturally.
Spontaneously.
Like a combustion.
I hope it never dies.
rii.
I have three names actually.
Two that were given to me by my parents.
One that was chosen by me.
Yes, I take credit for it.
I mean, I could have made it disappear.
I could have.
I didn't.
I liked it.
It all started in chemistry class.
Ninth grade.
I walk into class with a nice pink shirt.
It was a dull kind of pink.
Very classy.
This classy shirt had a letter on it.
Not L.
But R.
My newly made friend looks at me and says, "Hi, but your name starts with an L not an R."
Then she gave me a look.
The kind that says you are crazy and I'm starting to doubt me being associated with you.
I look at her and say, "Hi, I liked the shirt; there were no Ls."
I said that.
Punctuation and everything.
She replies, "well, that's not acceptable. You need an R name."
I smile, "sure".
The class starts.
Minutes go by and she whispers, "you are rii rii."
I whisper back, "sure."
After the class ends, I ask her, "rii rii?"
She says, "to go with the shirt."
I didn't realize at that time what it meant.
Even though she denies it, rii rii came from retard.
Except it was BAMF-icated by writing it with to i's.
That was my input, that and no capitalization of the r.
We used to say BAMF in ninth grade.
It was cool.
Whatever.
It stuck.
Like gum on a shoe.
Like a baby on his or her mother's breast.
Or bottle.
Whichever is the provider of the milk.
Except it got shortened to rii.
It has a few derivations: rii sauce, riisita.
Not a lot of people call me rii now.
I miss it a lot.
It was a name I picked.
I answer to my real name and rii the same.
I don't hesitate.
It comes naturally.
Spontaneously.
Like a combustion.
I hope it never dies.
rii.
Come-N-terry on rii-ak-shun
So this is better than facebook.
For sure.
It's not as annoying.
Or dumb.
I guess it is like facebook in the sense that it is addictive.
But I like this kind of addiction.
Better than being addicted to some farm game.
Or stalking people.
Or being lame.
Yes, I went there.
Watchu gon' do?
I already went gangsta on myself.
YEAHHHHH BOIIII.
I guess it's not dumb to us.
And to that one imaginary, solitary follower that I believe we have.
The one that reads this blog.
The one that is not us.
The one that is imaginary.
Unless he or she is not.
Then, cheese puffs.
I was wrong.
[Hi:)]
For sure.
It's not as annoying.
Or dumb.
I guess it is like facebook in the sense that it is addictive.
But I like this kind of addiction.
Better than being addicted to some farm game.
Or stalking people.
Or being lame.
Yes, I went there.
Watchu gon' do?
I already went gangsta on myself.
YEAHHHHH BOIIII.
I guess it's not dumb to us.
And to that one imaginary, solitary follower that I believe we have.
The one that reads this blog.
The one that is not us.
The one that is imaginary.
Unless he or she is not.
Then, cheese puffs.
I was wrong.
[Hi:)]
rii-ak-shun: Facebook
i was talking about this today to someone actually,
deleting my fb 'cause its useless really.
i mean, i use it, but i hate it when people tell me "Did you check your facebook? I wrote on your wall" or "Check your facebook messages, I sent you something," or "Did you see what ____ posted as their facebook status last night" or my favorite (which i heard almost 5 times today: Someone says something funny..."OMG i should make a facebook group out of that! or a fan page"
like WTF
its annoying. if you have something to say, say it in person; or if you do bring up facebook, don't tell me to go check it 'cause I don't go on it every single day.
haha, but i suppose this isn't much better. except it is.
deleting my fb 'cause its useless really.
i mean, i use it, but i hate it when people tell me "Did you check your facebook? I wrote on your wall" or "Check your facebook messages, I sent you something," or "Did you see what ____ posted as their facebook status last night" or my favorite (which i heard almost 5 times today: Someone says something funny..."OMG i should make a facebook group out of that! or a fan page"
like WTF
its annoying. if you have something to say, say it in person; or if you do bring up facebook, don't tell me to go check it 'cause I don't go on it every single day.
haha, but i suppose this isn't much better. except it is.
I am a bad facebook user.
According to a bunch of articles on AOL.
But I agree.
I'm not the best facebook friend.
I don't like checking my facebook.
When I do, I don't go past my homepage.
I don't comment on pictures or try to be nice.
According to AOL people, etiquette dictates that you need to write to your friends cute little wall posts.
Once in a while.
PROBLEM: I hate the wall.
It makes me feel naked.
Thus, I only leave cute (hopefully!) messages when obliged.
Either that or I'm having an extremely Internet friendly day.
I don't comment photos either.
Unless I HAVE to to not die.
And the pictures show up on my home page.
I have only facebook stalked once.
I did not like it.
AT ALL.
Never again.
Yes, I did just admit that I facebook stalked.
Shameful but part of a complete facebook experience.
The only thing I like about Facebook is the messages.
It's like e-mail.
Except people respond very quickly.
Since they check facebook, or fb as it is known, 24/7.
Or at least more often than e-mail.
I haven't changed my profile picture in a while.
I don't even remember when was the last time.
You heard it like this.
Smoke something, drink something, get ripped.
It made me think of that song, the phrase "when was the last time".
I HAD to.
So, I haven't changed my profile picture.
Neither will I do something about it anytime soon.
I still look like that.
So why should I?
I don't update my status.
The last status update was probably about some soccer team winning or losing.
My About Me section has only one thing: Thierry Henry <3.
He's this amazing soccer French guy.
I would marry him.
If he would accept.
No lie.
I haven't uploaded pictures in a long time.
I wanted to delete all of the ones I have on.
But it would be annoying to do.
So I just left them there.
QUESTION: why do I still have a facebook?
Because I am a conformist.
Yes, yes I am.
Bad.
But True.
I admit.
So good.
I need facebook for the once in three months time.
When my friends, message me or wall me or something.
So I can respond.
And talk to them.
Share a sweet little moment.
A moment of happiness.
According to a bunch of articles on AOL.
But I agree.
I'm not the best facebook friend.
I don't like checking my facebook.
When I do, I don't go past my homepage.
I don't comment on pictures or try to be nice.
According to AOL people, etiquette dictates that you need to write to your friends cute little wall posts.
Once in a while.
PROBLEM: I hate the wall.
It makes me feel naked.
Thus, I only leave cute (hopefully!) messages when obliged.
Either that or I'm having an extremely Internet friendly day.
I don't comment photos either.
Unless I HAVE to to not die.
