Take Advice from the Profanity & Live in the Moment

I wrote this earlier in the past semester, but reading Lily's latest blog on the subject of "The Past" reminded me of it. So I went back to my archive of stacks and stacks of papers... (Okay, okay, fine. I just looked through my USB drive) and found that short essay again.

Lily's post can be viewed here: http://musingsonthe5.blogspot.com/2008/12/past.html

And finally, without further ado, here it is:

On Profanity

There is a quote that I once saw a few years ago: “Fuck the past; make love to the future.” To me, this simple statement holds so much meaning and power – and it’s not just the choice to use the profane word “fuck.” It all comes down to diction and syntax in order to catch the attention and linger in the mind. I think that a simple sentence can emanate power if the profane word or phrase is used effectively – chosen carefully, strategically placed in a certain spot within the sentence, and used sparingly to fully express meaning.

Yet, when you live in such a wonderful place as New York City, you either meet or hear its wonderful people cursing on a daily basis. Sometimes you would hear the same four-letter “f” word uttered several times, taking on different forms to convey just a single thought or a smattering of emotion. While this shows that language can be used as a creative outlet, it can, however, detract from the power that profanity can hold as a sign of rebellion against what is accepted and proper in society. Words like “shit,” “fuck,” etc., are just words, like any other word in the English language. But people give power to these words by shunning them, thus making them forbidden. Constant use of these socially forbidden words, however, takes away from their power. If used on a regular day-to-day basis, especially in a city where virtually every person has either heard, seen, read, or said curse words, then the use of profanity becomes mundane and loses its initial purpose – to rile and provoke.

Profanity is dirty, or so people say in reaction to someone using it: “Wash that mouth!” or, “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” But I think that the statement “Fuck the past; make love to the future” can actually be beautiful, in the sense that it expresses an insightful approach to living life in the simplicity of its wisdom. The placing of “fuck” as the first word in the sentence joggles someone into paying attention while also emphasizing that the past does not necessarily matter in terms of moving forward in life. “Make love” is one alternative meaning to “fuck,” and takes on a different connotation than its four-letter synonym – in other words, revere and take pleasure in the future, come what may. Metaphorically, the statement advises one to cherish and embrace the future with no more qualms of what may have been a troublesome past. A wise and thought-provoking statement – and it’s all because of careful word choice, strategic placement of the words, and its simplicity that gives it so much power and beauty.

So there it is, friends. "Some vital information for your everyday life," as they say in the old t.v. show All That. hehe. ;)

Manic Monday Debacle

I should really be studying Philosophy right now. I have a final at 9:00 AM the next day. But for some reason, I'm just not in the mood. I pretty much know the material. I mean, I passed the other two exams with A's. How hard can this next one be?

I refuse to crack open my notebook, for fear that I might crack a fissure in the already volatile thought bubble that is my brain. I refuse to fall into that chasm called worry.

But I'd rather splurge in chronicling my cluttered cognitive formations surrounding yesterday here.

Right now, I'm hungry. There's this cozy restaurant called Spice along 8th Ave., close to NYU, that serves yummy Thai food at affordable prices. For only $5, I ordered a Crispy Calamari Salad, which filled me up right away. It tasted heavenly. A frenzy of flavor tantalized my tongue: the fried salty goodness of the calamari, the fresh mix of veggie greens and tomatoes, and a melt-in-your-mouth minty cool sauce of sweetness. I'm definitely eating there again and I'm definitely going to google the recipe.

That was yesterday evening's dining experience. Just before that, Priscilla, Lily, and I tried going to Washington Square Park. We'd heard that there was a free Fall Out Boy concert going on at 3:30 in the afternoon, thanks to Pete Wentz calling up Z100 and announcing it. Pris told us about it, and so we wanted to check it out. Note that FREE was the buzzword that got our ears signaled to this goal... honestly, it's been a LONG while since I last listened to FOB and I kind of outgrew them. But in any case, it seemed like a cool experience. We figured that it would maybe/sort of make up for the fact that we MISSED a free concert by Adele, one of our favorite artists, at the Apple Store in SoHo a couple weeks before. Unfortunately, we got to the park at around 5:00, and it was pretty much empty. Just our luck for being late (thanks a bunch, MTA!). Not that we were overly bummed out or anything.

(According to Z100 this morning, it turns out the concert didn't even last that long. The police came and said that FOB didn't have a permit to play, so they couldn't set up their instruments. Instead, they performed a capella. Thus, the whole she-bang was relatively short.)

As we stood amid the emptiness of the park, I started hearing drumbeats in the distance, thinking that the band was still there. But as we followed the sounds, it turned out to be a street performer doing a rendition of what must be some kind of cultural, Native American music - complete with chanting and trills.

"Do you really think Fall Out Boy would play that?" Lily said with point-blank sarcasm. Obviously, not. We erupted in laughter right then, and laughed even harder as Lily started to kind of mosh in front of us. Eyes closed, head bouncing, hair flailing, hands and hips gyrating - she looked outright ridiculous. Passers-by shot stares at what looked like three young women who've lost their grasp on reason. Honestly, though, it was fun. :D

While we were at Spice later, Priscilla "introduced" (since Liliana contested that there was no such word in the English dictionary) debacle in one conversation. She pronounced it as "de-BOK-l." But I'd only heard it pronounced as "deb-a-kel" (short a phonetic sound). We got into this whole debate that itself proved to be a debacle, as there really wasn't much of a resolution. We even went so far as to walk into Barnes & Noble on Union Square to look up the pronunciation in a dictionary. When that didn't help, Pris asked a man what the correct pronunciation was.

"Excuse me, sir. But my friends and I would like to know if there is such a world as debacle?" (Here she said it as "de-BOK-el")

"Yes, there is," he replied.

"And can it be pronounced as 'deb-a-kel'?"

A brief, puzzled look came over the man's face but then disappeared into amusement. "Ah, I see. Well, there could be two different pronunciations for the same word."

Liliana looked absolutely affronted. "Well, you know what, Priscilla? I have never in my life heard of such a word as 'de-BOK-el'! I mean, WHAT NORMAL PERSON SAYS THAT?! De-BOK-el!" She started waving her right index finger in Pris's face and doing her trademark head-roll, typical of a Hispanic New Yorker incensed with an affluency for attitude.

"Thank you so much, sir," Pris said as we tried to hush Liliana over to the escalator.

"Not a problem. Have fun!"

The guy must have thought we were obsessive - and in Lily's case, obsessive compulsive - over a single word. We were so engrossed in our stupid debate that we walked towards the wrong escalator.

Pris and I couldn't stop laughing at her persistence, and it continued even as we went to Starbucks to satisfy Liliana's chronic caffeine cravings. (Okay, well not "chronic." Lily just happens to be an avid coffee enthusiast. So to speak. Hehe.)

We were even planning to go so far as to double-check with Mr. A, our English teacher in high school, on Alumni Day (which is scheduled for January 9th). It's kind of sad that we were having this debate when all three of us took AP English during senior year.

Finally, we gave it a rest as we joined the sewer rats in the subway to get home. That was one of the funniest arguments I've ever come across. It was a debacle in itself, if you catch my drift. The only thing that was really solved was Lily's denial of the word's existence. But for me and Pris, it was a win-win situation.

But after all of this absurdity, what can I tell ya?
It was just another manic Monday.

Twilight... Zone?

So...

I saw "Twilight" a couple weeks ago... and I must say, the movie wasn't as bad as I thought. Although some of the acting could use some work, the film was true to the book, something that I'm happy about at least.


I had misgivings about Robert Pattinson playing Edward Cullen at first, but he wasn't actually that bad. His performance was believable - he really embodied Edward's mannerisms and personality (his moodswings, his mysteriousness, his intensity, his protectiveness, and his capacity to love fully). Heck, I even found myself saying in my head, "Move over, Kristen Stewart. I'M BELLA." hehe :)


Don't get me wrong, though. The hype still kind of bothers me. I could swear that whenever I take the subway, there's at least one girl sitting there, reading the first novel on the train. I've become a bit disillusioned about it that I have a tendency to roll my eyes. Most likely that girl is only reading because her friends are reading it, because it's the FAD. Not because she has a genuine interest in the story. Would she have picked the book up had the hype NOT been there? I hate to sound like a killjoy, but I honestly don't think so. And that's what bothers me, coming from someone who's read the series when it first came out, way before it became an international sensation. It's just becoming so cliched that it saddens me.


