There's got to be more to life...

There's got to be more to life than constantly thinking, "I'm graduating in a month. What the heck am I going to do now?"

You want to grasp everything at once, and you're afraid that if you let things slip through your fingers, you won't get a second chance. It's difficult trying not to let your tears spill over because you're completely freaked out and yet happy at the same time. But it's not confusion that's sweeping over you in the middle of walking through the rush hour commute. You know, by using your reason, that you hold these conflicting emotions at the same time and that they are valid because you're feeling them, right now, breathing with every senseless heartbeat beating through your chest.

But you also know that you can't drown in your tears forever. You have to rise above it and find your way back. You know, deep down, that there's nothing else you can do except to keep holding on, to keep trying to find out what's out there, never losing the hope that eventually, you'll find your own place in the world. And maybe someday, someone with whom to share your world with.

The Tricky Part

Ever feel that you'd rather read an entire shelf of library books on breathtaking stories, fascinating histories, and weird science that actually excite you and get you asking questions instead of numbing your mind with another term paper you have no desire to write?

And it's not that you're lazy. It's that school somehow became... a little less inspiring, maybe a little bit stifling. Like your curiosity grew into this electric ball of frenetic energy and you can't stand the thought of sitting through another boring lecture taken verbatim from the textbook. But you persevere anyway because you want that diploma and it's your meal-ticket to the future. Your future. The title of being an honors student doesn't even matter as much as it used to...

What matters the most is discovering that you have this natural inborn curiosity about the world and how it works and that you want to make something beautiful to inspire ideas in people. Like leaving a legacy behind, an imprint, some kind of indication that you lived and that you contributed something to make this world better off than it was before you became inspired.

The tricky part is figuring out a way to never lose that part of yourself, the part that never stops believing, the part that allows you to embrace the possibilities and work through the mess to find out the world's essence. To find the beauty, the truth, and the light in yourself... and to inspire others to see that in themselves. 

Me, Myself, and Psychology

Me, myself, and psychology:

- An internship for Seminar in Psych Services
- Psych Collective event-planning and communications
- Psych Convention e-mail correspondence
- figuring out which MA program to apply to (Educational Psych concentrating on Learning Theories or Program Evaluation? At Hunter or at Touro? Or should I just go with Speech Language Pathology??)
- figuring out when to apply to aforementioned MA programs (for Fall 2012 or Fall 2013?)
- Job-searching

Thank goodness I have a writing journal to keep me calm, cool, and collected (for the most part). Having said that, I need to write more posts with actual substance in them, rather than just checklists and verbal spews of messy poetry and purple prose. I need to get back on track.  I'm not myself without my writing.

Yup. The plot is TBD.

Poetic Prose: The Seemingly Nonsensical Logic of My Disquieted Mind

So many thoughts lingering in my mind, at the tip of my tongue, waiting for my lips to form the words that would breathe the sounds to life. I'm living in a mess of indigos and violets, my poetry blurring into my prose. I haven't felt this way about writing in a long time.

How does one convey emotion through images, rather than merely tell?

Perhaps that's precisely what has been troubling me about my writing. I have the paintbrushes, the paints, and the canvas. Perhaps I need to trade in these old specs for a new set of lenses. Maybe I just need to hone my brush strokes. Or maybe...

Maybe I just need to get my hands to stop shaking.

I flip through old diaries, the paper cracked and crisp betwixt my fingers, until I feel peeled and distant from the teenage girl who authored them. I slam each diary shut. I wish for a furnace, but burning these well-worn leaves won't stamp out the invisible imprints that the past has branded in my mind. But that teenage girl, the one who bared her ideas on those personal pages, will forever remain a part of me. She's grown up and she's moved beyond the silly narration of those pages (I can only hope).

I stare at empty pages as my thoughts dance in circles, waiting for my voice to give them weight. Instead, they linger, waiting for an unassuming passerby to catch the barely audible whisper.

So this is my journal of discontent, my heart's manifesto, the seemingly nonsensical logic of my disquieted mind.

Clearly, I still have a lot of figuring out to do. I won't cross my fingers, though. I need to write.

False Starts & Indefinable Fresh Beginnings

False starts and fresh beginnings. We've all had our fair share of those.

Just when I think that things are finally falling into place, life shifts and I'm thrown against a corner with the breath knocked out of me and my heart making a break for it. The problem is, my heart's got nowhere to go. The exact direction has yet to be determined.

The words escape me. What was I thinking? Why did I say that? I can't take it back. Did he really mean what he said? The part about me being a "worthwhile challenge"? I can't for the life of me, fathom why.

All I did was paint the world the way I saw it. The way I dream it, sing it. Live it. The way I twist my doubts, wring them in my hands and set them free, turning them into hope. Hope for the better, hope for the right answers, hope for the possibilities, hope for the future. All this, my odd and misplaced philosophy. Yet I never once considered myself to be a philosopher. I'm just someone who likes to think.

Am I really that strange? Am I really that crazy for thinking that I can live my life outside the confines of a  black-and-white box? Am I foolish to believe that I have the freedom to choose which combination of right ideas will be the hues that color my world? Am I naive to believe that I am the master of my doubt, that I can bend my doubt like a helium balloon and set it free so that it does not stomp on my free-spirit?

Sometimes he talks a mile a minute, and I'm still hung over the first words that left his lips.

I don't know why I bother so much.

Arguing in circles. There's a reason why they're pointless. You forget why you cared so much in the first place. Taking a stand and then you forget your purpose as you trip over the semantic wires you used to tie up your argument. You then end up tying your own tongue with words you hope you won't have to eat later.

In the middle of washing dishes, in the midst of reorganizing my bookshelves, in the hours I spent at the laundromat watching the clothes spin in repeated circles, I felt it: that first inkling, that indefinable emotion, the way my heart slowed down for just a tiny beat the moment the thought surfaced in my mind: it bothered me.

It bothers me that I care.

It bothers me that I'm even writing this, wondering why he's even got me thinking about questions that I thought I answered long ago based on the premise that you can't always ask the same question twice. Situations may be similar, but there will always be the nuances, the subtleties that people often tend to look over and forget. There are black-and-white issues, but there aren't always clear-cut answers. The circumstances determine the form the answers will take, so I have come to believe, and continue to believe despite his prior efforts to change my mind.

Why did he want to change my mind so badly anyway? It bothers me to think that he cares about what I think. It bothers me even more to think that I could be completely off the mark in making this assumption.

I don't want to think that this is another one of those false starts, another one of those foolish moments when my imagination usurps my reason. It's a scary thought, one that leaves me awake at night, awaiting the next day with breathless anticipation.

Do dare give this thought, this breathlessness, weight? Do I dare utter the words out loud, write it down on paper, record it into this media for all the world to see?

I'm not sure if I will just yet.

