A Million Things Since February...

It's been a really long while since my last post. I've been very busy with school -- apparently March happens to be midterm month. I was writing out pages and pages of endless pages of review sheets for each test, as well as reading up on materials for class. It takes a toll on you after a while, and you find that you're missing hours of sleep and can't write anything because you're so tired and eventually find yourself drooling near your laptop's keyboard. But there has been some progress and high points.

This past weekend, I had the honor of becoming a Grand Representative to Georgia and Oregon in my youth group, the International Order of the Rainbow for Girls. I'm so proud of my friend Samantha, who's the new Grand Worthy Advisor of NY. Her mascot is that curious little monkey, Curious George, who's holding a bunch of balloons. "Reach for New Heights" is her theme and her motto, and it's a big challenge this year to step up to the task.

We have new charity and service projects, and many things to be thankful for. One of the surprises I wasn't expecting was that my assembly, W. Mark Sexson #15, actually won the Membership Award and was named "Assembly of the Year"!!!! We brought in five girls since we first started, and we've also helped to initiate two other girls from another assembly. (I have a LOT to memorize, as we're having another initiation of new members into our organization in May.)

It was pretty funny that some high school kids who were there at the same resort for their senior trip thought that we were all taking part in a wedding or a beauty pageant, since we were wearing our white gowns. And I'll never forget when Hannah was awestruck by one of them, a guy with long locks whom she admired from afar and affectionately called "Blondie." He splashed me when he did a cannonball into the pool as I was drying myself. When I told Hannah this, she was just all the more excited, ahahaha. And Jasmine... I can't believe she actually went up to one of the guys and said, "Hey, I think you're cute." To which the boy answered, "Hey, if you wanna chill, I'll be on this floor so come holla at me." LOL. And then she just walked away, thinking, "Uh... NO." And then there was the "Oooga Boooga" ceremony after the banquet-dance... every advisor and Rainbow girl who visits Grand Assembly for the first time must go through it. It wasn't that bad... aside from the fact that I wet my pants, ahhahaha. But anyway...

I'm so glad to have made new friends at Grand Assembly, especially Dawn and Gabby, and to have the opportunity to do my part as a Rainbow girl. I just hope that I can set a good example for other girls, and get them to join in the fun and rewarding experience of helping others be all that they can be. So, here's to hoping. ;)

Grand Assembly wasn't the only highlight in the past three weeks. I went to the MoMA twice this month and saw the Tim Burton exhibit with some friends from high school - Priscilla, Liliana, Amy, and Renee. It was like walking into another dimension, or some kind of time warp as we set foot inside the giant mouth...

It's so amazing and pleasantly kooky to get to know the inner workings of Burton's creativity. For a preview of the exhibition, you can go here and explore the site: http://www.moma.org/interactives/exhibitions/2009/timburton/

Also, here's a checklist for all the different odds and ends at Tim Burton's art exhibit at the MoMA... I guarantee you'll find something terribly intriguing: http://moma.org/interactives/exhibitions/2009/timburton/includes/pdf/checklist.pdf

It was great to reconnect with my old friends. I just wish I had more time with them. And I wish that I could see other people from my high school - Tegan, Arielle, Katie, and Agatha, to name a few. They're some of my closest friends (and in case any of you guys are reading this, I miss you!), and I love our crazy-yet-sane-talks about life and music and books and movies and tv shows and vibrant creativity and.... and... there's too many. I hope that I can see them again sometime soon.

I also reconnected with my teachers and some of my classmates from St. Aloysius, my elementary/junior high school. We've all grown and we've all changed. It was all Kim's idea. I almost didn't go because of the crappy weather that day, but I'm glad that I did. We met up with four of our favorite teachers, and they will always hold a special place in our hearts. We just sat and ate pizza at California Pizza Kitchen in Atlas Park, talking about our favorite memories and about where we were now, and what we hope to do in the future. It was nice, and it was a wonderful time getting to know everyone again. We're hoping that for our 10-year reunion (2010), we could all go to Vegas. I don't know if that'll actually happen, but at this point, who knows? ;)

There's a song called "Let It Go" by Debra Arlyn, and it's such an inspiring piece of music. It gives me hope when I'm feeling confused, frustrated, or insecure. It calms me down. Because the most important task is to focus on the postivity, the things that you've already got, the family and friends who are there to support you no matter what, and the aspirations you hope to achieve in the future. Just take a deep breath and take things day by day, one small step at a time.