But anyway, watching the movie was just my little way of relieving some of the pressure I'm under right now. I had three papers due within this past week, as well as finals. I'll be really glad once everything's finally finished. I'm really looking forward to catching more hours of sleep.


And to recap some other highlights of my life so far in December...

• I just started reading another book called Confessions of a Jane Austen Addict. Although it sounds a bit corny, I couldn't help but indulge. It's about this 21st century woman from L.A. who one day wakes up and doesn't know where the heck she is or why her body is not her body. At first, it sounds a bit Kafka-esque in this sense. But the scenario is funny and definitely more optimistic than the Metamorphosis. Courtney Stone wakes up in the middle of early nineteenth century England as Jane Mansfield. She tries to find her way home, but eventually falls for someone in the wrong time period. She has to try to converge this dualism, to reconcile who she really is with the life that she only dreamed about (thanks to Austen's novels). It just sounds like an entertaining read.
  


• Nowadays, I keep noticing really cute guys, especially on the train and around Union Square. Is it just my hormones acting up? Or the fact that I'm boyfriendless and subconsciously craving for romance?
  
  On Thursday, Pris and I were on our way to meet up with Lily and Bianca at Union Square. We were riding the 6 to get there, and during the brief commute, a young man sat directly across from us. He was tall, handsome, stylish, and clean-cut, with a gold piercing on the upper part of his left ear (like a pirate. OMG. What's WRONG with me?). He was meticulously reading this paper, trying hard to concentrate. Then, most likely feeling cramped from where he was sitting (because the other people were pretty much hogging the space), he got up and sat next to Priscilla. And resumed reading his paper in deep thought. He struck me as the artsy, creative, intellectual type. I tried to keep myself from smiling, from laughing, from bursting out with "OH MY GOD, PRISCILLA, DID YOU SEE HIM? HIS GORGEOUSNESS?"
  
  Thankfully, I was able to contain myself and my irrational urge to go crazy. It wasn't until we exited the station and emerged to the street, that I finally told her. The funny thing was, we were both thinking the same thing. Maybe that was why she was covering her face, pretending to close her eyes and sleep on the train? Because he was sitting right next to her. LAUGH OUT LOUD.
  
  Sigh... We are losers, indeed.
  


• Here's the weirdest part of my day on Thursday...
  Have you ever recognized someone, but weren't sure it was really that person?
  
  After Bianca left and went to her class, all three of us - Lily, Pris, and I - went to look for another shoestore that might sell rainboots. It was pouring all day, especially that night. Pris wore suede flats, and was in dire need of rainboots. She picked out these cute, olive green rainboots, but Shoemania unfortunately ran out of boots her size. So we walked towards NoHo/SoHo and entered a shoe store called David Z.
  
  As soon as we walked in, there was a guy with thick-framed glasses and a lazy look in his eyes who worked there. I felt like I saw him before, but wasn't exactly sure...
  
  "Hello, welcome to David Z's," he said. "You could put your umbrellas over there in that box." Normal enough. I decided to think no more of it, figuring that my mind was playing tricks on me again.
  
  We walked around the store, browsing the different boots they had there. When we were standing by a table with UGGS on it, the guy said, "You ladies look like you might need them. It's winter now, so you'll want to keep your feet warm!" He sounded cheesy, like he was trying too hard to sell us something, anything from the store. But I have to admit, it was actually quite funny.
  
  Finally, we spotted the jackpot - about a few feet away was another table with shiny boots laiden on top. "Well, would ya look at that?" Lily said. "Those boots are tall, sleek, and dark! Just like you, Priscilla!" We burst out laughing.
  
  All the while, I was trying to suppress this weird feeling that kept piquing up.
  
  There were moments while we were in there when I felt like he was watching me. Sure enough, when I finally looked at him, he had the wisp of suspicious sarcasm on his mouth when he smiled. If you can even call it a smile.
  
  When Pris went to the cashier to pay for her newfound rainboots, Lily called me over to show me the cozy, warm moccasins she had bought about a month earlier. He walked over to us, and tried to smoothly ask Lily, "Do you go to Hunter, too?"
  
  "Uh, no," Lily replied. "I go to Brooklyn College."
  
  And that's when it hit me. It truly was him.
  
  "Don't think that I don't know who you are," Julien D. said to me. "I see you sometimes at Hunter. Remember? I was the guy who kept bothering you during Math class a couple years ago?"
  
  That kid who was still stuck in a Math A class during his junior year of high school, used to annoy me in Math A when I was a sophomore. That kid who said to me, "You stole my name and you stole my grade!" But was it my fault that our names sounded alike? If it was any consolation to him, people would sometimes misprounounce "Julianne" as "Julien." As for that test grade, I worked hard to get it. Of course, I knew he was just trying to bug me.
  
  After that one year of being in the same Math class, he finally stopped bothering me. Despite the fact that the Academy of American Studies was a small school, we became pretty much invisible to each other. He was a smart but lazy photography geek, who hardly ever combed his hair, wore a crazy montage of shirts and tight jeans with chunky disproportionate sneakers, and dated girls that were years younger than him.
  
  Now, after about two and a half years, he expects me to say hi to him. Like old pals. Right.
  
  "OH, Sorry," I said, nervously laughing and feeling odd. "I was trying to place your face. I sort of recognized you, but I just wasn't really sure."
  
  Then, since Priscilla was finished, she and Lily moved to grab their umbrellas. To minimize the weirdness that pervaded the atmosphere, I told him in the best cheerful voice that I could muster, "Well, thanks a lot for your help!"
  
  And we emerged into the pouring rain, on our way to get some Starbucks.
  
  Does this mean that I'm obliged to say hi to him in the future? I don't exactly know why this one incident lingered on my mind this past weekend. I don't even like the guy that way. I guess I'm just paranoid. It's hard for me to get over things, especially if it's something that throws off my expectations and teases me with a strange feeling in the pit of my stomadch. But I guess I'll get over the oddity and the awkwardness.

I have much more to write about, but right now my thoughts are scattered. I'll update later, loves. Hopefully with something that actually makes more sense.

Here's to the future.

A Mumbled Jumble of Thoughts about the Week...

Here is a collection of random thoughts that have crossed my mind so far this week:


1) All the Christmas songs playing on the radio make me feel nostalgic... and it's not even Thanksgiving yet! But whatever... Advent starts on November 30th. "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas..."

2) MoMA

• Priscilla and I went there last Wednesday to fulfill the "In a New York Minute" assignment for FYSH (First Year Seminar @ Hunter), which required us to visit a place of interest and write about the experience.
  
  There were some fascinating exhibits, but there were also some that didn't really make sense to us. For one thing, some of the so-called artwork featured a virtually blank canvas and dubbed "Untitled." Another so-called piece of art was composed of a tall pink slab leaning against the white wall. How are we supposed to interpret any of these? These were just way too ambiguous.
  
  One artist, however, captured my attention. Josephine Meckseper made social commentaries using her photography and mixed-medium installations to "cunningly expose the links between politics and the consumer worlds of fashion and advertising" (http://www.moma.org/). My favorite piece is called "Kriegsstrasse," a mixed-medium shown here:
  
  The piece is separated into three parts: a clear mirror with a picture of protesters and political symbols, an opaque reflective surface with bathroom products, and a clear mirror with another photo of protesters.
  
  I like to think of it as a newsreel. Imagine yourself watching the news on television, seeing the world objectively at all angles. Then, a commercial break: you cannot focus anywhere else but on the advertised products and subconsciously envision yourself possessing that product. After a few minutes, the news comes back on, with more stories of the real world. Apparently, consumerism is a dark void that employs subtle suggestion to suck you into it. Or at least, that's my understanding of Meckseper's "Kriegsstrasse."

