communimacation

Tourists are everywhere these days. Even at "home" in Georgia I am a tourist myself, since my family moved here while I was still in high school and I've never really lived here. Something I find quite interesting is how people communicate with one another when there is a language barrier creating a mental challenge for understanding. I think it's kind of funny when one party uses extreme hand gestures and talks ridiculously slowly and loudly to communicate with another party of the same species but different culture. One time I was on the subway I witnessed an American girl trying to give advice to an Asian couple (who obviously did not speak English) about where to go sightseeing in San Francisco. I have to admit it was hilarious to watch because she was giving a histrionic performance as she was describing the many places to see and eat around the city. In some ways it appeared as if she were speaking down to children, but I know she wasn't trying to be disrespectful or anything. (I think). I just find it silly how we believe speaking louder with pauses between words will magically translate to a language more familiar to foreigners. The one universal gesture I've noticed is the hand-to-mouth movement indicating "food" or "hungry". This is a good thing because I know that I'll always be able to get some kind of wanted response when I do this in a foreign country. I'm sure there are a few other gestures that are pretty universal, but this one is obviously the most important of them all.

giggles

Perhaps one of my biggest weaknesses is that I am super ticklish, beyond belief. Just thinking about being tickled evokes uncontrollable sensations of giggling and squirming. So ridiculous. I can even tickle myself with my own fingers. (wtf?!) I feel that this is such an unfortunate characteristic of mine and I hope I am never tickled to death. Whether or not that's even possible, it would be the worst way to die, in my opinion.

Please don't ever intentionally tickle me. Although I may be laughing and making facial expressions of superficial ecstasy, the only thought probably crossing my mind is how much I'd want to punch you the moment you cease to torture me.

I like hugs though.

"see food" diet

Back in the day, I used to be obsessed with Animal Planet and the Discovery channel. No joke. I would get hungry watching all those cows roam around... mMmmm STEAK! Haha, I only kid. But seriously though, I wanted to be a zoologist or an animal trainer when I grew up. I actually still want to take a marine biology course just because I think the ocean is so beautiful and there are so many fascinating creatures that reside in deep waters.
During a commercial break on Man v Food, I flipped to Animal Planet just to see what was on... Dolphins eating fish trying to find mates. It was in slow motion of course, and the music in the background was fun and lively. Obviously this situation was good for the dolphins, but what about the poor fish that were only trying to reproduce?!?! Don't get me wrong, I love to eat fish too. I don't know why this sympathetic thought even crossed my mind, but it did. It was a very short-lived thought though. A couple of minutes later I switched back to my original program and watched massive amounts of meat be devoured. I think I drooled a little.
I usually don't watch much tv, but when I do, I always seem to watch things that tickle my appetite. Screw being an animal trainer. My dream job is to get paid for eating lots of delicious food on tv and become famous for it. Joyce v Food! Just imagine, a little Asian girl devouring copious amounts of food in one sitting... a hit show for sure.

bills, bills, bills!

I miss handwritten letters. Back in elementary school, my best friends and I would write notes (not even full on letters) to each other and send them in stamped envelopes, even though we would be seeing each other in class the next day anyway. It was just that wonderful feeling of receiving mail that kept us doing silly things like that. I remember at one point in time, I couldn't wait to grow up and have bills to pay so I would receive tons of letters via mail. I thought it was an exciting thing to open envelopes with my name clearly addressed on them. To me it meant I'd officially be a grownup. But how things have changed... and I don't want to keep growing up any longer.
Emails and texts are convenient, I understand. But letters feel so much more permanent to me. I actually still have all those letters my friends sent to me throughout my childhood and going through them (as if I were for the first time) makes me just as incredibly happy. Some of them make me chuckle because I can't believe we actually used up a stamp for letters that just said "Mr. Brandenburgh has stinky breath. I hope we don't get him as our teacher again next year!". Kind of ridiculous and hilarious at the same time, but nonetheless memorable little treasures I'll keep to cherish.

say somethin baybehhh

I have this one line from Drake-Say Something in my head that is playing over and over AND OVER AGAIN!!!!

"say something baby" "say something baby" "say something baby" "say something baby" "say something baby" "say something baby" "say something baby" "say something baby" "say something baby" "say something baby" "say something baby" "say something baby" "say something baby" "say something baby" "say something baby" "say something baby" "say something baby" "say something baby"

It's so distracting and unreasonably on repeat. I have no significant association to this part of the chorus at all. I just woke up to this song being played ever so loudly by my lovely neighbors and now it has been playing about a million times in my head. As I am writing my research paper on the Futurist movement and the relationships between culture and politics, all that is streaming through my mind is "say something baby". AHHHHHHH!!!!!!

