Growing Up (kinda)

I finished the Toradora! anime yesterday (or shall I say early this morning?) and it made me think a lot about myself. Ha, ha, yeah... what doesn't make me think a lot about myself? What doesn't make me wonder about my own growth and upkeep? Well, hey—it's kind of nice to be reminded every once in a while. Another thing that has made me go under a lot of self-speculation was watching new film adaptation of The Great Gatsby. I'll get to that a little bit later, though.

Toradora! started off as a cutesy high school romance story between two characters, Taiga and Ryuuji. Ryuuji had it bad for Taiga's best friend, Minori. Taiga had it bad for Ryuuji's best friend, Maruo. Or Yuusaku. Well, he went by both, but his last name is Kitamura so yeah, we'll go with that. Well anyway, Taiga and Ryuuji both team up and try to hook each other up with their best friends. However, they realize that they actually are in love with each other, and drama drama drama. Towards the end of the anime, it got really deep. Broken families, expectations, life, growing up, and love—they ended up sacrificing things in their life, because they knew if they went too fast, that it would all break apart. They took their time, they broadened their perspectives and dealt with their personal demons.

I related a lot to Ryuuji's family background. I understood where he was coming from. A single mother who got pregnant at an early age, and no father-figure to guide him. I saw myself in him because I take the responsibilities around the house. I'm the level-headed one who gets stuff done.

But the anime taught me to take things in stride. It reinforced in me the fact that life doesn't always work out at first, and that it does take effort. I can't just breeze my way into things. It has to matter. It has to mean something. I'm on the path of finding out what I want and will do with my life... but it's alright to be afraid. It's alright to not know exactly what yet.

Gatsby taught me some things too, but those were impulsive thoughts... laced with a little bit of heart-break, I suppose. I don't want to call myself the jealous type, but I will admit to it. I am but a jealous soul, but I am also protective. Though I found out quickly enough that though I want to protect those that I love, sometimes I can't. And, when I can't, I need to trust them that they will do what is best for them. I cannot make that decision for them—that is something that they must do for themselves. And with that, I find myself to be a very selfish being, too. I want people all for myself. I don't want to give them away. I think it's because I have a minor abandonment problem.

Actually, I'm pretty sure that I do. But, I've gotten better with it. People don't fully leave me; I am the one who pushes them away. When I can't have someone all for myself, I reject the little pieces I still have from them and try to push them out of my mind and heart. God, what a dysfunctional way to go about things. Life does not work that way. People do not work that way. I can't have everything, duh.

It's alright though. I think people find me fragile. I think people find me tough. I'm both. I'm fragile, I'm tough, but I'm resilient. When life kicks my ass, I know how to kick it back up. I'm not hopeless, nor aimless. I take trials and complete them—though some may be a longer journey than the others. I say it's all good because really, it is all good.

Total weirdo.

I'm actually quite glad no one ever really goes on this blog anymore. It's nice being able to think out and type out my thoughts without people actually having to read it.

Well, no—scratch that. This is public. If I were to ever delete this, a copy of it would still be floating around somewhere. But it is nice getting out thoughts and no one in my immediate friend circle will read, but rather the world. There is this certain anonymous aspect to it that I really dig; and even though my friends who do follow me on here can still read whatever I post, I kind of trust that they don't because, well, Tumblr fever took over months ago and they are most definitely not turning back.

Neither am I for that matter, but too many people know me on Tumblr. I don't want a response from these posts anymore. I just want to get them out of the way so I can forget about them. I want this as a collective diary that only I can write, read if I want to.

And if any of you peeps are reading this, you should stop. This is all totally unimportant. This is just how I manage to stay sane.

Or perhaps preserving my sanity is important...

I have this weird mentality that I will wait for whatever comes to me. Patiently wait. Wait for love, wait for money, wait for the sun to shine and wait for the rain to fall. All things good happen to those who wait, but when does waiting get too long? When does assertion have to jump in and kick patience in the ass?

I admit that I am too accommodating. I learned long ago not to call myself "too nice". One can never simply be too nice—niceness is a quality that should not be wasted. I should help out everybody and everything to the best of my abilities whenever I can. However, that shouldn't mean that I should drop my own priorities for the sake of someone else. Though I want to help out, I need to realize that I am my number one priority. I shouldn't hold other people up higher than I view myself. There's this little thing called self-esteem and the need to feel accepted that sort of... intercepts my own self-worth. It's quite ironic.

Though I am a firm believer in waiting for the right time and place, is the "right" time or place ever stated? Is it on a whim? Or is it impulse and intuition? Most of the time I fall with my intuition. And, most of the time it sets me on a greater path. I have great timing, and it's shown all throughout my life. But now that I am older, now that I can go see the world right now, tomorrow, if I wanted to, what am I exactly waiting for? This subject ties in with a lot of things that I've had weighing down on my mind lately. Some such topics will be for a later time. I don't know.

One such thing I have been thinking about is the concept of unconditional love. Unconditional literally means without a condition. Love, well, we all know what love is. But, do we understand what love is?—most specifically unconditional love?

This is perhaps one of the biggest things people want in their life. Someone to love them through their flaws, faults, habits, routine, annoyances, likes, dislikes, hates, and all things related. I know that I want that special someone in my life to love me up to the brim; I know that I want to love them more than I love myself. I don't even care about the sex, the intercourse, the "love making" if you will. I would be quite content with someone just holding me. It's really not too much to ask—but yes it is. Love is expensive. And, I'd imagine unconditional love is beyond price. What I don't understand is how someone can fully give themselves away to someone else. It's like walking on thin ice (pardon the cliche). It's stepping into the dark with a dying flashlight. It's that moment where you let yourself fall and hope that the other person is there behind you to catch you.

We all want love, yes. But I guard myself from it so much that sometimes I'd rather be alone than have to burden the other person to deal with my insecurities and personal rejection. I always say that "it's not worth it", especially with things regarding myself. It's not important. It's not worth it.