3) Last Thursday in Union Square: Liliana, Priscilla, and I cannot do mental math.

• Lily wanted to buy rice cakes for her family, so we went into Whole Foods. I wondered how much she would save if she still had her employee discount, and so I asked her while we were standing on line for the cashier.
  
  "Well, I used to get 20 percent off my purchases," she said. "Let's see... Priscilla, you take math, right? What's 20 percent of 3 dollars??"
  
  Pris didn't even bother. Meanwhile, Lily and I were standing there writing invisible numbers in the air with our fingers, stretching the muscle in our brains responsible for performing mental math. The seconds stretched on.
  
  Until someone next to us whispered, "6..."
  
  "OH," we all said, feeling stupid that we were stumped by such a simple calculation.
  
  And let me tell you, the voice belonged to a tall, attractive man with a suave, friendly smile on his lovely face. Of course, this just made all three of us blush and feel even more abashed. Were we that obvious in our quest to find the correct answer to our mathematical query? It makes me laugh and wonder at how people can eavesdrop on a conversation you're having with someone.
  
  Not that I minded Number 6 offering a helpful hint. Hehe.
  
  It's also a coincidence that we happened to see him on the L train on our way home, too. I don't think he saw us gawking awkwardly at him. The funny thing was that once we were on the train, we realized that 20 percent of 3 dollars is not 6 cents, but rather 60 cents. Looks like Number 6 was incorrect in his calculations... unless he was giving us a hint that it was in fact 60. Was he?
  
  Like it really matters. Oh well. Anyway, the whole thing was yet another hilarious experience that I just had to chronicle.

4) Yesterday:

• It was really nice seeing Amy and spending the day with her, since the last time we saw each other was in June. Amy, Pris, and I played "Are You Smarter Than A 5th Grader?" on her iTouch during Psych. She pretty much slept through the rest of the period, hehe. I tried paying attention but the lecture was kind of long and boring. But anyway, after class we met up with Lily, went to Applebee's in Times Square, and caught up with each other. We walked to Bryant Park soon after so that Lily could buy the hat she's had her eye on at H&M.
  
  It sounds absurd, but we were really excited to use the restrooms at Bryant Park right before heading for the subway. Once you walk in there, you feel as though you are transported to a lavish lavatory, as swanky and updated as a five-star hotel.

5) I started another draft for a story, redefining and reshaping the traditional ideas people have about vampires. Still have to work out the kinks, though. Not spilling the details just yet. For some unknown reason, I have the urge to use the word "iridescent" in my draft. ;)


6) Just today, I bought my own copy of Juno Diaz's The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. I probably should have bought a used copy online at Amazon.com, but I couldn't resist and instead walked into Barnes & Noble after philosophy. As soon as I was on the train, I cracked the fresh pages open and began to read. According to the back cover, it's the story of a man named Oscar, "a sweet but disastrously overweight ghetto nerd, a New Jersey romantic who dreams of becoming the Dominican J.R.R. Tolkien and, most of all, of finding love." But Oscar never really gets what he wants out of life. The cause? "Fuku - a curse that has haunted Oscar's family for generations, following them on their epic journey from the Dominican Republic to the United States and back again." I finished the introduction and just started the first chapter of Part I. So far, the story looks promising. Diaz even offers sidenotes about Dominican history and customs throughout the book, so I feel like I'm being educated as well as entertained. The next time he comes to Hunter for a lecture or at a Barnes & Noble for a book talk, I'm definitely going to try to get it autographed.

7) Finally, last on my list of mumbo jumbo thoughts: Did you know that saying "Thank You" has it's health benefits? Jason Mraz basically quoted an article from USA Today entitled, "Gratitude is Good for Your Health."

Read it here:
http://freshnessfactorfivethousand.blogspot.com/2008/11/gratitude-is-good-for-your-health.html

Just something to keep in mind not just for Thanksgiving, but throughout life. ;)

Twilight... not so dazzling?

I don't know if it's the media hype getting to me, or the fact that people are only starting to read the novels because of the movie. But I feel somewhat disappointed. I'm not even sure why I feel this way, and I haven't even seen the movie yet. It starts playing in theaters today.

There are some mixed reviews that I have read in the papers so far. I don't know if it's false advertising or simply the hormonal craze to be seduced by a supernatural predator ravaging the minds of young, impressionable girls. Supposedly, the movie is good. However, it might as well depend on who you're asking. These "Twilighters," let's just call them for now (I'm one of them, but I'm not as carried away as most), might be more likely to tell you that the movie was awesome and that Edward Cullen is a sexy beast.

But according to Mina Hochberg, the movie critic in amNY, " 'Twilight' might be too anemic to hold your interest." It's kind of amusing how she calls Edward (played by Robert Pattinson) an intense, brooding fellow with a staring problem. Now that I think about it, he actually is. But can he help himself when he's so attracted to the sweetest thing he's ever encountered? She's like chocolate to him. As Hochberg puts it, "If you thought hormones made men act up, try blood-lust." HAHA. But that's besides my point.

Hochberg wrote that when it comes to the dialogue between the two forbidden lovebirds, "you can't tell if the awkwardness comes from teen angst or clumsy acting." She says, "The stilted script makes it difficult to relate to the characters... Even as a romance, the chemistry is tepid... It's not enough to make a compelling love story. Or an action story, for that matter."

That is precisely what I fear - the movie may not measure up to the high standards that I have developed for the plotlines and Meyer's storytelling style.

I don't know if it's just me, or if it's the way that the movie was advertised, or if something is lacking in the actors' enthusiasm (based on what I've seen in the trailers), but somehow I'm not as excited as I thought I would be.

Or perhaps I grew out of placing Edward Cullen on a pedestal. He's too perfect, even for a vampire. I mean, for crying out loud - Instead of turning her into an immortal, youthful-looking vampire, Edward wants Bella to live her life fully as a normal human being (which means that she would grow old... I honestly don't blame her for being upset on her birthday).

He's just too perfect, it's unnerving. And unrealistic... Maybe living vicariously through Bella Swan's experiences just aren't cutting it for me.

Perhaps I crave for something more, something real. Someone real. Someone... three-dimensional, soft-spoken, clever, funny, somewhat serious yet also laid-back, and humble. Someone who makes me feel comfortable in my own skin, just the way I am. His only superpower would be to make me swoon, causing my heart to melt with a single goofy, lop-sided smile. Someone who I don't fear, but who I would fear losing. So there's my ideal guy. Or not even an ideal... more like just an idea of what he would be or should be like.

Anyway, I might watch the film sometime within the upcoming week. I'll give it a chance just to see how it goes and how it compares to the book (which I still think will prove disappointing). But whatever, I guess. I'll toss my whims to the winds of chance and see what happens.

Skin

As I was researching body art and different cultural perspectives on this topic, the creative spark set my mind aflame. I began thinking of body art as a mark of identity. I wanted to write something about an individual claiming the right to an identity, overcoming suppression and turmoil in order to get it, and finally feeling the freedom and satisfaction that the identity brings. I thought it was some kind of cycle, a metamorphosis that one goes through.

And so, this poem was born:


Skin

'Tis a sin
To alter the skin,
The elders say.

Obey this holy example:
The body is the temple;
The soul the altar.

'Tis a crime
To pillage this shrine.
A savage sacrilege.

The gift of free will
Sits dormant and still,
Shackled by sanctity's sanction.

Yet still you
Want, crave, do
What you will.

Somehow, you escape.
You rape
Your temple.

Penetrate your flesh,
Letting the elements mesh
From the needle.

A piercing, a tattoo.
This taboo
Inflames your soul.

A scar, a mar.
They say you've gone too far.
And so you die.

Hellfire.

Your insides Turn.
Cowardice and malice burning -
Ashes in an urn.

Dust to dust,
But you must
Rise as sinew, shadow, smoke.

Rise, Avian. Emerge.
Brilliance and light take flight on the verge.
Breathe in the breeze.

No longer tame
From shame, from blame,
You shine brighter than the shrine.

'Tis a sin
To alter the skin.
Yet 'tis sin that seeps in the skin.

