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Thursday, September 26, 2013

My Family

This was my first attempt at writing about my family...I realized I had too many people who qualified...

Because I'm in the library, and can't put headphones in without seeming rude and unprofessional, I'm switching it up and doing my family first. I have 5 hours, I hope that's enough time.

Because this is the internet, I am going to use code names for my family, aside from the regular Mum, Dad and Puni. They can all keep their names, as unless you know me and my family, you will have no idea who they are.

There are so many ways I could describe my family. There are the businessman, the isolated, the crazies, the sensitives, and the ones that I can't put into a category because I know and love them too much.

I will try and explain my family by the memories I have of them; in this way, you will think of them more as a part of my life and not by some name that could mean nothing.

So this is my second attempt...
Dear Family, 
Mom and Dad bug the crap out of me. They are annoying and pestering and they have too much wisdom. They are too smart, too good of parents to me and Puni. I don't know if I can handle it. I will say I wish they let me make my own mistakes more often. Not the life threatening ones, like go skydiving without a licensed professional, or go into the job market without a degree (the one I'm working incredibly hard for at the most Disneyland of colleges, which I love {thank you for paying for}), but I need to go into the world knowing what I can and cannot do for myself. I am a trial and error kind of gal, and I don't think you let me make my own mistakes enough. I need to try, and fail, before I can really succeed. 
Aunt Jane is amazing. I want to be a teacher who changes the world, and she qualifies as just such a one. I want to be book loving and creative and have floor to ceiling windows like you. I think your house is too messy, but I get that that comes with the territory and I love your apple pie. I wish I knew Uncle Burt better, because when I was little his beard scared me and I only started to like and know him a bit back. I do wish we had more in common, but I haven't discovered much, other than poetry, yet. 
And I didn't like that either...
Dear Family, 
Thank you for loving me. Thank you for raising me, and caring for me, and trying to teach me the ways of the world in very different fashions. Thank you to Aunt Jane and Uncle Burt, who taught me a messy house promotes ideas, that floor to ceiling windows are amazing, that books can take you so many places and that whatever happens they will always be there. Thank you for giving me cousins that will swing me around and boost me up on their shoulders, like Neil, Isaac and Joel.Thank you to Aunt Bay and Uncle Smith, who taught me that even when they don't see me they love me and are thinking of me, that second chances are worth everything, family reunions are a must and that through the toughest of times life is still worth a dip in the pool. 
Thank you to Aunt Ria and Uncle K for exposing me to good food and family ties and those parties that you never want to end. Thank you for giving me cousins who I can relate to and cousins who tease me to pieces. Thank you Aunt Ria for bailing me out of trouble and being my sounding board, backbone, iTunes Library and my own personal Wikipedia. Thank you Uncle K for being Dad's best friend and so many laughs; thank you for being "kool." To Uncle Bob and Aunt Lu, thank you for introducing me to crab dip and zumba; I am glad to know we still can have fun every once in a while. 
Thank you to Mia, who I love and admire, and who has a great sense of style. Thank you James for providing excitement in my life and cooking me great food. Thanks Mindy and Ellen for Thanksgivings and Christmas Break in NH. 
To Danielle, I want you to know that I love you and am always there for you, and that you, like me, have a family that supports you. 
To Wiz and Pop, I know we don't see eye to eye but your emails cheer me up, always. I love being kissed on the head, dome-smacker, and pearls are truly my favorite stone, for June. Don't give up on me, or Christmas, or the 4th of July, because it would be so different without you. 
To Mom and Dad, you bug the crap outta me. You are too smart, too pestering and too wise for your own good. Sometimes it's just overwhelming. Mom I can't deal with so many questions at a time. Dad, I'm glad you let me make my own mistakes, because sooner or later I will never make them again. 
Puni...Puni, Puni, Puni. You are a torture and a menace but I am proud to say you are on the honor roll and you drive better than Mom and Dad combined.  You're loud and annoying and I could never live a day without knowing you're taking care of yourself...and the dogs. 
To the other members of my close family, some adopted; Auntie, Auntie Rose, Eden, Sue, you are all still part of my life, and you know it. Thanks, once and for all, and know that I will always blame you for bringing out the crazies in me. Cheers,

Monday, September 23, 2013

The Importance of Education

I find it ironic how much I want to be a teacher, and yet I feel that the education system is so flawed. I want to teach people the power of words. I want people to feel how much people can express themselves and make themselves heard. I want people to realize how strong a story can be, anyone's story. But the education system focuses more on what must be taught; the strict requirements that students must learn, to be determined as successful. Education is so highly valued, but valued how, now that college is becoming more of a requirement to be successful. What happened to the days when high school was enough to broaden your horizons. Yes, the world is growing, but it's also getting smaller and smarter. People can't keep up, and its becoming more and more expensive to be knowledgeable, rather than smart.