What exactly is not worth it? The fact that somebody cares for you? Am I selfish enough to self-indulge that I am not worth other people's time and care? I'm so damn backwards that it hurts to think about sometimes. Soak up the sun, revel in the fact that people genuinely want to know how you are doing, how you have been, what you are up to.

I part of it, I believe, is due to my parents. I'm afraid of giving my heart away because I don't want to end up like them. And this is a battle I'll be fighting for most of my life: the fact that I am not my parents and that I never will be. It's all my own choice. I build my own fate. And so this ties in with my feelings about time. Waiting. Waiting for something good, only to realize that I've waiting for so long that it has all turned bad. Why am I so cautious? Because that is in my personality. Side-step the issue until I cannot avoid it any longer.

I feel that this all has to do with my unspoken obligations to people. I finally declared myself as an English major with a concentration in writing. I cannot be happier. But, when I was in my rut, what was my motivation for being in school? I didn't want to learn anything. A lot of what I'm doing now I could do myself, or care less about. When the hell am I ever going to need statistics? I'm a damn writing major now! And all of these art classes, yeah it's great they are giving me direction, but I could have learned this all myself, by myself. Sometimes I just don't know, but I feel that I use that as a crutch.

I need school because I don't have a strict direction. It's all general, all haphazard. I go where ever I want to go. All I lack is the motivation. I have determination, but that is only fueled when I have specks on the horizon of what I want. What do I want? Where am I going? I promised others, as well as myself, that I'd finish college. That is a no-brainer. I'm too far in to quit now, and if any of you knew me, you'd understand that I hate quitting things that I've already started. That is why I've failed so many math classes: because I'm stubborn and prideful. I'm too prideful to ask for help in some subjects, and I'm too stubborn for everything else. I'm a walking contradiction, and it's horrible.

God put me here for a purpose. I just have to pray that I'll see it soon.

I've diverged and dove-tailed, but I'll leave the rest for another time.

This is Named after a Timber Timbre Song.

When I think about last year —such an awkward year it was— I realize that I don't even remember most of it. There were many instances that are highlighted in the back of my mind, and these are instances that I can remember because I can't forget. Those memories are better left unsaid, unreeled to an audience.

I mean, I've already wrote those down in an essay, a personal anecdote... and that story is over.

And here I am again: back to this place in my life, except this time, I've found a lot more sunshine (and even a little more pigment!).

When I think back to last year, I can't even remember most of it. I'm not the party-type; I didn't drink, smoke weed, or have crazy freshman sex. The worst I did was take a sip of vodka, actually gain that "Freshman 15", and steal cartons of soymilk from the dining commons. I had a different kind of college blackout. I believe it's because I was in such a dark slump my first year of college.

The summer before moving into the dorms leaves small space for emotional transition. I feel like I had really lost my best friend, and that it was all my fault because I was bitter, jealous, self-pitying, and perhaps just a little bit neglected. But it's easy to play the victim, I admit. It's easy to blame someone else, but sometimes it's even easier to blame yourself. I felt alone—I didn't know anybody on campus. San Jose is a city where sirens go off every half an hour downtown, and I didn't feel that I could talk to my roommate because she was the rich preppy cheerleader type who scared the hell out of me. She made me feel poor, she made me feel insignificant.

(And again, the roommate stuff is in the essay previously mentioned, so I'm not going to go through much of it.)

I remember getting out of class in a hurry, just to get back to my dorm and log into Skype to talk to those friends who I felt that I lost in the transition. One friend, one such dear friend, felt the same way about it—she went across the country to her college, and I remember talking to her the most because she was in the same place. And even though I talked to her, and was reassured that this was normal, I still felt lonely. I still felt the crush of my mom and her relationship with her new boyfriend. I still felt the crush that I would not really be able to see my dad in a long, long time. I still felt that crush that overwhelms a person into such an inexplicable state that all that can be done is just fly by.

And so that is why I'm here now, sitting in my dimly lit room, waiting for the moon to come out.

And, well... perhaps it's sappy 80's music that makes me a little bit nostalgic. But this was something that has been on my mind for a few hours now. This is one of those full-circle moments that I'm sure I'll be having every year I'm in this weird college place.

Something from the other day triggered a weird set of memories. I dabbled with the thought of becoming an English major last year, first semester. Why I didn't change it right away to that, well... it was God's plan. In order to reach a set of promise, one has to trudge through pain and uncertainty. Going into the English major office to my advisor, she had made a comment how I had taken a linguistics class. And for a moment, I was a bit confused... what? I took linguistics? When?

Then it hit me: oh yeah, linguisitcs. With the professor who looked like John Lennon and had MLP: FiM/weed cookie parties with his friends in Santa Cruz. Oh yeah.

And that led to the intellectual snowballing of those who were in my class. On guy who was serviced in Iraq, that one girl with the orange (and then purple) hair, and that one Chinese girl who offered me chocolate that one day. I still have the wrapper to it stuck in one of my binders that I used for that class.

This Chinese girl ties in with my thoughts because I forgot what her name is. Just like how I forgot how I took a linguistics class, how I forgot how dark the beginning of my year really was. We could have become great friends, I'm sure of it. She was one of those anime chicks, yeah—so we had common ground. She had a cool sense of style, too. Kind of lolita but not. Her dresses were just kind of cool. She took notes in sketchbooks that weren't lined. She drew cats that were stretchable and resembled Jake the Dog. She must have had been an inside source or something, because she had Fionna and Cake all over her notes, but we just didn't know it yet.

I remember after the class, during the next semester, I'd walk past her every once in a while and wave. We had built up a good enough relationship where we could greet each other in public. But, she was a busy art student and every time we'd cross paths she'd have her big clipboard and portfolio over her shoulder. She was in too much of a rush to notice, which was a shame. She was a damn good artist. I remember going to a Japantown festival and seeing an art panel, and I swear I saw her name on one of the pieces that won. Yet, I believe it's kind of hard becoming friends with art students. It's hard becoming friends with anyone, for that matter.

