My room is finally mine. For reals. All my stuff, the way that I want it (for the most part, anyway--there will always be restrictions because of the amount of shit that I've managed to accumulate over the years). The initial cleaning/organizing/setting up part is over. Now I have to still clean out my drawers and stuff, unpack, and then reorganize. I'm still happy with the progress I've made. Unfortunately all the shit that I brought out is now lingering in other parts of the house. This is partially because my mom is a freak and won't throw anything out that she thinks there may be a tiny chance of recycling. Mostly it's because just about all of the stuff I brought out of MY room isn't mine. I could feel bad about that, but the amount of old food, drinks, and just plain mess that I cleaned out of here today (and last year when I came home) sort of takes the edge off of the guilt. Ugh, I didn't know iced tea or chocolate could look like that ever. But I guess that's what happens when it sits for about a year and half. I am a little sad that the boy in my precious moments snow globe fell off of his see-saw. There's really no way to fix that. The rest of it is still cute, so I just put it in a more discrete place away from judgement. I'm going to do some more room-improvement now. It's actually kind of addicting.

i'm not giving up this time.

My mouth blooms like a cut.
I've been wronged all year, tedious
nights, nothing but rough elbows in them
and delicate boxes of Kleenex calling crybaby
crybaby , you fool !

Before today my body was useless.
Now it's tearing at its square corners.
It's tearing old Mary's garments off, knot by knot
and see -- Now it's shot full of these electric bolts.
Zing! A resurrection!

Once it was a boat, quite wooden
and with no business, no salt water under it
and in need of some paint. It was no more
than a group of boards. But you hoisted her, rigged her.
She's been elected.

My nerves are turned on. I hear them like
musical instruments. Where there was silence
the drums, the strings are incurably playing. You did this.
Pure genius at work. Darling, the composer has stepped
into fire.

[the kiss, anne sexton]

i don't think i've actually looked forward to something so much in forever. usually i don't like to have high expectations in an effort to avoid disappointment. mostly because disappointment is one of the worst feelings in the world. but it's different now. i feel like it's ok to expect a lot, because there's no way that this won't be good. and i'm supposedly getting a surprise. yippee.

i wish that i never thought about anything. then i wouldn't worry about anything. or notice when things were bothering me. or made a mistake. or made a shitty judgement call. especially about a person. especially when it's already too late.

i am a ...

nevermind. i was about to write a whole long spiel about how i suck, and i ruined this and that and blah blah blah.

but someone just saved me :)

why do i keep doing this?

note to self: when bored, don't read old e-mails. you will end up very sad. bored is far better than sad. get a fucking hobby!

"I don't know how long

regret existed before humans stuck a word on it.
I don't know how many paper towels it would take
to wipe up the Pacific Ocean, or why the light

of a candle being blown out travels faster
than the luminescence of one that's just been lit,
but I do know that all our huffing and puffing

into each other's ears—as if the brain was a trick
birthday candle—didn't make the silence
any easier to navigate."


Regret. I know we're not supposed to regret things. We're supposed to learn from them. Be grateful that we were given the chance to experience something and to feel something, anything, good or bad. Because that's life. But that doesn't make things different. As much as I try not to, I do regret. I regret ever letting myself feel so strongly in the first place. I regret looking back at the evidence that yes, I was REALLY happy once.I regret getting so emotionally caught up. I regret putting myself in the situation to hurt, and to be so hurt. Cuz yes, this is life. And I should be grateful that I can feel. I should appreciate every goddamn second of this life, because it's the only thing I'll ever have. They say it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. Bullshit. If you don't know how good things can really be, then you don't realize when they begin to suck. Or when you can't fix them. Or that things will never be that good again. You don't long for the past. You don't wish things could have been different, or had turned out differently. You don't sit around wondering what you did wrong. Or why you weren't worth the effort. Or why nothing you said seemed to matter. Or why regardless of everything you did, it wasn't enough. Why you no longer deserved the treatment you apparently did at one time. Why little things matter so goddamn much. Or how a change in location can mean a change of heart. Or how a simple 2 minute phone call can require so much effort when in the past, being away for five minutes was unbearable. People shouldn't be allowed to feel things so intensely that are so incredible just to have them taken away. It's cruel. I don't like it. Not one bit. This is never going to be ok. And I guess I still don't deserve a phone call. I don't know why I think I need these things for validation. But for some reason I don't think I'm anybody unless he does. And this is what happens when I don't have to study. I think I prefer orgo over emotional hell.

It's funny how quickly one's (aka my) mood/mind/heart/everything can change on a daily basis. Hell, even minute to minute. I'm such a mess. But probably just for the moment.

