Oh, For the Love of Writing...

OH MY GOD. I have not written here in ages... and I know that that's all I ever write as the first sentence of my previous blog posts. But seriously. I need to get with the program. Too many little thoughts and ideas floating around in this brain of mine.

In the meantime and between time, I have been living my life normally - you know, going to school (just finished my freshman year and also took a couple summer classes), dealing with the crazy family I was fortunate enough to be born into, hanging out with friends, catching up with some awesome tv shows and discovering wonderful new music, etc.

So, first off... let me just say this:

Don't try going to a free play when an A-list Hollywood actress (aka Anne Hathaway, who strangely enough had the same name as Billy Shakespeare's wife) has been cast as the role of the leading lady. In June, my friends and I tried to wait in line at Shakespeare in the Park like we do every year to get free tickets to Twelfth Night. We usually got there around 8AM to wait for the ticket distribution at 1PM. Then we'd spend the whole day roaming around Central Park and the city until it was time to watch the show later that night. But unfortunately, things didn't really go according to plan...

We didn't get tickets. The last person who got tickets said they'd waited in line since 3AM. Which is INSANE.

And the reason people were actually so eager to watch a Shakespeare play?

Yes, you guessed it - Anne Hathaway played Viola, who was marooned on the island of Illyria and had to masquerade as a man working for Duke Orsino in order to support herself because she believes that her brother Sebastian had drowned... Long story short, it's about a case of mistaken identity and the funny things that love makes us do.

That was the first time in YEARS that a play at Delacorte Theater was sold out (or, more accurately, ran out) of tickets.

But it wasn't all that bad... There was a really cute guy named Zach who worked at the theater that my friends and I just kept staring at. He had that laid-back surfer kind of vibe, and he sort of reminded me and Tegan of John Krasinski, who plays Jim in the show The Office.

Overall, despite not seeing the play, my friends and I just ended up having a picnic in the park and walking around the city. And gosh, was it a beautiful day...

Later that night, I had such a pleasant dream... If only it had come true: There were enough tickets for everyone, and to top it all off, Zach served us dinner while the performance was going on. Steak with sauteed veggies and wild rice. YUM.

I was bummed when I woke up the next morning, but it still put a smile on my face. Oh, well. There's always next year, anyway. ;)

Anyway, I also got hooked on listening to Tristan Prettyman, The Fray, Kings of Leon, and The Script. Their songs are sooo addicting, they're like eargasms. And they inspire me to write some more scenes in the story that I've been forever working on. I suggest that you add these to spruce up your playlist (in no particular order):

• Breakeven - The Script
• The Man Who Can't Be Moved - The Script
• The End Where I Begin - The Script
• Talk You Down - The Script
• Fall For Anything - The Script
• Use Somebody - Kings of Leon
• Sex on Fire - Kings of Leon (James Morrison also made a cover of this song)
• Syndicate - The Fray
• Say When - The Fray
• Enough For Now - The Fray
• Shy That Way - Tristan Prettyman featuring Jason Mraz
• Smoke - Tristan Prettyman
• Madly - Tristan Prettyman
• Love, Love, Love - Tristan Prettyman

I've made a "Storyteller's Playlist" and included these songs. When I'm really stumped, need to feel the emotions of a scene that I'm writing, or just need a break - I click play on my Windows Media Player and let my consciousness float along with the melodies.

So far, I've squeezed in three full chapters within this past week - something that I wasn't able to do during the regular academic year because my focus had been to study my ass off. And now, for the first time in a long time, I can see where I want to go with my ideas and can see myself actually finishing it sometime within the next year. I even came up with a cool title.

And yes, it's a novel in case you're wondering why it's been taking me so long. ;)

I've also been taking inspiration from one of my favorite authors, Meg Cabot. I recently picked up a copy of the first book in the latest series she's been working on, called Airhead. It's more interesting than the title suggests, I assure you. Have you ever wondered what it would be like to walk in someone else's shoes? Ever wonder if a brain-transplant (or, more accurately, a whole-body-transplant) was possible? Just ask sixteen-year-old Emerson Watts, who woke up one day to find that her body wasn't at all hers... but that of Nikki Howard, international teen supermodel sensation. Intriguing, eh? I've already read half-way through the novel, and I honestly can't wait to get my hands on the next one.