And the pictures show up on my home page.
I have only facebook stalked once.
I did not like it.
AT ALL.
Never again.
Yes, I did just admit that I facebook stalked.
Shameful but part of a complete facebook experience.
The only thing I like about Facebook is the messages.
It's like e-mail.
Except people respond very quickly.
Since they check facebook, or fb as it is known, 24/7.
Or at least more often than e-mail.
I haven't changed my profile picture in a while.
I don't even remember when was the last time.
You heard it like this.
Smoke something, drink something, get ripped.
It made me think of that song, the phrase "when was the last time".
I HAD to.
So, I haven't changed my profile picture.
Neither will I do something about it anytime soon.
I still look like that.
So why should I?
I don't update my status.
The last status update was probably about some soccer team winning or losing.
My About Me section has only one thing: Thierry Henry <3.
He's this amazing soccer French guy.
I would marry him.
If he would accept.
No lie.
I haven't uploaded pictures in a long time.
I wanted to delete all of the ones I have on.
But it would be annoying to do.
So I just left them there.
QUESTION: why do I still have a facebook?
Because I am a conformist.
Yes, yes I am.
Bad.
But True.
I admit.
So good.
I need facebook for the once in three months time.
When my friends, message me or wall me or something.
So I can respond.
And talk to them.
Share a sweet little moment.
A moment of happiness.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
looking past
there are certain things i admire in people.
Go to a mirror and play with your face until you create the Fabulous Smirk. Not the Arrogant Smirk or the Vengeful Smirk or the Hateful, Whiny, Passive-Aggressive Smirk. Rather, express the Smirk that Passeth All Understanding. The Wise, Charitable, Forbearing Smirk. The Uber-Smirk that says, "I've figured out what everyone's hiding, and I love them anyway."
-rob brenzy
Go to a mirror and play with your face until you create the Fabulous Smirk. Not the Arrogant Smirk or the Vengeful Smirk or the Hateful, Whiny, Passive-Aggressive Smirk. Rather, express the Smirk that Passeth All Understanding. The Wise, Charitable, Forbearing Smirk. The Uber-Smirk that says, "I've figured out what everyone's hiding, and I love them anyway."
-rob brenzy
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Grey
I like black men.
I hope that doesn't sound racist.
I think that I am not.
I've never had a mixed relationship.
I can only imagine how that feels.
I just don't understand.
I don't understand how people look at me weird.
They're thinking, "what?!? this little white hispanic girl?"
"Is she serious?"
"Aren't hispanics racist?"
A lot of hispanics are.
Especially those that live in Latin American countries.
They're taught that.
People of darker skin are less than those of lighter skin.
My theory is that it goes back.
Back to the beginning of their history.
Native americans and blacks were slaves.
There was no Martin Luther King Jr.
No black power.
Everything stayed the same, status quo.
That's that.
Actually, I'm not discriminatory toward any race or ethnicity.
As long as he's good looking, it's good.
I like good looking.
(Lol)
I hope that doesn't sound racist.
I think that I am not.
I've never had a mixed relationship.
I can only imagine how that feels.
I just don't understand.
I don't understand how people look at me weird.
They're thinking, "what?!? this little white hispanic girl?"
"Is she serious?"
"Aren't hispanics racist?"
A lot of hispanics are.
Especially those that live in Latin American countries.
They're taught that.
People of darker skin are less than those of lighter skin.
My theory is that it goes back.
Back to the beginning of their history.
Native americans and blacks were slaves.
There was no Martin Luther King Jr.
No black power.
Everything stayed the same, status quo.
That's that.
Actually, I'm not discriminatory toward any race or ethnicity.
As long as he's good looking, it's good.
I like good looking.
(Lol)
me too me too
so i figured i'd do the same.
Five songs i'm currently obsessed with--in no particular order:
1-Stillness is the move by the dirty projectors.
solange knowles did a cover of this song, its pretty good too. idk why i like this song so much, its so annoying, but somehow nice.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YMPF6lpM0XM
2-Hang me up to dry by the cold war kids
i like this song a lot a lot.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LrrGKR8Xii4
3-The resistance by muse
this whole album is pretty genius. i think muse is one of those bands that even if you hate them, you can't 'cause they understand the technicalities behind music and their music shows that. especially their symphonies. its awesome. you can borrow the cd, if you wish.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UrQyqTqyUtI
4-Castles made of sand by jimi hendrix
idk, but i like his voice and the rhythym and i'm super determined to learn the words to it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YF4-r2MpRMs
5-Dance with the devil by immortal technique
listen to the lyrics, they give me goosebumps every time.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M72zVuBNpEA
Five songs i'm currently obsessed with--in no particular order:
1-Stillness is the move by the dirty projectors.
solange knowles did a cover of this song, its pretty good too. idk why i like this song so much, its so annoying, but somehow nice.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YMPF6lpM0XM
2-Hang me up to dry by the cold war kids
i like this song a lot a lot.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LrrGKR8Xii4
3-The resistance by muse
this whole album is pretty genius. i think muse is one of those bands that even if you hate them, you can't 'cause they understand the technicalities behind music and their music shows that. especially their symphonies. its awesome. you can borrow the cd, if you wish.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UrQyqTqyUtI
4-Castles made of sand by jimi hendrix
idk, but i like his voice and the rhythym and i'm super determined to learn the words to it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YF4-r2MpRMs
5-Dance with the devil by immortal technique
listen to the lyrics, they give me goosebumps every time.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M72zVuBNpEA
Monday, February 15, 2010
a scary/mostly embarrassing moment
if you go look at your phone you'll see you have 2 missed calls from me.
1-before i got to your house, insignificant
2- it was kinda important, but it turned into an interesting occasion/learning experience
so i came out of your house all whatever and whatnot
i thought the car parked behind me was a little too close but i still got in the car and i still went to drive in reverse to leave your house
when i noticed that it was too close.
so i drove a little forward,
and then tried backing up a little.
it failed.
so i tried again driving forward a little
then backing up again.
but that didn't work either.
i gave up.
that's when i called you.
it was embarrassing.
i decided i was gonna let you know that i couldn't get out because of the crookedly parked car, but you didn't pick up.
i figured you couldn't hear over the noise of the drill/your phone was in the room with the drill; that's okay.
so i stuck it out and was finally getting out.
i was actually more than half way out (car-wise) when i saw a big man in front of my car that made me scream a little.
actually, i don't think he heard me scream. i hope he didn't.
it was the driver of the white truck, and you father, and your brother.
uhh, it was kinda embarrassing, even though i don't think they heard me scream. i hope they didn't.
but yeah, that's why you have a missed call.
