Number 1:
Number 2:
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Saturday, September 1, 2012
From City To City
I make the big move in 8 days. That's right, college applications led me to my move from San Francisco to Liverpool. I've been GoogleMapping everything in the city, finding the nearest cafe, grocery stores, and memorizing my school and home's area. For example, my school is located on Hope Street (which I found inspirational.) I live on Mulberry and Cambridge in a big apartment building between two universities. Trying to memorize the route from my flat to school, trying to memorize the general bus routes of the city.
There are some things I'll have to leave to when I'm actually there.
There are some things I'll have to leave to when I'm actually there.
Friday, August 10, 2012
When I'm Gone
"I keep having this dream, I'm pushin' Hailie on the swing
She keeps screaming, she don't want me to sing
"You're making Mommy cry, why? Why is Mommy crying?"
Baby, Daddy ain't leaving no more, "Daddy you're lying
"You always say that, you always say this is the last time
"But you ain't leaving no more, Daddy you're mine"
She's piling boxes in front of the door trying to block it
"Daddy please, Daddy don't leave, Daddy - no stop it!"
Goes in her pocket, pulls out a tiny necklace locket
It's got a picture, "this'll keep you safe Daddy, take it withcha'"
I look up, it's just me standing in the mirror
These fuckin' walls must be talking, cuz man I can hear 'em
They're saying "You've got one more chance to do right" - and it's tonight
Now go out there and show that you love 'em before it's too late
And just as I go to walk out of my bedroom door
It turns to a stage, they're gone, and this spotlight is on
And I'm singing..."
-Eminem's "When I'm Gone"
So beautiful.
She keeps screaming, she don't want me to sing
"You're making Mommy cry, why? Why is Mommy crying?"
Baby, Daddy ain't leaving no more, "Daddy you're lying
"You always say that, you always say this is the last time
"But you ain't leaving no more, Daddy you're mine"
She's piling boxes in front of the door trying to block it
"Daddy please, Daddy don't leave, Daddy - no stop it!"
Goes in her pocket, pulls out a tiny necklace locket
It's got a picture, "this'll keep you safe Daddy, take it withcha'"
I look up, it's just me standing in the mirror
These fuckin' walls must be talking, cuz man I can hear 'em
They're saying "You've got one more chance to do right" - and it's tonight
Now go out there and show that you love 'em before it's too late
And just as I go to walk out of my bedroom door
It turns to a stage, they're gone, and this spotlight is on
And I'm singing..."
-Eminem's "When I'm Gone"
So beautiful.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
An Actress at Best
Rehearsals for this show have consumed my life lately. Not entirely a bad thing. However, I miss my mom even though we live under the same misshapen roof. I do love this show and the cast in it as well as the director who knows how to remind the actors to stay true to the characters.
Yesterday, we did an exercise of my emotions, really, which entailed facts about suicide and homosexuality in the US. After two minutes, I was sobbing. Perhaps it was a rude reminding, or maybe it was the most honest wake-up call. Unfortunately, I was put into an awful funk for a while. Mainly because it reminded me of my days at Edgewood my junior year, and the awful place I was in (in my head, that is) for that year. It reminded me of things I used to think when my mind went far in thoughts. Not good things. It was scary to be back there.
The best part, though, is that I was able to take myself out of it. As an actress, I will always need to have those emotions on the line for me to pick and choose when I need them. When finished, I also need to put them back onto that line for later and not drag them out with me.
With that said, though, I still have a headache from all the crying yesterday. I'll be better. My eyes are still puffy, though.
Good thing I love theatre. Come to the show!
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Orange Muffins
My regular recipe is always banana muffins because I make them in the best way. Seriously, we can go through 13 in less than two days. Ridiculous. But today, a juicy orange was just watching me and I realized no one is going to eat it. So... I found an orange muffins recipe and voila! They just came out of the oven!
Yum!
Yum!
Monday, July 30, 2012
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Unexplained Infatuation
I don't know why I continue to have a minor flutter when the thought of you comes up. What? Two weeks of dating and somehow I remain attached? Even the random relationship status change from "married" to "single" affected me. Is it the unfinished business? Is it the jacket that is still hanging sloppily from my door? Maybe I was hoping last summer's love could simmer up in a new object of my desire.
Maybe I'm hoping for too much. You made me scared of moving.
Maybe I'm hoping for too much. You made me scared of moving.