"The change in the weather is affecting me deeper this year
It's another reminder that the time is passing by
Am I doing the right things, pursuing the right dreams?
I'll go for a drive
As I take in the scenery, look up at changing leaves
It's then I decide

To let it go
Out the window
Just let it flow
Out of my mind
'Cause I'll never know exactly what's in store
So the best thing for sure
Let it go"

Wanna know another exciting thing that's happened to me? :)

I got to chat with one of my favorite actors, Ethan Peck!

Ethan currently plays Patrick Verona on ABC Family's tv show remake of "10 Things I Hate About You."

You may have seen him in one of my earlier posts, you know - the ones where I've pretty much exalted his hotness factor and thought that he would be absolutely PERFECT to play one of the characters in my novel, should it ever be turned into a major motion picture (I wish, you have no idea how much).

It was a good thing I found out about the live chat on Facebook about an hour before it started, otherwise I would have really missed out!

My burning question was this: "What first drew you to play Patrick? Do you feel that you share anything in common with your character?"

To which he answered (and I love, love, LOVE his answer!), "Patrick drew me because he's such a loner, something I've been for most of my life, and he's searching, deeply searching, for love and meaning, like many of us, but he's very angry too, something I don't have in common with him."

Someone else asked him what his dream role would be...
Ethan Peck: "Right now? Anything good! I like truthful stories that teach good lessons, with depth and soulful complexity."

Another person asked him if there's anything he doesn't like about his character, Patrick Verona...
Ethan Peck: "Lots of things! He's such a jerk! And mean sometimes, too. If I knew him I'd make him tell me about his childhood--it seems most of his problems stem from trust issues that I imagine began with his upbringing. And he's pretty cocky, not an attractive quality, in my opinion."

HA! I kind of drew inspiration for writing Seth's character from Patrick, both from the movie and the tv series. I wanted Seth (one of the main characters in my novel) to be a bit of an a-hole... but a likeable one, hehe. One who has a past and anger issues, but one who can also rise to become the well-loved and redeeming hero of the story, who can bring out the worst and hopefully, the best, in the heroine.

Ethan's such a deep thinker, so thoughtful and introspective, and so focused on his career and honing his skills as an actor. Pretty intriguing guy. ;)

I would absolutely watch any other productions Ethan's part of in the future. So far besides "10 Things I Hate About You," I've seen him in the Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen movie "Passport to Paris." Though, that probably doesn't count because I was like, 12 years old when I saw it. But I will definitely watch his other movies, mostly independent films, which I hear were really good and won some awards.

You can read the entire live chat with Ethan Peck online; just click here.

Well... that's it for now. I realize that this post may be a bit too long, and I apologize if you're having difficulty straining your eyes from staring at the monitor screen for so long. I'll try to update a tad more often, and to write more often. One step at a time, folks, just one step at a time. ;)

Music to Write to

I know I said in my last post that I would love to do some sort of communal writing project, where a small group of us would either get the ball rolling with the use of one theme or line. But I guess maybe it'd be better over a long vacation, such as either Spring Break or summer vacation, so that academic or job deadlines won't be an issue. I myself have a pelting of exams to zip through in the upcoming weeks. So, this literary challenge is post-poned, at least for now.

Meanwhile, thanks to the recommendations made by my friend, Liliana (whose blog can be found here), I was able to uncover some new music that could possibly work as background music during one of my story-storming and writing sessions. These have an overall dark mood - perfect for scenes meant to feel creepy or loaded with fast-paced action.

The first one is by Gossip, called "Heavy Cross." Really haunting with the beat and the girl's vocals. It feels like a '70s kung-pow disco kind of vibe - fresh, funky cool. ;)



I heard about Florence + the Machine about a year ago when I was searching Youtube for some clips of Fox's hit tv series, "Bones." A fan had made a video of scenes between Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan with the song "Kiss with a Fist" in the background. I thought the song was weird (it's about a dysfunctional relationship, if you haven't already guessed), but really groovy. So I downloaded it and put it in my mp3 player. I'd been meaning to search for more songs by Florence + the Machine, but I just never found the time or it would always slip my mind.

And let me tell you, I fell absolutely in love with her music all over again, especially with "Drumming Song" and "Howl." They're absolutely fantastic, filled with passion and charged with the hot vibrancy of conflict. I was easily able to write some more details for the action scene I'm currently working on.