This truth the elders deny.
You must defy them and purify
The self to save your skin.

Only then shall you win.

On a lighter note...

Here are two completely random phrases that keep making Priscilla and me laugh:

1. Turbo's nuts
2. Chafing nipples

Yes, I am aware that we are a couple of chuckle-heads who have a bad case of the giggle gas. But honestly, they are the most hilarious things that we have ever come across so far. I love inside jokes. :)

Let me try to break it down for you, if you deem us insane:

1. Turbo's nuts

• After reading one of his old blog posts, Priscilla and I could not get over the fact that Jason Mraz wrote about his cat's scrotum sacs and the surgical procedure that was to remove them. Although we kind of sympathized for the poor thing, we couldn't help but laugh hysterically. Jason, was it really necessary for you to include a picture of your feline's furballs (so to speak)?

2. Chafing nipples

• There was an episode of The Office called "Fun Run." Micheal Scott, the bumbling boss of Dunder Mifflin Paper Co., hit one of his coworkers with his car. He thought that rabies was the culprit to her present condition, in addition to his carelessness. To atone for his mistake, Micheal felt that he and the employees should sponsor and run a race - a race to cure rabies. Apparently, he didn't get the memo that the solution to rabies has already been found long before. Anyway, one of the employees named Andy feared the chafing of his nipples while running. So, he wrapped tape around himself to prevent it. However, later on during the race, as he was running as fast as his feet could sweep him away, two spots of red appeared on his shirt. Alas, poor Andy had no idea that his nipples were indeed chafing. The sheer stupidity of it incites the giggle gas to rise up in both of us.

It got to the point where Pris and I would laugh out of nowhere during our Psych class and even on the 6 train. We may have looked like a couple of weirdoes, but honestly, we blended in with the rest of the kooks on the subway. After all, this is New York City. That's the beauty of it. Embrace it. Breathe it. Live it.

Crazy is just another level of genius that no one else can understand.

I am hungry.

I am hungry.

Philosophy is a whirlwind that takes you on a ride, twisting this way and that, turning here and there, across a universe of question marks. But just when you think you've made it to Emerald City: WHAM! You land with a thud on your ass, right back on square one.

Can the existence of God be proved?

My faith was challenged on Wednesday. I had to argue for the con side of the argument. But my opponent argued her pro position from the perspective of intelligent design, making it harder for me to make a good rebuttal. To top it all off, I was getting an odd feeling in my gut telling me that it was futile to even question the existence of God.

Professor Hausman said that faith is not congruent with reason. Faith can still persist despite reason or when there is no reason to have faith. In psychology, this is called belief preservation. So why do we choose to believe in someone, or something, that we lack the capacity to fully conceive? It all seems so arbitrary.

And what is the purpose of life? To go to heaven? Too bad if you fail: welcome to hell. What is heaven, and what is hell?

But isn't it also possible that even if there is no purpose of life or to life, we can still have purpose in life?

Enter the age-old debate of Dualism. Is the mind the seat of the soul? Do we still live on even after our brain malfunctions and decays in the earth?

Am I a bad Catholic, a bad Christian, for doubting God? Sometimes I feel like religion is a scapegoat, some fabricated system of ideas and ideals to help explain the things that we feel have no answers. Perhaps we're just not advanced enough to uncover the truth yet.

Sometimes I find that Oscar Wilde's quote from one of his plays seems more rational:
"We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell."

Perhaps heaven and hell are here on earth. When one feels euphoria, one likens the pleasant sensations and emotions to the atmosphere in heaven. However, when one experiences anger, anguish, sorrow, confusion, one thinks that it must be some kind of punishment, some kind of hell to be paid. In this case, heaven and hell are simply states of mind. In the future, psychology might find the reasons why.

But right now, philosophy is a tornado of question marks coiling around you, grabbing you from the ground you've stood on for so long. It picks you up and sucks you into an abyss, then spits you out when it is done with you, leaving crumbled debris of confusion in its wake. And you're wide awake, trying to recover from the aftermath of its impact. You ask yourself, "Will I ever find the yellow brick road?"

Nope. Instead, you're back where you were standing, mercilessly tossed aside to the ground like a ragdoll, still as clueless as when you first started.

So after this long journey, I am hungry. Hungry for the answers. Hungry for the truth. But no matter how long or how hard I hunt for the answers or cultivate the knowledge I already possess, I think that I will still starve. Maybe my quest is all for naught.

Are you out there God? It's me, Julianne. Forgive me for being so ravenous.

"Ha la la la la... It's all about the wordplay"

It started with a rhyme
In the midst of finding time.

The perfect word,
perhaps one absurd

Phrase can describe
the vibe of my day.

^ Just a tidbit of poetry to start this post off. I'm feeling creative.

So here's a recap of the past couple of days:

Yesterday, I hung out with Pris and Lily again. At first, we planned to watch Changeling, since Pris had free tickets. But it already started by the time Lily came (she had to travel all the way from Brooklyn College to Times Square, where we decided to meet), and the schedule of the other movies were too inconvenient for us. Instead, we walked to Chipotle because Lily got hungry. After grabbing a table and settling down, the inspiration was born.

Maybe it was the tortilla chips. Or the salsa.

But either way, we became electrified, excited, feeling an extra spice and zing. It's all thanks to our common love for writing and the musical stylings of Jason Mraz, the "wizard of ooh's and ahh's and fa-la-la's." The conversation soon jumped to the things we like and freestyling. We saw some videos on Youtube of Jason playing his ukelele and doing a freestyle session with his friend, Bushwalla (a unique, funny-sounding name, right?). They were hilarious, riveting, and just pure AMAZING. Jason Mraz uses this technique in many of his songs like "The Dynamo of Volition," "Geek in the Pink," "Wordplay," and "The Remedy." If you ask me, the new (yet often crappy/trashy) hip-hop songs on the radio should be more like this. See Jason's awesomeness for yourself!:

***Note: If it helps, you should press pause on my music playlist. It's most likely playing "Wordplay" in the background as you read this. My playlist is all the way at the bottom of my blog page. Just press pause and you'll be able to hear the video better.




Long story short: we wanted to cruise down the freestyle aisle ourselves.

So on Facebook today, Priscilla wrote "Battle. Lets take it outside Julianne." Here's her piece:

I like... music
The way my itunes lets me groove it
with the lyrical stylings and musings
of jason mraz who makes me lose it
in a good way that lets me fuse his
eclectic style satisfies my Tuesdays

I responded with this:

I like... the idea
of romance with Mraz
'cause he's all that jazz
and his poetic groove
puts me in the mood
to dance, sing, and steal things,
'cause I know he stole my heart strings
I could steal it back
but I faced the facts
Jason could keep it
I'll just wear his hat

I have yet to hear Lily's rendition of what she likes. This should get interesting.

Wordplay status, yo!

Wishful Fishing

Reminisce on a lake of bliss.
Float on by and drift.
Go ahead and make a wish.
Fish for the one true thing
That will give you the wings
To try and fly.

Sit back, relax.
Shutter your eyes,
Pretend to flutter by
Like the butterfly.

But you're no flying fish.
And as you realize this,
You slowly kiss
Your bliss goodbye.

So you fall
And can't recall
The reason
You ever wished
For such a thing
At all.

Keep on fishing, clenching
The net in your fist.
Maybe, just maybe
You'll catch a wish
And not be so wishy-washy
That you captured it.



*Note: Just for the record - At first, I had absolutely no idea what I was writing about in this poem.

"Live high. Live mighty. Live righteously."

I was totally blown away by the election yesterday. After voting for the first time ever, I can proudly say that my vote actually made a difference in the history of my country. Screw the old belief that the youth is apathetic. I'd like to think that we were just tired, wishing and waiting for change to actually arrive. Now, with Barack Obama's victory in securing the presidency, I can wake up and look forward to a future of hope, opened doors, and progress for the greater good. Finally, the United States of America can regain its good standing in the eyes of the rest of the world, rising to face the challenges as a stronger and more united nation of diverse people searching for a dream... The dream to not only reach high, but fly like the eagle that symbolizes our determination and tenacity to soar above the hardships. While watching the election coverage last night on ABC, there was an election gathering of family and friends at a New Jersey couple's home. On their walls were posters and hand-made decorations supporting Obama and Biden. One of them caught my attention because of the truth and hope that resonates throughout its simplicity:

Rosa sat,
Martin walked,
Obama ran,
So that our children can fly.