I hate it when a song --or worse, a single line-- gets stuck in my head. Filippo Tommaso Marinetti, founder of Futurism, published a Futurist Manifesto in 1907 because he needed to "say something baby". I'm sure of this.

strange and beautiful

It dawned on me today that my grandparents got married when they were just 16 or 17 years old. I can't even imagine myself being in the position they were in, especially since by now I'd have a few kids and property in need of care. My grandparents claimed that they were both deeply in love with each other at the time of their official union. Although I'm a bit of a skeptic about young people professing to be "in love" when they have little sense about the world around --and beyond-- them, I believe the story of my grandparents.
They were together for 60+ years (until my grandfather passed away) and there was so much display of affection between them at all times. Even when they had disagreements (they rarely fought), it was obvious that below the level of their tension was a drive to only make their relationship stronger. As a child, I had no way of labeling what this underlying tenderness was caused by. Even now I don't know if I'll ever be able to fully comprehend their unusual relationship --unusual in that it was so full of undying commitment to maintain their fidelity, not just physically but emotionally as well.
Even though they are no longer a pair in the physical world, I am still in awe of the magical relationship that no words could do justice to describe the indefinite feelings they shared. Anyone who knows my grandmother, also know that she has a tendency to focus herself as the center of everyone's attention. She is quite selfish at times, but my grandfather loved her regardless of her difficult nature. Sometimes I wondered why he was so engrossed by her, but then again, it must have been one of those things his words could not truly explain anyway. I do love my grandmother dearly though; She's just a bit much at times. Nonetheless, she is a precious being whom I owe a chunk of my existence to. I can only hope that my future husband (if I ever have one... or two. JK) will remind me of my grandfather and his ability to be so faithful. I know it's a lot to ask for someone just like him, but if my husband has any good quality that even remotely reminds me of my grandpa, I'd be a lucky girl.
I really miss my harahbuhjee a lot. His hugs were generously warm, but I miss touching his scratchy face (after a few days would pass since he shaved) even more. I know it sounds odd, but that scratchy feeling is one of the best sensations in the world to me because it reminds me of him.

rain or shine

When the weather is really nice outside (i.e. sunny with gentle cool breezes) I don't want to do anything work-related but just prance around in a summery dress without a care in the world.
When the weather is terrible to be outside (i.e. thunderstorms and lightening) I don't want to do anything work-related but snuggle under my covers and maybe sip on some hot chocolate with whipped cream.
I love the excuses I make to avoid getting necessary work done. Love them terribly, but they're so terrible to love!
It is 3:28 in the afternoon. Right now it is raining really hard and I still haven't been able to get myself out of my cozy bed. Wait, that is a tiny lie. I have gotten out to pee and eat, but other than those two activities I have not been able to stay out of my bed. Help me.

once in a lifetime

Whether today was good or bad, it is a day that will never happen again. If it was nothing but terrible, this is a splendid truth. If it was the most amazing day you wish were never-ending, I'm sorry about the unfortunate circumstances that are presented by reality. Nevertheless, why be consumed by what has already happened and gone, when there are more important things to occupy your concern... like tomorrow?

It's really hard not to dwell on things, but I'm trying to acknowledge better times to come. That little beam of light at the end of the tunnel, yeah, that will be a brighter day of many more ahead.

great expectations

At times I wish I were harder to please, but in all honesty I find joy in much of the simple things in life. Some things that make me really happy include:
-big, soft pillows
-rainbow sprinkles
-accidentally bringing an umbrella with me on a day of unexpected rainfall
-waking up a few seconds before my alarm goes off so I can turn it off before it ever rings and actually get myself out of bed on time too
-receiving mail (NOT ELECTRONIC)
-extra cheese
-fresh laundry
-grocery shopping
-seeing other people genuinely happy