But I'm not going to cross my fingers or twiddle my thumbs while the hours pass. Instead, I think I'll reorganize my closet. Read a book. Take a walk. Write some more crappy poetry until I finally get the words right. Maybe then I'll have some more answers, whatever form they shall take. Maybe then I'll finally step up with the courage to say the very words I dare not speak.

I'd like to believe that it's just the sun rising, gently brushing new colors onto a fresh beginning. Whatever this is, whatever it turns out to be, I hope it's all for the better.

Maybe it won't even bother me at all anymore, and I won't mind so much that I care. This should be interesting.

Esc

I think I've grown a little rusty in writing poems. I just hope I can learn a few more tricks and techniques once I take that poetry workshop this semester.

Until then, this is one of the things I have to work with, called "Esc." Feel free to be as honest as you want to be and let me know what you think of it. Writing is a learning process, after all. Thanks!

"Esc"

The never knowing

The moment you shake your leg, tap your foot,

Rake trembling hands through your hair, 

Teeter in your seat

Wonder if the message you sent

Ever reached the inbox

"Delivered," your screen reports

Yet you feel anything but saved

"Delete" you want to press,

But you can’t backtrack to that space

Shifting restlessly

So you go to your bed and lie in it

Sleep, that natural route of circumvention,

When one drinks dreams from that cup called denial

You never authored anything

Your fingers never touched that keyboard

Your prints aren't etched between each binary-embedded word

Each invisible pixel between the spaces of each

Letter you wish you’d never typed

The only thing retracted:

The only thing that ever mattered and meant the world

And even when the sunlight spills through the window and

Hits the speckled eggshell walls of your room

You’re sitting up, listening to your lungs expand and collapse,

Watching the shadows rise and ebb as the

Reasons dance around and around, and

Once again elude you

Say Goodbye and Embrace the Change: Hello, 2012

Why, hello there, familiar strangers. Yet another chapter has closed as we now ready our pens to write a fresh new page.

2011 was definitely a year of change for all of us. As I sit here trying to think back to all that’s happened, I’m struggling to find the right words to string together to make sense of everything – the good, the sad, the bad, and the downright ridiculous. The images of 2011’s major events blur in a swirly haze in my mind: the passing of influential public figures who contributed to the arts and to technology, the opening of the Ground Zero memorial, the defeat of despotic leaders, the safe return of our troops, the wedding of a royal prince who found his princess, and a woman who’s famous for being famous somehow managed to get married and divorced within 72 days while also raking in at least $18 million. Of course, this doesn’t cover half of the things that happened in the past year, but it serves to depict how oddly scary and yet wonderful our world has become thus far.

Personally, I never actually thought that this year would truly bring change to my life. Sure, I made a list of resolutions for myself – that clichéd list of items that we’re never sure we intend to keep. But resolution lists won’t always help determine your future for you. Change is inevitable, but it’s up to you to decide how much you’re willing to embrace its unpredictable winds. 

Things I that never expected would happen, but did:

• I never expected to break out of my socially awkward shell, but somehow I managed to get over it and find the confidence to talk to new people. Granted, I still have some fears, but I learned to stop letting most of them get the best of me.
• I never expected to gain more insight about my career goals from completing an internship last summer and learn some valuable and translatable job skills, but I’m glad that I did. Hopefully, I'll find a job at a nonprofit organization and help others using my knowledge of psychology.
• I never thought that my family and I would move to a new address, but it’s happened. Despite the slight disruption it caused in my studies and in my social life, I’m slowly getting used to our new place. Plus, it’s warm and cozy.
• I never expected that I would actually take a leadership position in one of the undergrad clubs at my college, but here I am working closely with the other club officers planning exciting new events for the Spring 2012 semester.
• I never expected that I would get a host of new ideas for writing projects, even when I haven’t intensively worked on my novel in months because of college. I never expected that my first rejection letter would sting so much at first, but it’s actually made me more determined than ever to become a more effective writer. Sometimes the most humbling of experiences can motivate you to pursue your goals with more passion.

As for my 2012 resolutions, I’m going to keep it simple: I’m going to try to live each day like it’s my last.

This means that I’m going to try to be a good daughter, a good older sister, and a good friend. I’m going to compile recipes in a scrapbook with my sisters, and we’re going to learn how to cook new recipes. I’m going to view my world from different angles, and I’m going to create art out of it, even if I have rudimentary photography skills. I’m going to listen to new and upcoming music artists. I’m going to branch out and read philosophies I’ve never read before, even if doing so sometimes makes me want to throw the book against the wall. I’m going to explore the science fiction and fantasy genres more, and I’m going to do more historical research to further develop my characters and get that novel completed. I’m going to walk around my beloved New York City and I’m going to rediscover its hidden treasures amid both the glitz and the grit. I’m going to travel. I’m going to write poetry, and goddamnit, I’m going to sing my heart out.

I’m going to take all the lessons I’ve learned from my mistakes and with these, I’m going to close my eyes and take a deep breath. I’m going to open my eyes, my heart, and my mind. I will start anew.

Though the Mayan calendar ends in the year 2012 and people fret about the implications, I’m actually not too worried about it. The advent of 2012 is not the harbinger marking the end of the world, nor is it simply the end of another epoch. It's a new beginning. Every beginning has its uncertainties, but it's this very ambiguity that also gives rise to hope.

With the arrival of 2012, we raise our proverbial hats to the prospect of a prosperous, healthy, and joyous year. We look forward to the promise of a better future and compose lists of resolutions – that clichéd list of items that we’re not sure we intend to keep. We often criticize others for breaking their promises. Yet I wonder… Can we truly keep our own promises to ourselves?

I'll close this post with a song by Joy Williams.

Have a happy and healthy start to a new year, dear friends. 

This is your genesis. ;)

The Neophyte

Here is the poem I mentioned in the previous post, the one inspired by the music I was listening to the night I first started writing it. After many edits and revisions, I think I've finally got it. The most recent version is the one you see below. I tried to incorporate the use of more concrete images to give the words a life and personality all their own. Hopefully, I accomplished that. 

That's where you come in, dear reader. 

If you're feeling up to it, I'd love to know what you think. Be as constructively critical as you want to be, as I'm thinking of submitting it to a student publication at my college by the end of this month. And now, without further ado...

“The Neophyte”

He thought himself a neophyte intellectual who lacked

The prerequisite pretension

Strumming his fingers through mental chords

Striking up a match,

Shaking jolts through dormant lords,

Inciting the vocal

Fuel of a generation

He played them all with his charisma,

Leaving them breathless,

Leaving them blinded,

Rapt by the rampant drumming and

Wondering after the true charlatan

He struck up a conversation

Summoning up his charm,

His weapon his gentle persuasion

As he blithely blew his game plans

Into the seamless curve of Gale’s ear,

Knowing full well that she’d leave him

Winded, shooting the breeze about

His wounds

Sunk beneath his psyche

She was half-tempted to grab the spade,

Twice-enticed to forge her verbal blade,

Deciding at last to pick up the scalpel

And knit her way through the fibers

Cloaking his core

Unwinding, testing out the theory of

How long until he cracks

And shows her she’s more

Than just a constellation in his rose-tinged sky

But she refrains, restrains

Chooses to smile and feign indifference

To his mad scheming

As her analytical wits crackle with

The spark that started it all,

The spoken verse that struck a chord

And cursed her with the scalding imprint of

His asymmetrical smile

Burned somewhere in the folds of her brain

And all she can think to say was DAMN IT.