Here they are below, courtesy of Youtube...

First, "Drumming Song"


And now here's my absolute favorite, which was also featured in a trailor for season 4 of "The Tudors." This one is called "Howl."



Dark, seductive, and fast-paced aren't they? Absolutely compelling.

Then, during another search, I came across this excellent band named Explosions in the Sky. They mostly do instrumental compositions - lots of melody and great balance between light and dark moods, kind of like the musical scores done in movies. So if you're the kind of writer who prefers songs without sung lyrics, this may be a great group to listen to as you're crafting your story. This particular song is called "Greet Death."



If you like more music like this, and more bands similar to Explosions in the Sky, there's another band that I noticed many people liked.

Listen to the band Sigur Ros if you're more into lighter melodies for easy listening, especially if you're writing a fantasy story. They're an Icelandic band, and although you might not understand the language they're singing in, their songs are very soothing and optimistic. I wouldn't be surprised if they were included in a Pure Moods compilation; their music is beautiful.

Here's one of Sigur Ros's songs, called "Staralfur," for example. Give it a go, and I promise you that you'll feel a comforting calm wash over you.





I have a lot more on my list of story-writing songs, so check back later the next time I blog about music. I'll try to find some more interesting songs for writing as time goes on. You're also more than welcome to add any of your suggestions. In the meantime, enjoy the tune-age! ;)

Sentence + Song Suggestions, Anyone?

Okay. So I have writer's block. Not that I don't have ideas floating around in my sleep-deprived brain or anything - in fact, it's actually quite the opposite.

I have so many ideas and scenarios in my head that I'm having some trouble transposing them into legible sense. If I can't understand my own thoughts, what more my readers? I would hate to confuse anyone and have the story ruined as a result of my brain farts (and partly due to an insomniac cat outside my house that whines incessantly all night and provides me with ample distraction. Though, I kind of feel bad for it sometimes, but that's besides the point.)

Two of the characters in my novel have reached a point where they're both running through the woods at the edge of town from something insatiable and sinister.

Consider this sentence and please tell me if it's a good line to put during a chase scene such as the one previously described:

Breathing - heavy, harsh, and heated - followed right behind us...

Is the alliteration too much, or does it add something to the suspense? Please tell me what you think.

Also, wouldn't it be cool if we all wrote a story or a poem using a particular line or phrase and see what we each come up with? You know, kind of like what Mary Shelley did with her literary friends (hence we have Frankenstein), or the song-writing challenges that Jason Mraz would do with his fellow music buddies (The Dynamo of Volition, for instance, came about from the challenge of writing a song using the phrase "blind man's bike"). Isn't creativity a wondrous thing? ;)

For inspiration, I've been listening to UnderOath's "Reinventing Your Exit" on repeat during the tense, adrenaline-filled moments of my story. I could never really tap into the zone of writing these particular scenes without it. The odd thing is that even though I absolutely love rock music, I'm not particularly fond of the screamo kind. But this song is one of the few that's made my list of exceptions. I guess it has to do with the fact that the harsh, grating screaming is balanced with really compelling and really good singing. Together, the song strikes a great balance between anger, desperation, and raw power. This song's been on my mp3 player since I was 16, so maybe that means something, hehe.

If you guys also happen to have some song suggestions for action/suspense scenes, please share them. I'd love to hear them - I'm always in search of awe-inspiring music.

Meanwhile, if you're interested in the song that I'm talking about, here it is, along with the lyrics on the screen.




Lately I've also been listening to the dynamic duo Tegan & Sara. They're amazing! Here's the acoustic version of their song "The Con," which also plays in my head occasionally during my story-storming sessions.



Enjoy! Maybe these songs can invoke some kind of inspiration for you, too. ;)

One-Liner Limits

I should have started studying for my Statistics test hours ago. But my sister kept bugging me to proofread her cause-and-effect essay on reality television (another blog will be dedicated to this topic sometime in the future). I edited it for her, and on top of that, pretty much expanded her paper... but we had to cut back some paragraphs and sentences in order to fit her anal retentive teacher's requirement of an absolute maximum of three pages. The guy actually threatened to deduct a complete letter grade if his students did not "strictly adhere" (his favorite word, according to my sis) to his requirements. What a picky, picky butthead. Whatever happened to quality and not quantity? No wonder journalism didn't work out for the dude.