1-before i got to your house, insignificant
2- it was kinda important, but it turned into an interesting occasion/learning experience
so i came out of your house all whatever and whatnot
i thought the car parked behind me was a little too close but i still got in the car and i still went to drive in reverse to leave your house
when i noticed that it was too close.
so i drove a little forward,
and then tried backing up a little.
it failed.
so i tried again driving forward a little
then backing up again.
but that didn't work either.
i gave up.
that's when i called you.
it was embarrassing.
i decided i was gonna let you know that i couldn't get out because of the crookedly parked car, but you didn't pick up.
i figured you couldn't hear over the noise of the drill/your phone was in the room with the drill; that's okay.
so i stuck it out and was finally getting out.
i was actually more than half way out (car-wise) when i saw a big man in front of my car that made me scream a little.
actually, i don't think he heard me scream. i hope he didn't.
it was the driver of the white truck, and you father, and your brother.
uhh, it was kinda embarrassing, even though i don't think they heard me scream. i hope they didn't.
but yeah, that's why you have a missed call.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Happily Ever After
I hate romantic movies.
They are so annoying.
They're unrealistic and exasperating.
Hell, I don't mind fantastic themes.
As long as they're sold as fantastic.
Action movies are unrealistic.
However, no ones tries to pass them off as if they were realistic.
I don't have problems with them.
I like action movies.
Now, romantic movies are another story.
They try to sell their fairy tale as real.
Seriously.
Stuff like that doesn't happen.
Maybe I'm being close minded.
I'm sure it happens.
To around two people out of a hundred million.
I mean, it takes two to make a thing go right.
I guess you could say I'm bitter.
Pessimistic.
A party pooper.
But I'm not.
I'm just annoyed.
Usual romantic movie premise:
Outcast girl loves sex-god, in-crowd boy who doesn't know she's alive.
Except the outcast girl looks like Anne Hathaway or Julia Stiles.
Which translates to beautiful.
The sex-god is an asshole.
Or a nice boy in disguise.
So then the movies have two options.
Option one: beautiful, outcast girl ends with sex god.
Option two: beautiful, outcast girl ends with beautiful, outcast best friend.
It is usually the second option.
Either way, everyone is gorgeous.
Everyone ends up happily ever after.
Everyone but the witch bitch.
She ends up alone and hated.
In jail or somewhere worse.
Maybe dead if the movie was remotely different.
The outcast doesn't have to be beautiful.
I lied about that.
She could be homely looking.
However, the two end options still hold true.
Except for everyone being beautiful.
Which bothers me more.
If I'm going to see some fantastical tale, I want my actors and actresses to be beautiful.
Not homely.
Especially not homely and with a beautiful boyfriend.
Might as well take the fantasy all the way and make everyone beautiful.
I'm not saying that I'm not romantic.
I just want a movie that is both realistic and romantic.
Take Juno.
That was somewhat realistic and romantic.
Well, dysfunctional but realistic.
It didn't need some stupid premise.
I don't think I'm asking for too much.
Seriously.
They are so annoying.
They're unrealistic and exasperating.
Hell, I don't mind fantastic themes.
As long as they're sold as fantastic.
Action movies are unrealistic.
However, no ones tries to pass them off as if they were realistic.
I don't have problems with them.
I like action movies.
Now, romantic movies are another story.
They try to sell their fairy tale as real.
Seriously.
Stuff like that doesn't happen.
Maybe I'm being close minded.
I'm sure it happens.
To around two people out of a hundred million.
I mean, it takes two to make a thing go right.
I guess you could say I'm bitter.
Pessimistic.
A party pooper.
But I'm not.
I'm just annoyed.
Usual romantic movie premise:
Outcast girl loves sex-god, in-crowd boy who doesn't know she's alive.
Except the outcast girl looks like Anne Hathaway or Julia Stiles.
Which translates to beautiful.
The sex-god is an asshole.
Or a nice boy in disguise.
So then the movies have two options.
Option one: beautiful, outcast girl ends with sex god.
Option two: beautiful, outcast girl ends with beautiful, outcast best friend.
It is usually the second option.
Either way, everyone is gorgeous.
Everyone ends up happily ever after.
Everyone but the witch bitch.
She ends up alone and hated.
In jail or somewhere worse.
Maybe dead if the movie was remotely different.
The outcast doesn't have to be beautiful.
I lied about that.
She could be homely looking.
However, the two end options still hold true.
Except for everyone being beautiful.
Which bothers me more.
If I'm going to see some fantastical tale, I want my actors and actresses to be beautiful.
Not homely.
Especially not homely and with a beautiful boyfriend.
Might as well take the fantasy all the way and make everyone beautiful.
I'm not saying that I'm not romantic.
I just want a movie that is both realistic and romantic.
Take Juno.
That was somewhat realistic and romantic.
Well, dysfunctional but realistic.
It didn't need some stupid premise.
I don't think I'm asking for too much.
Seriously.
bootybootybooty
tell me the shorts these adorable little kids wear aren't the cutest thing?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7R0p2Q9IyyY
remember, our boys are gonna wear shorts just as short...
:D
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7R0p2Q9IyyY
remember, our boys are gonna wear shorts just as short...
:D
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Abusadora
So, I am obsessive.
I've mentioned that before.
FACT: If I like the song, I will play it and play it.
Again and again.
Until I'm semi-tired of it.
I will learn the lyrics.
All of them.
I will be able to sing it without playing the song.
I will know the kinks and winks of the song.
It will become the Most Popular Song on my MP3.
I'll wikipedia it.
Try to understand the lyrics.
Douse myself in it.
Obsessive.
I know.
Right now, my songs are:
1) "Roxanne, Roxanne" by U.T.F.O.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KOTp3-jEMjQ
2) "Abusadora" by Wisin y Yandel
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YUXH2DqVOC8
3) "Dimelo" by Enrique Iglesias
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L0QtC11fI3o
4) "I can Transform Ya" by Chris Brown
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kta9If-sP4s
5) "Sorry If I Stole Yo' Girl" by The Friday Night Boys
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kta9If-sP4s
6) "Sam's Town Live from Abbey Road" by The Killers
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lVbFMoimgM4
Yeah, it is a long list.
But I give each one their time.
I listen to them.
A lot.
I wonder what that says about me.