I haven't thought about her since then because I guess our friendship was just a little too limited. This goes with that chick with the orange/purple hair who was in the same class. We sat next to each other, same general interests, all that. But she was a sophomore and lived in the International House (which was ironic because she was like, totally from SF or something). But hey, if you can afford it—go for it. I see her every once in a while on campus. That's only because her hair is back to orange, and that's insanely easy to spot in a crowd. Yet, I don't think she remembers me. When I first get to know people, I don't think I make that much of an impression... especially if I'm in a new place.

I'm overly cautious. I guard myself until I feel like I can be myself. I usually say that it takes me about a year to adapt enough to wake out of my shell. It's a damn shame but that's just how it goes. I will always be a cautious, homely person and I'm sure that won't ever really change. Not that I'm totally against it or ashamed of it... it's just a pain in the ass every once in a while, and for those who stick through with it until the end, well, I'm glad. You have made a brand new friend who won't leave you, even if you leave me.

Yet, I suppose back to the "meat" of the post (I actually have no idea where I'm going with this anymore) I am now an English major with a concentration in Career Writing. I couldn't be happier. Why I figured Marketing would be a good idea, I have no clue. Same goes with Advertising and Public Relations. I'm way too moral for those careers; I can't lie to people. But with just my pen and paper and my thoughts around me, I feel like I have finally selected my calling.

And it was a calling that I already sort of knew, but fought against. Sometimes we have to choose between the practical and what we love. I have been fighting what I love for so long and turning to what is practical that I was just a ghost of myself. This is what I want—I want to write, I want to edit, I want to materialize my thoughts into print. I want to make people's writing better, I want to encompass them with my words and lead them. Save them. Inspire them.

All I need is some sunshine, but I feel like I've already caught a few rays.

Censorship? A DRAFT FROM A LONG TIME AGO..AGAIN

I really want to say this one thing to you. I doubt you'd read this. Really doubt it. I wonder if you even know I'm talking to you. Ha, probably not. If I could post one thing on the internet about a personal negativity, I'd choose for it to be this one moment. I really don't like to bitch about things, really. But here I am, without a backbone. Once again, right?

I can't really say it. Maybe the feeling will change.

...don't really think it will. Oh, but the adrenaline is rushing through me, I can feel it in my chest.

Fuck you.

That is all :DD

(Oh, where'd Nnoitra go?)

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OMFG THIS ONE IS SO ANGRY TOO
WHY WAS I SO ANGRY
actually I do know who this post was about, but whoooooooa talk about teenage angst.

THIS WAS A SAVED DRAFT FROM A LONG TIME AGO OMFG

"I wonder that with all of the time you have been gone, do you really know me? Do you know who I am, what I like, my aspirations, dreams, weaknesses, strengths, sadnesses? I know you care - you care because that is all that can take the place of your absence. You have been gone too many years of my life; when will I be able to say goodbye? Better yet, when will I be able to say hello? So many questions. So many damn questions that make me angry at myself for being such a coward.

And really, that’s all I am. A coward afraid of the world. Afraid of dying, afraid of saying hello to those I encounter on a daily basis. Afraid of writing a simple letter, afraid of the future and what will inevitably happen.

I don't like celebrating my birthday anymore. I don't even like staying at home, let alone my hometown. My fears even cause me to resent Christmas - the very day where family should stick together in merriment and love. As I look up at the tree now, I think of years past where life was gilded with happiness, but with a core of disdain. The teen years suck. The adult years are just bland and tasteless (unless you're rich or something)."

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WTF I WROTE THIS SO LONG AGO OMFG.
SO DEPRESSING
DUDE I WONDER WHAT WAS MAKING ME SO DOWN (well we can kind of get an idea but whaaaat)

I'm an amazing writer when I'm depressed/angry. My goodness.

Contentment.

The 19th of November will be my third month here at San Jose State University. And, in some right twist of fate - I love it. I actually love it so much that I’m dreading my last day here. It’s quite sad - yet very premature - but it’s true. I know that I have three more years, and many more experiences to ---

[Pause this thought because my roommate walked in the room and she literally makes time stop.]

[[Wow that sounded kinda gay...but she plays Drake and sings/dances to me and it makes me laugh my ass off.]]

--- dude, I don’t even remember what I was saying. Well, along the lines of “roommate’, I freaking love mine. She’s like a total crazy bitch (not literally) and extremely funny. All of my roommates are people that I totally adore, and I honestly want to be their friends after this year. I don’t know how life will pan out in this “future” (like really, I could die or move away or change my name or something) but I hold the thought that I want to stay friends firmly in my heart.

[Pause again. I freaking hate how much I like Selena Gomez’s “I Love You Like A Love Song” song. The roommie just started playing it to annoy me because she knows it gets stuck in my head.]

[[The music video sucks ass, LOL.]]

Anyway! Fast forward to like, four hours from those last brackets and here we are again! I went to the mall with two of my roommates the other day - unfortunately I lost my SJSU ID card along the way - and we started talking about birthdays. My roommate's is in January, coincidentally the same day as my dog Charlie; so, it's an easy on to remember. Ashley (my roommate) asked when mine was, and I told her it was in July. She got kind of bummed because it wasn't during the school year when we could celebrate it, until she perked up and said that we could celebrate it in August. That confused me. August? Why August?

Then she said something along the lines of "Yeah, when we come back for the next year we can celebrate your birthday."

And that got me really happy. Wanna know why? Because that means that we'll all still be friends even after this year. That means we'll still hang out next year. One of my fears in life is being alone, and this reassured me quite a bit. I honestly love these people, and just thinking of next year freaks me out. Will I stay in contact with them? Will they forget about me? I've only known them for about three months, and our friendships are already tight. Sure, I may be the quiet shy one, but I can obviously tell that I'm loved. And it's a great feeling, not gonna lie.