Sorry I sound so irritable right now.

But I have as much ownership to that essay as my sister does, and I feel that required page numbers are arbitrary. If the point is clearly stated and duly supported with specific examples, as well as a host of critiques on existing views, then the essay would be sound and at least offer some interesting insights. Why the heck should page numbers matter?

Society has gone batty. I mean that in the most serious way. Blogs - well, aside from the usual celebrity gossipmonger sites - are slowly becoming extinct. I'm sure everyone's heard of Twitter, an entire website dedicated solely to one-liners frequently updated (every 10 seconds or so for some people) based on the question, "What are you doing?"

But who really cares? What's the point of these so-called status updates? Aren't we limiting our capacity for self-expression by sticking to word-limited one-liners?

Okay... so maybe they're meant as conversation starters. But how far can these conversations go? About how your butt really itches right now, or how the eerily perfect Edward Cullen rocks your world (when he's really just a figment of imagination), or how you just ate a sandwich, or how you just got totally wasted at some random party and are retching miserably in your sleep... Unless you and your fellow conversationalists have somehow rambled on and found something substantial and meaningful to talk about. But my guess is not very far, given such topics of no consequence.

It's like society has attention-deficit disorder. Are we running out of patience? Out of creativity? Out of individuality? All because of the desire for instant gratification - here, now, within the span of a finger snap, just like that.

Well, let me tell you something. I refuse to let word limits and page limits define who I am. Screw that. I'm not going to go on ranting madly in the style of "Grrr, I am Woman, hear me ROAR!" But words... they're powerful instruments. I just wish people used them a bit more wisely and sought something deeper than the superficial.

Anyway, I should really get back to studying. More later.

Twenteen and counting...

Today at around 4:01 PM, I will officially be twenteen. A big shout out and thank you to everyone who wished me well for my birthday! You guys are awesome -- or as my good friend Tegan puts it, "awesometastic!" :)

As you can probably guess, I still wish I could be a teenager forever. Whereas most people would rub their hands together with sheer delight at the prospect of getting one step closer to the legal drinking age limit, it wouldn't have mattered much to me. I kind of like my liver the way it is. Okay.. maybe when I turn 21 next year, I'll  indulge in a couple sips of white wine. It's the only alcoholic beverage that tastes as sweet as it smells. But anyway, that's besides the point.

Do I even have a point? (Laughs to Self.)

This might just be one of my rambling blog posts, unfocused and everywhere all at once, so please just bear with me if you're actually reading this.

I've been feeling a bit scatterbrained lately, ever since I became Worthy Advisor of my assembly in Rainbow. Just yesterday the girls and I initiated 4 new members -- my youngest sister Juvy, Judith's friend Julia, and two other girls from another assembly in upstate. It was a LONG day of rehearsals (the entire afternoon and evening), and after memorizing paragraphs and pages of the ceremony, all of that hard work paid off. I'm so happy that my friends in Rainbow have done a great job. Let your true colors always shine through! :)

That's us Rainbow girls up there. ;)

Hmm... what else? Sports.
I don't follow football, but I just thought it would be interesting to mention that the priest that visited my church today made a somewhat funny joke at the end of mass. We all knew which team he was rooting for -- because God was supposedly rooting for them, as well. And good for them -- the Saints won! :)

On the other hand, switching over to the sport that I actually do follow.... The Knicks really need to pick it up a little and kick it up another notch! From the looks of it, the dream of making it to the playoffs seems a little farther and farther with each loss.

This pic above pretty much says it all...
I just hope the Knicks beat the Sacramento Kings tomorrow!

And let's see... School.
My classes are getting along fine. One of these classes is a requirement for all Psych majors -- Psych 248: Statistical Methods in Psychology (a very expensive class, I might add, due to the required texts). I was freaking out Thursday night because of the mumbo jumbo in my textbook regarding central tendency. It comes as no surprise that mean, median, and mode would be the concepts discussed in the chapters, but reading it was just so long and the explanations so confusing that I pretty much panicked for a bit. But after making myself a soothing cup of hot papaya-and-pomegranate tea, I calmed down a little and tried to take a stab at my homework.

