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. 

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.

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. ;)

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. :)

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..."

Laundry Lists: Washing Out the Stains in the Spin Cycle

Well, hello everyone.

My family and I survived the end of the world. Apparently group of fundamental Christians thought that the world would end on May 21st, 2011 at approximately 6pm because of some numerological "proofs" found in the Bible. These "proofs" don't really hold much bearing on the natural phenomena of the world. I mean, come on. A massive, apocalyptic earthquake in New York City? How abso-freaking-lutely absurd.

In other miscellaneous news... my sister had her birthday party today. She just turned eighteen. That makes me feel incredibly old, even though I'm a pretty young and fresh twenty-one right now. Time just moves a little too quickly for my liking sometimes.

I also just finished typing out the answers to four questions out of the required six on my take-home philosophy final. I'm a little annoyed that my teacher's making us go to campus just to hand him a hard-copy in addition to emailing the darn thing to him, especially since on the last day of class he said that we only needed to email the document to him. I could be studying for a Cognitive Psychology final (I'm trying to shoot for an A-) rather than wasting two hours of commuting on the subway. Whatever.

I'm sick of the rain, I'm sick of worrying about whether my financial aid will still push through for the next academic year, I'm sick of doing all the administrative legwork for my sister's college (she should be the one doing it now, for cryin' out loud), I'm sick of feeling ugly because of the crookedness of my braces, I'm sick of the fact that I can't fit into my old blouses and jeans in the same way that I used to in high school, and I'm sick of studying for finals. I'm also sick of this writer's block I've been having -- the kind of mental roadblock in which I know what to write, but not really how to write it. In other words, it's the problem of articulating my ideas and making them make sense on paper (or in this case, word processor). With everything else that's been going on lately, however, I haven't been able to get much done.

I just want to relax and get this summer started already. I'd rather work on my internship and my writing projects. I'd rather go out and have some fun with my friends. I'd rather go exploring. I'd rather travel to some new city and explore its culture and history. I want to do something and make something of myself this summer.

I apologize in advance if this entry sounds a lot like a laundry list of things that are currently annoying the bejeezus out of me. I just needed to let out some steam before I jump back into the boiling buildup of pressure that just keeps spinning around and around in my head. I need to get rid of some of the thoughts staining my brain and putting a damper on my mood. Maybe I just need some sleep, I don't know. I'm always saying that, and though I really do mean it, I just can never seem to follow through.

Maybe some of the pressures I've been feeling these past few days have been due to my negative affectivity. In the famous words of Oscar Wilde, "We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell."

Going along a similar vein, here's a song by Company of Thieves that's been helping me deal with everything, based on Wilde's wise words. This band's actually pretty awesome -- listening to their music is funky and somewhat soothing all at the same time...

Their newly-released album, "Running From a Gamble," is one of the few things I actually look forward to during the week. I'm hoping I can score a free copy of it from FYE, thanks to a "free album coupon" that the band posted on their Facebook page. I'm crossing my fingers that I'll be able to get my very own free copy. We'll see how it goes.

P.S. I'll try to sound a tad chipper in my next post. I think I just need some time to recollect myself and find some kind of inner peace. You're probably thinking, "Inner peace? What? Is she turning into some sort of hippie now?" By inner peace, I mean is some kind of serenity with myself, some kind of quietude within my mind, however flaky that more than likely sounds at the moment. I hope you're faring better than I am with whatever's going on in your lives.

One Whirlwind of a Week: School, Writing, and Coming to Terms with Realizations

Well, today has been pretty interesting so far. In fact, I've had one whirlwind of a week. Where to start... hmm...

I haven't had a proper eight-hour sleep cycle this entire week.