Uehh other than that, life here is pretty frackin' great. Even though it's been raining and really really cold, it's still nice. After the dorm drama broke up, the metaphorical "sun began to rise", and we fixed up the whole suite. Now, it's all decorated with posters, cutesy decals, and really awesome pink Christmas lights. "Homey" is how I'd explain it (wow, homey looks like horny...or maybe that's just me - wait, no, not "just me" as in I'm horny, but "just me" as in it probably looks horny just to me. Oh God, either way this was still awkward). UEHH. Overall, I'm just really content with how life has been going. I'm changing my major next week (because the office was closed on Friday), and I'm switching to English with a concentration in Writing. English has a larger breadth of career options than just plain "writing", and even though it's not particularly Journalism, it still withholds the very essence of I want to endure for the rest of my life. I'm also planning on minoring in Japanese. So maybe I can teach English to cute little Japanese kids, and actually live the Japanese life through my students.

Oh, what a happy world that would be.

Aright, I'm tired. And this typing scheisse is burning my eyes. Happy daylight savings time! (only if you're in every other state except Arizona and Hawaii :P)

Where Time Freezes

Call me a romantic, but I missed seeing the stars of my hometown. You don't get many stars in the city - the only star I see on a constant is the sun; even so, I make a habit not to stare at it because, you know, that's kind of a heath hazard. Yet, as my eyes glide over the black horizon of the ocean as I'm parked at the Rock, the lights of Cayucos houses seen to glimmer - much like these small-town stars. I suppose it's because I'm not wearing my glasses (of which, I consciously neglect), but these lights are like the rippling sheen of sunlight on water. These lights are like tears rolling down one's face. Realizing this, I've come to realize that home is where time freezes.

I returned from college just this last Friday, mostly because I wanted to see my family; along the way, I managed to watch my former high school's losing homecoming game. Maybe it's a sign, I don't know.

I only told a few people that I was back because I felt that my visit home wasn't that important regarding others. This sounds wrong and seems like I'm rejecting my old friends, but weighing in the fact that lives are continuing and kindled friendships aren't as important nowadays compared to the fast-track of living in general, I felt that there was no need to waste others' time with mine. We've all split our ways, traveled to distant places on the map and rerooted our lives to adhere to our new surroundings. Don't worry about it - we'll all be back for Thanksgiving and Christmas; this won't be the last time you'll have a chance to see me.

However, home really is where time freezes. I'm back at the same old pink house, with the same old half-asphalt, half-dirt street. Fog is always prominent towards the morning and night, yet the clouds turn grapefruit pink over the bay as the sun sets. Despite one major difference - an in-the-process renovation of the demolished Taco Bell on Main - I'm back in the same old town. The sea breeze of Morro Bay smells of fish and harbor, and the roads of Los Osos still have no street lights. Sure, there are subtle differences here and there (especially what I've noticed was an increase of traffic in SLO), but the essence is the same. For that I'm grateful, because when I return from the city, where people are living on the street to survive, taxi cabs don't give a damn if they run red lights, and police sirens are heard at least on a two-hour interval, I need to revel in that forgotten peace I had grew up with. The sound of the beach, a slow leisurely life - my life is put on hold. I feel young again, younger than I have ever felt.

Do I really look like a college student? Could I still pass off as a high schooler? In most cases I think not. However, I still seem to have that minor mind-set that I am, and could. But, I'd never want to go back. That's why returning home is so great - laying back in my old bed, watching the TV that has off colors and looks 3D seems to take years off of my eighteen year old life; I feel seventeen all over again...oh, that was a good year.

Being back home makes me feel so inexplicably loved. Just all around I'm blessed to have so many people care for me. For that, I'm grateful to God, to everyone. I feel safe to say that my roommates like me, maybe even love me - and I wonder, What exactly is in my personality that makes others respect me? Makes others want me to stay with them, to hang out with them, to laugh and joke and live with them? It's a fantastic feeling because despite the fact that I had to work back from the very bottom of the chain to create some type of bearings for myself in an unknown territory, I'm still wanted by others. And I can guarantee this - I can be the best friend you will ever have, if you just give me the chance. But, that's a downfall in itself, because I'm vulnerable to getting used and abused. Life is always a toss-up.

Friendships change, but family stays the same. Buildings are rebuilt, demolished, rectified and dilapidated - it's all just a metaphor. The blanket of safety is cast over my childhood, and I'm sure as long as I return every-so-often, it'll stay the same. If I change, so be it - but I'll always regress as soon as I step through my front door.

In the desert once again...

Every Thursday night I go to SJSU's Tsunami Anime club. There, we watch six different series, one episode each in chronological order with two intermissions in-between. I normally just stay for the first hour, because the meeting hall is all the way across campus; the reason being why I leave so early is that I don't want to get raped or shanked or jacked or killed on my way back to my dorm room. However, every time I get to anime club, and watch an episode of Canaan, I die a little inside.

I die two ways.

One way - the cuteness overwhelms me to the point of unshed tears. No lie. When Maria and Canaan have their cute little best-friend moments I inwardly squeal with such joy that my night gets made right there on the spot. Who doesn't like seeing such a pure friendship? Who doesn't get instantly happy when you see two people happy and in the moment of such a sanctified friendship? It just kills me so much that I have to blink a bunch of times to get the tears out of my eyes (call me a sap if you want, IDGF.)

The second way - the best-friend moments overwhelm me with such unbearable sadness I have to look away for a moment. I'm sure it was episode 3 where Canaan feels the "rejection" color from Maria after saving her. Rejection hurts. Seeing others getting rejected hurts. Especially when one performs an action perfectly, believing that they were doing the right thing and then get shot down by the person they were trying to please because of a misunderstanding. Or, even the lack of seeing a person for their truly pure intentions while you're there sitting and afraid of your friend who had already done so much for you - and you're caught in the act of selfishness and forget about them. And so the night that was made was instantly ruined because pain injects itself into my big, useless heart.

I'm in the desert again, walking towards nothing but mountains of sand. My hope is as long as the trail of footprints behind me, getting blown away by the wind.

Man of the House.