After that, I signed onto Facebook and at the request of my friend Kim, I signed onto AIM. The funny thing was, I had to relearn how to use it and forgot the online aliases of a majority of the people on my buddy list. The only ones I remembered were my close friends' screen names. But everything else was just a blur. I would clean out the clutter, but I don't want to accidentally delete anyone. Because that would be inadvertently mean.

Sometimes it's a little awkward to talk someone via IM, especially if they're IMing you or you're IMing them for the first time. Since there's obviously no way to decipher who's who on the basis of facial recognition, we're forced to ask the impertinent question of "WHO ARE YOU?" (Not in caps lock, of course... but don't deny it. You were probably thinking in caps lock inside your head, like a fight or flight reflex at encountering an unfamiliar stimulus.) But then a silly giggle escapes your breath once you realize the person behind the unfamiliar screen name is actually a really nice girl you shared your Math B class with in high school. Another thing that I had to retrain my brain to get accustomed to was the experience of having three different conversations at once.

Multi-tasking gets a bit more complicated with AIM -- at least, in my recent experience. I just need to get the hang of it again.

Some people have been wondering how far I've come so far with my novel. Eighteen chapters (about 120 pages), is the status as of now. But with the spring semester of my college sophomore year starting, I haven't had the time to outline and sketch out Chapter 19. When I try, my brain feels a little fried from everything else I've been reading or studying, or my hand would feel a little achy from scribbling notes down all day. Other days, I just feel like this poor little kitten:

But I'll get back to the story when I can. I'm trying to take things a little easy in my free time. But I'm keeping my mind open to new possibilities and new twists and turns that pop in my head occasionally that could possibly work for Danica & co. I'm trying to draw inspiration from my Theatre 101 class - some of the plays that we're going to read seem very promising. So I shall soak in all of it, and squeegee my creativity onto the pages of my novel whenever I get the chance.

Speaking of theatre, I have to see a theatre production within this month for a review paper to be submitted in March. The Hunter College theatre department, while very good at announcing free performances at Hunter for students toting a Hunter ID card, won't actually have another production until April. How unfortunate for me. So I had to ask my mother if she could somehow get an employee discount at her job for some cheap Broadway tickets. I'm kind of hoping she can score some for Wicked.

I would LOVE to defy gravity if I could. ;)

As for other awesometastic performances...
The conclusion of the mini-series of "Emma" on Masterpiece Theatre Classic on PBS was tonight. I have yet to see it, and I can hardly wait to switch on the television tomorrow once my Statistics homework is all done and after I've eaten at least three helpings of my birthday cake. Jonny Lee Miller as Mr. Knightley just gets better and better with each performance. This guy is an amazing actor! You should see him portray the poet Lord Byron in the BBC production of "Byron". PLUS, he's pretty dreamy... almost hotter than Gallo.

I explored the website for "Emma" and was just clicking through. I guess you could say I became somewhat obsessed with this movie. It's just that GOOD. You've got to see it -- the full episodes are online (until March 9th)! But anyway, I took a fun quiz -- "Bachelors of Highbury quiz" -- and guess who's my perfect match?

I just about swooned when I found out the result. I wish I had my own Mr. Knightley for Valentine's Day. I really, really, really want the DVD!!!!!!!! :)

So I shall leave you with happy thoughts and happy dreams of tomorrow!

Progress!

I just finished writing Chapter 18 of my novel - a big turning point between my two protagonists, based on trust. Seth may just have the answers Danica's looking for, if only she places her trust in him. But given his reputation and the things that he's done to piss her off from the very moment they met, she's a bit reluctant. Maybe he's not so bad, though... he actually followed her after the entire mess at the bookshop to make sure she was safe, and even took care of the wound she accidentally inflicted on herself in her irrational fit to find out if she did in fact possess pyrokinetic powers or was simply going crazy.

But we, as the readers, are left hanging until Danica finally lets go of her fears and her doubts about Seth and finally trusts him.

So why the urgent need for trust? Because Seth's about to tell her something so completely far-fetched and unbelievable that she would probably laugh it off and dismiss it as nothing but nonsense. Even though it's the absolute truth about who Danica really is, and the potential that may rest in the powers she unknowingly holds. More on that later. ;)

I'm a bundle of nerves... the first day of the new spring semester starts tomorrow. I have to get up bright and early in order to get ready for a full day ahead. My Thursdays are packed with classes, unfortunately. The only upside is that I get a break from 9:30 am until around 12 noon. Everything else is just classes straight through until 5:30 pm (I have Intro to Theater for 2 consecutive hours... I seriously hope the class is interesting instead of boring, otherwise I might just end up falling asleep). I won't be able to finally get home and rest until 6:30. Already, the prospect of living through tomorrow sounds extremely exhausting. But here's to a new beginning, people. We should all try to be thankful, even if we want another month's worth of vacation.