I had an eight-page analysis due for my Philippine-American Literature class, and it was crucial because as the final paper, most of my grade for the course depended on it. I've been getting pretty decent grades for that class, I guess mostly due to pushing myself to be more vocal in class during our discussions of the text. The books that I've read in my Asian literature classes are well-worth reading. I think I've grown a soft spot for Hisaye Yamamoto, Jhumpa Lahiri, Quan Barry, Maxine Hong-Kingston, Jessica Hagedorn, Carlos Bulosan, and Alfrredo Navarro Salanga. I guess maybe as an Asian-American writer myself, I can sympathize with the issues and the emotions evoked in their works. They inspire me to find my own voice and my own flair in my writing. I can't guarantee it (because I'll most likely forget about it), but I'll maybe post some of my papers in future updates.

As for my Psychology of Women class, things were wrapped up pretty nicely. We all did our final papers on something that related with women and gender issues that we didn't necessarily get to discuss in class. The topics, each interesting and worth thoughtful consideration, varied from media representations of lesbian relationships to purity balls to social and political issues affecting women in the Middle East. I chose to write about Twilight and how it dangerously portrays to its primarily young female audience the "ideal" male as a psychologically and physically abusive partner in heterosexual teen dating and relationships (aka all about how Edward Cullen is a stalker, a misogynist, and a wife-beating sparklepire and therefore should not be held on a pedestal as some kind of romantic hero). Quite frankly, Edward is a butt-head toward his beloved Bella, and Bella is a stand-in for the young, naive and inexperienced female reader who buys into the fantasy rather than the glaring reality.

Originally, I wanted to write about how the women in the Twilight books were portrayed, but if I did that, I'd probably end up mapping out the arguments for a literary critique of character development and going well past the minimum 3-5 pages. I couldn't do all of that in one night, plus I had to squeeze in time to study for my Cognitive Psych test (that class can take a huge toll on you). So instead, I narrowed my focus to the psychological and physical abuse that Edward exhibits towards Bella throughout the series and used statistics provided by the U.S. Department of Justice regarding the rates of stalking victimization, psychological abuse, and physical abuse. I thought that these statistics would be serve as a wake-up call in emphasizing the crucial importance of informing the younger members of the Twilight audience (seeing as their prefrontal cortex, the area of the brain responsible for judgment and decision-making, does not fully develop until they reach their twenties) to be wary of the dangers of abusive relationships and to take precautions against ending up in such situations.

I wish that I had written more and had had more time to thoroughly analyze all the details in order to support my argument, but I did the best that I could. When you've already done your best in such a short span of time, what more can you really do? I just hope I pass the class with an A. I'm trying to graduate with a Suma Cum Laude, so every little point counts towards increasing that GPA. I'm just trying to make my parents proud, and maybe it'll increase (hopefully) my chances of getting accepted into a graduate program in clincial psych. I have a whole lot of figuring-stuff-out to do.

OH, AND BY THE WAY...
While still kind of on the topic of Twilight... check out this newspaper's website. That's right. I only found out about it this month, but I was excited nonetheless: my blog post, "Precisely Why Any Writer Should Do Their Research," was featured in the "Culture Briefs" section of a February issue of the Washington Times. I'm still amazed that an excerpt of that post was quoted in a newspaper. :)

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. On the matter of finding time amid the past crazy week...

Even in my sleep-deprived stupor, though, I was also able to work on that poem I posted previously and also edit another chapter in that novel I'm still working on. I haven't written it down yet, but I also have some rough character sketches for the other major characters. It started out as back story material, but I can see now that, given the research I've done on female medical practitioners during the middle ages as well as on body-snatching and the theft of organs for transplants, I can totally write entire book for some of the key characters that would serve as a prequel for the story I'm working on right now. It's probably going to take me another couple of years to work everything out, but in the end I think it'll be worth it. I don't want to be another Stephenie Meyer, publishing works that have so many factual, commonsense and grammatical errors. I'd rather be J.K. Rowling, publishing works that she took years to craft with engaging conflicts, engaging characters who develop backbones and stand up for what they believe is morally and ethically right, and a unique flair of writing that keeps the reader turning the pages and wanting more. I just have to make the time between classes and my other real-life responsibilities in order to really make it work. More updates on this later.