Sometimes it seems that i don't have the skills to recollect
The twists and turns of plots that turned us from lovers to friends
I'm thinking I should take that volume back up off the shelf
And crack it's weary spine and read to help remind myself

I had no choice but to hear you
You stated your case time and again
I thought about it

You treat me like I'm a princess
I'm not used to liking that
You ask how my day was

You've already won me over in spite of me
And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet
Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are
I couldn't help it
It's all your fault




*Figured I'd throw in something happy for once. After all, it is still Alanis Morissette. How happy can it really be?

i'm ready. let's get this shit done.

confusion. plain and simple utter confusion. i don't know what i'm doing anymore. i'm trying to just do what makes me happy. but that's hard when you just feel guilty about it. things aren't as bad as they seem. they can't be. i make everything more difficult than it has to be. i'm sure none of this really matters anyway. i'm just one of billions upon billions of people. no decision i make can really be that significant, when you really think about it. i'm going to be around for a while, make all kinds of (probably terrible) decisions that may or may not have some sort of effect on others. then, regardless of what i've done, how i've gone about doing it, or never got around to doing, everything will be gone. all we have in the end is memories, anyway. and people can alter those however they see fit. we can choose to remember things a certain way, or choose to forget they ever happened. so really, i shouldn't be obsessing about things so much. it doesn't do anyone any good. especially those who have to be around me. it would be nice to have some direction, or idea about what the hell i'm doing with my life, though. as insignificant as it may be, i still have to deal with it for now. and that just may make things a bit easier. i know this is an extrememly cheesy, cliche quote, but i think it just may be necessary for me to believe right now: Life is too short for drama and petty problems -- so kiss slowly, love truly, and forgive quickly. Life is too short to be anything but happy. Take chances, give everything, and have no regrets. still, easier said than done. bah humbug.

I want to know your fears, and if you'll forget me next year
And when the jets go up and out, will our hearts stay here?
If you could forgive me for being so brash,
You could hit me or whip me, I'd savor each lash.

You're what keeps me believing this world's not long dead.
Strength in my bones and the words in my head.
They pour out to paper, it's all for you
Cause that's what you do

if i have to direct one more person to center hall or the mpr i think i'm going to eat myself alive. today is a bad day. why are there so many more of those than good days? i'm just waiting for things to get better. maybe when the weather is warmer. when did everything get so complicated? when did life stop being about simplicity and happiness and start being about just sticking out the less shitty of two options? it's not working for me. but i guess i have to make it. cuz hey, what's the alternative? i think times like these, days like these, require an inventory of all of the good things that i have and need to appreciate, the things that will keep me sane and motivated. or just things that put a smile on my face. here goes: all things cristina and the fact that i will be seeing her in 11 days, the infinite patience of my dear jen wong, the fact that my family is still treating me the same (and that andrew put me back in his top 8), stacey coming to visit (and feeding me), my mom giving me all the reject food that she knew i'd need and appreciate, my car is alive and kickin', i have all of my limbs and senses (even though my vision is getting oh so terrible), despite all i've put it through, my hair hasn't fallen out yet, my pretty nails that aren't real, but still quite adorable on my man hands, ralph, chantilly (my mommy), love spell (cristina), jen calling to check up on me so many times even though i rarely get her calls, the fact that there are people who aren't judging me and genuinely understand and support me and will love me no matter what stupid things i may do, big brown eyes, large pupils, innies (yes, as in bellybuttons), someone in oregon misses me very much (missing her doesn't make me happy, though), chokers, fake obnoxiously loud jewelry, the bachelor, meatwad, atlas, losing miserably in my first game of real monopoly ever (atleast i can say i know how to play, now), quotes from old tv shows, the butterfly bag stacey got me for christmas, soft skin, freckles, new things, swings, the beach, cristina's poems, pigtails (that i still proudly sport every so often), having someone to sit with in all of my classes, inter-racial couples (especially asian guys with white girls), nicely shaped eyebrows, victoria's secret coupons, learning that someone actually gave their child the middle name danger, fuzzy blankets and socks, clean clothes, warm beds, kapoopsie (my bedtime companion), frozen strawberry milkshake poptarts, and that's all i got for now. but i think i'm in a better mood already. good.

i wish i could compromise
i wish i could close my eyes
and somehow make it all alright
but i know there's only one way to go
--Eve 6



Burn it down till the embers smoke on the ground
And start new when your heart is an empty room
With walls of the deepest blue

Home's face: how it ages when you're away
Spring blooms and you find the love that's true
But you don't know what now to do
Cause the chase is all you know
And she stopped running months ago

And all you see
Is where else you could be
When you're at home
Out on the street
Are so many possibilities
To not be alone

The flames and smoke climbed out of every window
And disappeared with everything that you held dear
And you shed not a single tear for the things that you didn't need
Cause you knew you were finally free
--Death Cab




The glove compartment is inaccurately named
And everybody knows it.
So i'm proposing a swift orderly change.