It's amazing when you look back at the history of this country. One hundred fifty-years ago, slavery existed, and yet even after it was abolished racial prejudice still ran rampant well into the twentieth century. Forty years after the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr., the dream of one man became a reality in the shoes of another, who finally broke the mold and now stands as a testament to the progress and change for the better. The American Dream can now finally be realized.

Although my ancestral roots run deep within my sense of self, I had never been happier to be an American until the moment I learned that the 44th President of the United States is someone who embodies the hope that we have yearned for, the change that we need - someone, that I placed my complete faith in and voted for.

That, my friends, is the beauty of giving your choice a voice. :)

Hmmm...

The election is less than a week away. And let me just tell you frankly what I think:

Obama MUST win this election!

I was willing to give the Republican candidate the benefit of the doubt earlier this year, but UGH. I've lost my faith in him. McCain is becoming a PAIN, and it's quite obvious that he's a sore loser, especially when he knows that Obama's leading in the polls. All he does is pump his fists and complain, using demagogue mud-slinging tactics in a pathetic attempt to win voter support. I mean, I respect him for his services in the armed forces and even surviving as a POW in the Vietnam war, but I'm starting to lose faith in his leadership competency. He's just a hothead to me now. He knows he's got nothing much to offer except more of the same. Ninety to ninety-five percent of the time he voted for Bush's policies - the very ones that have led this country to this downhill rollercoaster of a spiral.

As for McCain's pinhead Barbie-doll of a running mate, Palin is getting annoying. She just made a buffoon out of herself by showing up on SNL, particularly when the sketches were dripping with satire on her expense. Does she even realize that this only hurt McCain's campaign? This is NOT a popularity/personality contest. It's as if this election's a joke to her. I still think that McCain merely chose Palin as his running mate for these three reasons:

(a) to sway Hillary fans over to his side,
(b) to drill more oil in Alaska (We're STILL screwed when the oil runs out.), and
(c) to go down in the history books as the president who has a woman as his second-in-command (that is, IF he even wins this election)

At least Barack Obama keeps it real and clearly tells you straight-up where he stands on an issue, and he can do so cleanly and smoothly without talking SHIT about his opponent. He CARES about US, the regular people living in this country who work hard everyday. My mother really needs this tax cut that he's proposing. She works two jobs everyday of the week and barely has any time for herself. People like her need a break. With a fragile economy threatening to crack and shatter, it'll be hard to keep up with the rising prices and increasingly high standard of living. As far as I can see, Obama's more focused, and the fact that he's liberal only goes to show that he's really going to implement change for the better. McCain's got nothing. So yeah... To anyone who's reading this, please vote for Obama this coming Tuesday.

These thoughts I've been having about the election were brewing in my head. I just felt that I needed to get my views on it across because I'm sick of the ignorance, lies, and half-truths that McCain's been spreading in his predominantly negative campaign ads. It's just downright dirty. I don't want a vindictive old coot as president. And if McCain does indeed have something to offer to the Oval Office, then I have yet to see what his policies are going to be. Give me substance! I want to hear it from him simple and straight-up, without the immature finger-pointing. If only he knew there are three fingers pointing right back at him - his own. But I guess it's too late now.

My choice is clear.

Here's to a hopeful future, my friends.

"Immersion"

Well, I was looking through my old journals and rereading some of the memories I scribbled furiously when I had some minutes to spare. I found this poem that I wrote for Poetry Slam, a seminar that was hosted at my high school during junior year. It was actually supposed to be performed as a verse, part of a collaboration with the other students' poems to create a whole piece. We were actually supposed to present it at the Winter Talent Show in 2007, but we never got to do it because we never really got to finish it. I guess I'll just treat mine as a separate piece and give it a title of its own like the other poems I've written in the past. This one happens to be about the passion for music and the emotions that it evokes. I tried to add some imagery, alliteration, rhyme, and cadence so that the poem would take on a life of its own, just like a song.

Here it is:

"Immersion"

I revel in the reveries
The lyrical lies and truths tell -
Mesmerizing, drawing me deeper
To dive in and swim under the sea of its spell.
When jubilant and upbeat, I rock and tap my feet
To the sound, laughing away as I spin around.
Yet beware of the ire that could spark,
For it is the fire that burns, consuming my heart.
When broken and caught in misery's pain,
I hum melodies soft-spoken to dry off from the rain.
But I bounce back and find my rhythm once more
Amid the dissonance, knowing one thing for sure:
Life is a song, descending and rising in crescendos,
The pitch either high or low.
Immerse myself in the music, twirling and dancing in the flow.

The Remedy

I take back what I said in my last post - the "socially inept" part. It's just that I feel so awkward sometimes. But life's just like that - full of changes you may or may not adjust to so easily. I'm trying to "Remedy" that. This song makes an awesome mantra when in doubt. hehe :)

Pris and Lily finally gave me the details on the Jason Mraz concert they went to Friday last week! And I heard he can dance salsa! I wish I had gone with them, considering the awesome seats that they were able to score, but the tickets they paid for cost about $150 (GOSH, I need a job). I can just imagine their excitement... Lily would have been screaming out the lyrics to the sultry-yet-oh-so-beautifully-poetic "Butterfly," our all-time favorite song from Mr.A-Z. If a guy serenaded me with that song, I'd swoon. Who wouldn't with lyrics that go like this?:

"Butterfly, well you float on by
Oh kiss me with your eyelashes tonight
Or Eskimo your nose real close to mine
And let's mood the lights and finally make it right
But you don't fold, you don't fade, you've got everything you need
Especially me
Sister you've got it all

Butterfly, well you landed on my mind
Dammit you landed on my ear and then you crawled inside
Now I see you perfectly behind closed eyes
I wanna fly with you and I don't wanna lie to you
Cause I, cause I can't recall a better day
I'm coming to shine on the occasion"

... Well, I guess you catch my drift. What's even cooler is that he even choreographed a dance that the audience could groove to while he performed "The Dynamo of Volition." He also supports Obama! While playing "Live High" he showed pictures of the smiling senator during the lines "Try to picture the man/To always have an open hand/See him as a giving tree/See him as matter/Matter fact he's not a beast/No not the devil either/Always a good deed doer/And it's laughter that we're makin after all..."

Before he even started playing his songs, there was this presentation filled with photos sent in by fans, followed by words that described his favorites and highlighted his personality such as, "sushi," "Obama," "wet dreams" (Lily screamed upon seeing this. LOL), and "polaroids." I don't think that many artists do this - just being themselves and celebrating the music that moves us all. It's one of the reasons why Jason Mraz is on my list of favorite artists. Next time he's in NYC, I am definitely going to one of his concerts! I also made a new playlist and posted it here at the very bottom of this page featuring some of his awesome songs.

On Thursday, Pris and I were on Facebook, just messing around with each other's profiles and watching some of the concert videos she posted. She then DARED me to be confident, to try talking to this guy that I really find intriguing. I absolutely freaked out when I realized she was serious. I admit that I hated her guts for a moment, since I usually get nervous and freeze up around a guy I think I might actually like. But she was right - the worst that could happen is rejection. And he was really nice! I still wish I could get to know him better and feel more comfortable with myself around him. As Jordin Sparks would sing, "One step a time, there's no need to rush. It's like learning to fly or falling in love. It's gonna happen when it's supposed to happen that we find the reasons why."