Soooooooo. As it seems, I am the "man of the house" at my dorm. Which, in all reality, is pretty damn funny. Mostly because my roommates are your typical loud-ass "girly-girls", who are afraid of small spiders and hairballs (which, consequentially, are their own). But, in their defense, the mosquito I just saved them from was HUGE. It was about four inches long, and for someone as small as me, I'd suppose that's pretty big. No...it was really big. After stepping on it, the length of it squished was about half of my slipper! I didn't want to kill it, but I knew that if I didn't, my roommates would die of those frightful thoughts of "If you let it live once, it will come back for yeewwwww!!!"

Even the tallest roommate I have - who is about 6 feet, I'd say - was up on a chair screaming with the others. And to think I just thought they were screwing around, like normal...

Who said the city wasn't a jungle? Amongst the concrete and skyscrapers, there are still diverse types of "wildlife".

OH YEAHHHHHHHH.

Of Leaving and Saying Goodbye.

"It's always a depressing thing when you lose a friend - it's even worse when you get to the point of willingly giving them up."

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I should have a compilation novel of one-pagers that I have written. They'd be tear-jerkers, I'm sure.

Spontaneous, 'knaamean?

(Spontaneous, "you know what I mean?")

For the four day break of Labor Day weekend, a handful of friends and I planned to visit two of our other friends up in Sonoma State. They - their names being Karina and Zach - drove up from our hometown to pick me up in San Jose, and then the plan was to drive to Sonoma, visit, and then stay the night and somewhat create friendships among each other's roomies. But in all reality, when do plans, specifically ours, stick to the agenda?

We made it to Sonoma, don't get me wrong. We got to visit Ari and John (and their roommates, whom are pretty cool). We made it in one piece. Only thing is, we didn't stay in Sonoma. We decided to randomly, spontaneously, drive up to Oregon.

Yeah, Oregon. The state. With all of the prettyful trees.

The drive wasn't specifically hazardous...it was just going 70-105mph on the freeway, and having someone who didn't have their license, or even a permit, drive. Oh yeah, and performing drive-bys with mini donuts, slandering peanut butter jars with a "V" (for "Victory", or course), and telling each other to shut the eff up and go to sleep.

My God, it was probably one of the best experiences of my life. It was also, as sheltered as I may sound, the first time I went to another state. And I'm not gonna lie, Oregon is amazing. No tax, and the dudes at the gas stations had to pump gas for us (the reasoning/law for that was a rumor that the mayor's daughter caught on fire, but that's just from one party...I'll have to consult Google later if I'm not passed out by then). Ari has a brother who lives in Ashland, and so we decided that we'd go visit him along the way (coincidentally, it was his birthday, so even though we're all haphazard, things still work out fine). We're some lucky mofos, I'll tell ya what.

A bunch of crazy things happened along and during the way...

Besides Karina and Zach getting lost before they picked me up - CalTrans is fixing the freeways, and apparently took down the "SJSU" exit sign - in chronological order, I: traveled to Oregon and witnessed a new state, saw Crater Lake, got into a snowball fight at Crater Lake, got my foot ran over by a car, had to jump into the same moving car while getting hit, got half a water bottle spilt on me (AGAIN >.>), spilt hot coffee on my leg while I was driving at 4am,  got bitched at by a scraggly, freako biyatch chick in a van, and then witnessed Karina set John's dorm's fire alarm off while she was making toast. Oh, and I think I got checked out by one of his roommate's friends (who is very, very cute and has beautiful blue eyes).

I think there may be more things that happened, but I'm tired and can't really remember that well. But, yeah.

Crater Lake was one of the most beautiful natural landscapes I have ever seen (it ties with Yosemite, I'd say). Oregon in general is just really, really pretty. So many trees! The air was so blue, and there weren't really any clouds in sight until later on in the day. There was something about it that made me feel that "I could live out here for a few years and work on that one novel that could make thousands, or even millions". There were even patches of snow in random places along the mountain, so Karina, Zach, Ari and I climbed the small grade up, and then went crazy. It was sort of horrible because we were in jeans, shorts, and tank-tops, but the numbness of our, feet, hands, and ass hardly compared to the immense fun we had throwing ice at each other. Zach tried to make a snowman but it kind of failed...I ended up throwing it at Karina anyway.

Link to a full view of one side of the lake.
Link to the left side.
Link to the right side.
Link to the snow.

The snow looks dirty because that's when we played in it like little children. It was awesome.

---------------

After our outing at the snow/mountain/forest, we drove back down the Interstate-5 and eventually found a Wendy's fast food joint. I don't like it that much, but I ate it anyway. AND SO, when we all finished I had to use the restroom, and knowingly, the rest of them took my stuff, put it into the car, and drove away. Cool beans, right? I walked out of the restaurant, looked over, put my hair up, and took my fighter's stance.

I had to play "chicken" with Karina's car. I won (kinda), but hit my leg kicking her car's back door, and my right foot (or, rather, three toes) run over after doing some 007 shit and hopping inside the moving vehicle. It was pretty damn fun, I'm not going to lie. Who can honestly say they had to swing into a car while it was moving?

---------------

While we were driving late, we got gas, and Zach bought two water bottles. Karina and I were sleep deprived and really tired, so we kind of got into a water fight inside of her car, and we both got water spilt on us. It was cold, and I was wearing only a tank-top. The cold made us all a "bit nipply". A few hours later, we stop to get AM/PM coffee, and as I drive to give Karina some rest, the cup somehow happens to fall over and get all over my knee/the car seat. IT HURT LIKE A MOTHERF*****. But was really, really funny, only because we were sleep-high.

Ari, who took her turn at driving for a while, slowed down at a green light because she wanted to turn (or didn't know where to turn), and then so this blonde lady driving this ghetto-ass van starts honking the horn at us. We decide to go straight instead, just because the lady started to freak us out, and then she SPEEDS UP TO THE PASSENGER WINDOW, ROLLS DOWN HER WINDOW, AND STARTS YELLING AT US. Karina, who was sleeping in the passenger seat and was awoken quite rudely, looked at the lady, and then FLIPPED HER OFF. And so Ari, who's freaked out since this is her first driving dispute, turns at the nearest light, and we realize that the lady started to follow us. She did for quite some time until she finally turned, and we were free from the tyranny of bitchy midnight drivers.