I hope it doesn't say I'm a freak-o-maniac.
I hope it just shows that I like to dwell in what I like.
That I like to learn?
Hopefully, it'll say that.
I've mentioned that before.
FACT: If I like the song, I will play it and play it.
Again and again.
Until I'm semi-tired of it.
I will learn the lyrics.
All of them.
I will be able to sing it without playing the song.
I will know the kinks and winks of the song.
It will become the Most Popular Song on my MP3.
I'll wikipedia it.
Try to understand the lyrics.
Douse myself in it.
Obsessive.
I know.
Right now, my songs are:
1) "Roxanne, Roxanne" by U.T.F.O.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KOTp3-jEMjQ
2) "Abusadora" by Wisin y Yandel
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YUXH2DqVOC8
3) "Dimelo" by Enrique Iglesias
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L0QtC11fI3o
4) "I can Transform Ya" by Chris Brown
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kta9If-sP4s
5) "Sorry If I Stole Yo' Girl" by The Friday Night Boys
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kta9If-sP4s
6) "Sam's Town Live from Abbey Road" by The Killers
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lVbFMoimgM4
Yeah, it is a long list.
But I give each one their time.
I listen to them.
A lot.
I wonder what that says about me.
I hope it doesn't say I'm a freak-o-maniac.
I hope it just shows that I like to dwell in what I like.
That I like to learn?
Hopefully, it'll say that.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Grammer
You gramamr snob!
Yes, you.
I am making a reference to you.
I made a mistake.
I knew I made a mistake.
I knew it looked weird.
But I did spell check.
It was spelled correctly.
So I let down my guard.
You see, I check the spelling of my posts.
Over and over again.
I check the syntax too.
It might not be the correct syntax but it is my syntax.
How I speak.
How I like it.
Like KC and the Sunshine Band.
I re-read my posts.
Again and again.
Until I think it looks right.
Until I feel good about it.
I make diminutive changes.
Every day until I am happy.
I felt good about that post.
I felt good about it because it was spelled correctly.
I won't change it.
It still feels good.
Even better now, actually.
I was happy before I knew my mistake.
I am happy now that I know my mistake.
It shows me that I have much to learn.
I like learning about grammar.
It is fun.
Like chocolate.
Chocolate is fun.
P.S. What is not fun is finding out:
I'm a grammar snob too :P
Sometimes lol
Yes, you.
I am making a reference to you.
I made a mistake.
I knew I made a mistake.
I knew it looked weird.
But I did spell check.
It was spelled correctly.
So I let down my guard.
You see, I check the spelling of my posts.
Over and over again.
I check the syntax too.
It might not be the correct syntax but it is my syntax.
How I speak.
How I like it.
Like KC and the Sunshine Band.
I re-read my posts.
Again and again.
Until I think it looks right.
Until I feel good about it.
I make diminutive changes.
Every day until I am happy.
I felt good about that post.
I felt good about it because it was spelled correctly.
I won't change it.
It still feels good.
Even better now, actually.
I was happy before I knew my mistake.
I am happy now that I know my mistake.
It shows me that I have much to learn.
I like learning about grammar.
It is fun.
Like chocolate.
Chocolate is fun.
P.S. What is not fun is finding out:
I'm a grammar snob too :P
Sometimes lol
cell phone pix
i have a picture on my phone
it's been there for awhile
i don't know why i took it
i just did.
it's of a little boy, maybe 7 or 8
he has a helmet and bookbag on, and he's standing next to his bicycle
he's on a side walk, about to cross the street
i don't remember why i took the picture
it was just an impulse, i guess
i don't usually take pictures with my phone
when i'm bored i like to look at the picture and imagine what circumstances the little boy was facing
one time: he had been on his way home from school, like usual, when a group of second grade bullies had made fun of him so he pedaled faster until he got away. And when he reached that intersection he had let out a huge sigh of relief as he was about to calmly cross the street
another time: i see him as a privileged kid whose parents are overly protective and wealthy. he is, however, an only child and gets everything he wants, alas when he asks his parents for a bicycle they give it him. Three months later, when he asks his parents to let him ride his new bike to school 'cause all his friends are doing it, they say yes again! hence, when i took that picture of him at the streetlight he was boasting with the pride of being independent and of being the owner of that cool blue and red bicycle
when i'm not making up stories about this boy, he remains in the back of mind.
on the other half of the picture, you see, is a big white car.
i sometimes worry that this car may not have seen the boy about to cross and pressed the gas pedal as the boy was pushing his pedals.
i sometimes worry that if he had survived that day, what would protect him from any other day?
he looked so adorable and innocent on that street corner.
i think of him every night and pray that all may be well with him and his family.
that he may have a safe trip to and from school every day.
i sometimes feel as though my prayers are answered when i see him (or a boy who i assume is him) on a bicycle, going down the same road i once saw him on. whenever this happens, my eyes tear up a little and i remember why i cared.
actually, i took this picture on december 1st at 3:19 pm.
i still cannot remember why though but i'm glad i did.
it's just one of those things you stop asking why and come to accept;
it's nice.
it's been there for awhile
i don't know why i took it
i just did.
it's of a little boy, maybe 7 or 8
he has a helmet and bookbag on, and he's standing next to his bicycle
he's on a side walk, about to cross the street
i don't remember why i took the picture
it was just an impulse, i guess
i don't usually take pictures with my phone
when i'm bored i like to look at the picture and imagine what circumstances the little boy was facing
one time: he had been on his way home from school, like usual, when a group of second grade bullies had made fun of him so he pedaled faster until he got away. And when he reached that intersection he had let out a huge sigh of relief as he was about to calmly cross the street
another time: i see him as a privileged kid whose parents are overly protective and wealthy. he is, however, an only child and gets everything he wants, alas when he asks his parents for a bicycle they give it him. Three months later, when he asks his parents to let him ride his new bike to school 'cause all his friends are doing it, they say yes again! hence, when i took that picture of him at the streetlight he was boasting with the pride of being independent and of being the owner of that cool blue and red bicycle
when i'm not making up stories about this boy, he remains in the back of mind.
on the other half of the picture, you see, is a big white car.
i sometimes worry that this car may not have seen the boy about to cross and pressed the gas pedal as the boy was pushing his pedals.
i sometimes worry that if he had survived that day, what would protect him from any other day?
he looked so adorable and innocent on that street corner.
i think of him every night and pray that all may be well with him and his family.
that he may have a safe trip to and from school every day.
i sometimes feel as though my prayers are answered when i see him (or a boy who i assume is him) on a bicycle, going down the same road i once saw him on. whenever this happens, my eyes tear up a little and i remember why i cared.
actually, i took this picture on december 1st at 3:19 pm.
i still cannot remember why though but i'm glad i did.
it's just one of those things you stop asking why and come to accept;
it's nice.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
My Bedroom
I am an obsessive person.