As for other miscellaneous updates --

Remember in a previous post, "Only Fooling Myself... Or Am I?", that I was supposed to meet up with a certain someone? Well, I did. And it went all right. Not quite what I had in mind, but it went all right nonetheless. To be honest, I feel a little relieved. I got so worried over something so trivial this weekend that I'm actually laughing about it now. I realize now how silly I've been. And you know what? I'm okay with that; I truly am.

Sometimes you learn that it really isn't you. Sometimes you learn that it's other things, that the guy just has a lot of things on his mind and a lot of things to figure out (job, school... life in general it seems), especially if he just started to work towards a goal. I can't blame him. I could tell from the worried, tired look on his face that he needs to get some rest and take each day as it comes. He deserves a little break from all the stress of studying and the added responsibilities that his job's been giving him. I just hope that maybe we can still keep in touch once the semester's over and stay friends. Sometimes you just have to let things unfold on their own and see what happens.

For now, I'll focus on my writing projects, getting that internship, planning for grad school, and enjoying whatever time I have with my friends and family. I find that as long as you stay grounded, surround yourself with the people who care about you, and keep in mind the important things in life, then you'll walk away feeling uplifted and confident with a strong sense of self.

I'll close with a Sara Bareilles song that brims with all the uplifting good stuff. Life, dear friends, is uncharted.

Here's to the summer, everyone. :)

Anticipating 2011

It's so weird that another year has gone by already. Time has slipped through my fingers, it seems. Anyway, it's too late for worrying about that now. The best thing anyone can do is to keep living life to its fullest (I'm still trying to figure out what that means for me).

In the words of Jason Mraz's "Song for a Friend," you have to:

"Climb up over the top.
Survey the state of the soul.
You’ve got to find out for yourself whether or not you’re truly trying.
Why not give it a shot?
Shake it, Take control
And inevitably wind up
Find out for yourself
All the strengths you have inside of you"

So, without further ado, here's my list of New Year's resolutions for 2011 in no particular order:

1. Try to have more patience with my family, especially with my mother.
   
2. Try not to be so sarcastic and too serious. Learn to relax once in a while.
   
3. Continue to work hard and maintain my GPA so that I can graduate college with honors.
   
4. Clean my room, organize my closet, and do chores more often so that the mess doesn't pile up later.
   
5. Keep researching/writing/dreaming/whatever I have to do to get that story written. I have to try not to let my ideas run amok and keep my research, notes, and drafts in order.
   
6. Hang out with my friends more. Seriously, I miss them a lot already.
   
7. Watch as many classics on TCM as I can so that I can be more knowledgeable, appreciative, and critical of movies. Learn what works, what doesn't, and why the things that don't often work get in the way of a film's full potential.
   
8. Read as many books and critical essays as I can, especially when it comes to reading classics and the current bestsellers. I have to be more critical and aware as I read and ask myself more questions. What makes them timeless or bestselling? What makes the characters tick? What do you like or don't like about these books and essays? If you truly didn't like a particular work, how can it be improved? What techniques can you learn from these authors, and which of these techniques worked well? Keep notes for every finding.
   
9. Eat less sweets, less fatty foods. Exercise more often. When the weather gets warmer, go out for a jog at least three times a week. I need to get myself a cheap, lightweight mp3 player so that I can fill it with songs to keep me thinking even as I jog through my neighborhood. Also, I have to buy some new work-out clothes. Baggy sweatpants just make my legs itchy.
   
10. Spend a few minutes perusing articles in science journals, so that I might be more well-versed in how these studies affect my day-to-day life (as well as how they can be helpful to any of my research, current or future projects).
    
11. Always keep an ear open for interesting, creative music from up-and-coming artists. Do not simply settle for the songs currently playing on the radio; though some songs may actually be good, most of the chart-topping songs these days leave a lot to be desired.
    
12. Although I resolve to be more critical of what music I listen to, what movies I watch, and what books I read, it's just as important to try to keep an open mind as well.
    