There is a plethora of other things in life that tickle my fancy, but the point I want to make is that I think some people overlook the little treasures hidden in what may feel like their mundane lives. Also, I think it helps to not expect so much from the world --especially if you're only concentrating on what you can gain from it as opposed to what you can contribute yourself. To me at least, the best things in life happen when I least expect them to. Maybe the intensity of gratification is skewed because I wasn't anticipating them to happen, but regardless of the context in which they occur I tend to find that expectations we set are rarely met to our satisfaction. It's not that I've removed all expectations in life or lowered their standards; rather, I've come to accept that it makes no sense to set ridiculous goals that are doomed from the start. Surprises startle me, but good ones are always welcome. Bad ones are tolerable too, I guess, if they somehow remind me to be appreciative for what's already in my possession or in proximity. There are lots of ugly things in this world, but there's just as much (if not more) beauty to counteract their tarnishing properties. This is really embarrassing to admit, but I came to this conclusion one day as I was pondering all of my favorite foods... there were so many delicious things that crossed my mind that I couldn't help but be in a pleasant (and hungry) mood.

hidden cameras

It has been raining again here in Da Berkz aka Berkeley. So far showers have been intermittent and unpredictable in behavior throughout the day. This is kind of annoying because it'll rain for like, 3 minutes. Stop for 10. Rain some more. Stop. Rain. AND REPEAT! I swear as soon as I manage to get my barely usable umbrella open, the rain stops. And of course, as soon as I shake off the few drops of water from my umbrella and place it back in my bag, it starts to drizzle. Just my luck.

Something peculiar I noticed today was that everyone else around me seemed to be in sync with each other when it came down to having their umbrellas out or tucked away. Usually in this kind of weather I'd expect some people to be like me and have bad timing with their umbrellas, and some people to have it out exactly when they need them. But today, I felt like I was the only one who was struggling to predict the pattern of rainfall. (There was no consistent pattern!) At one point I even felt like I was the star of my own show like The Truman Show and everyone had microphones alerting them into their ears exactly when production was going to "make it rain". I kinda peeked around a little at people around me, then chuckled at how ridiculous I was being.

The rain is scheduled to keep on coming, according to weather.com. Bring it on. I got my rain boots in check. Definitely one of the best investments I've made in college.

"don't forget the keys"

Before I left my apartment, I told myself NOT to forget the keys on the table. Although I made a mental reminder that I repeated over and over again in my head, my mind could not escape the countless interruptions of distractions (a.k.a. day dreams). I should have put the keys in my bag as soon as it crossed my mind to do so, but typical of me, I thought I really wouldn't forget this time (as I always do). As soon as I shut the door behind me (locked from the inside) the image of my purple keyring with three keys dangling from it flashed before my eyes. I shrieked and hoped that I might've luckily forgotten to lock my door. Ha, of course I didn't forget to do that. So I panicked a little then called the manager. No answer. Panicked a little more. Called a locksmith service. They said they'd be over in less than 3 minutes. Hooray! I was so impressed by how fast they said they would be here to save me that I quickly hung up without even asking them how much it would cost. BIG MISTAKE. So I waited for the locksmith outside. Almost an hour went by and still no man to rescue me. (Less than three minutes was really too good to be true.) Once the locksmith finally arrived and did his magical thing to my doorknob, he smiled at me as he asked me if I had renter's insurance. I said no and asked him how much I had to pay. When he gave me the receipt, my eyes literally popped out and my mouth let out a desperate gasp. I think I even squealed a little. Don't even ask how much it was... I had no choice at this point but to the pay the man for his 2 minutes of service. While I was writing a check for "X" amount, he made a comment about the cute cow pen I was using. I just looked up at him and smiled cordially. Then he added another unnecessary comment about how he understands that locksmiths are super expensive! Gee, really now!?!?!?! Anyways, as soon as I opened the door, there were my keys sitting just as I had placed them on the table the night before. !$!T@$YH#W%U#%U

erHJ$W%JW@TJ$W@#%@$^@#&$*$@#!@$@^*&@^y5y45yqu
#%&27thesJRSksrJaG3152%25@$5#$yTSEJrGX
RY5qu$JS$j^$SWk^SkS
REHW$%J^W$Uu4REHAq35hQ#y4@

^Sorry about that, I just have some tension to let out. I really should punch myself really hard so I can finally learn my lesson NOT to trust that I'll remember something later on. I ALWAYS seem to forget. I AM AN IDIOT! RYWU@U#$^#%&@@$^EDTJFK

They should just hurry up and develop finger print scanners everywhere. So much more convenient... and economical for me.

delicious dreams

Some people think about white picket fences, big grassy lawns, windows with shutters, or even a view of the ocean from their bedroom, when they imagine their dream homes. All of these things are nice, but what I care about the most is having the perfect kitchen.