Moving in the Middle of the Semester

Hello again.

Life has been crazy lately. For one thing, my family and I moved to a new apartment three blocks away. It's a little stressful right now trying to figure where all our belongings are located. Let me just say that proper labeling goes a long way. My parents didn't do a splendid job of it since the movers were already there taking our furniture out of our old apartment, so we couldn't find most of our stuff until we opened up random boxes and started unpacking things at the new place. It's a little further away from the subway, but I like our new street -- it's quiet enough and quaint enough that you can take a stroll through the neighborhood when you need to clear your head and think. Plus, it's only a block away from the laundromat, so weekend chores shouldn't be as difficult as it was before.

As for school... it's a struggle. Subjects are getting more difficult, and the course requirements are demanding. I have a group project and four research papers due by next month. I just hope I can still keep my head up from drowning in stress. Yet even through the all-nighters and the caffeine-infused study sessions, I'm still willing to embrace the challenges that the future may hold.

I haven't had much time to devote to my novel-writing because school and family has kept me busy, but I did write a poem late one night. It's amazing how music can inspire you to do something creative. While listening to my favorite stations on Pandora radio, I felt that all-too familiar itch to write. Words were rearranging themselves in my head, mixing themselves up with familiar lyrics, and creating new phrases I didn't ever want to forget. So I took another stab at writing a poem. It's a little different from my earlier stuff, but I'm glad that my writing is heading towards a new direction. I like to think it's progress.

I may have to read this book.

For now, I'm still reorganizing and figuring things out in my life. I'm not sure where I'm headed, or what I'm going to end up doing in the next five or ten years. I'm usually a meticulous (and okay, a somewhat neurotic) planner, but right now, it feels so good to just close my eyes and take a deep breath as I look out my new window at the calm autumn evening.

I kind of wish the rest of the country felt the same way. There's been a lot of unrest lately, what with the OWS movement going on in Manhattan and the upcoming presidential election next year. If only the world took a moment to stop spinning so fast... maybe people would see things with a better perspective instead of constantly taking sides in gray situations. There's always a side to every story; we cannot always presume to know everything. The best we can do is just, for once, learn to listen to each other and try to be understanding.

Of course, that's just the optimist in me talking. The pessimist in me just heaves a sigh and shakes her head. Oh well...

Until the next post, dear friends.

This is yours truly,
J.Day

Silly Little Thing Called Fear

It's 3 something AM in the morning and I can't stop thinking about what I'm going to do for the rest of my life. Find a job for next semester? Work in a lab while doing independent research?

Having choices can be a wonderful thing, but thinking about the possibilities can sometimes paralyze you with the fear of failure.

There are so many things I want to do, but so little time to do them. I'd like to think that I'm fearless, but when it comes time to mobilize and get things done, I feel a little frozen. Like a panic-stricken chicken running around in zig-zagging directions with its head dangling from the base of its neck.

Maybe I'm just over-thinking it. I shouldn't let fear of failure stop me from pursuing my goals and trying out new things. I have to learn to embrace it and accept it for what it is in order to fully overcome it.

No longer shall fear of failure paralyze me into inaction. I will pursue the things I want to accomplish.

For now, though, I really need to get some sleep.

Until the next post, dear friends.

Leave the Pieces So I Can Breathe

It's been a month.

I can't spend the rest of my days wondering why he flaked out again and hasn't called, despite the message he'd sent saying that he "didn't forget" about me. Life would have been a lot simpler if he hadn't told me that and kept asking me about my schedule. It would have been a whole lot easier to forget him, as my friends have been suggesting that I do. I can't blame him for being busy, but at the same time I really wish that he wasn't so confusing.

If he still wants to see me, then he has my number. Until then, I don't want to hold my breath any longer.

So I'm going to assume it's headed nowhere, cut my losses, and move on. I've got other things to worry about, anyway.

Here are the obligatory (somewhat relevant) sad songs:

I'll be fine, as long as I'm able to breathe. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. At least I've gained some perspective on the matter.

Now that that's done, on to actual priorities...

And So It Goes, This Soldier Knows That Senior Year Won't Be An Easy One. But It Can Be Done.

This summer was both pretty awesome and productive. I hope yours was just as fruitful and enjoyable.

I finally finished my internship as the research assistant to the director of evaluation and program improvement. I had a blast working there, and I feel that I've learned so much. I think I'll definitely pursue educational psychology for my master's degree (and hopefully, Ph.D). It seems that the chips are slowly falling into place...

Location: Islands of Adventure

My family and I also went to Florida for a one-week vacation. Though I wanted so badly to go to Disney World to revisit my childhood memories, it wasn't part of the budget for this year. So instead we went to Universal Studios and Islands of Adventure. "The Return of the Mummy" ride and the Harry Potter coasters were AWESOME. They left me exhilarated and breathless (my asthma notwithstanding). I don't have any phobias, but I'm glad to say that I've survived riding on several roller coasters in one day and lived to tell the tale. I'm definitely riding a coaster again when I get the chance!

Swimming at Westgate Vacation Villas

We also went swimming each day at the resort, which helped soothe my asthma a little. My sister and I figured out how to float on our backs and swim backwards (sort of). I'm glad to say that I'm no longer afraid of the water. But I'm still sticking to the shallow end... I like knowing that I can just stand up immediately if I ever feel like my lungs are filling up with water. Breathing underwater is another skill I have yet to master, it seems. Overall, I'd say that the exercise was well worth it.

My mother would beg to differ, though. She's still horrified at the fact that she no longer has the milky white complexion that most Filipina women would die to have. To which I just shrug a shoulder and say, "Your skin manufactured melanin in response to exposure to the sun's ultraviolet rays because we were at a location near the Earths' equator. It's natural. Get over it." Beauty's only skin-deep, and if you're going to nitpick about your skin's coloration for vanity purposes, then I feel sorry for you. There's more to life than skin-whitening products. Like finishing your bachelor's degree.

School started on the last Friday of August. Although it's already been two weeks into the semester, I'm not exactly sure how busy I'll actually be, since I'm now the new Psi Chi secretary at my college. With that added duty in addition to my academics and my active involvement with the International Order of the Rainbow for Girls, I think I'm going to have my hands full for the year. Not that I'm complaining. Better to lead a productive life than to bum around wasting away your skills talents. Plus, books and Rainbow keeps me grounded and level-headed even during my craziest moments. Even during those crazy moments when I'm wondering about that someone and acting like an irrational goober. Ah, well.