I don't know how I feel about focused education; I have known, essentially, what I have wanted to do since I was in eighth grade; I wanted to work with words. But I could as easily see myself teaching as I could advocating, being in government, or writing and publishing. All of those things attract me because they incorporate the power of words so strongly into their everyday life. So why put too much emphasis on Gen-Eds? We, as a society, think you need to narrow down you field, so we give you options. Great, good idea. But don't make someone take calculus when they're failing the class. Don't implant the Darwinism theory into someone's belief if they plan on going nowhere near the science lab. And why do we need a degree in theoretical physics or a thesis on why Oliver Wilde was gay, and therefore influenced his most famous pieces and quotes. Its Science, or English, and you should leave it at that. No one is going to care, unless you are a professor at Harvard, what your thesis was or why Newton's personality affect his laws. These are all examples, but you get the point.

What I Ate Today (yesterday)

Breakfast, please come 
more often. I miss your 
light love in the mornings, 
because it reminds me of
sunrises and whitewashes 

I ate an all consuming 
omelet and bacon, having
within it morsels of tomatoes, 
peppers, onions, and that 
love of mine known as 

Lunch was combination 
of the above, later
satisfied by a fruit snack
or two and a lovely glass of

Dinner caught me by surprise,
as my stomach announced 
unexpectedly that it was mad.
I cooked two eggs, the first
failing to melt on toast, with
lovely garlic goat cheese atop.

Later, my stomach protested still, 
and so after calling in reinforcements
we made bow-ties with vodka sauce.
I was quite content until ten, when I 
ate the leftover chips, and then proceeded
to brush my teeth and dream about
what I would eat today.

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Five Pet Peeves

Five pet peeves. I supposed a pet peeve is something someone else does that just gets under your skin. My pet peeves tend to be somewhat inexplicable, I think, in the sense that I can't explain why I don't like them, I just don't. 

I think the biggest thing anyone can ever do to bug me is not listen to me. My mom does it, all the time, and sooner or later I feel like I will just stop telling her things altogether. Not listening to me means I'm not important enough or what I'm saying has little value, so why am I talking? I don't like the sound of my own voice that much. I don't feel loved when I'm not listened to, and everyone likes feeling loved. So in a roundabout way, if you don't listen to me, you might not love me or respect me that much. In which case, we shouldn't talk anymore. End of story.

Another thing that irks me, but is much less controllable, is snoring. I've been told I don't do it, I've been told I do, but when the lump next to me is singing the song of the freight train, my sleep deprivation grows as my patience diminishes. You could be my night in shining armor, but if you snore we're going to have a different problem. It's not even so much the heavy breathers, but the inconsistent drum roll up someone's nose. 

Similar to snoring but much less pleasant is sniveling. Yes, I mean both the synonym to sucking up as well as the announcement that you have snot in your nostrils. I don't need to know as much as you don't need it in your body. A tissue, a hankie, even a sleeve will do at the worst of times, but please, don't sneeze it out on me. 

So I am a romantic, it's a well known fact. I will never ask you to be a romantic, nor will I try and force my beliefs upon you. But I believe that a budding romance comes to a point where, if nothing has been done till then, action must be taken. Don't stand back in the shadows, FIGHT FOR HIM. Tell him, kiss him, just for heavens sake come out with the fact. It never did anyone any good to torture poor fools in love, so make it known. At least then the giant pink elephant in the room can be acknowledged. 

A great pet peeve of mine is touchy people with simple minds. The ones who use names so outdated they come off offensive, or their tone condescends so much you could slide down it like a ski slope. No one asked you for your medical diagnoses, or who someone can love in this world. Go back to your cave with your paisley curtains and monogrammed everything. I never asked you for your starch opinion. 

Some of these are harsh, I know. And I know I definitely have more, however many they may be. But I feel like I'm a tolerant person who tries to respect people; and except for maybe the snoring, I come across and ignore these pet peeves every day. I just have to pick my battles, you know? 

Thursday, September 19, 2013

My View On Mainstream Music

Wordle of Top Lyrics of 2012

Preview of Wordle for 2013

No one can deny a good beat or a catchy lyric. And even out of mainstream music society has popularized, recognized and set to replay some songs that became classics. But the definition of mainstream is a prevailing current or direction of activity or influence, and honestly I'm not thrilled with the direction mainstream music is going. We have one or two hits every year that we listen to for a set period of time, but I don't feel like we've created a legacy. I want the next Beatles, the new Aretha Franklin and someone who can challenge the Police. I also want a song other than Stairway to Heaven that we can play at the end of a dance, something that my generation, or someone close, created. Love songs become more cheesy, rock and roll becomes more about sex and less about struggle, and frankly I think the world is running out of ideas. I want to hear a new mainstream, something that will never die. So as much as I want someone to call me maybe, or however much I want to hear the applause, it wont last. I'm just wondering if I will ever appreciate the "next big thing."