I hope you succeed in your New Year's resolutions.

Wasted

My skepticism has grown.

I've never really been a prayerful person, and I don't necessarily agree with everything that my religion teaches. Does that make me any less of a Catholic or any less of a Christian?

Are we not taught to question things and keep an open-mind? If so, then why do we define things according to what God says? Who are we to know what God intended? Who are we impose these judgments on others, simply to justify our discomfort with that which is different?

We do not have that right because we're only human. Being "human" is a broad spectrum; we're all effed up in one way or another, so to point fingers and point guns.... it's all a waste. If we continue to cling to our prejudices and our narrowed views of the world, then I'm afraid our lives are wasted.

There is something out there (Holy Spirit, Tathagata-garbha, Kundalini, Tao, etc.) that is also intrinsic to human nature, which makes us want to end the unpleasantness of life - not just the unpleasantness in our lives, but also the unpleasantness in the lives of others.

I don't mean to sound preachy here, but it's just something that's been on my mind lately. I just want people to be willing to give others a chance, to be open to ideas that may contrast vastly from their own, and hopefully reach a greater understanding from suppressing prejudices.

Unfortunately, a prejudice-free world like that would work better in a John Lennon song.

To the Megan Foxes and Adriana Limas of the World: Excuse My Profanity

I freaking love my friend, Liliana. :)

She made some strong points in her comment on one of my previous posts, "The Woes of a Brace-Faced Book Licker (and no, it's not as weird as it sounds)", and I have to say, "AMEN TO THAT!"

I felt that her words were so powerful that they needed a blog post of their own (highlighted in purple italics). Here's what she said:

"You may be wondering why I bother, or why I'm even dedicating a blog post to such a stupid and inane topic such as this one, especially when the societal standards of beauty are so ingrained in our subconscious as common sense."


That is far from the truth. The part about it being "inane" anyway. You explore a topic that all women struggle with, especially how these ideals of beauty are "ingrained" within our society. We get messages how we are all beautiful and those Dove campaigns about "real beauty" and whatnot. But really, who do we see idolized at the end of the day? What kind of women are cast in leading roles? What women are being dubbed as the "most beautiful" by "People" magazine? It would be the Adriana Lima's and the Megan Fox's, not the lady with the freckles in the Dove soap commercial.

That comment you posted above, and correct me if I am wrong, sounds like you are defeated; how could "normal" women compete with the likes of Ms. Lima and Ms. Fox? Beauty has been dictated by these standards. Additionally, their status as beauty icons are further cemented by people like the young man in that video discuss his desire to be with Megan Fox. It's difficult for many women to feel like they could turn heads with these people walking around and commanding attention from the opposite sex.


I say "Fuck that shit". Excuse my profanity, but will not allow these images and stupid boys to decide how beautiful I am, or anyone else for that matter. In the world these women are in, they have people proudly announcing "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels". Do we really want to subjugate our own standards of beauty by a drugged up dolt who looks like she will collapse at any moment from not eating in the past 4 days just so she too can still be considered "beautiful"? I don't think so.

I personally think you are a very beautiful person. Knowing who you are, I don't think you want attention from a boy who only wants to be with a woman based on her looks and her low BMI. Unfortunately, our society is hardwired to a certain ideal of beauty. It's important to acknowledge that is not the only ideal of beauty. As long as you feel beautiful, you are beautiful. Confidence is power! Don't let anyone or anything tell you otherwise.

I hope I didn't completely misinterpret your post! This sort of thing gets me riled up (about Megan Fox=the ultimate woman). Standards of beauty according to the mass media just irritates the hell out of me. Basically, the media wants me to believe just because I don't look like these girls means I must be atrocious. I'm fucking awesome, inside and out. And so are you.



Thanks so much, Lily... more than you'll ever know! :D

I'm actually writing a scene in my book that has something to do with this topic, about body self-image and reputation. My protagonist, Danica, is betrayed by her best friend, Nat, who abandoned her to join the ranks of the Barbie battalion, led by the It-girl beauty queen, Rina, in the hopes of getting closer to Rina's boyfriend and basketball captain, Chris. It's just a mini-subplot amid the larger context and themes of the novel.