Cause behind its door there's nothing to keep my fingers warm
And all i find are souvenirs from better times
Before the gleam of your taillights fading east
To find yourself a better life.

I was searching for some legal document
As the rain beat down on the hood
When i stumbled upon pictures i tried to forget
And that's how this idea was drilled into my head

Cause it's too important
To stay the way it's been

There's no blame for how our love did slowly fade
And now that it's gone it's like it wasn't there at all
And here i rest where disappointment and regret collide
Lying awake at night
--Death Cab

Much props to Cristina for the musical influence. Who would have thought I'd ever say that?

If I don't say this now,
I will surely break,
as I'm leaving the one
I want to take.
Forgive the urgency, but
hurry up and wait.
My heart has started to separate.

[The Fray]

Well, it's almost Christmas. I have not finished buying gifts, have not started wrapping gifts, and am out of clean clothes to wear. Yet, I have no motivation to do anything. MMMMM...splendid laziness. A part of me wishes I had stayed at school an extra day, just so I could use that as an excuse to not have anything done. But, my bed here is more comfortable, and not so empty. I wonder if I'll have all of this done by Sunday.

blast!

I don't know why honesty is such a hard policy to embrace. Seriously, the truth is the only thing that we have--"without it, we're animals.". It's the only thing that is real. So why then, is it so easy to neglect it? Not only to others, but to ourselves? I have succumbed to the actions of a pubescent girl who has not yet learned how to effectively control her thoughts, emotions, or her acne. It's so easy to evaluate, analyze, simply tear apart people's actions to the point where you don't know what's real anymore. Your feelings, your perception of another's intentions, an entire relationship can be mildly tainted, entirely warped, or even completely fabricated in your mind. It will always get to that point, though: the point where the reality of the situation just jumps out of nowhere to bite you square in the ass. All of those little hopes you had built for yourself in your world that doesn't exist just crash down around you, leaving a lonely, broken, and slightly more bitter version of yourself to pick up the pieces. Fuck this. Where's the fairy tale bullshit we were all promised by the glowing box that substituted for an assertive, informative role model? There's no Prince Charming who falls in love with an underestimated beauty, no smart sensitive guy who loves the fat girl for her sparkling personality, and we have all learned the hard way that we CANNOT do anything we put our minds to. Drugs really can make our problems disappear for a little while at least, and sooner or later most of us will give up our dreams in order to simply survive. The older we get, the tougher life gets, the more we realize exactly what we've been put through in the past and what is in store for our future, the more bleak everything looks. We're told that every cloud has a silver lining, that in the end everything works out, and if not that it's not the end. So what the fuck are we all supposed to do in the middle?

How? How do they do it? These men, these boys, these ruiners of our existence. How are they able to infest every little seemingly hidden crevice of our brains? They are able turn ordinarily intelligent, practical, and just plain sane women into raving, irrational lunatics with the simplest of expressions. Maybe it's a small display of affection: a warmer-than-the-average hug, an extra firm handshake, a friendly tap on the arm. Or maybe it's something slightly more concerning: an intriguing conversation, a hand to hold, or a shoulder to cry on. A phone call that wasn't returned, a temptation that we forced ourselves to resist (or wish we could have). No matter the actual significance in the grand scheme of things, any words spoken or actions taken that hit a certain spot, you know, that little, menacing empty spot that every one of us has inside (whether they're willing to admit it or not), and BAM! We're done. We're smitten. We're wrecks. Our ability to concentrate on anything of actual importance is obliterated. "If hydrogen bromide is added to 2-methyl hexene, than why did he make a promise he had no intention of keeping?" Tears run amuck all over chemistry notes, stability having no effect on the product of an unavoidable overreaction. And no, it doesn't stop there. There are no more casual conversations with friends. Even the typical banter enjoyed by women on a daily basis is laced, if not soaked with, stained even, by inner sobs of frustration, of confusion, of regret. Worst of all, there's no heavy duty cleaner in the universe that can remove the residue left behind. How is it, that our social, physical, and mental well-being are so influenced, impaired even, by people who can't even remember to put a toilet seat down? When it comes down to it, the sleepless nights, the unbearable mornings, and all of those uncomfortable moments add up to one thing: our unquestionable strength. We can wake up for that ridiculously early lab, class, or shift, splash our soggy red puffy eyes with water and fight through the rest of the day. We are masters of isolation when we need to be. We form unbreakable bonds with others who have been afflicted similarly, and we allow each other to heal, scar, and move on. Love is the most beautiful form of torture, which we are privileged to experience time and time again.