A Letter To Your Ex

Dear You,
I don't have dreams anymore. I don't have night terrors or moments when I feel like you're hiding in the shadows. I don't cry anymore.
I remember everything about you, because you made forced me to remember your name because I said it every day. You forced me to remember how old you were by lording it over me. You forced me to remember your eyes because you kept your face three inches from mine as you pinned my moral to the ground. I could no more forget you as I could lift you off me.
I don't remember exactly when I last saw you. I have relapses where I think I might die if I ever did. But I also have those moments, once in a while when my memories sink low on the bow of sleep, when I remember reading with you. I remember writing with you and you drawing me, and I hate myself a little bit more every time because I don't hate those memories. I treat them with a caution and unease that superman treats kryptonite, because he knows someday it might kill him. But it's a beautiful substance all the same. You can't always haunt my nightmares, but no one ever said anything about trespassing on my dreams. It was always so like you to go where you were never expected. I regret only that I can't erase all of you, except the knowledge that you were a good idea that turned into a better mistake, only because you made me learn more about the world outside my bubble. Congrats, I didn't know your needles were that sharp and that the dreams might someday kill me. But I'm glad I can say now you're out of my nightmares, because now at least you're not there when I wake up in the morning.

Bullet Your Whole Day

So here's how today went:

-First, I woke up. All I wanted was cute puppies and chocolate and wine, because guess what guys, I found out in the most painful way, that I'm not pregnant...again. Thanks, but next time put a note in my underwear drawer or something.
So Lilly helped me up, and I brushed my teeth and got dressed in this really cute outfit, and it was great start to my day. Then we went to the bakery and I got a southwest sandwich on a jalapeƱos cheddar bagel, and it was delicious.

-Then I came back to the apartment and Kate told me she and Reilly broke up. Shocker. Look, I like them both, but I called that. So I listened and comforted and consoled until she left, whereas then I finished my Jackie Robinson movie and convinced myself I then had to try, and go to class.
-Italian is beautiful. I love it. My teacher is funny, the class is less busywork and more language conception, and I love that. I do not love the creeper that sits three down from me. Sufficient to say he's on my "top 10 suspects if I suddenly evaporate" list.

-After class, I came back my room and heard more about Reilly. But Kate had class, AND LILLY SHOWED UP TO GO GROCERY SHOPPING. It's a really well kept secret, so don't tell, but I LOVE grocery shopping. It's like going into the place that sells your passion and being surrounded by love and cucumbers, every time. There's very little that will change, but so many outcomes.

-We then bought $115 dollars worth of pasta, cheese and baking supplies to make pancakes and love, and proceeded to the grille to swipe for a sushi roll. It was definitely yummy.

-In the interim between when Lilly left and came back, I read my book, talked with Kate and her friends, did homework and watched TV. Then Lilly returned and we took a shower with my new shampoo that smells like sexy men in a citrus garden. Sufficient to say Lilly thought I was crazy for buying men's shampoo, and I just wanted to smell nice. After that, I watched half a movie with Adam and Kate, and proceeded to fall asleep sitting up before going to bed at 12.

Monday, September 16, 2013

A Book You Love

Let me try once more," Milo said in an effort to explain. "In other words--"
"You mean you have other words?" cried the bird happily. "Well, by all means, use them. You're certainly not doing very well with the ones you have now.” 

“if something is there, you can only see it with your eyes open, but if it isn't there, you can see it just as well with your eyes closed. That's why imaginary things are often easier to see than real ones.” 
“As the cheering continued, Rhyme leaned forward and touched Milo gently on the shoulder. 
"They're cheering for you," she said with a smile. 
"But I could never have done it," he objected, "without everyone else's help." 
"That may be true," said Reason gravely, "but you had the courage to try; and what you can do is often simply a matter of what you *will* do." 
"That's why," said Azaz, "there was one very important thing about your quest that we couldn't discuss until you returned. 
"I remember," said Milo eagerly. "Tell me now." 
"It was impossible," said the king, looking at the Mathemagician. 
"Completely impossible," said the Mathemagician, looking at the king. 
"Do you mean----" said the bug, who suddenly felt a bit faint. 
"Yes, indeed," they repeated together; "but if we'd told you then, you might not have gone---and, as you've discovered, so many things are possible just as long as you don't know they're impossible." 
And for the remainder of the ride Milo didn't utter a sound.” 