---------------

As the time elapsed, we eventually made it back to Sonoma. Dropping off Ari, we all took showers to freshen up, and went to go see John for the last time before leaving (he didn't go on the adventure since he's not that kind of person). His roommate's friends were over, and since they're a group of boys, they didn't really make breakfast. So, Karina started making buttered toast from a pan, since they didn't have a microwave.

She burnt a piece, it started to smoke a little, and the fire alarm went off. You could hear it from every building next to them, and even a few blocks away on the campus. It was bad. But luckily, they didn't have ceiling sprinklers, so nothing got ruined.

Except for that piece of toast, which she THREW ON THE GROUND OUTSIDE THEIR FRONT DOOR AFTER SHE RAN AWAY WITH ZACH TO THE CAR. I stayed with John and the others to help diffuse the alarm, which took like 15 minutes.

---------------

Well, that was basically the gist of it. I literally got back about an hour from uploading this post. I may edit this for more detail or not, because I left some things out. But hey, you all kind of get the overall-ness of this adventure we had, right?

A Time.

It's that alone feeling, yet this time it is subtly drenched in a vague nostalgic veil. In this place, looking down into the courtyard protected by beige buildings, I feel a longing for my childhood back. The parts of childhood where I forgot about the abuse my father inflicted upon my mother, where I forgot how broken my family really was outside of the 80 degree paradise that was the small, small town of Bradley. Most of my memories were made at that dilapidated house, renovated like new by the time I was ten years of age. The dirt hill that eventually formed its way into a garage, or the farm with Freckles the pig, those two peacocks, or that damned rooster that almost killed my cousin. Looking down into the courtyard I can feel those shadows of isolation hovering over the green palms, the cement cooling fast as the sun says goodbye to the day. I remember riding my green bike (naturally, it would be green, wouldn't it?) along the train tracks as Jordan and I feverishly searched in vain for the flattened pennies we set on the steel - or, are train tracks even made of steel? It all didn't matter, as long as I found more of them than he did.

The cool breeze outside my window reminds me greatly of the cool breeze as the hot weather would wane; interestingly enough, living here is a lot like living there. Cold mornings, yet dangerously hot days, followed by cold, cold nights. City life differs greatly from country life, yet in a full-circle sort of way it all comes together. What one side lacks, the other prospers, and so in essence and theory, they are both the same. Here the days are long, but that's greatly due to the fact that it's still technically summertime. But there, in that small town I'd call my childhood, days were everlasting. And, even though the nights would arrive after hours of pool-time, or lizard catching in the grape vines, we'd still have our fun. Listening to "oldies but goldies" with my grandparents and cousin, watching old black-and-white shows from the (g)olden days. Shows like Zorro, as well as the Mickey Mouse Club, I Love Lucy, Leave it to Beaver; and, to switch it up from black to color, Bewitched, The Brady Bunch, and Happy Days. Family time was always at the start of dinner, all the way until we had showered one-by-one taking our turns, until we stayed up late watching these shows, talking about our little lives, our big futures.

Thinking about it now, and even long ago, I feel that some parts of me were supposed to be for another generation. Some parts were just meant to stay.

And as the breeze travels from one green palm to another, up scaling the walls and ultimately getting hindered of its plight, that loneliness creeps back up my spine. Writers are true introverts, and thank God for them. Thank God for the expression of words, because body language can only do so much when you're one like me, who would rather be put in a crowd than front stage. Yet, what you want is always reversed from what you get, and so your expectations - both yours and the ones placed on you - change. Looking back continuously into that courtyard, with its checkered walkway, makes me want to curl up and hide to a time where there really were no worries except for if you really wanted to wear socks or not with your shoes. Thank God.

Back there we really never had the chance to see the sun set, only because we were surrounded by dry hills as large as mountains for one so small. Comfort was leisure, and leisure was the ability to walk around in the middle of the road without fear of a car because none passed through. You couldn't call it a ghost town because people lived there, but the area itself was a ghost, quiet and alone. Bittersweet.

Bradley was where I had my freedom, because when I was home I was locked up in an empty house; without a father, with a working mother and grandmother, I'd learned from an early age that it was menial, useless, to be afraid of the dark, and that even though your imagination is one of your most powerful means of self-expression, of self-preservation, you could tone it down, make it sleep - have it comfort you when no one else was there to hold you.

I could never say it was horrible, but only "different". Every child grows up differently. Different.

I feel so much indifference for the word "different" that I feel it has no meaning. My childhood was me, it was a golden time until I became smart and started noticing the people around me. Time takes it's toll, and I could see it in the sunken eyes of my family.

The courtyard in front of my dorm room only reminds me of my childhood when the sun starts to set, and when the overbearing shadows of the sun's guilt is revealed to the earth because he feels that he's abandoning the one true thing that is dependent of him. But when the moon rises, when she undermines the small lights of the stars, is when I feel old again. And I stay old until the sun returns with showers of warmth, hugging the earth, only to leave once more before the moon greets him. I like when the sun sets, it makes me freeze in motion, until I shiver at the cold night and wonder why I am sitting here, alone.

It's Official. It's Nerdy. It's Just Plain Gaga.

After watching the VMAs with my good friend Karina in my dorm lounge made me realize something - Lady Gaga would probably be the only woman I'd willingly want to kiss, if I had the chance to. I don't think I'd really care if she smelled like Jack Daniels, was dressed as a man, and tasted like cigs.

Like, honestly. Britney, you missed out on a great chance.

(Really, who can say they kissed Lady Gaga ((or shall I say "Lord Gogo"))? Though, Britney already did the "been there, done that" thing with Madonna so many years ago...but still).

Das link!

Lmfao I'm a sad soul. And such a Little Monster.

On a straighter note! My remedial math class sucks. Last class we were learning about fractions, today's class we were learning about absolute value and plugging in numbers in place of variables. I'm just like..."It's 3-6th grade all over again". It doesn't really help that my class starts at 8am, either. Because, the math is so easy and I'm so out of it that I think I'm doing the problem wrong, and then I second-guess myself, and actually get the problem wrong because of it. UEHH.