And speaking of being thankful... I know this may seem like a weird segue into this topic, but thank goodness the Knicks pulled through in the game against the Timberwolves last night. 132-105. A wonderful comeback from their losing streak, particularly that shameful 50 point deficit loss to the Mavericks this past Sunday. But anyway... moving on.

I shouldn't be surprised that Gallo made it onto the NY Post's list of Top 12 Most Eligible New York City Bachelors. I mean, why wouldn't he make it? He's stunning, he's in the best shape of his life (considering he had a major back injury last season), he's got a great career going for him, he's got a passion for cooking (which is a total plus for any girl... it'd be awesome if he offered to cook for me on a date. At least, in my dreams, hehe), and he's a really humble person. What more could a girl ask for in a guy?

And get this: Gallo's off to Dallas next month to play in the NBA All-Star games on the Rookie-Sophomore teams. He's mostly likely going to participate in the 3-point shooting contest, as well as assist Nate Robinson in the dunk competition. That's definitely a great honor. So more power to him. :)

Anyway... I'm going to go now and enjoy the rest of my last day of vacation. My sisters are already getting mad at me for making them wait -- we're supposed to share some kettle corn and watch Masterpiece Theater's Classic presentation of Jane Austen's 'Emma', starring Romola Garai and Johnny Lee Miller (a very good-looking and talented actor, I might add, who portrayed the famous poet Lord Byron in another film). I've seen the Gwyneth Paltrow version... but I wasn't all that impressed by Gwyneth's performance.

Maybe Romola Garai will portray a more vibrant Emma, the meddling matchmaker with dreams and a mind of her own.

More later, loves! ;)

The Hopes to Find Inspiration and an Ever After

First of all, I would like to thank everyone who read the excerpt of my novel. I'm so glad you guys enjoyed it, and I'm especially thankful for your wonderful, constructive critiques! :)

Right now, I'm trying to work on the other chapters I have yet to write...

I... got stuck on the next chapter. I know what I want to write, and I'm able to easily get inside my character's head, but I'm somewhat hesitant to plunge further at full steam ahead because of so many distractions and so many worries floating in the back of my mind...

For instance:

1. Family responsibilities -- chores like cleaning my cluttered room and cooking dinner, as well as picking up my little sister from school.
2. School -- the new semester is starting this week, and I'm a little nervous about my classes. I haven't even ordered my textbooks yet, so I definitely have to deal with that later.
3. Youth group responsibilities -- I'm in the leadership position of the masonic youth group I'm part of, the International Order of the Rainbow for Girls... and I have yet to memorize my parts and plan for future events/activities. I seriously don't want to mess anything up, so I'm crossing my fingers that everything goes well.
4. Guys you're supposed to be completely immune to -- I saw tuberculosis recently, and even went so far as to say 'hi' to him like nothing was wrong, just to be nice. I didn't think much of it... until my sister told me he was staring again. And what bugged me even more was when my mother kept telling me that he was asking around for me, which is something that is pretty uncharacteristic of him, given the circumstances between us some years ago. My sister insists that I'm the one making it awkward because I refuse to talk to him (mostly because I don't really have much to say... and I'd much rather avoid any uncomfortable pauses and lead him on into thinking that I'm still into him -- which I'm not. Into him, that is. Flustered, but not into him. I'm pretty sure of it).
   
   But is that really completely my fault, especially when this guy stares at me but doesn't say a word? If he wants to talk to me, why can't he just come up to me and just try to say something, then?
   
   I'm not as mad as I used to be at him... a little guarded, maybe, but not mad. I realize now that the misunderstanding that took place in the past is pretty inconsequential, and it was both our faults. But COME ON. I was brave enough the last time, when I told him straight-out how I felt about him years ago. Why can't he be the brave one this time?
   
