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

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

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..."

Paradoxical Idioms

Have you ever wondered any of these things?

- When something is "hot" and when something is "cool."
Generally, these terms are used interchangably in reference to something which an individual has a positive attitude towards. Yet, how can they have the same connotation when their denotations are polar opposites?

- A "wise man" as opposed to a "wise guy."
The comparison between these two phrases never crossed my mind until I heard it mentioned in a commercial on the radio (I forget for which product). A "wise man" is usually respected, whereas a "wise guy" is looked down upon and often derided.

- To "have a temper" and to "lose one's temper."
Let's face it: both mean you're agitated, angry, pissed off. So why would both the presence and the absence of a temper mean the same thing?

Can you think of any more paradoxical idioms? ;)

Central Park: A Natural Haven for the Harried College Student and Aspiring Writer

After more than a week of cold, depressing rainfall, the sun finally peeked through yesterday afternoon. I think that's part of the reason my previous post was a little gloomy and pessimistic in its tone. I guess you can say that I was sunshine-deprived and was in withdrawal last week. Now that the weather's changed, so has my mood. Funny how nature can affect you in these kinds of ways.

I handed in my philosophy final yesterday. As soon as I did, I felt a huge wave of relief wash over me. I couldn't help but feel light and happy. That probably says a lot about how I've been feeling this entire semester. I haven't had much time to really relax. There were too many deadlines (I hate that word) to worry about and too many little things that kept nagging me, especially the little things that came to planning the next steps towards my future. Forgive my bluntness in saying this, but seriously. Thinking about what's going to happen after I graduate next year -- that's some scary shit right there! I didn't want to think about my college and post-graduate future anymore. I was badly in need of a break.

Since it wasn't raining and the weather felt nice, I decided to take my time in heading home. I took a leisurely stroll through the neighborhood around my college campus, relishing the cool summer breeze and city sights as I walked towards 5th Avenue and entered Central Park. There were a lot of people milling about -- nannies with curious little children, mothers with their babies, teenagers skateboarding down the paths, businesspeople punching messages through their Droid phones and Blackberrys, tourists huddled in groups and snapping pictures of the scenery. It felt weird that in the middle of all the honking and rumbling of vehicle engines, there sat this little slice of quietude and solace. Ducks quacked and waddled around The Pond as citydwellers sat in the soft grass and basked in the long-missed sunshine.

The beautiful, sunny, serene view of The Pond that faced me yesterday as I sat on a bench in Central Park yesterday.

It felt nice to sit down on one of the benches facing The Pond and just be. It felt like I no longer had anything to worry about. I mean, sure I still have that Spanish final to take on Friday, but the thought of it didn't seem as daunting as it used to seem. I chatted for a few minutes with my sister on the phone, feeling somewhat sorry that she was missing out on the beautiful weather (she'd been stuck in the dreary student lounge at her college, waiting for her number to be called in order to sort out her financial aid dependency status). Then I sat reading my book for about a half hour.

Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach takes on a lighthearted and informative approach to exploring what happens to the body after death, as well as recounting some of the major contributions that human cadavers have made in scientific medical research, forensics, and automobile crash-testing. It's an amusing, thoughtful, and enlightening read. My sister, whose interests include forensic science, recommended the book to me when she found out that I was researching the history of body-snatching for the backstory of one of my characters. Though I thoroughly enjoy reading Roach's anecdotal accounts of the cadavers she's encountered throughout her research in writing this book, I eventually had to lay my bookmark between its pages and close the book. Thinking about dead bodies and the process of decay during a sunny, warm, beautuful day in Central Park made me that much more grateful to be alive.

So I put the book down and just sat there on the bench, gazing out into the water, watching the ducks glide on its surface and the sunlight touch its own reflection in the gentle rippling motions of the water.

I spent the next hour and a half just listening to some relaxing tunes on my iPod as I thought about the setting for my novel, a fictional town in upstate New York that's near a mountain forest situated near the Hudson River. I don't visit upstate as often as I used to, so I can't always take in the lovely views of the state's natural landscapes during the long drives to Utica for the annual St. John's Day Masonic parade and festival. For the moment, this pond in Central Park served as some kind of haven, a place where one can get away from the crazy city life and just sit and meditate for a while.

I felt like a character from one of Jane Austen's or Oscar Wilde's works, like someone who came from a family that owned breathtaking natural landscapes around their estate and picnicked beside the serene pond that their mansion or country cottage overlooked. I felt special because the place felt special. Its ephemerality made it that much more precious to me.

West Canada Creek by the KOA campgrounds in Herkimer, NY

That spot by The Pond in Central Park became one of my favorite "happy places." My other happy places include the small creek by the Herkimer campgrounds where my family and I used to visit every year. Some people would go swimming in it and even go tubing downstream into the Mohawk River. My sisters and I never did any of those things, but we would walk along the bank, balancing on the wet soil and smooth boulders that graced the creek's edges. We'd squat down and dip our hands into the squishy mineral-rich creekbed to collect shiny, smooth, and interestingly shaped stones. I'd watch the little tadpoles and tiny fish swim away from us as we placed the heavier rocks back into the water. Sometimes there'd even be dragonflies flitting around us, searching for buzzing mosquitoes and water bugs to eat for its midday lunch.