For instance:
Trust and betrayal -- how far would you go to forsake everything and everyone just to get your way? And to what extent should you forgive someone who's wronged you -- whole-heartedly, or do you forgive but don't forget?

It might sound a little confusing with the way I worded it, but I'm working through the rough ideas. Lily's words are pretty much what Danica would say in that scene. When I finish that chapter, I'll try and show you guys an excerpt of it in my next post.

Meanwhile... enjoy this wonderful video of a Glee flash mob in Rome! I saw it on Meg's blog, and couldn't resist! Hope it brings a smile to your face.



**EDIT**
I was absolutely dying of laughter when I read this SparkNotes blog entry: "How to Flirt if You're a Dude, Part 1: The Look" Maybe it was the funny little comic pics that were drawn for demonstration, especially the part where the Spark blogger explains the DON'Ts of "The Look." Check it out. ;P

There's a flirting guide for girls, too, and one of the blogs goes into detail, as well. I LOVED this part in particular:

Note: This one's for the girls; I'll tackle the guys—metaphorically, not literally— later on. Because as much as we all value equality between the sexes, a Megan Fox-esque sexyface pout just doesn't play quite right for a dude. Or anyone, really. But let's move on.


First, let's debunk a rumor or two: Contrary to popular belief, flirting doesn't look the same on everybody. How you flirt, and to what extent, depends a lot on your own personality, as well as on the personality of your crush. Not everyone can flirt like Scarlett O'Hara—and not everyone would find that attractive, anyway. So the goal is to be a charming, approachable version of yourself. If the Flirty You has nothing in common with the Regular You, you'll end up looking less alluring and more like someone wearing clothes that don't fit. (Plus, if your entire flirting technique is based on doing your best impression of Megan Fox, your flirtee won't be getting to know the real you at all, which kinda ruins the whole thing.)

Don't get me wrong. I don't hate Megan Fox. I'm just annoyed at the fact that people -- ahem, guys -- think that she's THE end-all and be-all of beauty. So, just sayin'...

Get real. And see the beauty in ugly. ;)

Can being a "bitch" really be that bad?

I just finished reading Liliana's post on the "Bad Girls Club" and shows like it, which feature incredibly misbehaved individuals (particularly women) and how they act in an environment surrounded by others with similar unsavory personality traits. And it got me thinking about one thing in particular, especially when it came to language.

Namely, calling a woman considered to be either mean, selfish, conniving, or just plain evil, a "bitch."

As many of you already know, the word bitch literally translates into a female dog. However, the word is more often used in the ever-popular vulgar, metaphorical sense. What I seek to find out is how this term became part of vulgar vernacular.

First of all, in Western cultures like the United States, dogs are revered creatures. "Man's best friend," if you will. These lovable mammals, descended from the wolf and domesticated by humans, offer companionship and a willingness to work alongside humans (whether for hunting, sheep-herding, leading the blind, etc., depending on the dog breed). To eat one would be just as appalling as cannibalism (Although, in other cultures around the world, it is socially acceptable to eat dogs, as they are rich in protein). To neglect or abuse a dog would be cruelty, punishable by law.

Secondly, I would imagine that female mammals tend to be particularly nurturing towards their young. The same would apply to the dog, since dogs are mammals. Should a predator threaten the welfare, the very life of their litter, it would be natural for a canine mother to ward the predator off, even going so far as to either maim or eliminate that predator. She would be protecting her young. That's neither selfish nor conniving, is it not?

Lastly, reiterating the idea of dogs being "man's best friend," let's go over some of the characteristics that compel us to cherish these furry creatures (note that I place quotes, since these descriptions are the general perceptions of dogs):

• Dogs are "loyal"
• Dogs are "hard-working"
• Dogs are "dependable"
• Dogs are "protectors"
• Dogs are "out-going"
  
• Dogs are "friendly"
• Dogs are "fun-loving"
• Dogs are ... etc., etc., etc.