Perfect is a heavily loaded word, but I'm willing to sacrifice other parts of the house if it means I can prance around in my magical kitchen wearing a lovely lavender apron. Well, my apron doesn't HAVE to be lavender, but I imagine it would complement the pastel yellow walls (with white accents) very well. On the counter I will showcase my Kitchen Aid mixer, which I cannot afford to own right now as a poor college student. I hope to have a massive island counter, located conveniently in the center, for me to lay out all my ingredients to make fresh pasta dough and homemade baked goods. Big sinks excite me too. I don't really mind doing the dishes, especially since I grew up bonding with my mom while she did them after dinner. Lighting is important as well, because I think it makes food look better, therefore taste better (for the eyes at least). My oven in my old house never worked well, so the idea of having a brilliantly cooperative oven is a luxury I feel I must have in my perfect vision. I could go on and on describing my dream kitchen, but the main requirement is that it be spacious enough for me to dance around in my little apron without having to worry about hitting anything. (No need for bruises.) This is such a fanciful dream, I know, but cooking/baking is my ultimate obsession so it seems only fitting that I've concocted such a romantic vision for myself. It's really an indulgent desire I feel no guilt for having.

elevator girl

I live in an apartment building that is not very tall and composed of four floors. Everyone (ALMOST everyone...) uses the stairs because the elevator takes forever and a day to arrive at your floor. I say "almost everyone" because I belong to the group of "only other ABLE person" that still presses the little white button and waits for the old, shady elevator to come get me. Call me lazy and not very green, but these adjectives don't phase me at all. The only people I do see sometimes use the elevator usually have a lot of belongings to carry or are disabled/injured in some way. I know people judge me when they see me standing in front of the elevator door as it slowly makes its way up or down. In my lame defense, I do actually live on the top floor so it takes me a bit longer to take the stairs. But even so, I will admit that I can probably climb the stairs to the top by the time the elevator finally reaches the ground floor. How sad is it that when I do feel compelled to use the stairway, I feel exhilarated at the end and proud to have burned a couple extra calories? (Pretty sad.) Okay, so maybe those negative adjectives are starting to make me feel more self-conscious about my totally fixable habit.
I think I will start taking the stairs (more often) so I don't have to get mortifying death glares from a guy (I accidentally make eye contact with) who is carrying his unnecessarily big mountain bike up to the second floor. But like I said, I DO inhabit the fourth floor, which is another 40 steps above that guy. Nevertheless, a little extra exercise could do me a whole lotta good. I just hope they don't upgrade the elevator so it plays music. That will make my lazy habit a lot harder to fix.

turning 20

Wait, what? So it appears the finals hours of my teenage glory are coming to an end. For better or for worse, I don't know yet. I like to think growing up is a good thing, but maybe only because it can't be stopped anyway. Secretly, I never want to grow up (unless it's a couple more inches to my height). Responsibilities are so overrated!

I'm not much of an enthusiast for celebrating my own birthday (as much as I love making other people feel fantastic on theirs), but I have to admit something special happens to my taste buds only on this day such that cake just tastes better. It's an inexplicable phenomenon, but marvelous nonetheless. I love eating cake in general, but birthday cake just takes the cake on this particular day. (Haaaaa! I guess I'm taking my corniness with me all the way). Otherwise, I don't care much for my own birthday. If anything I'd just hope it's like any other ordinary day and nothing horrific happens to me. That's all.
Oh wait, a little sunshine would be a nice too!

PS. People should just show me love all the time! Seriously. Okay fine, just kidding.

--EDIT--
I am now officially 20 and the weather was fantastic. Hooray!

cotton in the sky

I cannot wait for the weather to clear up (not just for an erratic 20 minutes in an otherwise gloomy day) so I can finally be reacquainted with my friendly clouds. One of my favorite things to do is gaze upon the wandering clouds from my humble position on earth. It is one of those things that makes me forget all else that is happening in the world and allows me to focus only on the present solitary moment of unregulated bliss. Clouds are so pretty to me, and they're quite entertaining to watch.

When I was a little girl (and even now, to be honest) I could spend hours trying to make shapes and figures out of these clouds, and even tell a story with them. My friends and I would compete with one another to out-do the others' imagination. Luckily, my useless creativity in other domains ruled supreme in this childish game we played. Even though any skin contact with the grass made me itch, I'd still lie down (in the most comfortable patch I could find) and soon pay little attention to this discomfort as the sky cast its usual spell over me. But it was a spell I certainly didn't mind... nor did I ever want it to be broken.