My other happy place is also located in Central Park. While Turtle Pond isn't as pretty and as awe-inspiring as The Pond in Central Park South, the castle structure overlooking Turtle Pond sure is.

Belvedere Castle, named "beautiful view" in Italian, certainly lives up to its name as the site where many couples have exchanged their vows underneath its pretty gazebo (I've always wanted to get married there, too!). The castle is close to the Ramble and the Great Lawn, and it sits right next to the open-air Delacorte Theatre, where the performances for Shakespeare in the Park would take place every summer. Since the castle sits atop of Vista Rock, said to be the highest point in Central Park, Belvedere also serves as the Henry Luce Nature Observatory. You can go inside the castle and find some interesting natural history artifacts (skeletons and birds) on display. From the balcony spaces atop the towers, you can even bring out your binoculars and go birdwatching if you're into orinthology. I'm a bit of a pseudo-orinthologist myself, having done a little research on pigeons to get more background information for my protagonist (spoiler alert: she's supposed to morph into one at some point). It's harder to spot cardinals flying above among the tree branches, but with a little patience, you might catch sight of one nearby. Ducks and finches are also funny little creatures to observe, especially when they're watching you watch them. Call me a quack if you wish (haha), but I find birds as freaky as they are fascinating. They're highly intelligent and very social creatures, and they need our help in preserving their ways of life.

You might also catch sight of the smaller bird species amid the pretty benches and fragrant, colorful flowers in the Shakespeare Garden, which also sits beside Belvedere Castle. Famous quotes from many of the revered bard's works contribute to the charm and beauty of the garden's inspirational floral atmosphere. Belvedere Castle and the Shakespeare Garden always evoke a sense of serenity and wonder within my inner muse.

If you're in New York City and you need a break from the craziness of the city and the monotony of going to work or school, take some time out of your day and take a stroll through the scenic landscapes of Central Park. Take the time to sit down in the middle of one of these places -- whether it's at the Bethesda Fountain, at a table in the Boathouse, on a bench overlooking The Pond, or on the grass on the Great Lawn -- and just let your mind wander. Feel the sunshine's warmth cascade on your skin as you watch the rays caress the treetops and shrubs with its brightness. Feel the cool breeze gently kiss you with the scent of flowers and leaves beneath its invisible wings. Listen to the birds in the trees chirp cheerily. Watch the ducks and the geese glide gracefully along the water, creating ripples atop its surface. Close your eyes. Breathe in. Feel the fresh air enrich your lungs and soothe you as you breathe out. Repeat.

And above all, friends, don't forget to smile.

Until next time, this is yours truly,
J. Day

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.

Writer's Digest, Please Stop Making Me Laugh

I love that this particular Writer's Digest article already has a typographical and grammatical error within the title:

"Should Your Write a Novel or Short Story?" 

Do you see what I see? ;)

*NOTE - Sunday, May 22, 2011, 12:25 PM*
Writer's Digest has now corrected the title. I wonder why...

Haha, oh well. Happy writing everyone! I shall update later.

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. :)

Something to Alight -- My Personal Semantic

I know I've mentioned time and again that I would post something I've written, and yet have failed to do so on a number of occasions. So instead of merely mentioning it, I've decided to post a poem that I've been working on since I was sixteen. I wrote it about four years ago for a self-portrait project in my English class when I was still a junior in high school. I'm currently using it as a device in the novel that I'm working on, so it's undergone some major changes from the original version.

It probably still needs some reworking and improvement, so I'd love to hear any comments about it if you have any. I don't really have an official title for it now, but in the meantime I've been calling it "Something to Alight -- My Personal Semantic."

Here goes nothing...

Something to Alight -- My Personal Semantic

I am a bottle with a secret message inside
Floating and drifting away, hoping someone finds me
in the tumult of the tides.

I am a thorny flower beginning to bloom,
Fazed by the beauty of the rest of the garden,
Struggling to stand up straight and
Not wilt too soon.

I am an open book, my pages a chronicle in the making.
But most fail to read between the lines for
The invisible ink fools those who
Think they've read the whole story.

Try to define its words like the sages.
I dare you to confine me within these pages,
To capture the essence, the nonsense verse of my personal semantic,
My abstraction.

Go on, I dare you. Rip me apart. Break me open.
Burn the script and bury its spine in sand.
All you’ll get are blisters in your hands.

All you’ll ever find are the fractions
Of the savage boom-boom within this
Cage that’s rusted over with the
Brown-red residue of shadow and shame.

I blunt my words until they hurt
More than the sharpest sword
Severing skin and searing sinew,
Shattering my walls as I linger,
Waiting, withering, wanting

Something to alight.

As I scream aloud to breathe anew,
My heart and mind ablaze
Flickering bright white and blue.

I am fed with oxygen
My life renewed.