I like things to look a certain way.
I need to feel good about it.
Like it was meant to be.
Like nutella and strawberries.
Like cold weather and a sweater.
This is difficult in a bedroom.
Especially when it is not the master bedroom.
Especially when your parents don't own the house.
This has meant that I have had to move 5 times in 9 years.
(I've only lived here for those 9 years.)
There have been 5 different bedrooms.
Five different arraignments.
Five different problems.
My first bedroom was shared between my brother and me.
It was a two bedroom house.
We didn't have a choice.
In that or in picking how things went.
My mother took charge of that.
In the second house, I had my own room.
I decided for a full size bed.
The room was mine but so very little.
The bed took the whole room.
I only had a tiny night table next to my bed.
I didn't have much choice.
I did pick my bed cover.
I thought it "rocked hard".
It actually said that.
My third bedroom is my most memorable.
The biggest leap.
I had my own room, a walking closet AND enough space for a desk.
I got tired of the full sized bed.
I asked my parents for a bedroom change.
They said yes.
They bought my current bedroom set.
A matching twin bed, a desk, and a dresser.
It is made of nice wood.
When I got my bedroom set, it took me a while to find the perfect arraignment.
I loved the arraignment.
It made my room look big.
It made me happy.
Story: 'My mom once felt like she needed to change the arraignment.
So she did.
I cried, I cried, I cried when I saw it.
It made me so angry.
I moved it all back.
I was 95 pounds.
I was that angry.'
My fourth bedroom was bigger than the third.
It was so big.
So great.
The closet had a mirrors on the doors.
It had a beautiful light, light yellow color for the walls.
So light it was almost white.
My mom didn't hang anything on the wall.
I got a bookshelf.
It was great.
The arraignment was perfect for the bedroom too.
It was beautiful.
Except I hated the house for the first few days.
I hated it because it was new and annoying.
I hated it but it passed.
It wasn't my favorite house even though it had the pool and lake.
My fifth and final room.
The one I write from today.
This is my favorite room.
It is bigger than the last.
At least I think it is.
I have the same bedroom set but with a few additions.
A trash can, a little T.V. with a DVD player and a full length mirror.
It is beautiful.
I even painted the walls the same color as the one before.
It has nothing on the walls.
I love that.
I had my room set in what I thought was the perfect arraignment.
I was wrong.
I moved the furniture around and I think I found the perfect arraignment.
I am not freaking out.
Even though I changed the order around.
From past experiences, I should be freaking out.
It is not happening.
This is perfect.
I'm getting a hammock soon.
That will complete my perfect room.
I cannot wait.
I love this house.
This is my favorite house.
My favorite room.
PS. Good luck on your oral, A.
You'll be amazing!
I like things to look a certain way.
I need to feel good about it.
Like it was meant to be.
Like nutella and strawberries.
Like cold weather and a sweater.
This is difficult in a bedroom.
Especially when it is not the master bedroom.
Especially when your parents don't own the house.
This has meant that I have had to move 5 times in 9 years.
(I've only lived here for those 9 years.)
There have been 5 different bedrooms.
Five different arraignments.
Five different problems.
My first bedroom was shared between my brother and me.
It was a two bedroom house.
We didn't have a choice.
In that or in picking how things went.
My mother took charge of that.
In the second house, I had my own room.
I decided for a full size bed.
The room was mine but so very little.
The bed took the whole room.
I only had a tiny night table next to my bed.
I didn't have much choice.
I did pick my bed cover.
I thought it "rocked hard".
It actually said that.
My third bedroom is my most memorable.
The biggest leap.
I had my own room, a walking closet AND enough space for a desk.
I got tired of the full sized bed.
I asked my parents for a bedroom change.
They said yes.
They bought my current bedroom set.
A matching twin bed, a desk, and a dresser.
It is made of nice wood.
When I got my bedroom set, it took me a while to find the perfect arraignment.
I loved the arraignment.
It made my room look big.
It made me happy.
Story: 'My mom once felt like she needed to change the arraignment.
So she did.
I cried, I cried, I cried when I saw it.
It made me so angry.
I moved it all back.
I was 95 pounds.
I was that angry.'
My fourth bedroom was bigger than the third.
It was so big.
So great.
The closet had a mirrors on the doors.
It had a beautiful light, light yellow color for the walls.
So light it was almost white.
My mom didn't hang anything on the wall.
I got a bookshelf.
It was great.
The arraignment was perfect for the bedroom too.
It was beautiful.
Except I hated the house for the first few days.
I hated it because it was new and annoying.
I hated it but it passed.
It wasn't my favorite house even though it had the pool and lake.
My fifth and final room.
The one I write from today.
This is my favorite room.
It is bigger than the last.
At least I think it is.
I have the same bedroom set but with a few additions.
A trash can, a little T.V. with a DVD player and a full length mirror.
It is beautiful.
I even painted the walls the same color as the one before.
It has nothing on the walls.
I love that.
I had my room set in what I thought was the perfect arraignment.
I was wrong.
I moved the furniture around and I think I found the perfect arraignment.
I am not freaking out.
Even though I changed the order around.
From past experiences, I should be freaking out.
It is not happening.
This is perfect.
I'm getting a hammock soon.
That will complete my perfect room.
I cannot wait.
I love this house.
This is my favorite house.
My favorite room.
PS. Good luck on your oral, A.
You'll be amazing!
return to usual programming
When reporters tried to interview A, she declined to comment on L's publicly announced statement and our reporters persisted in pressing her until she lashed out at them and said, "Can't you people just leave me alone? I'm trying to study for my oral tomorrow."
Rumors say, however, that A had already began plans to make a CD for L, and in her stubborn ways she will continue with such plans until obstacles prevent her from doing so.
Another rumor says that A was so devastated by the news that she immediately went to the river and drowned herself in an Ophelia-like manner.
That is all.
In other news....
Rumors say, however, that A had already began plans to make a CD for L, and in her stubborn ways she will continue with such plans until obstacles prevent her from doing so.
Another rumor says that A was so devastated by the news that she immediately went to the river and drowned herself in an Ophelia-like manner.