A charming characteristic about clouds is their nomadic nature. I can't help but wish to roam a vast territory like the infinite sky... to be completely free. Sometimes I would wish I could be that turtle-shaped cloud (that also moves at such a pace... but at least it's moving) and travel to wherever the wind directs it. Some people really depend on order and a definite direction in their lives. I'm more of a do-as-you-go and go-as-you-do kinda person. Sometimes it works out fine for me, and sometimes it gets me in trouble. Nonetheless, it's simply the way I am.

The weather needs to stop showing bipolar symptoms and not tease me with sporadic glimpses of clear skies. I'm ready to go back to my cloud-gazing days.

scared-y cat

Truth is, I have an unbelievably low level of courage when confronted by most things. Even things that make me happy often terrify me at the same time. It doesn't make much sense outside my head, but this is an indisputable quality about me I usually don't like to share with others. Lets just say I'm SCARED that someone will take advantage of my inability to be as tough as I like to think I am. (Because I am pretty tough still!)

My cowardliness stems from lots of fears --some I know are ridiculous, but they still overcome me with great terror. This is actually a rather hard thing to admit, (especially to myself) but I'm recognizing how much it diminishes potential joy in my life. When I get scared of something, I just run. I never look back or even think twice about taking on whatever it is that is causing me to tremble in place. The relief I experience after distancing myself from my troubles is perhaps, only a mere illusion of safety that is actually short-lived as well. What I'm running from doesn't vanish and it is in no way impaired from chasing after me again. I tend to run from a lot of things, so I've noticed. It gets tiring though.

This illusion of safety is losing its persuasive grip on me. More and more I can acknowledge how often I run from petty things I could have surely dealt with if only I had a bit more courage. Some of these things are good in nature, but the fact that something so naturally good is happening to me frightens me. It scares me because I'm afraid it will be revealed to be a mere figment of my imagination or a dream I will soon awaken from. This worry drives me to keep my distance from situations that evoke sensations I would hope last forever. But like I said, I'm getting tired from all this nonsensical exercise I get from running away. Not that my pathetic level of courage has gone up for some reason, but I hope to gather more of it (from whatever source) and put it to some good use.

I think I will start by facing my fear of butterflies. DON'T LAUGH. Those creatures look friendly from far away, but up close they're not so pretty. I swear. After this conquering, I think I will be able to face anything... even things that seem too good to be existent in my life. For example, if a friend tells me I'm a good friend to them too, I won't doubt it. I'll be accepting of their words and not let worry take over what should make me feel incredible. But first, gotta deal with the butterflies...

Wish me luck.

unusual

Put all your eggs in one basket... and watch that basket.

Something I've never considered doing... but all of a sudden I got super guts-y. I just hope my gut is right about this.

please don't pick me...

In my 6th grade math class, Mr. Welch would go around the class asking us to state our answers for the homework problems being discussed. I was always insecure about being called on because it seemed that everyone else always said the correct answer. And of course, I would get called on to answer the one difficult problem (that had to be an even number problem so the solution wasn't in the back of the book) that everyone else had trouble with too... but I'd be the who would have to reveal this to the teacher. It would ALWAYS be me.
Sometimes he would have us say our answers out loud in order of our seating. Immediately I would count the heads ahead of me and match what problem I'd have to answer. With my poor luck, I would get stuck with the one problem I had skipped because it was too long or confusing for me. This WOULD happen to me.
So I'm sure Mr. Welch thought I didn't belong in his advanced math class, and sometimes I would doubt myself too. Math and I never got along too well after this class. But whatever, I found love elsewhere... like in the kitchen baking Danish pastries.

This still happens to me though, when I don't have an answer I apparently attract the attention of the teacher asking the question. Even in a big lecture hall, I seem to emit my own personal spotlight as if I'm oozing with desire to be called on. I'll try to use such tactics as lowering my head or avoiding eye contact with the professor, but then I'll get the worst urge to scratch my head or move something off my face. Of course. At a time when I forcibly try to make as little movement as possible, my body itches all over. So I get called on and all eyes and ears are on me, but I have nothing else to say other than "Oh, I was just scratching my head" with a redness on my face not from my blush.
I know it's not that big of a deal; it surely happens to everyone. It just happens to me a lot more frequently than others. Perhaps I'm just unlucky in this way, but I like to think that the luck I'm lacking in this department is transferable to some other aspect of my life so that I'm luckier in that area than most others. This may or may not be true, but hey, a girl can dream a little.