I also hung out with Lily Thursday evening. We met up in Union Square in front of the Whole Foods store and then walked to the Apple Store to check out the new MacBooks and the iPhone. The funny thing was, I had no idea that we were walking in Soho the entire time. I'd never actually been there before until then. Lily even pointed out to me the building that was supposedly the office building of Grace Adler in the show Will & Grace, shown here:

Hey, you learn something everyday. ;)

I was also kind of bored yesterday that I started looking up one of my favorite shows, The Tudors, online. I can't wait for Season 3 to start. Even though I already know exactly what will happen (given my fascination with European history), it's still pretty awesome seeing it in a dramatic and pretty accurate portrayal. Jonathan Rhys Meyers and Henry Cavill just feed my passion for watching it. Anyway, I clicked on one of the links and found out that you can make your own royal portrait using one of your most "regal-looking" pictures.

Here's one of the pics I tried to manipulate. I look ridiculous. lol.

Hopefully next week brings more eye-opening experiences. I'm just trying to go with the flow right now.

Wanted: A Fire to Inspire.

It's been a long day so far... I feel so alone. I'm here at the library, wondering what to do for the next couple of hours or so until my Psych class. Priscilla's not here - she texted me this morning and told me. My other friends have classes, so meeting up is out of the question. And I have no idea how to approach other people, even if I try. Call me socially inept. I should have brought my journal with me. I should do that more often. Write, that is. I haven't been writing for a while. I'm always so tired. I need to get myself out of this fix. Maybe I'm just jaded.

I need some motivation. An inspiration.

Life at home keeps bothering me, too. My mother never stops criticizing me or my sisters or my dad. And at least twice a day my sisters would pick fights with each other. Sometimes when I just want to be alone, I can't. I haven't been really able to concentrate on the things that I want to do, on the goals that I set for myself.

I need to reorganize my life, it seems.

At least there are books to comfort me, as well as my favorite television shows. I could tune out of my reality for a while and tune in to something that would keep my mind occupied for the meantime. So far, they're the only things I have to look forward to, though a few of my shows are on hold because of the presidential debates.

Speaking of which, I just registered to vote this past Saturday, on the 11th. It was the last day to register, and I went to the local public school to fill up that little blue card. That was the third time I registered. I had mailed the first two registration cards earlier this year, but whenever I checked the website to see my voter status, I still was not registered. It was odd, considering the fact that I mailed the first one around March, right after I turned 18 in February. But my parents, who became U.S. citizens in June, got their voter identification cards in September. So I just tried it again. Hopefully third time's the charm. I'm leaning towards Barack Obama. McCain's not really reaching out to me, and God forbid something happens to him if he actually does become president - I really do not want Sarah Palin to fill in his shoes. I read an article in AMNY about how some feminists were wondering why they fought for feminism in the first place, only to have a VP candidate make a laughing stock out of herself. Hillary Clinton, on the other hand, would have totally rocked as president. She was more serious about it and did not feed the public some kind of "folksy" image in order to get them to vote for her like Palin. McCain, I think, simply wanted to be in the history books as the president who chose a woman for his running mate. It's fine if he does that, but he really should have chosen someone else who was more experienced and actually answers the questions given to her, rather than just beating around the bush and dodging the questions altogether. And anyway, I truly think that Obama's going to bring change. Nevermind that he's young compared to the other presidents we've had so far. He knows what he's talking about. So yeah... there's my two cents on my civic duties come November 4th.

I'm going to read up on the progress of the election more often. And I'm going to try to finish that fantasy story I've been plotting for the longest time, since the spring. Maybe those will finally give me a sense of purpose.

A nice mini-break... followed by a false brake on my morning momentum

The mini-vacation that just passed was pleasant enough.

On Monday, I got the chance to meet up with some of my high school friends. We hung out at Union Square - stuffing our faces with Chipotle burritos and then some frozen yogurt with fruit at Red Mango afterward. Then we paid a little visit to the Academy of American Studies, the high school we all attended. Priscilla and sat in the back of the classroom during AP Euro, wondering how long it would take for Ms. Tuite to spot us amidst her new class of sophomores and seniors. It took about 10 minutes... and someone standing up near us for her to finally notice. She laughed and got so excited. Later on, we saw my old Spanish teacher, Ms. Agudelo, and my AP English teacher, Mr. Avitabile. It was pretty nice chatting with them, and it felt weird to be back. The atmosphere was still the same, but the new faces of scared freshmen and the idea of the former juniors (now seniors) graduating in June 2009 was something we needed to get used to. But at least we took away the memories with us that day - we finally picked up the long-awaited senior yearbook and flipped through all the pages of laughter and smiles. It sounds cheesy, but it was a nice feeling to be back, if only for a little while.

I spent the other days of the mini-break waking up at around 11:00, just lounging around my house, raiding the fridge, and watching all the shows I missed on sidereel.com. It felt wonderful to not have to worry about anything... until this morning.

To start it off, my printer was not cooperating with me when I wanted to print out the powerpoint slides for my Psych class. Supposedly it was not connected to the computer. But I checked all the connections - the USB cable, the power cord, and I even restarted everything - but unfortunately, to no avail. Just my luck. I mean, I did the reading for Psych, and even took notes while I read, but to just to make sure, I always print out the slides for my own reference during class (and to write notes on the margin) because my professor zooms through the lessons.

Second - the L train was not cooperating. I left my house on time, and would have actually gotten to campus with at least 15 minutes to spare. But the L trains were delayed. One moment I thought that I'd be on my way. But, no. The train was stranded. That's right. Stranded for over half an hour in the tunnel, waiting for the problem to be resolved. To top it all off, when the train DID finally move, it moved at a slower speed (oxymoronic, if you ask me). Someone next to me even joked, "How about no speed?" because the train would stop for about 10 minutes in between each subway station. It was ridiculous! At least the conductor had the decency to tell it straight over the intercom: "We are sorry for the inconvenience, but a customer - yes, a customer like you - on another train ahead of us pulled the emergency brake when there was no emergency. That's why we are all still here, and all the trains are backed up. In the future, please be aware that you should not pull the emergency brake if no emergency is present. Again, we are sorry for the inconvenience. Please be patient."

I was stuck inside the L train for over an hour when finally, blissfully, it rolled into 14th St. Union Square. I kept checking my watch as I transferred to the 6 train, but felt that it was useless. I was late anyway. All thanks to the genius who pulled the false alarm. Idiot. Sorry about that, but in essence, it is the perfect word to describe the uncalled for event.

Fifteen minutes later, I finally reached 68th Street. But only with 20 minutes of class left to spare. I debated with myself... Should I go in and apologize to the instructor for my tardiness (which wasn't my fault) and feel mortified in front of the class? Or should I just forego going to Statistics for today and send an email? If I chose the latter, should I feign sickness or pretend I had a doctor's appointment? Or would the instructor be understanding of my unplanned predicament? Class ended half an hour ago. It's now 11:30.

Whatever. I may as well tell the truth. And humbly ask for the homework assignment. If only this never happened... But I guess, as is the way of life - you just have to deal with it.

I just hope the rest of my day goes well...
A toast: here's to the future.

First Day of Autumn

Tests, tests, tests: Statistics on Thursday morning, Psych on Thursday afternoon, Philosophy on Friday. It just seems overwhelming.

At least, one way that Priscilla and I thought of coping with the stress of studying was to compose some kind of song from our Psych notes. So far we wrote a verse and the chorus part that went along with Jason Mraz's song "Make It Mine"... but it's a bit off with the beat. I guess that's what we get for trying to find the words to describe the endocrine system and the central nervous system. Alas, we shall persist somehow! We plan to write a song for Philosophy (Dualism vs. Materialism) along to the tune of "Hot N Cold" by Katy Perry (It sounds way better than "I Kissed A Girl," if you ask me). Let's see how it'll turn out, hehe.

Other than that, it's nice to know that there are a few days off from classes next week. Some of my friends are coming back to New York City from their colleges (mostly SUNYs) for the weekend. I'm so excited to see them again and catch up on the summer and the dawning of a new academic year...

Oh, what the heck?

I just want to jump up and hug them all as soon as I see them and never let go. I miss the days when we'd always hang out during study hall or afterschool at Academy. We're all planning to visit our old high school to pick up our yearbooks this upcoming Monday or Tuesday. We also plan to surprise Mr. A, our beloved AP English teacher, and our charming, quirky AP Euro teacher, Ms. Tuite. They taught us so much and inspired us to keep striving for not just the best, but our best. I'm really looking forward to it!