In other news...

Getting that story down on paper...

I'm sad to say that unless you count all the statistical reports, training manuals, and literature reviews I've worked on for my internship, I haven't really done much writing. I haven't touched my manuscript in months because I've been so busy at the office this summer. Perhaps between the madness of my potentially stir-crazy senior year, I might be able to find time to get back to penning my characters' journeys. Time management is going to be one big bugger in the coming months. Let's hope time doesn't kick me in the butt, shall we?

I'll try to update this blog when I get back with the aforementioned brief book reviews and maybe some thoughts about my favorite SyFy shows. Until then, here's my summer 2011 playlist. The music featured in it are pretty much songs that describe my current state of mind (sort of) and my overall outlook for the summer and beyond.

Hope you enjoy it and make your own loud music. In no particular rank or order:

1. Dear California - Vanessa Carlton




This song came from Vanessa's new album, Rabbits on the Run. There's definitely something different about her music in her latest compilation. The hollow, indie-rock sound present throughout the album gives an ambiance of nostalgia. It gives Vanessa another perspective from which she can showcase her voice and musical abilities. "Dear California" reminds me a bit of The Beatles "I Wanna Hold Your Hand." I guess it's because of the harmony of voices, the guitars' upbeat tempo, and the light-hearted piano accompanying the guitars. I like it. It's simple, catchy, and memorable -- perfect for relaxing on those balmy summer evenings. Hope Vanessa will release more music. :)

2. Loud Music - Michelle Branch




I absolutely LOVE that she's back and making more loud music after starting her own family. She must also be a cool mom. I'd love to babysit little Owen for her if she's ever around New York. Michelle's just fantastic. I loved her country music, and I don't even listen to country that often! Anyway, just like Anna Nalick and Vanessa Carlton, it's great to see that Michelle's back writing and sharing her awesome tunes with us.

3. Summertime - Michelle Branch




Michelle sounds even better performing it live with just an acoustic guitar. :)

The simplicity of this song makes it so sweet to listen to. The heartfelt lyrics and mellow cheerful tune speak volumes of nostalgia, longing, and light-hearted wondering. I can't help but fall in love with the chorus of this song because it invokes a feeling of sweet inspiration whenever I'm cooking dinner or cleaning. There's something about it that transports me to a different emotional state. It makes me wonder if this is what it's like to feel happy with the way life's unfolding, while also thinking about someone you love who may or may not be with you to share that moment of peaceful contentment.

4. All You Wanted - Michelle Branch




This is a throwback, but it's my all-time favorite song by Michelle. "So lonely inside, so busy out there, and all you wanted was somebody who cares..."

Seriously, who can't relate to those lines? They strike a chord within me whenever I listen to this song. I'm reminded of all the times when I've wanted to cheer up a friend, to hug them and tell someone that it's okay, they'll get through whatever rough patch it is that they're experiencing. Even more so, I'm reminded of all those times when I've been down and needed someone willing enough to listen to me or just to hold my hand.

5. Lasso - Phoenix




Ah, and now we arrive at "Lasso." Every time I hear this song, I feel like getting up and jumping around like a madwoman. Of course, doing that in the middle of my morning commute on a cramped train probably won't do me any good except win me some dirty looks on the subway. I'll just content myself with tapping my feet, I guess.

6. Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F.) - Katy Perry




If you're a faithful follower of this blog, I know what you must be thinking. I know this looks bad, especially since I've stated in previous posts how much this person annoys me with her airhead demeanor and her screeching in "Firework." For this particular song, though, I'll make an exception. As much as I hate to admit this, I actually LIKE "Last Friday Night." Ditto with "Teenage Dream." They're the only two Katy Perry songs for which I'll make exceptions.

You have to admit, the music video for "Last Friday Night" is pretty fucking hilarious. (Thank God Rebecca Black didn't sing a single note!) The nonchalance of the song immediately takes my mind off of my worries and makes me want to go with my friends on a fun girls' night out. Not that we'd do anything illegal, of course...

7. Super Bass (Nicki Minaj Cover) - Julie Anne San Jose




I also never thought that I would ever like a Nicki Minaj song, but it turns out that I do. I decided to post this version of Nicki's "Super Bass" because Julie Anne San Jose has a powerful voice and does an amazing job of covering it. Plus, we share a similar name! (She's Julie Anne... whereas I'm Julianne, ahaha.) Not only can she sing, but she can rap, too! I'd like to think that I'm a decent singer, but I sure as heck can't rap even if my life depended on it. This girl, though, she's got it all. I hope I can find more of her music. Her voice is just amazing. :)

8. Speak Slow - Tegan and Sara





No particular reason... I just love the paradox in the chorus. Plus, it's fun to sing along to!

"When your love lets you go, you only want love more even when love was not what you were looking for. Speak slow, where do we go, ah ah? Where do we go, ah ah? Where do we go, oh?..."

9. Carousel - Vanessa Carlton




Here's another one of Vanessa's songs from Rabbits on the Run. The harmony of voices and the fluidity of the piano create a happy, hopeful melody that reminds you of time's ability to heal old wounds. Many often  say that life is one crazy roller coaster. Perhaps a carousel is a better symbol to use to represent life. Not only does it spin around, signifying life's cyclical nature, but the animals on the carousel ascend and descend in much the same way that one experiences bouts of sadness and joy. During the entire ride, the music carries you through the journey, just as time carries you throughout your life.

10. Soldier - Ingrid Michaelson




I've heard of Ingrid Michaelson before, of course, and though I liked "Take Me the Way I Am," I never thought to give her other songs a shot... Until I watched an episode of Lifetime's "Drop Dead Diva" and got hooked by the song at the end of the show. So I looked her up on iTunes, and I ended up downloading her newest album, Everybody, in its entirety. I only regret not listening to her songs sooner.

I think "Soldier" is my theme song (for now). It pretty much summarizes my attitude toward life -- that no matter what happens, always keep your chin up. Things will work themselves out eventually. You just have to step up and be brave.

"But how do I know if I'll make it through?
How do I know? Where's the proof in you?

And so it goes, this soldier knows the battle with the heart isn't easily won. 
And so it goes, this soldier knows the battle with the heart isn't easily won...

But it can be won..."

 

 That's it for the playlist and for this post. Until next time, dear friends. Keep braving the battle with the heart. Whatever the outcome, always remember to keep it real.

This is yours truly,
J. Day

Evaluation: Ascertaining the Value of Something

I feel like most of my energy's been zapped out by the summer heat. Not that I'm complaining (much). I've been spending most of my days inside an air-conditioned office building. Today was actually the one day I wore a summer dress and forgot to stuff a sweater into my bag for later use. So you can just imagine me getting goosebumps and shivering while trying to keep track of the name of the last participant whose attendance information I've entered into the database.