work work work

When I have lots of things to do, I always seem to find myself in a position where I am doing EXACTLY what I shouldn't be doing. And even if the task I am doing can wait till after I complete the original, more important task at hand, (i.e. blogging instead of writing my Italian studies essay) I still overrule any judgment to be productive and continue on with my little distractions.
Although I have so much work to do for school (and life preparations), my mind wanders to places I did not know existed in my own thoughts. They're useless wanderings that lead me to no clear destination. The journey following these thoughts are almost always bombarded with random artifacts hidden between the foldings of my brain. I bet I am not making much sense right now but that's okay because this entry is dedicated to nonsensical ramblings that are distracting me from analyzing Italian literature regarding the process of translation. Sounds fantastic, right? Not really.
However I must compliment the brief beautiful weather we had today. It was almost inspiring enough for me to jump start my ridiculous agenda, but then it got a bit gloomy and along with it went my desire to be a good student. Ha, I blame 88% of my inability to work hard on the poor weather.
Despite my apathetic attitude towards schoolwork, I have felt more alive than I ever have in a really long time. I'm certain there are several contributing factors to my change in outward demeanor. Most of them shall remain a secret shared only with myself (trapped in the grooves of my brain), but one I can reveal is my discovery of this one breakfast place on Telegraph that serves amazing pancakes all day. BREAKFAST SERVED ALL DAY! This recent stumbling has added tremendous joy to my once barren life.
There are some other things that make me happy these days, but I prefer not to divulge them, for I fear they will lose their giggle-producing ability once shared. I know I sound silly but that is the current mood I am in. Too bad I have to get serious and get some work done as soon as I finish the rest of this sentence.

wet

We cry when we're sad. We cry when we're happy. We cry when we're overly frustrated. Sometimes we cry for no reason at all.
Tears fascinate me because they come and go as they please, no matter what the context of the individual's circumstance is. Isn't it strange how our eyes can form tears and release them in completely opposite situations? It baffles me a bit, but in the end a good cry for whatever reason never fails to leave you feeling like you lost a lot of unwanted weight (for all you dieters out there). Tears are just inherently satisfying, although some would hate to admit they're capable of weeping like a child as an adult. Some of the greatest joys in my life were as a child, so I'm not ashamed to admit that I adhere to a "do cry policy" when necessary. However, crying just isn't the same as I remember. I can recall being able to weep for hours while making incomprehensible screams (for extra kicks) when I was younger. And after I'd feel so amazingly refreshed that I could continue playing in my pretend kitchen as if I hadn't just gotten in trouble for trying to cook real food in it.
Maybe it's the pressure of society and culture, but it's so much harder for me to cry out loud like that even when I'm all alone. Tears don't form as easily as they used to, and when they do finally reach the edges of my tear ducts they tend to hold themselves back from fully unleashing. I can't remember the last time I had a really, really good cry... the kind that makes you feel so rejuvenated you think you can handle anything. When I feel too much is building up inside of me, I can sense that the only way to knock any of it down is if I let out some bulldozing tears. So I'm patiently waiting for that trigger, whether it's from a good or bad source. This may sound really immature but I really want to wail like an infant (even for only a few minutes) so I can release any tension my body refuses to express differently.
Maybe I should just snuggle under a blanket and watch a sad sappy love story all by myself, and if I have a tub of cookies and cream ice cream it'll put me more "in the mood". Or maybe I should just break my own leg and cry on the way to the hospital... totally kidding! Well, I don't know if watching a sad movie will stimulate me as much as I hope, but now I'm seriously craving some ice cream.

the beat of my heart

It's hard to believe my little brother turns 18 today, which means he's not so little anymore. Well, technically he hasn't been that little for a long time since he has always been a lot bigger than me in size. I don't mean just size in physique, but also the capacity of his heart to be so giving and nurturing, despite unfavorable circumstances he has been put through. We definitely fought a lot when we were younger. Since we're only two years apart, we always thought we could take the other on and challenge each other in everything. But he usually let me win (although I hate to admit he allowed his defeat). That's why I love him.
The last birthday I spent with him was two years ago when my parents were living in Georgia and it was just me and him. I did my best to give him everything he wanted, but he asked for so little it made it a bit difficult for me to asses if I had done enough. Sometimes he acts like a brat but that's only because he's still growing up and learning life lessons. Other than that, he has never been spoiled and never asks to be. (When someone is so modest, how can you resist wanting to give him more than he desires?) That's why I love him.
Some may say that I've never really celebrated Valentines Day the traditional way --with that significant other. But my brother has always been my significant other... the one other person who makes me want to be a better person myself and help him be better as well. That's why I love him.