Well anyway, the weather's gotten cooler these days. My allergies just started kicking in - a stuffy nose paired with itchy sneezing. Yick... You gotta love autumn. But if there's one good thing about this season, it would be Halloween. I'm counting down the days till it's All Hallow's Eve, my favorite holiday of the year (besides Christmas... and my birthday, of course).

Now, back to the studying (or rather, attempts to compose study jingles)!

Playing Pretend

Late afternoon, given sunny azure skies and imagination
Instead of nap time, we would play pretend.
We were the knights who tried to quell
The wicked witch who conjured a spell.
She turned into a dragon, macabre and massive
Like the monster in the closet: darkness and death awaited us
Breathing hot flames of rage down our backs and
Roaring. Then we pierced its heart with our plastic swords
And vanquished her. We thought the fiendish beast would be no more.
Other times we would pretend we were pirates lost on the high seas
Aboard a rickety cardboard ship, hunting for hidden piles of jewels.
We sailed away and drifted down the endless abyss
Wondering where we would land, hoping to find a sea of sand.
We would spot a star sparkling from afar and make a wish.
We would fly to Neverland and meet Peter Pan
Living in a world of make believe with not a care about tomorrow.

We were adventurers venturing into the unknown.
But our flights of fantasies were fleeting,
Our skies now a cold, gray slate.
No time for games, but we still play pretend.
We still wear masks and masquerade
Around with the face of pretty poise
When faced with the pressure of reality’s rash noise.

Succulent Sushi, Promising Music... and Insomnia?

Am I nocturnal?

My sleep pattern (if I have one at all) is odd. I'd feel tired by the end of the day, which is normal, but I would fall asleep by 8 o'clock and not wake up until around 11:30 or midnight. Then I would try to do some homework, but sleepiness overcomes me again. What's up with that? I feel like I need a whole weekend just to hibernate in order to rejuvenate myself. Wonder how that'll turn out. I couldn't really sleep properly, so while I'm awake I'll just write and spill the contents currently cluttering my mind.

So, Priscilla and I went to Central Park again.... This time we knew our way and came to class on time. We just sat there on bleachers in front of the Heckscher Baseball Field and flipped through the Hunter Anonymous publication. We were both amazed at the flow of creativity and got some inspiration for our own ideas.

Then after Psych, we met up with Liliana in Union Square to grab some Starbucks and sushi and catch up on our lives. I love Lily's sudden bursts of energy, especially on days when I feel so tired. We were sitting in the park at Union Square, fidgeting with Priscilla's laptop and looking up songs by Jason Mraz. The guy's a lyrical genius! All three of us couldn't resist but sing/hum along to his music, a slightly embarrassed yet still carefree of the fact that we were outside in public.

But at least we didn't seem as odd as the parade of cooks and chefs marching throughout the park drumming on pots and pans. I think it had to do with the event that was supposed to take place - Harvest, as it was called, "a fabulous evening of gourmet food and drink on Thursday, September 18, featuring 50 of the area's finest restaurants preparing their signature dishes." (http://www.unionsquarenyc.org/) It would have been awesome to sneak inside and get some samples... but, oh well. It was mission impossible.

Besides that, I've been trying to find and listen to new music. I get so tired of the songs on the radio being constantly overplayed every so often. I just crave something undiscovered, different - not something that's overplayed like a broken record. Priscilla and Lily also got me hooked on Adele and I absolutely love the song "Chasing Pavements." Natascha Sohl and Karmina seem promising, too. I couldn't help but sway along to "Eye Contact" by Alessandra Guercio, especially since I could relate to it as of right now, so I have her song playing here on my site.

I just realized that this entry was written in an disorganized state of mind. It's all over the place.
Meanwhile, I really just want sushi again. Hehe.

"One step at a time; there's no need to rush..."

If my life was a television show, then "One Step at a Time" by Jordin Sparks would be my theme song. It's so catchy and uplifting, comforting me when I feel lonely.

I kept thinking about how I'm going to get through the years to come: Will I make friends, and not just mere acquaintances? Or will I end up falling into silence?

I mean, I met and talked to new people inside and outside of class. But after a while it becomes so awkward between us when we run out of words to say or a reason to say something. It's like there's a thread of tight silence dangling in the air, begging to be cut, but left to linger. When a group of us would hang out during a free period, it eventually becomes so plain to see that people would break off into their own little conversations, as though they're in a little clique of their own. Obviously, you're more likely to talk to someone who has something in common with you or that you knew before. Earlier this week when we went out for lunch with a group of people from our classes, Priscilla and I were literally sitting in the middle of the table as the group then branched off into their own little bubbles - those who live on Long Island or Staten Island, and those who previously knew each other. We both tried to jump into the conversations that were going on, but in the end, we just couldn't really relate to what they were talking about, and we didn't want to sound as though we were forcing ourselves. So instead we just sat there, listening and occasionally exchanging glances when we heard something funny that someone said.

It scares me to think that if Priscilla and I didn't go to the same college, I would have freaked out even more. I mean, I could deal with chilling out by myself for an hour, but any longer than that, I think I'll go crazy. "How do people do it?" I asked Priscilla yesterday. How do people already find a connection with someone only within the span of a couple of weeks in a totally new environment? I felt like an extraterrestrial observing human behavior, and sometimes I'd wonder if I'm socially inept. I kind of wish I wasn't so introverted and could talk to other people with ease and confidence. But as Priscilla and my other friend Liliana pointed out while we were hanging out at Lily's house yesterday, we're still trying to adjust and figure out where we belong. I just want to meet someone with whom I can really connect with, who sparks excitement and spontaniety to the otherwise "chill" demeanor of most people I've met so far. Not that I have anything against them. But I want to meet someone who's quirky, vivacious, and intriguing, who'll make me smile or laugh with their contagious love for life.

Anyway, having said all this, I'm pretty sure that I still need to adjust. It's just hard getting used to the fact that you're adjusting, that you're not yet in that comfort zone you so crave to have back. But I guess it's a matter of hunting for it, of reaching out to find it. If only I wasn't so scared or shy, then maybe I'd actually get somewhere. For now, it seems I can only take my time and go with the flow.

Take things one step at a time.

I wrote the poem below during my 1 hour break before Philosophy today. It's not one of my best, so I'm not sure if it makes sense. Hopefully the metaphor makes it clear. But I still plan to edit it somehow and actually come up with a title.


I am a remnant washed up empty on the shore,
Seemingly hollow and void of value,
Broken and chipped in one jagged corner.
A whisper dwells inside this brittle seashell,
Barely a pulse, barely a beat,
Yet as hallow as a secret unshared.

I remain unnoticed, unseen, and half-buried underneath
Salty sand, seemingly silent,
Waiting, wishing, wondering of my fate
As eternity stretches out above and beyond me.

The Convocation... and shoes made for walkin'

Today was the Convocation, which all freshmen had to attend from 1-3 PM this afternoon. It was basically a kind of "Intro to Hunter College" lecture, an attempt by the faculty and staff to reach out to the new students and tell them all the great opportunities that the college has to offer. Although some of the speeches made by faculty, past alumni, and current students seemed like they were scripted, they were actually inspirational in some aspects. For instance, Arlie Petters, a Hunter alumnus and currently a professor of mathematics at Duke University, told us all to "synergize." I understood what he meant at the moment he said that, but just to be sure I heard him correctly, I looked up the word on www.webster-dictionary.net:

Syn´er`gy

n. 2. (Med.) Combined action
2. An effect of the interaction of the
actions of two agents such that the result of the combined action is greater
than expected as a simple additive combination of the two agents acting
separately; - also called synergism.. Opposite to antagonism.

Basically, the interaction between a student and the college can lead to possibilities of vast proportions. I thought it was a nice analogy, and it actually got me excited in spite of my eagerness to go home already. But at least the class of 2012 received calendars/planners as gifts.