With my internship well under way, I'd say that this summer's been really productive so far. My days thus far consist of entering data into the organization's database, creating statistical reports and tables, and assisting my supervisor in training the coordinators and youth advisors on how to use the database and create reports. My supervisor is really nice and incredibly helpful, and it turns out that she also studied psychology in college. I never even knew that there was such a thing as evaluation research until I started this internship. It's a LOT of work.

Working with a database sounds exciting at first... until you actually sit down and force yourself to be patient with your eyes straining to follow the rows on the Excel spreadsheets while clicking back and forth among multiple windows. You really need to have the patience for it. Sometimes it can feel like mind-numbing work, but it's well worth it. Evaluating the efficacy of a social service program is vital to understanding how that program can better serve and meet the needs of their often under-served target populations (such as at-risk youth). Evaluation research is tricky, though, as there is no specific standard against which you can compare your program's outcomes. Sure, you can use SAT scores, TABE scores, GED attainment, and high school graduation rates as various measures of participant progress and success, but you still need to compare these scores to a set of standard values. You as a stakeholder/program director/evaluator have to determine what that standard should be. Sometimes, you just have to work with what you have and decide what's best for the program and the people you're serving in that program. It's gotten me more interested in actually pursuing a master's degree in educational psychology, which would allow me to learn more about program evaluation and how to apply statistics in improving how these programs deliver their services.

I never thought I'd be involved in doing such work, since I've always struggled with math. To this day, I still depend on my calculator as the arithmetical extension of my brain's central executive functioning. So what the fudge am I doing working with numbers in statistics?

To tell you quite truthfully: I don't know. Working with that uncertainty, though, hasn't deterred me from wetting my feet into trying something I never thought I'd be doing because of my slight numbers anxiety. But I'm ready and willing to learn.

Just recently I attended a leadership training seminar with the girls from my local IORG assembly. One of the guest lecturers who shared his knowledge on public speaking said something striking:

"Happiness is not in liking what you already like to do, but in learning to like what you have to do."

It took me a while to let the words sink in my head. I was sitting there going like, "HUH?!" in my frazzled state of mind. Liking what you have to do? But after thinking about it for a bit longer, I found it to be true. You just have to breathe. No matter what you end up doing, don't ever forget to breathe. Then take one step at a time, no matter how tiny the distance to your next footstep. Every victory counts -- yes, even the tiny ones you thought were measly attempts. They count, too. You can't conquer a challenge if you don't first divide it.

Anyway, enough with the metaphors. Sometimes you just have to try something in order to get the hang of it, much like analyzing data through statistical means. I didn't like doing it in my stats class and in my experimental social psychology class, but I stuck with it. Surprisingly, I got an A- in stats and an A in that experimental psych class. I wouldn't trade those months of sleepless nights and stressful freak-outs over deadlines for anything in the world. Not even if you bribed me with lifetime supplies of mouth-watering cheese puffs and addicting veggie straws. Not even if you had the magical powers to make Henry Cavill fall madly in love with geeky ol' me. I still wouldn't trade any of it.

Right now, I'm still exploring the possibilities. My possibilities. I know for sure that I want to pursue a master's degree in psychology. Which particular area of psychology I should specialize in is the million dollar question that I've been struggling to figure out lately. Clinical psych? Developmental psych? Educational psych? Forensic psychology? They all seem so fascinating. Choosing just 1 area to study strikes me as a daunting task. I'll be a college senior in the upcoming semester. If I want to get a clear picture of what my future looks like, I'd better get moving. For now, I think I'm going to apply to a couple of masters programs in educational psychology and maybe to a program in mental health counseling or social work as my back-ups. I'm going to have to set up another appointment with the career development services offices at my college and with one of the graduate school advisors. So much to do in so little time...

And so few breaths to do all of it. Lately I've been suffering from a sore throat, slight dizziness, and fits of coughing that keep me up at night. It's annoying and it hurts. Word to the wise: don't drink icy water during a summer heat wave. Your throat may seize up with soreness and plague you with a week-long unpretty coughing fit.

I didn't go to my good friend Liliana's 21st birthday bash last night because I couldn't breathe and my mother accompanied me to the ER. I didn't even go with my sisters and the other members of my youth organization to do our scheduled fundraising event today because I felt so weak when I woke up this morning. Though the scratchy soreness in my throat is gone, I still feel something heavy blocking my windpipe. It builds up to the point that I'm coughing vigorously, so much so that sometimes I feel like throwing up. Just a couple of days ago, I threw up my breakfast because I was coughing so much. The ER physician assistant at the local hospital said that I had an upper respiratory viral infection and that I would just have to treat the symptoms of a sore throat with cough drops and my dizziness with acetaminophen. He might as well have just told me to simply deal with it, because I've already been eating so many cough drops, drinking hot herbal tea, and taking Tylenol whenever I feel dizzy with a headache. I need to get better soon... I can't deal with the painful coughing fits in the middle of the night. I can't deal with this ridiculous pain, PERIOD.

Plus, it would totally seem flaky if I cancelled on a certain person. On the other hand, if I show up and I'm still feeling like my trachea's closing up, then that would be bad. I don't want him to get sick on account of me. He doesn't deserve that.

Yeah, you guessed it -- I finally asked him if he wanted to hang out sometime. Of course, that was before I developed this stupid upper respiratory problem (God, if you're out there, please let me be 100% cured by Monday!).

Not that we have a set day of when we're hanging out. I don't even know if he's still into the idea because he seems so busy. I didn't even think he'd agree to it in the first place. He seems eager to meet up and told me he'd let me know when he'd be free, but I don't know... I guess we'll just have to see what happens. If everything works out, then great!  "There may be something there that wasn't there before," as Mrs. Potts from Beauty & the Beast would say.

But if by chance things don't work out... then whatever, I guess. I wouldn't know how to evaluate whether taking a chance on him would really be worth it in the end. The way I see it, you can't lose what you were never sure you had in the first place. I'd like to think he's worth the brain power and the effort, but in the end... that's up to him.

Anyway, I still have to grad school to worry about and a book to finish writing. Regardless of what happens, this girl's braving the next day as if it was her last. (Still crossing my fingers, though!)

Poor flowers.

More updates soon. By the way, did I mention that I read some really cool books lately (just finished I Was Told There'd Be Cake and am now reading The Hunger Games)? Or that I'll be going with my family on a five-day vacation in DisneyWorld in August? No? Then I shall cover these topics in my next posts!

Until next time, stay healthy and keep your chin up, dear friends. You might find a wisp happiness where you least expect it...

