Flight

Wrote this for my creative writing class...

Flight

On a midnight flight
Out of sight
Lugging baggage,
Remnants of remembrance
Rocking,
Not stopping,
Rocking
Windy turbulence
Howls, growls, scowls.
Pillows plush slowly hush the rushing sleeper
Swimming in sky.
Swaddled in warm wispy white,
Vanilla-drenched dreams drum hushed hums,
Cooing, sweetly soothing,
Steering scorched voices way away.

Distraction, Direction... and a whole lot of Maybe.

So it's been a couple of weeks.

I turned 1-9 on the 8th. Although, I still feel like a kid lounging around the house in my bedhead and pajamas, eating to my heart's content in front of the television. I admit that I actually enjoy the Disney Channel still, even though I say that I'm forced to watch it because of my 10-year-old sis. (And oh yeah, did anyone watch that new show, "Sunny with a Chance"? Finally. Goodbye, Hannah!) I'm just young at heart, I guess. I'll probably still be this way 10, maybe 20 years from now.

I still play video games. Sort of. I wish I had a Wii sometimes, but as of yet... Fat chance. I can't even get myself a laptop. But whatever. Instead, I play online. Rohan: Blood Feud - that's the name of the game I'm currently into right now (just so you know, it's got nothing to do with LOTR). In between chores, studying, catching up with my shows, writing, and keeping in touch with friends, I let myself get absorbed into an action-packed world of mystical wonder and adventurous quests. Purely a distraction, just to escape reality for a bit.

This probably sounds stupid, but I actually enjoy pretending that I'm a Dekan (aka Dragon Knight) or a Dark Elf (aka powerful Magician) out to conquer the continent of Rohan. I have a Dekan named Erawyn (I just made that name up) and a Dark Elf named Amrita ("Ambrosia" was taken, so I just took the its Hindu equivalent. Both pretty much mean "elixir of life.")

For anyone wondering how this game kind of looks like, check it out here: http://www.playrohan.com/

Below is Erawyn, the Dragon Knight. And okay... Dekans are supposed have the ability to transform into dragons by like, level 50, and yet their mounts are dragons. But all nonsense aside, here she is:

Nerdy-sounding, I know.

But it kind of gives me ideas of what to write about. Even if what I've written are mostly scratches on scrap, a little of this and that which probably make no sense. At least it's something. Something to keep my mind preoccupied. I think I finally figured out the direction I want my story to go.

But I'm not saying anything else. Besides the fact that it can be characterized as a kind of fantasy/suspense sort of fiction. It's still in the works. I'll probably share a few excerpts of it, once I finish the first five chapters. :)

Anyway, I feel... I don't know. Odd? Different? Different. That's probably it. But to what extent, I'm not sure I can say.

For one thing, TB (and yes, I've noticed his initials resembles that of tuberculosis, hehe) actually wrote "Happy Birthday" on my Facebook wall. That's a first. It's been three years since that summer...

Long story short:

Three years ago, the summer when we were both 16, I liked him as more than just a friend and thought that he felt the same way. TB figured it out because of his "paranoia". At a pool party, he shyly asked me for a kiss. I swooned from the inside out. The next thing I know, he blames it on frozen margaritas two weeks later.

Idiot.

He still gets under my skin sometimes. I can't even begin to tell you how much he made my day when I saw what he wrote on my Facebook page. It really bothered me that it made my day. If I was so elated, did that mean I was still harboring some kind of subconcious crush on him?

After that fiasco that summer, I couldn't stay mad at him for long. Especially since he kept on apologizing. For cryin' out loud, the dude thought that I dedicated a song to him on my profile, simply because the lyrics were sad (it was actually one of my favorites at the time - "Memory" by Sugarcult). And what did he do? TB uploaded another song by the same band called "Counting Stars," with apology written all over it. Although, I have to admit it... The gesture was actually kind of sweet. Almost.

To this day, whenever we happen to be in the same room at a party or function (because we're both part of the Masonic youth groups), he gets so awkward and just stares when he thinks I'm not looking. What he doesn't know is that I can get paranoid, too. I guess it got the best of us.

I forgave him, of course. I'm not that petty to begrudge him. I just wish things turned out differently. If only...

Damn him for being so cute and funny. For being so fascinating. For caring so much.

My sister knew from the beginning that there was something between us. Maybe I shouldn't have listened to her. Then again... maybe she was right. And I just didn't want to admit it at the time. It just hurt that when I finally did, the painted dream got splashed with rejection. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be, as they say.

Since then, I've learned to shield myself. Tell myself that guys are just... gahhhhh. There's not even an adequate word for them. Jerk-itis. Maybe that's what it is. That's partly why I decided to take Psychology. To figure them out.