This City Has the Most Interesting People
You can meet such intriguing people in any part of San Francisco. Wether it be the bus, BART, outside the Ferry Building, at the beach, on a street, at a bus stop, everyone has something itneresting to voice. Sometimes I have this big hope that it's not just my hometown that is this way but the entire world as well. I like to think everyone has an amazing and addictive quality about them. Sometimes, it's more hidden while other times not so much.
Rehearsals for Dog Sees God have been great. The whole cast has a wonderful sense of humor and I feel as though we're all pretty tight. Probably because we've already dealt with the bigger issues such as suicide and bullying. At least, that's what one of the members said. And I agree whole-heartedly. What a nice bunch.
Still drowning in fear of growing up, but it's a rite of passage (albeit not the most fun one.) So I'll continue on.
Rehearsals for Dog Sees God have been great. The whole cast has a wonderful sense of humor and I feel as though we're all pretty tight. Probably because we've already dealt with the bigger issues such as suicide and bullying. At least, that's what one of the members said. And I agree whole-heartedly. What a nice bunch.
Still drowning in fear of growing up, but it's a rite of passage (albeit not the most fun one.) So I'll continue on.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Friday, July 13, 2012
T9 Typos
You know it's true. The words you always mess up with during T9 typing.
home-good
done-food
he-if
of-me
care-case
mom-moo-mmm-ooo
no-on
tired-three
home-good
done-food
he-if
of-me
care-case
mom-moo-mmm-ooo
no-on
tired-three
Monday, July 9, 2012
What to Expect when Applying for your Visa
Because I am moving to England for school, I have to attain a student visa. Let me tell you, easier said than done. So here are a couple of things to expect. Or just the process I went through.
Without further ado, expect to...
...lose weight by walking through the financial district of your city. From Kinko's to Kinko's to FedEx to the consulate.
...cry in front of a stranger at least twice.
...pay over five hundred dollars.
...go through a realization that you are now an adult and will have to fend for yourself for the rest of your life. Then have a panic attack because you didn't ask for this.
...lose respect for the flats you bought, hoping they'd remain comfy.
... lastly, don't expect that you will get the visa. Odds are, you messed up.
My experiences, no doubt.
Without further ado, expect to...
...lose weight by walking through the financial district of your city. From Kinko's to Kinko's to FedEx to the consulate.
...cry in front of a stranger at least twice.
...pay over five hundred dollars.
...go through a realization that you are now an adult and will have to fend for yourself for the rest of your life. Then have a panic attack because you didn't ask for this.
...lose respect for the flats you bought, hoping they'd remain comfy.
... lastly, don't expect that you will get the visa. Odds are, you messed up.
My experiences, no doubt.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
June Ravishings
This summer, I've focused a lot on my style and piecing together outfits. That sounds extremely simple and boring, I know, but it's been a lot of fun for me. Today, I wore a tweed jacket with a floral skirt. I wasn't sure if it would work, but somehow I think it put together nicely.
I've been living alone for a month while my mother gallivants through southern Italy with some of her students. Although I got to go last year, I still yearn to return (once I graduate from LIPA.) It's where I left my heart, although I'm sure I'll leave part of it in San Francisco as well. Both Italy and this city have left an intense impression on me and I will never forget the amazing times I've had.
Isn't she glowing? Baci!
And, lastly, my Uncle Clark (love you!) sent me a surprise gift. There I was returning home from my favorite coffee shop and I see a package. 'I did not order aaanyyything' I thought. Opened it up, he sent me a legit swiss army knife from victoriknox. I now have every tool imaginable haha. Thank you!
So there you go... my updates for June.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
CY
Perhaps it's because I'm listening to the saddest playlist I have on pandora or maybe because I haven't blotted about it justyet. For now I miss you. As angry as I am, I am more upstairs by threat it all ended. You seem blissfully unaware of the pain I feel which derives from your actions, or lack thereof.
I guess I'll. Way goodbye here. I love you, and thanks for whatever friendship was real.
Friday, April 27, 2012
Save It
Let me tell you about the worst 50 dollars ever spent. They weren't mine, but the money is the only measure of time I have. I could say an hour, but to me it felt like an eternity. Or 30 seconds. Ever notice how things can take so long to happen, but when they do happen, you feel like you had no time to prepare? You're caught by surprise, don't know what you could have done.
These fifty dollars, they were spent on a cab ride, and throughout the entire thing, I was thinking 'I hope the flight it delayed. Maybe the storm is too bad to fly in.' It was a Friday, the 13th. I remember feeling superstitious for the day. Like something bad was going to happen.