Like in a bowl of yummy, hot, comforting chicken noodle soup and soothing honey herbal tea. :)

A Picnic, Promenade, and Parade

Last Friday, after a week of running around doing errands, I was finally able to relax and have some fun. Some of my high school friends and I met up at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. They were a little late because for some odd reason, my friend's key got stuck in the door of her house and they couldn't leave until the locksmith came to fix it. As I was waiting for them, I just sat in the nearby park and tried to enjoy the nice weather. The birds there were kind of funny to watch. There were a few little sparrows and two robins looking for food. One robin was lucky enough to find a worm, and the others were chasing after it. The early bird gets the worm, after all.
Not long after, I saw Liliana walking through the park while I sat there on the bench waiting. It was great to finally see her again after what must have been a year. Together we went inside the Brooklyn Museum of Art while waiting for the others to arrive. There was a graduation ceremony going on on the third floor, so we didn't get to see the European paintings. On the other hand, we saw this really elaborate and fascinating installation artwork called "The Dinner Party" by Judith Chicago, an iconic piece in feminist art.

The banquet table and the heritage panels in the adjacent hall pay tribute to over 1,000 historical women figures, from the ancient goddesses of old religions and myths, right down to twentieth-century contemporary feminists and their works. Every aspect of "The Dinner Party," right down to the hand-painted decorative plates and the shape of the dinner hall, alludes to the power of the feminine mystique. It was amazing and awe-inspiring to be in such a place, and somehow I felt connected to all the women in the past who have paved the way for the rest of us to become empowered and active members of our society. It felt sacred. The conversation that Lily and I had regarding our plans for our futures while standing in that space made the experience that much more powerful to me.

Judy Chicago (American, b. 1939).  
The Dinner Party (Mary Wollstonecraft and Sojourner Truth place settings), 1974–79.

Our other friends finally came about an hour later, and so we made our way to the Botanic Garden. We had a blast that afternoon in the garden, just enjoying the beautiful scenery and the fresh summer air. One of the security guards tried flirting and hitting on one of my friends. He singled us out for having blanket out on the grass (even though there was a mother with her kids with a bigger blanket laid out) and then asked us if we'd like to take a tour of the rose garden ("That must be why you lovely ladies came to the Botanic Garden, right? To see the roses?" he asked). We exchanged amused smiles as Renee panicked and kept shaking her head, looking too freaked out to tell the guard that she wasn't interested. So Liliana took the lead and refused for her while the rest of us tried to hold back our laughter until the guard finally left us alone. The whole thing was pretty hilarious, since we weren't even interested in going to the rose garden, let alone on a tour of one. I mean, what's there to take a tour of? It's a garden, full of ROSES. Go figure. Though, I have to give the guy a little credit. As cheesy as his lines were, at least he tried.

Actually, the real reason we went to the Botanic Garden had absolutely nothing to do with seeing the pretty roses in full bloom. In fact, we went there just to sneak in contraband BBQ chicken drumsticks, rice rolls, and sandwiches, to play the word game Taboo, and to take random pictures of each other. The day grew more interesting as we all got into Pris's car and tried to decide where we would eat for dinner. Generally, we're a pretty indecisive, go-with-the-flow kind of bunch, so it took us about twenty minutes to finally make a decision.

We ended up going to an Indian restaurant in Brooklyn Heights called "Amin." The prices were affordable, the staff was welcoming, and the food was overall pretty good. Our waiter even offered us complementary chips, chutney, and a couple of other yummy sauces whose names escape me, ahaha. I just remember that one of the sauces tasted somewhat like sweet, fruity barbeque sauce and the other tasted like a cool and somewhat minty-sweet complement to the chutney's spiciness. I was so full from the banana fritters and samosas that I almost didn't have enough room for the mushroom shag I ordered as the entre. I would have ordered dessert, but we were all so full from the meal! If you're ever around Montague Street in Brooklyn Heights and are craving something different, definitely check out the affordable Indian cuisine at Amin restaurant. At least try their yummy, crispy samosas.

Later, we strolled down the Promenade and took pictures with the beautiful sunset-lit New York City skyline in the backdrop. We shared more inside jokes and talked about our views on relationships and life in general. As the day slowly wound down into night, I felt thankful. I got to spend a beautiful summer day with some of my closest friends and we all got to reconnect with each other again.

This is going to sound a little hokey, but I felt like I was at a crossroads in my life, what with that internship I have this summer, the prospect of becoming a college senior, and the somewhat-confusing-yet-exciting possibility of what could be either a good friendship or a blossoming romance with that certain someone (I hate thinking that maybe things will fizzle out over time).

Hanging out and laughing with my friends, though, helped me stop worrying so damn much about my own uncertainty about the future. In each of our own ways, we were all confused about life. Though we may have an idea of what we want to do in the future, we don't know if any of it will work out. The one faith that we all share is that things will work out eventually. No matter where we end up somewhere down this twisting and winding path that we call life -- even if we all end up cat ladies! -- at least we'll still have each other.

Sunday, June 5th was pretty interesting, to say the least. My mother, my sisters, and I marched in the Philippine Independence Day Parade, like we usually do every year, with Regal Court No.1 of the Order of the Amaranth (a masonic organization). I wasn't expecting the parade to be so crowded, since last year there didn't seem to be that many people, but man, was I wrong about that. I learned on that very same day that Jericho Rosales, a famous and talented (and incredibly good-looking!) actor from the Philippines was there at the parade and would be giving a live performance at the cultural festival. My sisters and I saw him in "Pangako Sa 'Yo" and the more recent drama "Green Rose" on TFC, so of course we had to try and see him. Together with our fellow Rainbow girl Camille, we linked arms and made our way through the super-congested crowds toward the stage and tried to get as close to the front as possible.

It was totally worth it, because we were less than twenty-five feet away from the stage and we got a close view of the performances and of Jericho's handsome, smiling face as he came on stage and sang. My sister and I kept screaming like a couple of excited fan-girls. I never I had it in me, but damn was I excited to see Echo perform! My sis and I even made jokes with each other, playfully arguing with each other that Jericho only had eyes for one of us, since he kept lingering in the corner of the stage which we were facing. Though it's foolish to even entertain the thought, I still maintain that Jericho was looking at me, ahaha.

Anyway, below is one of videos that I had my sister record on my iPod (she's an inch taller than me, haha) of one of the songs Jericho performed, "Change the World," originally by Eric Clapton. Jericho has pretty good vocals:




He even took a picture of the crowd on his phone and posted it on his Twitter. Try to spot my sister in there if you can -- she's the one wearing a pink long-sleeved sweater standing somewhere near his head on the far right of the picture, hehe.

I was standing right next to her, but you can't see me because the picture cuts off already. Oh well. It's enough that I got to see one of my favorite Filipino actors. I'm looking forward to next year's parade. I wish Jericho will be the special celebrity guest again, but that's probably unlikely, haha. We'll just have to see what happens.