Right now, my feet hurt. I just bought new shoes at the Payless on Lexington Ave. during the 2 hour break we had (FYS ended at 11, and the Convocation was at 1:00). I found a cute pair of simple black pointed flats that cost only $8, instead of the normal $19.99. My elation soared just as I also found another cute pair - this time black wedge dress shoes with a bow on top. I tried breaking into them, but I just wound up with aching toes and a couple of tiny blisters on the side of one foot. I hope I can get comfortable in them soon, since I plan to wear the wedges this Saturday, for my friend's Sweet Sixteen party. Lesson learned: Oh, the price of style.

These are my new shoes!

American Eagle Emerge Flat
This American Eagle flat features a trend-right pointed toe and a padded insole.

American Eagle Kricket Wedge
This wedge features a ruched, ruffled vamp with a cute bow and padded metallic insole with scallop detailing. 2" heel.

(Pictures & descriptions courtesy of http://www.payless.com/)

Forget walking a mile in someone else's shoes. I still have many miles to go in my own. Figuratively speaking, of course.

"Everyday"; Thoughts on Television & Literature

This song came up on my mp3 player on my way to school this morning. It's called "Everyday" by Toby Lightman, and it got me thinking about relationships with others, whether they're family, friends, classmates, coworkers, etc. I love the message it conveys: All that matters is staying true through and through to yourself. The words are comforting, and they help keep me going whenever I find myself in a bind.

>>Here's the excerpt from the lyrics of "Everyday" by Toby Lightman --

"Everyday is a struggle between what I wanna say
And what I should keep to myself
And the words that manage to leave my lips
Don't hurt me, but they hurt everyone else

And I find myself in need of a pause
I'm not sure why, but I think that it's because
Of this desire to be what others want me to be
Which is nothing close to me

[Chorus:]
But I'll see better when the smoke clears
When the smoke clears inside my head
And I can listen when the screaming doesn't repeat everything I've said
And all that remains me and who I am at the end of the day
And this happens everyday"


On a separate note, I'm pretty stoked about the new shows on t.v. premiering this fall. Last week, I just saw a 2-hour special of one of my favorite shows, "Bones." It's so fascinating how in order to solve a case, all of the characters - whether they're a cop, FBI agent, psychologist, or forensic scientist - have to put their heads together and find all the missing pieces.

I hardly ever watched t.v. last year, but shows like "90210" and "Privileged" on the CW seem promising, as well as "Samurai Girl" on ABC Family. Speaking of which, the show "Samurai Girl" compelled me to finally read the book series by Carrie Asai. I heard the novels are really hard to put down and draw readers immediatey into the story. Hopefully the show holds up to this standard and stays true to the books. I'll be reading and comparing the literature to the t.v. show (yet another one of my nerdy habits, hehe).

It annoys me when a novel or series gets turned into a movie, and the film pales in comparison to the literary glories of the original book or series. With this in mind, I hope the upcoming movie "Twilight" (coming out on December 12th!) lives up to the first of Stephenie Meyer's novels.

So... Here's to Getting Lost.

Wow... I haven't blogged in a while - since March, actually. School always got in the way, what with the AP exams that drew near and my senior year of high school at the Academy of American Studies coming to its end.

I miss those days. Just when you get comfortable, being confident, knowing your place and your surroundings, you have to leave and embark on a new journey - a scary one. Thank goodness I had Priscilla with me. It's pretty funny how we actually signed up for the same block program at Hunter College. We have Psych, Philosophy, and FYS (first-year seminar... It's not really a class in my view, but rather an extended orientation) together. She's lucky she was able to get the credit for AP English, so instead of taking Engl 120, she's taking Intro to Sociology instead. I still have to take it, but I got credit for Engl 220. What bites is the fact that I scored a 4 on the AP European History Exam, and I can't even get credit for it. I was hoping that if I did get it, it would count towards the General Education Requirement (aka GER). But oh well, I guess.
My first week at Hunter has been pretty interesting so far. I like my classes, although it was a bit hard to catch up with some of them due to the fact that I didn't have Internet access at home for about a couple of days this past week.

Anyway, I just figured I'd start a new blog instead of holding on to my old one, since my life has now taken a new turn. Speaking of which, I recently came up with a new quote:

"Get lost to find yourself."

That pretty much became part of my philosophy after a bunch of experiences exploring the city with my friends. Most people fear getting lost because it means losing their sense of control. But it takes a lot more courage to willingly accept it. The point is - it's better finding your way than finding your way out. I suppose that doesn't really make sense. But in my head it does.

I guess what I mean to say is that - not to sound cliche, but it's true - the journey's more important than the destination.

Take today for instance. Priscilla and I have long breaks on Mondays and Thursdays in between our 2 classes. It wasn't just long - it was about 3-4 hours of torturous freedom. Ironic? Well, freedom would be "torturous" if you had no idea what to do with it. So we wandered around the college library, wondering why most of the materials looked like old reference books instead of anything eye-catching or interesting. Nothing really screamed, "Read me!" to either of us, so we decided to venture outside.

Eventually, we decided to go to Central Park, seeking a tranquil natural atmosphere. We talked for about an hour, watching people who looked like tourists snap digital photos from their cameras. We even cracked a joke about ourselves - the irony that we've lived in New York for most of our lives and still lose our sense of direction. Little did we know that it was actually a foreshadowing.

We figured that we'd leave the park at 2:15 to get to our 2:45 Psychology class on time. Priscilla pointed out a pathway that seemed like a shortcut, so I just followed along. It was a long trek out of the park, and we soon found ourselves on 65th St. and Central Park West. The fact that the street sign said "West" should have rang warning bells inside our heads. But instead, Priscilla and I walked all the way to Lincoln Center, where the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts stood right across the street. Did it occur to me that we may be lost?

Not by a longshot. I got too excited that even Priscilla started laughing. So we crossed the street toward the direction of 68th St., thinking that once we hit it we'd be somewhere near Hunter. So much for wishful thinking... We ended up on Amsterdam Ave.

That's when it finally hit us: We were screwed.

We didn't panic, although our adrenaline sure kicked in, pumping through our systems in our determination to get back to where we started. All I knew was that as long as we were near 68th and Lexington, we were safe.

Priscilla worked up enough nerve to ask a group of guys strolling in front of us (who were either college students or high school seniors cutting class) if they knew where the college was located. One of them, who looked about thirteen-fourteen years old turned around and nodded with a casual "Hey." Pris and I just exchanged looks - it was all we could do not to laugh at that very moment. After what must have been four blocks, we decided to ask a security guard in front of one of the residential buildings for directions.

"It's on 86th St.," he said, scratching his head. Apparently, he wasn't too sure himself, so he asked a resident on his way out if he knew where Hunter College was located.
"You have to walk straight through the park," the resident said, pointing across the street where the greenery greeted us once more.

Once more, Priscilla and I walked straight through Central Park on pavement that had a tendency to curl. We felt like joggers wet with perspiration, but without the running. We reached 71st St. when an old, toothless man looked at Pris and said, "You look like my future wife." We just walked faster, shuddering and laughing it off once out of earshot. Like the Little Engine that Could, a single thought kept popping up in my mind: We're almost there!

Despite the weariness and the weirdness, my excitement managed to pique up when I saw the Asia Society on 70th and Park, a place neither of us has been to yet. I kept it in my mind for later, a visit sometime in the near future.

By the time we found our seats in the back of the Assembly Hall in the North building, it was already 3:05, about 20 minutes into the class. Luckily we didn't miss much, thanks to the notes on the reading that we reviewed before deciding to explore the library (and the rest of NYC, it seems). It felt good to sit there after our little adventure. Air conditioning and cushioned seats had never felt better.

If it was someone else lost and confused, frustration and panic would have conquered. But Priscilla and I handled the situation pretty well. Sometimes wandering around can lead you to something you never expected to see. Okay, so we killed two birds with one stone - finding our way back while also seeing a few of the interesting sites on the list handed out to us during FYS the day before. At least we know now where to go to fulfill our "In a New York Minute" (Hunter's current theme for its students) assignments.

Heh... Who knew?

Getting lost "in a New York Minute" was well worth it.