While sitting in the back of the cab, the 6 suitcases surrounding me, I felt a silence. Anything I said felt so loud, so heard by everyone. I felt watched. Maybe just insecure about my ability to choke back tears. I numbed myself for a while, knowing I wouldn't be able to hold it at 'goodbye' anyway.
The cab-driver was slow, and sort of an ass. He didn't help much with the suitcases, just watched us put them all in, all a couple of ounces from fifty pounds. He was mindless in his driving; frankly, he made it apparent that he didn't want to be working that early in the morning. I didn't spare his feelings. I had too many of my own.
As he drove, all three of us were very silent. I heard some classical music (ever notice how ab drivers always have classical music playing?) I contemplated asking him to turn it up, nervous that my father would be annoyed because he liked it "quiet in the morning." I knew because it was classical, though, that he wouldn't mind so much. I asked the driver if he could 'turn the music up, it's too quiet for me' hoping that the latter statement wouldn't dispel how uncomfortable I really felt. He hardly turned it up, but it was enough for my father to recognize what it was immediately. He's very intelligent, you see, sort of Mensa-type brainiac. My uncle is the same; they seem very similar.
By the time we arrived at the airport, the cab fare had risen to 45 dollars; I didn't want to get out. I didn't want to unload the 5 suitcases and one big box which contained a brand new Martin. But I did. At least, I helped, still keeping these strange feelings in my gut. A man helped take our suitcases to the front so we didn't have to lug them around through the long line. My father tipped him.
Waiting in the check-in line was one of the worst points. There was a wonderful elderly couple in front of us from Manchester. We had some small talk; my father talked about football with the man, while I talked about Liverpool to the woman. They were lovely. However, all I wanted was to hold onto my father, tell him not to leave. 'Don't go, don't go, don't go' was all that ran through my head as I told the old woman what I planned to do after my summer vacation.
He left, though. Few tears erupted as he left, but they were worth a million dollars each. I spent 5 million dollars of tears, after which he told me to 'go, I can't do this anymore.' I suppose he meant the leaving. It wasn't the first time.
I couple million dollars spill as I write this now.
Worst fifty dollars spent in a cab ride. And they weren't even mine.
These fifty dollars, they were spent on a cab ride, and throughout the entire thing, I was thinking 'I hope the flight it delayed. Maybe the storm is too bad to fly in.' It was a Friday, the 13th. I remember feeling superstitious for the day. Like something bad was going to happen.
While sitting in the back of the cab, the 6 suitcases surrounding me, I felt a silence. Anything I said felt so loud, so heard by everyone. I felt watched. Maybe just insecure about my ability to choke back tears. I numbed myself for a while, knowing I wouldn't be able to hold it at 'goodbye' anyway.
The cab-driver was slow, and sort of an ass. He didn't help much with the suitcases, just watched us put them all in, all a couple of ounces from fifty pounds. He was mindless in his driving; frankly, he made it apparent that he didn't want to be working that early in the morning. I didn't spare his feelings. I had too many of my own.
As he drove, all three of us were very silent. I heard some classical music (ever notice how ab drivers always have classical music playing?) I contemplated asking him to turn it up, nervous that my father would be annoyed because he liked it "quiet in the morning." I knew because it was classical, though, that he wouldn't mind so much. I asked the driver if he could 'turn the music up, it's too quiet for me' hoping that the latter statement wouldn't dispel how uncomfortable I really felt. He hardly turned it up, but it was enough for my father to recognize what it was immediately. He's very intelligent, you see, sort of Mensa-type brainiac. My uncle is the same; they seem very similar.
By the time we arrived at the airport, the cab fare had risen to 45 dollars; I didn't want to get out. I didn't want to unload the 5 suitcases and one big box which contained a brand new Martin. But I did. At least, I helped, still keeping these strange feelings in my gut. A man helped take our suitcases to the front so we didn't have to lug them around through the long line. My father tipped him.
Waiting in the check-in line was one of the worst points. There was a wonderful elderly couple in front of us from Manchester. We had some small talk; my father talked about football with the man, while I talked about Liverpool to the woman. They were lovely. However, all I wanted was to hold onto my father, tell him not to leave. 'Don't go, don't go, don't go' was all that ran through my head as I told the old woman what I planned to do after my summer vacation.
He left, though. Few tears erupted as he left, but they were worth a million dollars each. I spent 5 million dollars of tears, after which he told me to 'go, I can't do this anymore.' I suppose he meant the leaving. It wasn't the first time.