---------------

Well, back to being totally sad - I bought two Captain America action figures. One was on clearance for six dollars at Target (man, after winning a mini fridge there I love that place), and another one came with a gun, so I couldn't help myself and bought both of them.

I'm a sad sad soul. But, I have fun that way.

Ya Know...

...I'm kind of happy that I stayed home last night in my dorm instead of attending my first college frat party. Like, honestly. I thought about it, but then figured, "Hey, I have the whole year for this...I need to settle down a little more before all of this party scheisse."

My roommate stepped on a big piece of glass while my suite mates were all buzzed and they had to take her to the hospital. Interesting night...

Though, I sort of do regret not going, there's still the fact that there will be undoubtably more parties. *sigh*

But! Two of my other suite mates are Little Monsters. That made me feel a whole lot better about the school year.

Yeah, so...I may get a ride back home over the weekend. It's pretty great because even though I moved up here without knowing anybody, I still manage to have connections. I pretty much have free rides anywhere, I can go to the mall pretty much any time I want to (which I did yesterday...my friend Melissa and I got lost...but I bought a sexy Captain America poster. I get to wake up to that and it's fantastic haha). SPEAKING OF CAPTAIN AMERICA! They have action figures at Target. I want one XD

Well, anyway...I guess that's it for now.

I'm Outta Here!!!...a day early XD

So today, I moved away from home and am now at my new humble abode - San Jose State University. To be precise, 6th floor, Campus Village C suites (which is totally amazing, because I applied for the crappy freshman housing Bricks building, but since the school is so impacted this year I was bumped SUPER HIGH...I have a microwave AND a shower :D). Yeah, so it's quite the adventure. Last night I was feeling kind of bummed after my last hang-out with *hardly* all of my friends together in one place. Haha I actually kind of cried before I fell asleep. Shhhh it's a secret.

BUT THEN YAY I WOKE UP AT 4AM. *shoots self in face*

My mom, my mom's boyfriend (or "significant other" as they call themselves) Jake helped me move all of my stuff, and after I checked in I started un-boxing all of my...boxes, ha.

I need some more posters, my room looks kind of naked with just a cork board, and only two of my surfer posters. Oh yeah, well back to the meat of my original post plot.

I arrived to my check-in on the wrong day. I'm supposed to arrive tomorrow, 9/20. There is absolutely no one in my suite. Just me, three empty rooms, and seven empty beds. I'm all alone. FOREVER ALONE. But I'm not the only one who made this mishap - apparently there's this guy named Dalton somewhere on my floor, and some other girls somewhere. That doesn't make me feel as dumb anymore. It's funny, because my brain had a dyslexic moment when I was reading the move-in dates. But that's to be expected, I just didn't realize that I'd make such a major blunder, even though it didn't hurt me.

Ha, when mom and Jake left I started getting teary-eyed because even though I finally have the full independence I've always wanted, it's very bittersweet. I'm not ashamed to say this but I actually do miss my parents, and I do kind of want my mom back. But! It's something we all have to go through in our lives at some point, might as well be 18 years old for me XD

OH BUT A HAPPY NOTE! My dorm floor is Mario themed. So there are random pictures of clouds, yellow question boxes, and green plumber pipes on the walls everywhere :D I'm just waiting for a dude in a Yoshi costume to pop out around the corner...then I can pull some ninja moves and RUN AWAY SCREAMING. Just kidding! College is great though, and I can't wait for what's to come next.

Epiphany (aka I'm Not Stupid)

So, yesterday I came across a rather stupid epiphany. But, I have a good reason as to why I thought nothing of it until now. Or, how I didn't question how dumb it seemed until I really found out why. In all honesty, I thought it was probably the most normal thing regarding the issue. So here goes.

I was watching The Phantom of the Opera yesterday with a small group of friends (we had a sleepover) and the Phantom sealed a letter with wax with a sweet skull mold. My friend that was sitting to my left simply just said "sealing wax". I for a few seconds I thought nothing of it, until it clicked - sealing wax. Sealing wax. Sealing. Wax.

I look away from the laptop that we were watching, look straight at the wall in a small daze as the serene sounds of the ocean permeate the air, and mumble a little "huh". My other friend, who was sitting at my right asked, "What?"

And so I said, "Sealing wax."

Then a whole conversation occurred that made me feel stupid because I couldn't find the right way to explaining it. And so, here's my explanation, you hoes.

For the longest time I never knew what "sealing wax" was because I always thought it was "ceiling wax". (I'm sure this sounds pretty "wtf" so just roll with me). I never thought twice about it. I honestly thought ceiling wax was for the ceiling, and because it was so farfetched I just went with it. The reason why I thought this was because back when I was little (or shall I say littler) I watched the Disney animated version of Alice in Wonderland. And, no lie, that movie was pretty much on acid. So, when the Walrus and the Carpenter sang the "Of shoes and ships, of sealing wax - cabbages and kings!" WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO THINK??

A bunch of weird-ass irrelevant things and terms and shiznit were compiled into that one song alone: "...and while the sea is boiling hot, and while the pigs have wings...blah blah...cabbages and kings!" How could you expect me to think twice about sealing wax versus ceiling wax?

I honestly just thought it was all part of the song. Apparently not.

[Link to video....if you didn't see how I liked it above]

Deprived...

In all honesty - not being able to sleep sucks.

I've had some bouts of insomnia for the past two weeks or so, and it's one of the worst feelings ever. I'm like a...mentally deficient drone just laying there, listening to my ceiling fan. I don't even know if my eyes are open or closed; the room is dark - when I blink, nothing changes. It's interesting, actually, because I've been more active lately, which results in my body getting more tired, yet I'm still unable to drift off into happy land.