As a Filipino and as an American, it's pretty confusing trying to figure out what the heck I'm supposed to be. Who am I? What is my identity? I'm actually of a mixed background -- my great grandfather on my mom's side (my Lola's father, to be exact) immigrated to the Philippines from China, and I have a great-grandmother on my dad's side who was half-Spanish and half-Filipino. So I look a little chinky-eyed and lighter-skinned for a Pinay. Yet I don't identify myself as being Chinese or Spanish. Ethnically, I'm a Filipina who happens to be mestiza. Culturally, I consider myself to be a New Yorker and then an American. I was born in Brooklyn, I live in Queens, and I go to school in Manhattan, so I identify most with being a New Yorker. I'm a New Yorker who happens to be of Filipino heritage.

It's only now that I'm trying to branch out and take a deeper look at my roots. I started out asking my parents what their lives were like growing up in Kalaoocan (my mom's hometown) and in Malabon (my dad's hometown), which are towns located near Manila. They'd tell me stories about their childhood -- my dad's would be more anecdotal, whereas my mom would use these stories as an opportunity to teach us something about Filipino values. Then I started watching Filipino soap operas, and it became easier to keep up with the shows once my mom finally decided to get the On-Demand package from TFC. I still find some of the shows a little too melodramatic for my own personal taste, but I guess the melodrama speaks volumes about the cultural mindset of Filipinos. Through the Asian literature classes I took at my college, especially the course "Philippine-American Literature," I learned how and why the Filipino culture and values are as complicated and as multi-layered as they are today. Then after watching a re-run episode of "Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations" on the Travel Channel, something inside me just kind of... sighed.

The Philippines somehow always gets passed over by Western writers and historians. I believe that I've already mentioned this in a previous post regarding how the Philippine-American War (or Philippine War of Independence, or the Philippine Insurrection, depending on who wrote the particular history book) is often skipped over in history classes. With such a deep, diverse mix of Chinese, Spanish, Malay, and American influences in the Philippines and in Philippine cuisine, you would think that the Philippines would surely be one of the countries featured in a food and travel show. The truth is that the Philippines is almost always skipped over, as some sort of anomalous funky mixture that few want to stick their hands into because it's so complicated and difficult to explain. With all the Southeast Asian countries that Anthony Bourdain has visited in previous episodes, it was about time that the multi-faceted, multi-cultural and dynamic flavors of the Philippines was represented in his food travels.

I felt some kind of connection toward the avid fan who persuaded Bourdain to finally continue his food travels in the Philippines. The fan was also a Filipino who was born and raised in New York (Long Island, actually), and he wanted to create a connection with his cultural roots. He's also had something of an identity crisis, just like me. It's not actually a crisis, really -- more like an intense longing, or a yearning than a crisis. We both yearned to learn more about our ethnic heritage and culture. We feel as though we're not fully Filipino and yet not fully American. Sure, we get the best of both worlds, but it's still weird to be standing in the middle. Filipinos, in my honest opinion, are like sponges -- super absorbent of other cultures and flavors, very malleable and adaptable, and above all, tough and resilient. It's a somewhat odd analogy, I know, but that's how I've come to think of my parents' homeland and its people. I like to think that it's a good thing; it means that we are able to adapt quickly to change as time moves its feet forward and the world shifts.

Anyway, whatever it is that you happen to be -- Asian, European, Native American, Hispanic, Black, Blue, Polka-dot or Zebra-striped -- I hope you also branch out and learn a thing or two. If you happen to be looking for your roots, I hope that you find rich, soulful soil somewhere.

Here's to happy summer adventures and personal discoveries, everyone! See you in the next post.

I'll leave you with a track from Anna Nalick's newly released "Broken Doll & Odds & Ends," a lovely song called "These Old Wings."

Oddities and Curiosity-filled 2011 Summer Plans

Ever since my last day of the Spring 2011 semester, I've had so many things running through my mind lately. The summer heat over Memorial Day weekend hasn't helped my brain functioning all that much, I'm afraid. Although I've been trying to catch up on sleep, I haven't had much luck. Not that anything's wrong. In fact, things seem to be going just fine...

I just hope I can keep up!

Anyway, I've been reading some of my older posts -- the ones from the past three years -- and I have to say that I sound a little different. Does this mean I'm growing as a writer, a blogger, and a critical thinker? Haha, I can't be sure.

Granted, I'm still that slightly awkward, glasses-and-braces-wearing girl with a twisted imagination and a weird sense of humor. I'll always be that nerdy bookworm who reads random titles on philosophy, history, science, sci-fi, fantasy, poetry, classic literature, and of course, the occasional YA novel. I cannot live without books -- this is one girl who says, "Give me a good book over diamonds any day!" Right now, for instance (though I haven't read any Nietzche beforehand and am only somewhat familiar with existentialism), I'm reading Kundera's The Unbearable Lightness of Being.

What has changed over the years? For one thing, I find that I'm a lot more confident than I was when I started blogging.

When I started college, I had no idea what the hell I was doing majoring in psychology, a subject that I only decided to take up because my parents told me that I needed a practical, respectable, well-paying day job to support myself and build a career. I did it for selfish reasons; I majored in psychology to help give me some insight into the absurdities that take root in our private minds and manifest themselves in everyday human social interaction. Doing so made sense at the time. Now, though, I find that I really want to become a clinical psychologist. I want to provide counseling and services to those who really need it, to those who need a little help in the same everyday activities and routines that we so often take for granted.

So I decided to step up, be a woman, and go after that internship. I'm now in the process of finalizing everything. All that's left for me to do is fill out the form, send it out to the on-site intern adviser, and then ask my psychology undergraduate adviser if she would please become my faculty mentor, especially since she was my professor for abnormal psychology. I'm crossing my fingers here, hoping that all goes well.

As far as my writing projects go, I feel comfortable with how I've been shaping my characters and building their world from my research on body-snatching, women in medical history, and historical periods such as Elizabethan and Victorian London. I have finished rewriting and editing ten chapters, and I hope to continue with the eleventh sometime this week. I just hope that with this upcoming internship, I can still have enough time to work on my writing and fine-tune my techniques.

I also love taking inspiration from a variety of television shows. I've recently kept up with this kooky and quirky show on the Science Channel called "Oddities," which centers around the strange and hilariously outrageous encounters that the shopowners of Obscura Antiques & Oddities experience on a day-to-day basis.

In one episode, I couldn't stop laughing. Priscilla texted me on Saturday night about it, saying that she caught a marathon of it after I'd mentioned it to her. So I turned on the TV, tuned into the On-Demand Nature & Knowledge Channel, scrolled down to the Science Channel, and played the latest episode of "Oddities."

A man walks into the shop, accompanied by his assistant, who's carrying a box full of small cases. Sean Miller, an artist and the curator of JEMA (John Erikson Museum of Art), starts collecting  Obscura's -- I kid you not -- dust samples. He tells the shopowners, Mike and Evan, that he collects dust samples from art museums, photographs them, and even creates buttons and coasters for sale. Miller hopes that his sales pitch, along with a tour of his dusty (haha) art museum, will persuade Mike and Evan to buy their own dust back!