Ask anyone if they're a "cat-person" or a "dog-person." I'll bet a majority of them will say that they prefer dogs.

Ergo, considering the revered status of dogs, why is it fitting to call a woman, who is considered to have an insufferable disposition, a female dog?

It just doesn't make any sense to me. And to use "bitch" in this context, is a completely arbitrary effort and a waste of breath. Isn't it funny to observe how we use language?


Anyway, it was just something I was thinking about. There's only so much you can do in your college library during a long three-hour break. (Why couldn't Anthropology lab be longer? Being in the lab, surrounded by primate remains is so cool!) So yeah, I'm just waiting for my psych class on human development to start. After that, I can finally go home and watch 90210.
Or play Rohan (I'll probably explain what that is in the future).

For my birthday, I want a laptop. But considering my parents' tight budget, I'll have to wait until Christmas... or next year. I'll have to settle for borrowing one from the library for a few hours. It makes me wish I had a job - to be able to save up and pay for the things that I want/need. But it's so hard to find one part-time. Oh, well. Good things come to those who wait. I just hope karma's quick about it.

So until next post, thanks for reading!

It's just a matter of time.

"Hey, hey, don’t pay no mind
We are the second, you’re minutes behind
So you say, 'Yeah I’m alright'
You are the fortunate all the time"

Time is a funny thing: it is infinite, yet we always seem to run out of it.

It would be more accurate to say that we are finite, that we are beings caged by our own mortality, not time. Time exists in and of itself. It knows no boundaries. Only the capacity to allow some distance for solace and healing. That is, if you allow yourself that after feeling weak and wounded from the traumas and dramas of life.

Is time really just one big NOW? We may never know. All we need to do is simply breathe.

Now, after another year gone by, feeling a bit older and wiser, I couldn't help but think, we're all wasted. I couldn't agree more with Cartel, a band that has written these three insightful songs: "Wasted," "The Fortunate," and "Matter of Time." You should give them a listen.

With each new year comes a new purpose. Or so we tell ourselves. Resolutions are meaningless without resolve. Yet, how often do we break those promises to ourselves? We get so disheartened and so disappointed when someone else breaks a promise to us. We get so caught up in feeling so self-righteous and self-pitying that we hesitate to forgive that person. We accuse them of lying. We accuse them of betrayal.

Well, would you feel the same way about yourself if you broke your own promise to yourself?

We are all hypocrites to some degree. And damn us all. We're all wasted if we don't start changing our ways. Don't make promises you can't even attempt to keep. Time and again, it's been said throughout the ages: be true to thyself. The world is what you make it to be. This is your life.

So who do you want to be?

"Cause all you can't deny is held inside
And when we go,
We say goodbye and then we run,
We run away.

From all we can't deny is just a lie.
And when we try to just get by
We just can't get past ourselves.

Cause where you are is where you'll be: always wanting everything.
It's all the same, that you can't ignore
Cause all you want is just to be more.

Cause who you are is who you'll be, and that is really everything.
It's all the same that you can relate.
Cause what you want's not what you're getting.
It's just a matter of time...
It's just a matter of time, 'til you know you'll be somebody tonight."

That's what I'm going to do. I resolve to be true to myself.


On a lighter note, I've been getting crazy random dreams about House and Bones. I guess that's what comes of watching too much television. There where all-day marathons of these shows recently, and that's all I've been doing. I think it's safe to say that I'm obsessed... to the point where I dream that the shows are fused together as one and I'm starring in it. For cryin' out loud, I dreamed that I was engaged to Chase/Jesse Spencer. Not that I'm complaining. It was a nice dream. But still, simply a dream thanks to my compulsive need to get my daily dose of tv.

Time, you really are a riot. Until I get back to work on the 26th, I don't know what to do with you.

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. ;)

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.

"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. :)

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.

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.