That is all.
In other news....
We're sorry for this interruption
But there's been a news update.
Sources close to L have confirmed that she indeed has new CDs in her car.
This source says that she made them not long after the blog post.
We got a hold of L and she responded to our inquires by stating:
"I did make two new Cds.
They have Sam's Town from Abbey Road.
They have Kevin Michael and UTFO.
They even have BYOB and Dimelo.
This however doesn't mean that I don't need a new CD.
I'm super looking forward to it."
When we asked her what kind of music she preferred, she snuffed our question and quoted:
"It don't make any difference to me."
She also responded by saying that she would love any CD, especially one made by A.
We are now trying to contact A for a response.
Thank you.
This has been a news update.
Sources close to L have confirmed that she indeed has new CDs in her car.
This source says that she made them not long after the blog post.
We got a hold of L and she responded to our inquires by stating:
"I did make two new Cds.
They have Sam's Town from Abbey Road.
They have Kevin Michael and UTFO.
They even have BYOB and Dimelo.
This however doesn't mean that I don't need a new CD.
I'm super looking forward to it."
When we asked her what kind of music she preferred, she snuffed our question and quoted:
"It don't make any difference to me."
She also responded by saying that she would love any CD, especially one made by A.
We are now trying to contact A for a response.
Thank you.
This has been a news update.
update
if i had blank cd i'd make you a cd
so that you could play it in your car.
i've thought about what kind of music i'd put on it.
actually, i made an unofficial list and saved it as a note in my cell phone...it's right under you-know-who's address hahah
no but really, it's there.
there's a nice variety which i think you might like.
how do you feel about techno-ish stuff? punk rock? monster R&B tracks in disguise? Jewish rappers? the shins?
you know, except for the songs we listened to on the radio, the Sadie Hawkins dance song, the Friday Night Boys, and the Killers, I don't really know what you like...
but you will like this cd (hopefully)
at least one song on it, because the genres seem to be varied..
i will get around to making it before the end of this month
so expect it!
so that you could play it in your car.
i've thought about what kind of music i'd put on it.
actually, i made an unofficial list and saved it as a note in my cell phone...it's right under you-know-who's address hahah
no but really, it's there.
there's a nice variety which i think you might like.
how do you feel about techno-ish stuff? punk rock? monster R&B tracks in disguise? Jewish rappers? the shins?
you know, except for the songs we listened to on the radio, the Sadie Hawkins dance song, the Friday Night Boys, and the Killers, I don't really know what you like...
but you will like this cd (hopefully)
at least one song on it, because the genres seem to be varied..
i will get around to making it before the end of this month
so expect it!
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Bitterbug
I don't like Valentine's Day.
Yes, I am being a bitterbug.
Like a humbug.
I'm the Scrooge of Valentine's day.
Yup!
I'm going to bah it until it passes.
Except I wouldn't hurt Little Timmy.
I love kids.
Anyway, I hate Valentine's Day.
It has never been a special day for me.
Oh, I should cry myself a river.
Worse than Justin Timberlake.
Seriously.
I guess this post was about self pity.
How pathetic.
I won't do that.
I refuse to continue to wallow in self depreciation.
To batter the male race.
Yes, they are like a separate race.
Men and women are not equal.
Not created and not made.
Men are different than women.
I don't only mean physiology.
I don't mean women are better than men or vice versa.
We are just different.
So I refuse to be lame.
I refuse to be so melancholic.
To let my emotions get the better of me.
So, I think this post needs to end.
I think I need to get over it.
Move on and smile.
=D
Yes, I am being a bitterbug.
Like a humbug.
I'm the Scrooge of Valentine's day.
Yup!
I'm going to bah it until it passes.
Except I wouldn't hurt Little Timmy.
I love kids.
Anyway, I hate Valentine's Day.
It has never been a special day for me.
Oh, I should cry myself a river.
Worse than Justin Timberlake.
Seriously.
I guess this post was about self pity.
How pathetic.
I won't do that.
I refuse to continue to wallow in self depreciation.
To batter the male race.
Yes, they are like a separate race.
Men and women are not equal.
Not created and not made.
Men are different than women.
I don't only mean physiology.
I don't mean women are better than men or vice versa.
We are just different.
So I refuse to be lame.
I refuse to be so melancholic.
To let my emotions get the better of me.
So, I think this post needs to end.
I think I need to get over it.
Move on and smile.
=D
Monday, February 8, 2010
Mondays
Mondays are my least favorite.
I don't like Mondays.
Mondays mean a new class week.
A new set of worries.
It's not a happy day for me.
Mondays are the start of the week.
This is a good thing.
If you think of the overall situation.
But a new week means starting classes again.
Classes mean stress.
Stress is not good.
Only good thing about Mondays, House and Big Bang Theory.
I think they're happy times.
It makes it all go away.
Mondays are blah.
I don't like Mondays.
Mondays mean a new class week.
A new set of worries.
It's not a happy day for me.
Mondays are the start of the week.
This is a good thing.
If you think of the overall situation.
But a new week means starting classes again.
Classes mean stress.
Stress is not good.
Only good thing about Mondays, House and Big Bang Theory.
I think they're happy times.
It makes it all go away.
Mondays are blah.
Sunday
Sunday is a special day.
It is the first day of the week.
Or the last.
Depending on how you see it.
I like to think of it as the last day.
The last day because it is a special day.
Sunday is special for many reasons.
Reason 1: Postsecret comes out.
Reason 2: Church day.
Reason 3: A writes a new entry. Almost always.
Reason 4: I have lived one more week.
Reason 1 is a complicated reason.
I like church.
Except sometimes.
It's complicated.
Reason 4 is self-explanatory.
I like living.
Reason 2 is the highlight of my Sundays.
I love reading the new secrets.
It's a breath of fresh air.
Wow, how cliche of me.
It's chocolate to my taste buds.
Better?
Reason 3 is starting to edge out Reason 2.
I love her new posts.
They're refreshing.
Very.
It's like seeing inside of her head.
Like when you were little and a friend told you a super duper secret.
A pinky swear, bite your tongue, don't let anyone know secret.
A secret no one knows.
It made you feel special.
It made me feel special.
Like I was super important.
I feel blessed.
So I like Sundays.
Except for that little fact in the back of my head.
The fact that says: "You have class tomorrow."
Other than that.
Sundays rock.
Yup, I went there.
It is the first day of the week.
Or the last.
Depending on how you see it.