Below is a clip from "Oddities," and if you're actually interested (or think that I'm kidding) then you can also find out more information about the dust exhibit from JEMA's website: http://www.jema.us/pages/dust_pages/state.html



I was pretty surprised to see the photographs that Miller and his fellow artists took from the magnified images of the dust samples. The concept of the artworks sounds completely bizarre and incredibly weird, to the point of utter hilarity, but the photographs and images themselves are actually pretty cool to look at, almost like paintings. No two dust samples are alike! Kind of like post-modern abstract art, if you're really into that. I know I'm not so much into modern art (though I do occasionally go to the MoMA to open up my mind to new and highly-stylized artforms), but I do have an appreciate for art in general. With his unique take on viewing dust, I actually commend Miller and his colleagues on their work and their guts to show off their photography endeavors in a dusty art exhibit. (FYI: Pun totally intended.)

A detail of Art Museum Dust Montage by Connie Hwang

If you're feeling so inclined, I dare you to go google the keywords "magnified dust samples" or "microscopic dust." You'll either be fascinated or creeped out by the surprisingly colorful and intricate dust patterns. For me, it's a little bit of both, as well as freaking out over the fact that I'm actually genuinely fascinated by something as weird as this. Not that it's groundbreaking or anything, though breaking the ground will probably kick up some more interesting dust samples for the people at JEMA (haha).

I'm not sure if I'll ever visit that dust museum (it turns out they also have a location in Genoa, Italy), but I'm definitely thinking about visiting Obscura Antiques & Oddities one day. It's located in the East Village, right in New York City, so maybe I'll take a train there one day with my younger sister and just take a look around. It'll probably be more fun and interesting than walking into any of those old antique or thrift shops that we've visited in the past. Though we probably won't buy anything (we're broke as a joke college girls, after all), the experience of going there will be worth the visit. Maybe they sell some cheap crafts items that my sis and I can afford as souvenirs. 

I should also bring some of my friends, too. They'd probably love exploring the odds and ends in there, too. One day, when we're not too busy with school... maybe one day this summer. I should bring it up when I see them on Friday for our girls' day picnic at the Brooklyn Botanical Garden.

With all this talk of "oddities," my parents think that my younger sister and I are a little weird. I can't say I blame them. It's just the way we are. I like to think that our geeky tendencies and propensity towards the oddness, absurdities, and grotesqueness of life are part of what make us unique individuals. ;)

It's seeing the beauty in the ugly that truly makes life, and indeed art, worthwhile subjects to examine and experience. (I hope I don't scare people off with my weirdness, haha.)

Speaking of weird and endearing things, I've recently added Anna Nalick's new blog site called Odds & Ends to my blogroll. Not only does she have song-writing talent and amazing vocals (she's one of my favorite artists!), but she also writes narrative poems and funny stories that have a charm all their own. I recommend checking out her blog if you have the time and are up for some entertaining, quirky, lyrical and poetic material to read. I'm getting her latest album ("Broken Dolls and Odds and Ends") as soon as it comes out, same with Michelle Branch's new song and upcoming album.

Little things like Anna's songs "Paper Bag" and "Shine" get me through each day. No matter how confused I get, I just turn my iPod on and play one of these songs. Sometimes I'd listen to some Vanessa Carlton, Michelle Branch, or Sara Bareilles. These artists bare so much vulnerability and yet so much courage and optimism in their lyrics and music that their works seem to have their own essence -- their own soul. I know that this probably sounds a little flaky, but they inspire me to continue with unraveling the confusions that I come across in both my life and my writing. They truly do.

At the bottom of this post is a list of some of their songs, which I sort of made into a themed playlist. I feel like I've been living in a daze these past few days, ever since the last day of the semester. If you go through the music below, you'll probably get an idea why.

I don't want to spend another blog post dwelling on it, since its salience already weighs in my mind. Things seemed like they were going pretty well between us... He took me by complete surprise the day before the final, asking me if I'd like to get together with him and cram study. Oh, would I? Of course! We shared some laughs about the final and learned some new things about each other. Overall, I'd say things went pretty well and we left things on a good note.

Maybe I'll call him this summer. Maybe I won't. Maybe he'll be the one to call (or text, since he seems pretty shy in general). I don't know.

I'm a girl stuck in a rut because of some stupid dating rules. I could easily call him later on during the summer and ask him if he'd like to see that sci-fi movie he mentioned. But I don't know if I should, considering I'm the girl and I'm supposed to play that stupid "play-hard-to-get" game. Such needless ridiculousness. It's like watching some stupid mating dance among bird species on the Discovery Channel. Is this what romance in the twenty-first century has been reduced to?! GOSH.

Don't you just hate that twisted knot feeling in your gut, preventing you from breathing properly and thinking straight because you're left wondering about a certain someone? Why can't life just be simple? If a guy and a gal like each other so much, why can't they just be forthright with each other and hang out like old friends getting to know each other, talking about the things that they're most passionate about in life?

Oy vey, that's what I say. And I ain't even Jewish!

Oh, to hell with it. Let's just see how this thing goes, shall we? Part of not knowing is torturous, sure, but it's also half the fun. And if things turn out differently, then oh well. It could have been the start of something beautiful, but we'll never know. On to the next song in that infinite playlist! ;)

If he doesn't call, then there's no harm in asking him if he wants to hang out during the summer to see either a movie or grab some coffee or frozen yogurt (even if it's just as friends), right? I mean, if I flop on my face, then I flop on my face. If he laughs, but then he helps me up after that, then maybe we have something going on here...

There's only one way to find out. ;)

Anyway, here's that playlist I've been talking about (thanks to youtube).

• Fools Like Me -- Vanessa Carlton
• Only Fooling Myself -- Kate Voegele
• In My Head -- Anna Nalick
• Words -- Anna Nalick
• The Lullaby Singer -- Anna Nalick
• All You Wanted -- Michelle Branch
• Sooner Or Later -- Michelle Branch
• Sweet Misery -- Michelle Branch
• Breathe -- Michelle Branch
• Come Undone -- Vanessa Carlton
• Walk Away -- Anna Nalick
• Where Are You Now? -- Michelle Branch
• Breathless -- Corinne Bailey Rae
• Uncharted -- Sara Bareilles
• Let the Rain -- Sara Bareilles
• Red -- Sara Bareilles

I'll close with a quote from "Red," the last song on the playlist. It has that feel-good optimistic summer vibe that I hope inspires you, too.

"Baby girl, it may take a while, but take the good from the bad
And never minds are never sure, 
So never leave them wanting more
 What are you waiting for?
How you love is who you are

I dive in and I sink in
And I find new colors to think in..."