Happy 18th birthday James. You're a big boy now, but you will always be my little brother. And I will always love you.

truth be told

Say what you mean, and mean what you say.


If only human beings were capable of that kind of honesty...
Nobody likes to be intentionally lied to or be given roundabout responses, but how many of us can actually handle the truth? In its most pristine form, truth can also be responsible for the most hurtful damage committed by a single revealing. Still, most people claim they'd rather have the complete truth than be fooled by any sort of lie. I always thought I'd want to know everything too, even if I were to receive unsettling knowledge that would torment my mind. Now I don't know anymore. It doesn't seem like it would be such a terrible thing to NOT know some things. Ignorance is bliss they say... and I'm okay with that.

peanut butter and cheese

Some things that make so much sense to us make absolutely no sense to others. Our experiences growing up play a remarkable role in determining the kinds of exposure we have to certain aspects of life. An exciting example (in my opinion), but perhaps not the best elaboration on this idea, is the classic sandwich of my childhood. It may seem an odd pairing at first, but the marriage of extra crunchy peanut butter and American cheese on modest white toast reminds me of my essential youth. As a child, I never thought there was anything particularly weird about my affinity to this pairing. My mother just had a wild imagination when it came to feeding her children I suppose. Even though I'm older now and my culinary tastes have matured beyond those golden days, I still think that peanut butter and cheese sandwiches are the best things ever. Maybe it's more so about the nostalgic flashbacks I get whenever I combine the two ingredients, as opposed to the actual taste that lingers among my taste buds. Either way, it's something that I understand to be a marvelous invention. And it's okay if nobody else gets that.
When you meet someone new much later on in your life, it becomes a great challenge to assess the kind of person they are without having any knowledge of what constitutes their past. Of course I do believe that people shouldn't necessarily be recognized only for their past attributes and behaviors. Nonetheless their pasts do play a vital role in who they are today. Sometimes when I encounter someone that irks me terribly, I try my hardest to give them another chance to compensate for their irrational behavior. But this is solely my subjectivity that determines what is rational or irrational, and to the other character in question their behavior may make total sense to them. This doesn't mean I conclude that all annoying people are not annoying. I'm just saying that there's more to explore in a person beyond a simple gesture or their immediate attitude display.
It's so easy to judge others even when we have absolutely no clue who they are hidden beneath their exterior. People definitely have misconceptions about me as well, based on who they THINK I am from my appearance. It actually amuses me a bit when I hear others tell me what they thought I'd be like and they find out I'm totally not like that at all. I usually don't get angry about being misunderstood because it makes it that much more pleasurable to have someone else GET (the REAL) ME after realizing how mistaken they were initially. So it's really okay for me to be misunderstood at first, as long they can accept me for the peanut butter and cheese sandwich loving girl that I still am.

accidental resolutions

The last time I made new year's resolutions was probably my freshman year in high school. After many failures, I realized how silly it was to make goals for the upcoming year if they were going to be brutally broken anyway. The celebration and recognition remind me very much of Thanksgiving and Valentine's Day. Personally I'm not a big fan of reserving just one single day of the year to express gratitude and follow traditional rituals for the sake of the holiday on the calendar. Why not be thankful everyday? Why not send a simple greeting of love to our partners just because? Why not make goals for yourself NOW and actually adhere to the plan?
I stopped making resolutions with the advent of a new year, knowing that I would most likely slip up at some point. Instead of making drastic goals doomed for failure, I've resorted to making gradual modifications everyday I get out of bed. It's very common to hear people talk about this and that they want to change this year, but even this is just all apart of the ritual of celebrating a new year. I'm not suggesting that it's bad to desire improvements in our lives, but it seems like the weight of resolutions has become much more about the idea of making goals as opposed to actually following through with them.
With that said, I must confess that I've also made a list of things I hope to achieve this year. But it was only by coincidence! The last few months of 2009 were tumultuous and chaotic for me. I can admit that I've been a complete mess. The onset of break from school helped me realize the necessary changes I needed to make in order to survive this hoopla. During the past few weeks I have recollected my thoughts into coherent images in my mind. It just so happened that the time of my returning sanity and a new year were to make an unplanned collision. So the changes I wanted AND NEEDED to make became my new year's resolutions by perfect chance. It's way too soon to say whether or not I'll maintain my current line of thought and action. Let's just hope I'm not making a mistake by calling them resolutions.