I like to think of it as the last day.
The last day because it is a special day.
Sunday is special for many reasons.
Reason 1: Postsecret comes out.
Reason 2: Church day.
Reason 3: A writes a new entry. Almost always.
Reason 4: I have lived one more week.
Reason 1 is a complicated reason.
I like church.
Except sometimes.
It's complicated.
Reason 4 is self-explanatory.
I like living.
Reason 2 is the highlight of my Sundays.
I love reading the new secrets.
It's a breath of fresh air.
Wow, how cliche of me.
It's chocolate to my taste buds.
Better?
Reason 3 is starting to edge out Reason 2.
I love her new posts.
They're refreshing.
Very.
It's like seeing inside of her head.
Like when you were little and a friend told you a super duper secret.
A pinky swear, bite your tongue, don't let anyone know secret.
A secret no one knows.
It made you feel special.
It made me feel special.
Like I was super important.
I feel blessed.
So I like Sundays.
Except for that little fact in the back of my head.
The fact that says: "You have class tomorrow."
Other than that.
Sundays rock.
Yup, I went there.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
from under a Russian novel
Dearest Diary(-ies),
I found you in an old box in the garage this weekend. I found you and your friends--the pink one with swirlies and the purple flowered one too. You were all gifts I had received for Christmases and birthdays, and I specifically remember putting you away, saying I'd use you later.
I never did.
As soon as I found all three of you, I thought of L's post on diaries, and I felt a little ashamed that I had not bothered to even open you.
Imagine that--we could have been good friends! I would have told you all my stories and you would have preserved them. I could have told you all my likes and dislikes and you never would have judged. I could have repeated things, again and again, and you never would have tired of me. Oh, what a great bond we could have had!
Except, our friendship would have been kept hushed. It would have been a secret, a deep, dark one that even if someone would have found out, they would not have been able to trace back its source. It would have been a strong relationship, similar to that of a soldier abroad and his spouse back at home; I would have been the soldier fighting out there every day through life, and you would have always been there waiting for me, calm and collectively.
But it would have had to end sooner or later: a break, time apart, a split. Did you realize this? We would have gone our separate ways eventually, right? I mean, I've never been one too committed to anything, and you, you would have asked for a separation too, right? Well, if not, then our security would have breached and your purpose would have been lost, I think.
I suppose it would have been nice. You would have been a recollection of wonderful years of my life, and I could have done you the favor of visiting every once in a while. I could have checked up on you, like an old friend, and see if you were doing alright. At our reunion we could have talked about our experiences and you could have brought out the saved, almost sacred texts I had written oh so long ago.
Still, I do insist that it never would have worked out. It's not you, it's me. In a way, I suppose this blog is like a newer, modern version of what you, dear diary, could have been. Except this time, it's infinite, chrome. This old fruit guy will be accessible to me as long as this site exists. And not only will it be recording my thoughts, but those of a person who is very close to my heart too. Thank you. I hope you diaries understand this blog was never intended to replace you (your existence was never much to begin with), but it is now carrying out the purpose you all never fulfilled. I hope you take this as a sincere apology and I do hope you find a nice, loving relationship with someone else.
Best of wishes,
A.
I found you in an old box in the garage this weekend. I found you and your friends--the pink one with swirlies and the purple flowered one too. You were all gifts I had received for Christmases and birthdays, and I specifically remember putting you away, saying I'd use you later.
I never did.
As soon as I found all three of you, I thought of L's post on diaries, and I felt a little ashamed that I had not bothered to even open you.
Imagine that--we could have been good friends! I would have told you all my stories and you would have preserved them. I could have told you all my likes and dislikes and you never would have judged. I could have repeated things, again and again, and you never would have tired of me. Oh, what a great bond we could have had!
Except, our friendship would have been kept hushed. It would have been a secret, a deep, dark one that even if someone would have found out, they would not have been able to trace back its source. It would have been a strong relationship, similar to that of a soldier abroad and his spouse back at home; I would have been the soldier fighting out there every day through life, and you would have always been there waiting for me, calm and collectively.
But it would have had to end sooner or later: a break, time apart, a split. Did you realize this? We would have gone our separate ways eventually, right? I mean, I've never been one too committed to anything, and you, you would have asked for a separation too, right? Well, if not, then our security would have breached and your purpose would have been lost, I think.
I suppose it would have been nice. You would have been a recollection of wonderful years of my life, and I could have done you the favor of visiting every once in a while. I could have checked up on you, like an old friend, and see if you were doing alright. At our reunion we could have talked about our experiences and you could have brought out the saved, almost sacred texts I had written oh so long ago.
Still, I do insist that it never would have worked out. It's not you, it's me. In a way, I suppose this blog is like a newer, modern version of what you, dear diary, could have been. Except this time, it's infinite, chrome. This old fruit guy will be accessible to me as long as this site exists. And not only will it be recording my thoughts, but those of a person who is very close to my heart too. Thank you. I hope you diaries understand this blog was never intended to replace you (your existence was never much to begin with), but it is now carrying out the purpose you all never fulfilled. I hope you take this as a sincere apology and I do hope you find a nice, loving relationship with someone else.
Best of wishes,
A.
Friday, February 5, 2010
INTJ
I am INTJ.
From the Myers-Briggs personality type.
I had to take the test in leadership class.
I actually like this topic.
I like learning these things.
I-Introvert
N-iNtuitive
T-Thinking
J-Judgement
That's what the letters mean.
I think the description fits me.
I like learning about myself.
If that makes any sense.
No, not being narcissistic.
It's just fun.
Characteristics:
"INTJs focus their energy on observing the world, and generating ideas and possibilities"
"They value intelligence, knowledge, and competence, and typically have high standards in these regards, which they continuously strive to fulfill"
"INTJs are natural leaders, although they usually choose to remain in the background until they see a real need to take over the lead"
"their own difficulty in expressing themselves"
"they tend to have little patience and less understanding of such things as small talk and flirtation (which most types consider half the fun of a relationship)"
"original minds"
"controlling"
"judgmental"
I think that describes me well.
This is fun.
Really it is.
I mean, it's not completely true.
I'm in no way confident.
Still, I like this.
Lol.
(I HATE writing lol because people don't think I'm laughing.
I am.
If I write, hahahaha it looks weird so, lol)
From the Myers-Briggs personality type.
I had to take the test in leadership class.
I actually like this topic.
I like learning these things.
I-Introvert
N-iNtuitive
T-Thinking
J-Judgement
That's what the letters mean.