Nor can I absolutely wait for Meg's The Mediator series to finally become a feature film!!!!! So move over, Isabella Swan and Edward Cullen. Meet Suze Simon, a teenage girl who can see ghosts, and must help them on their way to wherever it is they're going... and Jesse de Silva, the alluring Spanish cowboy who haunts her bedroom and just won't leave because something is holding him back (and no, it's not as sappy as it sounds... it's actually pretty spunky, hilarious, and clever).

So oh, for the love of reading, and especially writing... Hello, adventure. ;)

Re-Vision and Re-Bounding into Life

Two weeks have gone by with not a single post from yours truly, yet again. Not that anyone cares, I'm sure - except for my own curious soul, which intrinsically motivates me to keep up with writing in the first place.

Classes have just been taking a toll on me. Now, combine that with the restless longing to reach out into the world and make a ripple effect without so much as an inkling as to how to achieve that, and you've got yourself one hell of a predicament.

Lately, I've been experiencing horrible mood-swings. Maybe it's my cycle? Mother Nature throwing a wrench in my biological mechanisms to screw with it? I don't know. But my life is changing much quicker than I realized.

How so? Let me count the ways...

For one thing, my 15-year-old sister now has her first boyfriend. I should feel... I don't know, happy for her? But I feel weird about the whole situation. She is now officially one of those horribly giddy girls high on the rush of infatuation who think that they know what love is. I can't even tell my parents because she asked me not to, and because we both know how my parents would react. "No dating until after college", they've always said.

Another thing that worries me, besides the obvious "what-are-this-guy's-ulterior-motives?" question, is how emotionally fragile my sister can be. She's exhibited unhealthy ways of unleashing stress in the past by taking razor nicks to her arm. She's been made fun of and taken advantage of by her peers when she was younger. If there's one thing I've learned outside of my psychology classes, it's that people who've had low self-esteem tend to willingly please others who seem like they're trustworthy. And she's never had the experience of getting her heart broken by a guy before.... What more if something traumatic results from this new relationship she's established?

Even before that, she's been coming home late everyday because of her extracurricular activites in school - scrapbook club, badminton. Or sometimes, she'd just be hanging out with friends and waste her time instead of productively doing her homework. The girl's failing math and struggling in her Chinese class, and she attends 4-hour SAT prep classes on Saturdays. When she does come home, she throws her stuff all over our room, including my part of the bunk bed. I always have to tell her to clean the mess up, but it almost always turns into this ugly yelling contest that she feels she has to win (i.e., getting the last word in. Childish, isn't it?).

So I must ask, where the heck does this girl find the time to have a boyfriend?

Honestly, I really can't help but worry about her all the time. In place of my parents, I feel like I have to check up on her and discipline her when necessary. She rebels a lot. I know that I was once rebellious at her age, but never to the point where I'd cause my parents perpetual worry. And I understand that she's at that boy-crazy stage because I know I still am. But I don't really think she knows how to safeguard herself from getting her heart broken.

I just... I want her to know that boys shouldn't be a priority right now. She should work on her own goals, her own aspirations, enjoy the wonders of youthful self-discovery. Finding "true love" can wait. It'll come when you least expect it, not when you're looking for it.

I just hope she's mature enough to understand these things because right now, she can be such an unpredictable and bratty "happy-donkey-cigarette" (roughly translated as a "gay ass faggot", a so-called euphemism which she's taken so kindly to adopt into her vocabulary and never hesitates to call me whenever she's pissed at me). I don't know how long I can put up with her insufferable tendencies anymore.

But that's only part of the story so far...

I decided to quit playing Rohan. It's about time I got over the irrational obsession to kill imaginary beasts. What brought about this roundabout attitude? Let's just say that I'm one of those video game players who prefers "PVE" or "player versus environment." One really bored idiot whose character was at least level 50 decided to attack my level 33 mage while I was trying to fulfill a quest. No doubt he wanted to kill Amrita in order to steal her stash of powerful potions, weapons, armors, and several hundred hard-earned crones (which are basically money in this game). That's one of the lovely aspects of playing 'Rohan: Blood Feud': other players can attack your character with no provocation. Whether you're the attacker or the victim, your name appears on the other's "Hit List".