To a child, there is nothing more wonderous than the adult world and nothing more exciting that doing something you've never done before, or making sense of something you've never understood. I read The Phantom Tollbooth countless times as a kid. My dad read it to me for the first time, lying in the giant queen bed in the master bedroom as I yawned. Yet I managed to push my bedtime farther and farther by asking for just one more chapter. My excuse was that it didn't make sense yet, and it just had to make sense. I lied, though, because every word in that book made beautiful sense to me. I understood everything Milo was going through because in a fantasy land of the young and drowsy, nothing is better appreciated than a bedtime story about a hero in a far off land who's task is to rescue not one, but two princesses. I remember thinking about the words I had recently aquired as I stood in front of my fourth grade class I told them about the far off country of India. I remember struggling in adolescence about how people would tell me things were impossible, and I would say to them in my head that it was only impossible because you said it to me, and therefore have destroyed the idea in my head that it once was possible, for me. 
 And all of those ideas in my head, those dreams that never seem to come true but even now hold that promise of a good thought, that book held that reminder for me. See the imaginary thoughts, the imaginary ideas, and those dreams turn from your imagination into real life on paper or in words or into people you meet. I love that book for keeping the child alive in me, and I remind myself that nothing is impossible until you say it is. 

“Would it be possible for me to see something from up there?" asked Milo politely.

"You could," said Alec, "but only if you try very hard to look at things as an adult does."

Milo tried as hard as he could, and, as he did, his feet floated slowly off the ground until he was standing in the air next to Alex Bings. He looked around very quickly and, an instant later, crashed back down to the earth again.

"Interesting, wasn't it?" asked Alex.

"Yes, it was," agreed Milo, rubbing his head and dusting himself off, "but I think I'll continue to see things as a child. It's not so far to fall.” 

Sunday, September 15, 2013

Something You Feel Strongly About

If I had to fight for one thing, i would fight for second chances. I feel strongly about second chances. I sometimes even feel strongly about third fourth and fifth chances
I think I depend on them
So much
Because of what I could loose
If I didn't
I would loose a chance
To better myself
To boost a grade
To redeem and earn forgiveness
To make myself into someone
Who someone else would want to be
I depend on them
I depend on that sense of
Maybe tomorrow
Maybe the next day
I crave that feeling that maybe this time
It will be better
I have that unwavering faith in people
That generally gets me in trouble
And you would think
That with all that trouble
I would stop believing in
And depending on
Second chances
But you're wrong
And for that
I will give you a second chance

Saturday, September 14, 2013

Five Ways to Win My Heart

Dear Present Day Romeo,
If only I knew how to win my own heart, I could tell you, and then maybe I would have a slightly more rom-com love life. If only. I don't honestly think I know five ways I could win my own heart, but if I were you, here's what I would try;
5. Please hold my hand. Please kiss me when I least expect it, and hug me when I need it most. Please squeeze my shoulder when I'm having a bad day, and give me a fist bump when everything goes my way. Please touch knees with me under the table at dinner, and brush by me on your way somewhere new. Please let me know you're there, and touch me.
4. Please humor me. When I have that hunch that I forgot something, remind me that I probably did. When I ask to build that pillow fort, or want to tell ghost stories, please play along and climb in and get scared. When I want to wake up early and stay up late, when I want to go places that seem hard or tedious, when I want to be part of everything else, let me. Let me be myself, and in turn I will love all of your quirks that make you who you are.
3. Please love food. Please love waking up early or staying up late and making fabulous concoctions or simple treats. Please enjoy the sweet and savory, the rich and hearty, the light and fantastic. I want to sit down across from you and know you love eating and talking with me as much as I do, if not more. Please love cooking and eating with me. Please never leave your tastebuds lonely.
2. Please make me cry. Make me laugh so hard tears run down my face until my nostrils flare and I can't breath anymore. Please make me giggle until my face turns pink and I become hot and nervous. Please make me laugh, but let me, in return, do the same for you. Let me make you laugh.
1. Please let me know you still know me. Don't forget who I am, don't forget what I need and what I want. Don't forget what makes me original and sarcastic and fun to be around. Don't forget to let me be my own person, with or without anyone supporting me. Remind me that I am beautiful, and that you love me for who I am. Boost me when I am down, praise me when I am up, bring me down when my ego gets too high. Please tease me. But let me be my own somebody in a world of everyone elses, and in turn, I will do the same. But remember to love me. Always love me.

Do you know me now Romeo? Do you think you can win my heart? Try Romeo, and accept the challenge; I've already told you how I think it can be done, but add your own twist, and see how far I might fall.

30 Days and Sleepless Nights

And so begins the 30 Days and Sleepless Nights. This summer, I tried to write every day for thirty days, following a prompt I found on my Pinterest. However it was somewhat unreasonable for me to strive for that, as I was working six days a week from 6 am to 11 pm. Now that I'm back at school, however, I will try my best and start again.