   Whatever... I'd rather not wait around forever. Maybe the next time, I'll woman up and ask him point-blank, "Have your eyes strained from trying to covertly look at me yet?" Just to jolt him out of his hiding place and maybe get whatever it is on his mind out in the open. Maybe it'll be good for the both of us to clear the air of unsaid things, of unresolved issues (whatever the heck those might be), of what's going on inside this paranoid weirdo's head. I just hope I've got the ovaries to do it.

Anyway. Now that I've gotten these out of the way, I feel a little better.

I'm listening to He Is We's "Happily Ever After" again, to find some inspiration to lift up my spirits. I may not know my ending... but hopefully I can find one for my good friend, Danica. A true friend in my head, hehe.

Let me riddle you a ditty,

It's just an itty bitty little thing on my mind.

'Bout a boy and a girl try to take on the world,

one kiss at a time.

Now the funny thing about it,

ain't a story without it,

but the story is mine,
And I wish I could say that it ended just fine.

We all wanna know....
How it ends.

Oh happily ever after

Wouldn't ya know, wouldn't ya know?

Oh skip to the ending

Who'd like to know?

I'd like to know

Author of the moment,
Can you tell me?

Do I end up, do I end up happy?

And oh man... I'm such a sucker for movies like this:

And of course, this dialogue between Prince Henry and Danielle (now the princess) is one of my faves:

Danielle: You, Sir, are supposed to be charming.
Henry: And we, Princess, are supposed to live happily ever after.
Danielle: Says who?
Henry: You know, I don't know.

I like to think that maybe Henry's onto something there.

We all have a story to tell. So until next time, my friends. Keep writing, keep finding that missing something, the path to your ever afters. I hope your ever afters are happy. ;)

The Excerpt (from the novel I'm currently writing)

So here is the excerpt from my novel that I said I'd post from my previous entry. It's as good as it's going to get so far.

Just for some background info (quick recap on previous chapters):
Danica Ambrose is the protagonist. She works at her mother's small bookshop, and she's basically a disillusioned teenager trying to find her place in the world. Except that people constantly make fun of her for being a klutz and a little socially inept. She's just had the worst day of her life a couple days ago -- first a nest of birds poop on her head, then her history homework gets lost in the wind and splattered by a passing car because a boy had pushed her out of his way that morning. This boy happens to be the same guy who had stolen her seat in history class, and who had also hit her in the face with a basketball in Gym, causing her nose to bleed and her wrist to sprain.

So what the fuck was this guy's problem?

Danica learns from a classmate rumors about this mysterious screwboy, whose name is Seth, and finds out that he has a somewhat murky past that implicates him in a murder (yes, gasp -- a murder). He apologizes to her later on, but Danica won't accept it, and she doesn't want to be near him. It doesn't help matters that she finds herself attracted to him, which makes her get angry with herself.

Meanwhile, her best friend Natalia (a hopeless, hopeless romantic) keeps trying to fix Danica up with Seth. Danica resents this, which leads to an argument between the two friends. At the end of the argument, they weren't on speaking terms, and it seemed like Nat was trying to avoid Danica. Meanwhile, Rina Van Anders, the popular girl at school, wants all the guys to herself -- including Seth, and she's devious enough to keep her jock boyfriend Chris (whom Nat's crushing on) out of the loop.

One day after school when Danica's working at the bookshop, she meets a gorgeous stranger named Caleb. He's completely charming -- a gentleman with a funny and soft poetic side. But Danica's mom doesn't trust him and tells her daughter to back off.

In between all this, Danica's been getting these disturbing dreams... Are these just mere figments of her imagination, or something much more?

I hope you enjoy it. Feel free to give me any feedback that you might have -- the good, the bad, and the ugly (as long as it's constructive, hehe).

Chapter 17

It was one fine Saturday afternoon, all right: tiring, tortuous, and migraine-worthy.

The old heavy broomstick in my hands wobbled as I tried to sweep up the crushed cookie crumbs and half-eaten brownies scattered along the floor onto the cracked, brittle plastic of the dustpan. You gotta love Mom for coming up with “Once upon a Story-time.” It was the same ditty every Saturday: Ana would bake the goodies at her house and bring it over for the little munchkins to enjoy as Mom read aloud the sugar-coated fairytale of the week and three other children’s books to thankless little booger-pickers. It was my job to make sure that the shop was as pristine as possible for the next batch of customers.

Try collecting fudge clumps and boogers off the soft rugs of the children’s corner with a damp paper towel and a scouring sponge for lack of a vacuum. You’ll have one hell of a time trying your luck.