I thought that it was a stupid waste of time to avenge an imaginary character. And let me tell you, I was genuinely angry that this idle idiot had the gall to attack Amrita without just cause. After that, I thought to myself, "Enough's enough. Time to move on and actually LIVE life."

Now I don't know about you, but I think this might make a fascinating research project: the lure of fantasy role-playing games and the effects that they have on adolescents and young adults (particularly those in their 20s and older). I keep wondering if most of the other players I see on Rohan are male couch-potato computer nerds. So far, the other players that I've met through playing the massive multi-player role-playing game were surprised that I was a 19-year-old female and was knowledgable about the game. Most of them were - you guessed it - young men in their late teens and early 20s who sat with their hips attached to their computers. And I hated it when one of them called me "Sweetie" in the chatbox - I knew he just wanted to ally his really weak elf with my advanced mage just to level up faster.

I'm so over computer role-playing games.

Right now I'm focusing on my studies, writing, physical well-being (I shall attempt to do some yoga & other aerobic exercise in my free time), and on my family and social life. I want to give my life a make-over in the places where I feel like I've been slacking off.

I've also gotten into basketball more than ever before. Honestly, I'm horrible at sports (except baseball/softball and perhaps bowling, which I'm pretty decent at) and I haven't played basketball since my last gym class in my sophomore year of high school. Since then I've taken dance instead. But in any case, I meant that I got more interested in watching the Knicks lately. They might actually get a shot at the playoffs this year!

My dad's a big fan of the Knicks, and I guess I've always rooted for them since I was little because of him. But as I grew up, I didn't really pay much attention to sports. Sometimes I'd watch snippets of a game with my dad, but I didn't really understand it much. I didn't feel the thrill of the game until now. I started watching the Knicks again sometime in February and tried to figure out the technicalities of the game, wondering why the fans (including my dad) reacted the way that they did. I listened to the commentators, to my dad's answers as he answered my many questions, as well as to the pre- and post-game interviews of the players and head coach Mike D'Antoni.

So far, I've watched about 10 games or so. It's only now that I'm starting to understand the beauty and exhilaration of basketball - my mind has somehow become attuned to it. Lately I find myself calling out "FOUL!" and "OUT OF BOUNDS!" and "DEFENSE!" even before the sports commentators or the referees say anything about it.

I know that Walt Frazier, one of the commentators, used to be a Knick in the '70s and that he's one of several veteran players to be honored in the NBA Hall of Fame on March 23rd. I know that Nate "Krypto-Nate" Robinson, the shortest Knick, stands at 5'9" but can really slam a mean dunk. I know that David Lee scored 53 "double-doubles" (two-digit scores in points and rebounds) so far, and that he has to break the record of 69 double-doubles within the next 17 remaining games of the season. Larry Hughes scored 39 points against the Milwaukee Bucks on March 10th, resulting in a 120-112 win for the Knicks.

And Danilo Gallinari, number 8... definitely one of the cutest guys I have ever seen. He's a rookie - just got drafted for the Knicks last summer from Italy. His father used to play with Mike D'Antoni way back in the decades of yesteryear. Gallo's been playing professional basketball since the age of 15, and now at 20 years old, he's got a lot of career potential in the years ahead of him. He suffered from a back injury before, and you can still see him lying on the floor in the sidelines during the games instead of sitting down. But he's still got time to grow and improve his game. Please note that my motivation for watching basketball again wasn't solely because of this guy. His addition to the team just happened to be a really nice coincidence in conjunction with my newfound fascination with the sport, honestly. ;)

I can't wait for tomorrow when they play against the Cavaliers, and for Wednesday when they play against the Nets (hopefully they win this time!).

With Spring coming and Easter hoppin' really soon, I feel somewhat rejuvenated. Albeit a bit confused with certain situations, but still refreshed with an overall new outlook on life.

This week I plan to get out of my writer's block slump and actually continue the novel I've started. I also plan to get some fresh air and just explore the city with my friends, just like I did last Friday when I went to my friend's fantastic art show after class. It's been too long since I've done anything that made me feel so alive.

So until then, keep livin' it up y'all.

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.