(insert title here)

There's something so tantalizing about a good title. It's the first thing that grabs your attention to pick up that book on the shelf and flip through some pages. Whenever I was done writing an essay for school or something, I would get heavily excited about adding the final touch that included the perfect title. It can never be too long and wearisome; the better it is when succinct but nonetheless powerful. I don't find that the weight of a great title is in its length or complicated vocabulary. Sometimes it's those one word titles that pique our interest immediately. I personally prefer titles with more than a single word, unless that word alone is enough to carry the voice of the literature in its entirety. I like titles that are mystifying but not so foreign sounding at the same time.
I don't think I'm any good as a writer but I love writing anyway. When I was a little girl, I thought I could write a novel in a few short days. Of course I never got more than a few amateur pages accomplished. And my only motivation to even get that far was the brilliant title I had prepared for an unwritten story. A phrase would become my inspiration to make my work come alive (instead of the other way around). But I was too young then, and my inspiration lasted only as long as my attention span in Mr. Brandenburgh's 4th grade class.
Even now though, I get secret jitters whenever I come across a mesmerizing title of another work or I conjure up my own. Simple things in life (like an excellent title) make me happy.

stand still with me

Most people are surprised to find out that I've never been in a "real" relationship. I've dated, seen, and had interest in plenty of guys, but never have I experienced that striking pull towards anyone enough to keep me captivated in anything more serious. The only benefit from countless failed trials is that I've learned a great deal about myself in trying to find reasons for my incapability to mingle successfully. It seems that most, if not all, of my problems stem from fear. A fear of committing to something that won't be fairly reciprocal. A fear of being fully exposed to vulnerability. A fear of becoming too dependent on another. A fear of giving trust, knowing it could easily be betrayed. A fear of abandonment. Ultimately, a fear of coming to know that magical feeling romantics concoct in their daydreams --love.
I wouldn't call myself a romantic. But in the deepest corner of my heart, I long for such fanciful dreams to become my reality. (This is the silly little girl in me that will always be apart of my composition). Fear is something hard to overcome so I can't proclaim to get over any of it simply like eating pie. But I know I have to be willing to be a little more vulnerable and trusting of others to catch my fall, if I want to give myself any chance of overcoming any illusions I created. All I want is somebody for me, and to be that somebody for that person too.

imperfection

Heroes are respectable. Police officers keep our communities safe. Fire fighters put out fires and retrieve kitties stuck in trees. Doctors save lives. Parents pass on their morals to children. But that's just the good side of things.
What would a hero be without something to be heroic for? In a sense, police officers need crime; burning buildings call for extinguishers; the ill need caring for; children need to misbehave in order to be taught the differences between right and wrong.
Everyone wants to grow up to be something or someone with outwardly good intentions . Truthfully speaking, some of us just want to do something only for us. I'm not saying which is better because the former is not always an honest statement. Someone can claim all they want that they want to become a doctor to perform lifesaving surgeries, but if patients were always healthy (as is the goal of doctors to treat sickness) there would be no job for doctors. This kind of reasoning applies to all those we consider heroic deeds.
We simply CANNOT live in a perfect world where the concept of bad or evil does not exist. In truth, it is the very bad that drives us to be/do good. Don't just complain about all the nonsensical evil in this world and instead, derive goodness from it by exploring the far reaching limits of humanity. Embrace the imperfect world we were born to live in.

Dear Trey Songz,

I know you want the money, money and the cars, cars and the clothes, I suppose... but I can't stop missing you; wish I was there with you. You so fly; I'm so fly; what's more fly than you and I together? You need a girl that could say "Aah." I can be that girl that makes all the neighbors know your name. I can totally believe you invented you-know-what. So I can't help but wait till you see with me it ain't the same.

Signing off (LOL smiley face),
Wonder Woman

apathy

It doesn't sound life threatening, but a lack of concern can be extremely dangerous. I know what changes I need to make in my life to reach that comfortable level of satisfaction and acceptance. It's not that I'm clueless about what I have to do. Rather, it's my inability to grasp any compelling reason for me to make these modifications. Much of the time, I make decisions based on how they'll affect others. In no way am I proclaiming to be a selfless human being, but I do greatly consider how my actions will affect people around me when I make any decision. Right now I am living a life many (especially my closest friends) may not approve of wholeheartedly. But no matter how persistently they urge me to make changes in my life for "my own good," my decisions are ultimately all up to me to make. And I have to decide to do things differently for my own sake. I have to be completely selfish for a moment and think only about my desire to change certain things that may act as self-deprecating in my life. Without a doubt I have to find reasons to make changes to myself for me.

I'm on a search to discover these reasons.