I think the description fits me.
I like learning about myself.
If that makes any sense.
No, not being narcissistic.
It's just fun.
Characteristics:
"INTJs focus their energy on observing the world, and generating ideas and possibilities"
"They value intelligence, knowledge, and competence, and typically have high standards in these regards, which they continuously strive to fulfill"
"INTJs are natural leaders, although they usually choose to remain in the background until they see a real need to take over the lead"
"their own difficulty in expressing themselves"
"they tend to have little patience and less understanding of such things as small talk and flirtation (which most types consider half the fun of a relationship)"
"original minds"
"controlling"
"judgmental"
I think that describes me well.
This is fun.
Really it is.
I mean, it's not completely true.
I'm in no way confident.
Still, I like this.
Lol.
(I HATE writing lol because people don't think I'm laughing.
I am.
If I write, hahahaha it looks weird so, lol)
Monday, February 1, 2010
The Effect of War on the Blog
Problem Statement:
The Effect of War on the Blog
Hypothesis:
If war in ensued, L will be the winner.
Data:
A-20
L-18
Start: January 21, 2010 by L.
Ended: February 1, 2010 by A.
Results:
The numbers show that A is the winner.
The experiment was started January 21, 2010.
The experiment was not finished.
Conclusions:
Even though the results show that A won, they are not conclusive.
The experiment was not finished.
Thus, the results only reflect the 12 days that the experiment was done for and do not account for the possible results that actually finishing the experiment would have.
It should also be noted that there was human error.
This human error could be fixed by setting rules to specify what a post consists of.
A was leading the score but there was a possibility for this to be reversed.
The experiment was abruptly ended and that's OK =D.
Footnote:
I hate loosing :)
The Effect of War on the Blog
Hypothesis:
If war in ensued, L will be the winner.
Data:
A-20
L-18
Start: January 21, 2010 by L.
Ended: February 1, 2010 by A.
Results:
The numbers show that A is the winner.
The experiment was started January 21, 2010.
The experiment was not finished.
Conclusions:
Even though the results show that A won, they are not conclusive.
The experiment was not finished.
Thus, the results only reflect the 12 days that the experiment was done for and do not account for the possible results that actually finishing the experiment would have.
It should also be noted that there was human error.
This human error could be fixed by setting rules to specify what a post consists of.
A was leading the score but there was a possibility for this to be reversed.
The experiment was abruptly ended and that's OK =D.
Footnote:
I hate loosing :)
conclusion
i win.
or in mose code, as you prefer it:
.. / .-- .. -.
i wish it didn't have to end this way.
i really did.
i was hoping it would end as a tie,
but the inevitable happened.
let's put this in the past and move on.
it's all H2O under a bridge now.
L|||A
19||23
good luck on chem : )
or in mose code, as you prefer it:
.. / .-- .. -.
i wish it didn't have to end this way.
i really did.
i was hoping it would end as a tie,
but the inevitable happened.
let's put this in the past and move on.
it's all H2O under a bridge now.
L|||A
19||23
good luck on chem : )
I hate tests
I hate tests.
Period.
There is no test that I find enjoyable.
There is no test that I feel comfortable in.
It bears repeating.
I hate tests.
Because:
1) They are timed.
2) They are done so that some fail (me?!?!)
3) They create stress.
4) You can't never be truly prepared for a test.
(i.e. You study everything. Except for that one insignificant formula that you NEVER used.That formula WILL be on the test. It WILL kill you.)
5) Everyone shows up for the test.
(i.e. During a normal day, the class is 50% full and the other 50% never show up to class. Then the test day comes and the class is COMPLETELY filled.)
This leads to certain issues:
a) The classroom gets cramped.
b) The person next you ALWAYS seems to know what she or he is doing, which makes you even MORE nervous (which didn't seem possible).
c) The classroom gets hot.
d) If there's a c, there has to be a d.
The lists goes on and on.
Except it seems like a waste of time to continue it.
Since, everyone knows what I'm whining about.
That and I am lazy.
I have a test tomorrow.
My first Chemistry test.
I am nervous.
Fact: I started studying today.
Fact: I am comfortable with the material.
The latter is bad.
Very bad.
I feel comfortable so I don't study as much.
I feel comfortable so I don't feel stressed, which creates stress*.
Right now, I am tired and stressed.
Not because of the test but for the lack of stress that I felt during the last week.
Yes, *I am stressed for not being stressed.
PATHETIC.
I have been studying since 10 a.m.
I say this not because it is a big deal.
I say this because I want to convince myself.
I want to convince myself that I have studied enough.
That I will pass.
That I will survive.
Like Gloria Gaynor.
Like the song.
Right now, I am not so sure.
I am most definitely not sure.
I don't like not knowing.
I HATE TESTS.
Period.
There is no test that I find enjoyable.
There is no test that I feel comfortable in.
It bears repeating.
I hate tests.
Because:
1) They are timed.
2) They are done so that some fail (me?!?!)
3) They create stress.
4) You can't never be truly prepared for a test.
(i.e. You study everything. Except for that one insignificant formula that you NEVER used.That formula WILL be on the test. It WILL kill you.)
5) Everyone shows up for the test.
(i.e. During a normal day, the class is 50% full and the other 50% never show up to class. Then the test day comes and the class is COMPLETELY filled.)
This leads to certain issues:
a) The classroom gets cramped.
b) The person next you ALWAYS seems to know what she or he is doing, which makes you even MORE nervous (which didn't seem possible).
c) The classroom gets hot.
d) If there's a c, there has to be a d.
The lists goes on and on.
Except it seems like a waste of time to continue it.
Since, everyone knows what I'm whining about.
That and I am lazy.
I have a test tomorrow.
My first Chemistry test.
I am nervous.
Fact: I started studying today.
Fact: I am comfortable with the material.
The latter is bad.
Very bad.
I feel comfortable so I don't study as much.
I feel comfortable so I don't feel stressed, which creates stress*.
Right now, I am tired and stressed.
Not because of the test but for the lack of stress that I felt during the last week.
Yes, *I am stressed for not being stressed.
PATHETIC.
I have been studying since 10 a.m.
I say this not because it is a big deal.
I say this because I want to convince myself.
I want to convince myself that I have studied enough.
That I will pass.
That I will survive.
Like Gloria Gaynor.
Like the song.
Right now, I am not so sure.
I am most definitely not sure.
I don't like not knowing.
I HATE TESTS.
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