allow me to introduce myself.
it's interesting how even the best of the best of the friends
can know everything about me, yet miss the little things.
it's not on purpose
on their part or mine.
so i thought that i'd provide a nice little reference.

I really like collecting paper (but I'm not sure why).
I find it difficult to go to bed or get out of bed at any time other than the top or bottom of the hour.
It's pretty easy for me to stay up late regardless of how tired I am.
My legs really like to walk.
Spiders still scare me (a lot).
I oftentimes find myself in situations where I'm stifling a laugh and barely breathing in trying to stay cool because no one else thought something was funny.
The only thing that I knew about football before this year was what one looked like and what a touchdown was (sorta). But Len has taught the A-Z of the game for both college and pro, and now I can't get enough of it.
I don't particularly like snow.

Thanks for wasting your time by
reading this post.
It probably won't change your life,
but i'm bored.



One of my past goals went somewhere along the lines of
"When I'm somewhere, be there."
By that I mean --
it's not enough to be physically present,
I must be mentally present as well.
When I'm a meeting for alkdfjalwiealva0,
then I'm there and
not thinking about fijierjfalewjq.

I've found that the converse must hold true as well.
If I'm not there, don't worry about it yet.
If three papers are due within the span of one week
but it's still a month away,
don't stress out about it yet.

It's going to be OK.



Today, I've consumed...
  • 2 cups of coffee
  • 1 bowl of cereal
  • 1 slice of pizza
  • 2 healthy-something bars
  • 1 packet of Ramen
  • chocolate
  • french fries
  • a vanilla milk shake
UGH. I feel gross.



Back to Berkeley
and the cold.


Changing tides, Waves, ...and Motion (When the night falls)

It's good to know that you're still there, San Diego.I miss you.I'll always love you.I'll try not to to forget about you as much as I do while I'm way up here, or wherever else life carries me.

I closed my eyes. I listened. Waves crashing.
I opened my eyes. I searched. Stars revealed themselves in little bunches as my eyes adjusted for their shy twinkle.
I inhaled -- deeply, to match the night. Ocean spray.
I turned my body. I searched again. The blue-black of the Pacific Ocean meets the black-blue sky.

In these conditions, it's hard to deny feelings any longer. I was awakened in the night. I allowed myself to dream and let my emotions wash over me.



When we think of the "have-nots", what don't they have? Family, love, work, a sense of purpose, food, clothes, shelter... all the important and basic necessities that allow life. Living.

I'm a "have". I am.

So what am I complaining about?

OK, not complaining, more-so analyzing. Is this crazy, endless schedule of tasks, activities, and homework life? In times that I'm not happy, does it point to the fact that this isn't life, or that I'm living too much?

Stress, physiologically speaking, is supposed to be a good thing. Granted, as with anything else in life, too much of it is harmful. I've said nothing profound.

But when is it too much? It was too much freshman year, when I was sad, frustrated, and anxious seemingly all the time. Right now.. it's less frequent, but it's cyclic. Talk about maximizing resources, I seem to be working with the belief that it's never enough until I'm breaking down.

And in between those times of mild breakdowns, I'm working. Is there much to be said about finding joy in working? Because I do, sometimes. My dad always said that if I find a job that I enjoy, then I'll never have to work a day in my life. Maybe. Maybe not. Whatever we decide to call these activities that fill my time, it still leaves me exhausted and depleted of... I don't know. Everything.

Is there much to be said about finding ways to work during what would-have-been down times? That I choose not to eat lunch and dinner with friends many times because I find it too necessary to finish some work while I take my meals?

Me: "I want to quit."
Him: "Quit what?"
Me: "Everything. I want to run away tomorrow morning, withdraw from school and drop out of every organization, and go somewhere where no one will rely on me for anything. I'm done."
Him: "You're work is appreciated. People are counting on you because they know that they can. If you need help, that's what I'm here for. That's why we're here for each other."

So, with that... He wiped away my tears, I took a shower, brushed my teeth... and got back to work... slept for 3.5 hours and, again, got back to work.

It never ends. And, I guess, if this is me living life to its fullest, it never will.


Somewhere Out There

On the one hand, I feel like I'm always missing out on cool meteor showers that are not scheduled to come around for another billion years (something like that).

On the other hand, I also feel like there's another meteor shower/solar/lunar/something comet to see every month.

Anyone else feel me on this?

All That (and a Bag of Chips)

I need a handbook of American metaphors, clichés, sayings, and euphemisms. My imagination "goes wild" with confusion when someone is speaking to me and they say something like:

"...we need to tighten our belts!"
"...we need to go out before the camels!"
"...how do you like them apples?"
or "Do I look like a turnip that just fell off of the turnip truck?"


Metaphors are supposed to help "drive a point home", but many times, you end up losing me completely, speaker.


abstract goals

-To realize that I possess all that I need and to rid myself of unhealthy wants.
-To realize that I must continue to work towards meeting my future needs.
-To get the music back in my life.

Oy. I'm a workaholic. And I don't want to be one anymore.




When I started this blog, I wanted to start fresh. This blog was going to be an outlet for me to show people my mind. Past blogs had other themes - comedic, emotional, even one entirely separate blog about boys and relationships. I wish I were kidding.

This blog, however, would be as empty of emotion as possible.

My reasoning was that folks don't want to read about your happiness or sadness -- not that that's a bad thing. They do care about your well-being. They're happy for you when you're happy. They hope that you feel better when you're sad.

But they don't want to read about it. Ultimately, how you feel will not affect how they go about their day. They don't want to read your heart, they want to read your mind.

I figured: I want people to read my writing. So I wrote my mind. I abandoned poetry. I abandoned style. I remember that I showed him a piece of my writing from my past, and he said that it sounded so maarte. I was crushed. I stopped writing with the aesthetic that I was once so proud of.

And then, the emotional girl disappeared. The girl who used to sink and and then soar in a matter of seconds is... gone? Grown up? Stifled? ...Waiting?

I'm using only one operating system right now. My feet are heavy, but they're planted firmly in the ground.