I suppose it's the late-night gaming I have been actively engaged in (damn you Fallout: New Vegas). Perhaps I need to drink less tea, as my mom proposed (which I flatly refused - you do not tell me to stop drinking my tea! I need at least one pick-me-up in a day of lows >.>"). Or, maybe I'm not making enough of...uh...what's it called...?

Something technically scientific. Lemme think a moment...

MELATONIN! That's what it is! Ahhhh I'm awesome.

Yeah, I was listening to the "John Tesh Radio Show" (he's some old dude who has some pretty coolio facts for life) and he said that drinking tart cherry juice helps with melatonin build-up, which helps sleep. And, since I clearly have a disorder - that was sarcasm, guys - I should try it out. Too bad it's not just sittin' there in the local grocery store. I'd have to travel to the Trader Joe's...and the gas prices, even though they lowered by approximately ten cents, are still horrible. Y U SO EXPENSIVE????

Orientation Notes

Dude, so being in the big city makes you realize how 1) lonely you really are in the world, 2) how many people around you smoke pot and party, despite looking absolutely "normal", and 3) how you really have to break out of your shell to make it through the year, and your life.

Honestly - I drove to SJSU by myself to go to my college freshman orientation. As soon as I pulled out of the driveway - at 4:30am - I felt a small tinge of fear tug at my nerves. I was getting scared of the freedom that was being handed to me. Sure, acquiring your driver's license is a "rite of passage", however, I felt that traveling to San Jose without my mother was my true rite of passage. Interestingly enough, eight-or-so days prior to this "event", I had driven all the way to Sonoma State University (approximately 2 hours north of SJSU). But, what made that experience different from this one was that I wasn't alone. I wasn't traveling for the sake of wanderlust. I was traveling because I was on a future mission - this adventure was mandatory in my growth as a person, my life, my major, my freedom from the constraints of a small-town existence.

This trip changed me. Turning 18 years old changed me. I feel like I need to mature - I just don't know how to. How do I shrug off the youth of the life I bare?

Yo, hopefully as I stay at San Jose I'll learn what it is that I'm exactly trying to find. I guess you could say that I'm "trying to find myself" - however, my methods, my morals, have skewed. I don't need to endlessly drive California to reach my goals. Hell, in retrospect, driving farther than my limits would probably screw me up more. All I know is that, during just those two days, that was the loneliest I had felt in a long while.

Saying Goodbye to the Sun

Today I gave myself the liberty of watching the sun set. I didn't plan it, but I was parked at the beach at the time, so I figured it would be a relaxing thing to do after a long trip up north (which will be told later - it was an adventure in its own right). I had my ukulele in the truck, so as I was waiting for the sun to lower down below the horizontal line of the great Pacific Ocean, I polished my "Lucky" skills, and waited. 

It has been a while since I've let myself relax to such an extent. This whole summer I haven't been to the beach once, and even though I didn't go swim or compel myself to actually surf, it was nice to just chill there with no worries. My window's were rolled down, and as I plucked the strings of my uke, I felt the sea breeze flow through my hair, and I inhaled the salty sea mist. Yesterday, I was in San Francisco. And, even though it was basically the same as Morro Bay, the ocean here was different from the bay there. Nothing is the same as home.   

The thing that got me the most from this trivial experience was how everyone that was around me, and even those on the beach stopped whatever they were doing (from riding their bike to playing frisbee) just to watch the sun fall. I never really think that much about the sun (except for "AHHHH IT'S HOT." or "AHHHH Y U SO COLD?"), but I think a lot of us take it for granted. We, as humans, are given so much - albeit, some of us are still so unhappy about things. The world is a fantastic place, and few of us just don't appreciate it.

As I looked around at the locals and tourists alike, us all watching the sunset, I couldn't help but feel that by that one moment, we were all connected somehow. 

The feeling of it was quite beautiful.

Stats are funny...

Yeah so I was talking to one of my good friends about our blogs the other day during our Lady Gaga dance video/fan music video practice (don't ask...I'll probably talk about it sometime when we're done with it - it's too fantastic to keep hidden), and today I picked the conversation back up in my head while I was driving home from watching another friend get a tattoo.

[Personal thought: Wow! I know a lot of interesting people.]

She was telling me (the blog friend, not the tattoo friend) how she tracks her stats and whatnot on her blog. Normally, I do check for her blog updates, mostly because she writes more, and despite me getting angry at some of the things she writes about (unrequited romance, all that shiznit), she does have some interesting things to say, good points and reflections, and random stuff that nobody would understand unless they were there during that situation (I know her in person, so I'm in about 30% give-or-take of her posts). And so in the conversation, I was put on spot because I linked her blog to a Yahoo! Answers question, and she tracked it back to me.

Heh. I suppose it doesn't help that it is Yahoo!, and that I allow it to show my name because they're my email provider.

I'm not gonna lie - I got kind of embarrassed and it felt sort of awkward (like that guilty feeling, even when you technically didn't do anything bad or wrong). And sure, even if my example of the certain blog post didn't really answer the question - I think it did, she doesn't - I didn't do anything wrong in posting it on a public engine. The internet is public anyway you freakin' look at it - which is both awesome and pretty sad. Sadly awesome. Awesomely sad. Yadda yadda.

[Tangent: Every time I see "yadda yadda" I think of that Grease song at the end of the movie, after that big race and they're all at the school carnival, and they all start singing like "Asdkjflsadkgjalsgjlajgag-ada-ada-ding-dong, bang-bang-shadda-sha-dop-da-dop, we'll always be together...wahooooooo YEAH!"


...


...leave me alone.]


[Tangent#2: When I think of "tangent" I think of the color orange.]


PANCAKES.

God, I'm so random.

But the fact that she tracked me makes me laugh a little, just because I used to do that when I was an avid writer on fanfiction.net. I would check who read my story, where they were from, if they had an "appropriate" bio, or if they were just the people who had a profile just for the sake of reviewing a story (that kind of always made me a little frustrated, because I wanted to know more about them...if that doesn't sound weird).

Yeah dude, I just thought that was a funny instance. I have some other post ideas, but I'll let them slide for now.

Oh yeah, happy first of July :DD