But with TB, it's hard to read between the lines. Sometimes he's such a walking jargon of juxtapositions. And just when I think I'm over him, just when I think I'm through - I get sucked back into this jinx he's put me in. Julianne the Jinxed. If he only knew...

Whatever. I'll only keep fooling myself. I'm a little older, a little wiser now.

At least I have my friends and their contagious craziness. On the 6th Liliana, Priscilla, and I were feeling a little adventurous. After our classes were finished, we decided to celebrate both Priscilla's birthday and mine. On an impulse, we walked all the way from East 68th Street to West End Avenue and 63. All because of one line from a song we all loved. Even though there was nothing to see as we stood there freezing our arses off, I absolutely loved every minute of it. ;)

Little things like that keep me going. Maybe I just crave a little more of these little things. Like a nice surprise. (Then again, it really was a nice surprise that TB actually remembered my birthday. But moving on...)

Anything to make my day more... remarkable.

Sighing in song as I sign off until my next post...

"Let me down you say never baby blues don't you ever

I'm used to being one with the misfortune to find

Afternoons run for cover and full moons just wonder

What it looks like here on my morningside

I could try to forget what you do when I let you get

Through to me but then you do it over again

I could rage like a fire and you'd bring rain I desire

'Til you get to me on my morningside"

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!

Back to Work

Winter break is over. The Spring 2009 semester just started this Monday, on the 26th. I felt scared and nervous all over again, because this time there would be no such thing as a "block program." This time, there would be a whole new group of people who I've never met before. I guess that's just one of the things that I'll have to get used to from now on. You will never be with the same batch of people in each class, depressing and somewhat ominous as that sounds.

But on the bright side, I finally figured out how to use the library at Hunter. I think this semester I'll just throw myself into my studies. And hey, at least you can always borrow a laptop from the library for about 3 hours. So it can't be that bad, right?

And although I miss my high school friends and some of the new friends that I've made last semester, at least I still see some of them in between classes. Priscilla and I try to hang out when we can during our breaks. Though, sometimes we both feel like we don't want to make the effort to meet new people because it's hard and often awkward. But there's no harm in trying, right?

So anyway, here's the list of subjects that I'm currently taking this semester.

• English 300: Intro to Creative Writing
  - I think I'll enjoy this class. It has that warm, small classroom atmosphere, and many of my classmates are just as enthusiastic as I am about writing.
• History 151: Colonial Era to the Civil War
  - My teacher's funny, and he doesn't give out tests! All you have to do is read, write, and participate in class. The plus side is that I've taken enough American history classes (thanks to my high school, the Academy of American Studies) to know the basic material. Thank goodness I signed up for it.
• Anthropology (Physical) 101: Intro to Human Evolution
  - It has a sexy title - even my professor said so. It just drew me in. I've always wanted to find out about how humans came to exist, as well as what unites all of us and diversifies our species. And okay... the t.v. show "Bones" kind of had something to do with inspiring me to take this subject. The funny thing is that my professor was a little iffy when describing the forensic branch of anthropology because of television shows. She had a bone to pick with "Bones." She finds the main character, Dr. Temperance Brennan, annoying. I agree with her to some degree, but in other ways, I feel that Brennan just can't help being the somewhat socially awkward scientist that she is. Otherwise, the show wouldn't be the success that it is. But enough about that... Evolution in itself is fascinating. I might actually major or minor in anthropology along with psychology. I'm still thinking about it.
• Psychology 150: Human Development
  - I thought it would be interesting to see how we develop cognitively, emotionally, and physically due to changes throughout our lifespan. And it compliments what I'm learning in anthropology, to a certain extent. So far, we just reviewed the different theories that our out there on the human psyche - from Freud's psychoanalytic approach to the more recent and emerging Epigenetic Theory. If there's one thing I've noticed, it's that you can't learn anything about the human brain/psyche without applying a combination of all of these theories to your studies. This should be interesting.

I wish that winter would be over. I hate slushing my way to class in snow-covered, sub-zero feeling weather. I wish the warmth and comfort of spring would come sooner. In the meantime, here's to lookin' on the bright side.

Especially since I'm turning 2-decades-minus-1-year old on February 8th. I still don't know what I want for my birthday.

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. ;)

Manic Monday Debacle

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, there is," he replied.

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

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

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

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

"Not a problem. Have fun!"

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

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

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

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

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

Twilight... Zone?

So...

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


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


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


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


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

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


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


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

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

Here's to the future.

A Mumbled Jumble of Thoughts about the Week...

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


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

2) MoMA

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

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

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

4) Yesterday:

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

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


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

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

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

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

Twilight... not so dazzling?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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