I couple million dollars spill as I write this now.
Worst fifty dollars spent in a cab ride. And they weren't even mine.
Vagina Monologues
Brace yourself for a woman's honesty here. The past couple of weeks, I've been rehearsing for a show which opens tonight: Vagina Monologues by Eve Ensler. Coincidentally enough, i had my first OB/GYN appointment the day it opens (pun intended.)
All the stories in the show have some relation to a woman who finds herself in her vagina and is in wonder. I could easily understand how a woman can get lost in her vagina; it's a powerful piece of a woman, representative of so much more than an anatomical device. All I could think is "when will I experience this 'vaginal wonder' which seems to open women's minds?"
I, myself, have a strange relationship with my "down there." We're not dating, we're not best friends, we hardly ever talk. I don't avoid her; I stay hygenic. In the shower, it's just another thing to make sure is clean. I can't decide if it's another being there, or if it really is part of me. I can try to see the beauty of having one, and I can almost reach it, but I avoid it at all costs. I try to pretend that it doesn't exist.
But my doctor didn't. She was persistent. Not in a bad way... she was gentle. But for some reason, I couldn't shake off the feeling that it was invasive. I am not even friends with my hoohah, and yet, I'm tentatively introducing it to my doctor who is happy to meet it. Is that normal? I suppose so.
I did cry. I felt like I should be in touch with myself (not particularly in that way) and I felt ashamed that I didn't know myself in that way.
Then again, in the Vagina Monologues, there is a woman who is over 70 and only just "got down with herself" according to the introduction.
I know I'll be comfortable someday. But for now, I'll live with a Chinese bowl between my legs.
All the stories in the show have some relation to a woman who finds herself in her vagina and is in wonder. I could easily understand how a woman can get lost in her vagina; it's a powerful piece of a woman, representative of so much more than an anatomical device. All I could think is "when will I experience this 'vaginal wonder' which seems to open women's minds?"
I, myself, have a strange relationship with my "down there." We're not dating, we're not best friends, we hardly ever talk. I don't avoid her; I stay hygenic. In the shower, it's just another thing to make sure is clean. I can't decide if it's another being there, or if it really is part of me. I can try to see the beauty of having one, and I can almost reach it, but I avoid it at all costs. I try to pretend that it doesn't exist.
But my doctor didn't. She was persistent. Not in a bad way... she was gentle. But for some reason, I couldn't shake off the feeling that it was invasive. I am not even friends with my hoohah, and yet, I'm tentatively introducing it to my doctor who is happy to meet it. Is that normal? I suppose so.
I did cry. I felt like I should be in touch with myself (not particularly in that way) and I felt ashamed that I didn't know myself in that way.
Then again, in the Vagina Monologues, there is a woman who is over 70 and only just "got down with herself" according to the introduction.
I know I'll be comfortable someday. But for now, I'll live with a Chinese bowl between my legs.
Friday, March 30, 2012
Back (In The Day)
I remember there used to be a very specific bump in the sidewalk down the street. It wasn't particularly fun, but something about it entertained me wildly, especially when I rode down on my red Razor scooter (remember when those were popular?) Once, I even tripped on it and fell flat on my face. That night, my sister braided my hair. Not two big braids, but a bunch of little ones. There's a photo of it: a big scratch on my forehead, a smile on my face, and braids on my head.
And, now, that part of the sidewalk is covered over. Maybe someone complained because their child tripped on it too. I remember, one day, passing by where it was, but it was paved over. It didn't affect me much; I was past the scooter-ing phase, but it looked so weird, so unfamiliar. And I guess that's how things go. Things change. As François de la Rochefoucauld said, the only constant in life is change whether you like it or not. I was indifferent to it, but now as I am preparing myself for college, I miss it. Not the bump itself, who knows how many more kids suffered the awful bruise-on-the-forehead phase, but the times when it resided there.
Let me put this is the most understandable way: nostalgia has hit me.
I've become one of those people that turns to jokes when uncomfortable. I used to consider myself and romantic and, even now, I claim that romance is dead. These are two very different romances that I am writing about, I suppose. However, when a romantic situation arises, I make a joke of it. Scared, is it? Am I scared? I don't know.
Should I bump my head on the sidewalk again? Retake that photo, with the smile on my face? No jokes, just laughter. Is that what I need? Or should I just take myself out of this nostalgic era?
Looks like I'm blogging again. See you later.
And, now, that part of the sidewalk is covered over. Maybe someone complained because their child tripped on it too. I remember, one day, passing by where it was, but it was paved over. It didn't affect me much; I was past the scooter-ing phase, but it looked so weird, so unfamiliar. And I guess that's how things go. Things change. As François de la Rochefoucauld said, the only constant in life is change whether you like it or not. I was indifferent to it, but now as I am preparing myself for college, I miss it. Not the bump itself, who knows how many more kids suffered the awful bruise-on-the-forehead phase, but the times when it resided there.
Let me put this is the most understandable way: nostalgia has hit me.
I've become one of those people that turns to jokes when uncomfortable. I used to consider myself and romantic and, even now, I claim that romance is dead. These are two very different romances that I am writing about, I suppose. However, when a romantic situation arises, I make a joke of it. Scared, is it? Am I scared? I don't know.
Should I bump my head on the sidewalk again? Retake that photo, with the smile on my face? No jokes, just laughter. Is that what I need? Or should I just take myself out of this nostalgic era?
Looks like I'm blogging again. See you later.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Nostalgia
The past few days have been quite difficult. I've gone the longest
without talking to someone (only 5 days, which says something) yet I
feel so sad. I don't feel bad for being dependent, I just miss the past
and I miss what I was doing and where I was two months ago. I wish with
all my heart that I could go back because I don't feel any of that here
right now.
I keep on distracting myself with the future, but how can I think about the future if I can't even decide between two of the most important things in my life?
I feel so unprepared, and sad, and I just wish I could control my actions this year. But I can't for two reasons: 1.) I don't have the minor and 2.) I don't have the balls.
So now I guess I'll just be stuck here for a year... and maybe four more. Distracting myself with the future seems to remind me of the present, and my past is stuck here with me now. Thus, my distraction is actually being avoided.
I keep on distracting myself with the future, but how can I think about the future if I can't even decide between two of the most important things in my life?
I feel so unprepared, and sad, and I just wish I could control my actions this year. But I can't for two reasons: 1.) I don't have the minor and 2.) I don't have the balls.
So now I guess I'll just be stuck here for a year... and maybe four more. Distracting myself with the future seems to remind me of the present, and my past is stuck here with me now. Thus, my distraction is actually being avoided.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Update
A couple of posts ago, I wrote about turning 17 and hoping that it would be much better. Update on that subject: things got so much better. In the past two months, I have traveled to Europe (Italy, to be exact), fallen in love (or as much in love as a 17-year old can), and had relaxing nights with my best friend (who I love so damn much.)
I really think this year is going to be great; and the main reason behind that is because I'm going to make it great. No more depending on other people to make me happy; this year is all about self-success. I need to get used to it if I plan to spend a year living in Italy. That's right, I might actually take a gap year. It's a big decision considering I spend all my life thinking gap years were a terrible idea.
I feel so much support coming from my mother, too. I love that she tells me to follow my heart instead of follow the norms and follow my instinct to prove myself worthy enough.
I just like the number 17 more than 16. It's less even, less normal, less popular. Or maybe that's just me... hahaha...
I really think this year is going to be great; and the main reason behind that is because I'm going to make it great. No more depending on other people to make me happy; this year is all about self-success. I need to get used to it if I plan to spend a year living in Italy. That's right, I might actually take a gap year. It's a big decision considering I spend all my life thinking gap years were a terrible idea.
I feel so much support coming from my mother, too. I love that she tells me to follow my heart instead of follow the norms and follow my instinct to prove myself worthy enough.
I just like the number 17 more than 16. It's less even, less normal, less popular. Or maybe that's just me... hahaha...
Friday, May 13, 2011
Departure
I took a pretty long break from Blogger but I intend on being back. In fact, I will be creating a whole new blog devoted solely to my trip in Italy (which begins June 2nd ahhhhh!)
Anyways, I went through a pretty rough time and took some time to myself. In the past month, I have dated one guy but broken up with two. I've done a lot of thinking about who I am versus how I am viewed versus how I view myself. It's time I sit down and really think about my role, either in society, my family, this earth. Who knows? The point is, I am thinking about the deeper me rather than my surface. I want to figure things out.
Anyways, I went through a pretty rough time and took some time to myself. In the past month, I have dated one guy but broken up with two. I've done a lot of thinking about who I am versus how I am viewed versus how I view myself. It's time I sit down and really think about my role, either in society, my family, this earth. Who knows? The point is, I am thinking about the deeper me rather than my surface. I want to figure things out.
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