The bells that hung over the door jingled for what must have been the billionth time today. People kept darting in and out to drop off their kids for story-time as they went into town to shop – as though Ambrosian Inkwell was some sort of free babysitting service. Even though story-time would be long over, there were always kids inside the shop during the weekend shopping rush. And once or twice during the month, “little accidents” would occur. More like big, unwanted surprises.

Such as cleaning out the bathroom of the bookshop after a toddler had just thrown a natural stink bomb in there and smeared his soiled big-kid diaper all over the walls. And which toddler is this, you wonder? It was none other than adorable little Tucker, the failed M-KASK (Mollify the Kicking and Screaming Kid) case I was supposed to handle the other day.

So you can just imagine how gung-ho I was to find out that I had to disinfect everything and watch the little bundle of joy until his parents came back to claim him because Mom and Ana were busy with the registers.

NOT FUN AT ALL.

“Oh my God, check this out,” someone giggled as a crisp page flicked over. “Seven Steps to a Brand New YOU. Step one: Finding Your Bosom’s Buddy, the Bra. According to fashion experts, 75-80% of women wear the wrong bra size… Is it wrong that I’m wearing a smaller cup size to show how big they are?”

Lovely, it was just freaking lovely that the Barbie brigade actually decided to grace Ambrosian Inkwell with their presence. I slid behind a bookcase and pulled the hood of my sweater over my head, hoping to hide from one of their scrupulous stare-downs as I peeked at them from behind a row of dusty hard-covered classics. They stood by the magazine rack near the counter, flipping through the latest issues of Cosmo, Teen Vogue, and Elle.

My knuckles went completely pallid from gripping the broomstick too tight as I tried to count the seconds until they left the shop. But between the constant bell jangling, the cash registers slamming, the incessant crying, and the loud screeching laughter of the children, it was just impossible. I gave up.

“I’m planning on getting that procedure where they suck some of the fat out of your butt and put it into your boobs instead. I mean, that still makes them real, right?”

Rina Van Anders was adjusting the straps underneath her shirt, frowning thoughtfully down at her tissues. Yes, she still adds Kleenex down there even though she’s a bona fide D, just to make sure Chris and any other guys hoping to look down her blouse don’t forget her. How do I know? She actually asked me once when we were changing in the locker room for Phys. Ed. a couple weeks ago if anything was sticking out from her lace bra. Then again… that was probably her way of letting me know I’d never measure up to her status.

“I heard that if you eat potatoes and stretch your arms out every morning, your boobs can grow another full cup size,” said a vaguely familiar voice.

My breath suddenly caught in my throat once Clarissa stepped aside. Natalia came into view, smiling and nodding as she sifted through the other magazines on the rack. Like she was one of them.

“That’s a myth,” Rina said with a hair flip. “Besides, all those extra carbs can’t be good for your ass. The spotlight’s only going to shine on your fat butt if you don’t watch it.”

“Oh, I…” Nat gazed down at the floor, struggling to keep her cool calm from flying away altogether. I could tell she was going to point out the flaw in Rina’s logic – after all, didn’t the so-called breast procedure call for lipids from the derriere? But instead Nat shook her head as though to shake off the thought, and grinned. “Never mind – you’re right. That obviously didn’t make any sense. I heard it from Danica.”

Clarissa and another girl named Valerie burst out laughing.

Rina shook her head, looking as bored as ever. “Why am I not surprised?”

“You take beauty advice from her?” asked Clarissa, still shaking from her shrill laughing fit. “No wonder you’re so lost.”

My eyes stung, and my nostrils flared up uncontrollably as I tried to bat my tears away.

“Well, maybe she’s not so hopeless after all.” Rina inspected Nat’s wavy strands, examining its thickness and silky texture. She smiled.

That smile could have been treachery in disguise. But Nat didn’t seem to care, just as long as she felt welcome in the sanctum of their inner circle. She returned that smile with a slight nod of her head.

“Don’t worry, Natalia,” Rina said, putting a hand on her shoulder with an air of confidence, “stick with us and maybe we can undo some of the damage. Who knows? Maybe we can find you a date with one of Chris’s friends just in time for Fright Night.”

“Thanks,” Nat replied in a forced cheery tone. At least, I hoped it was forced.

Why? Why was she doing this?

Was I really that horrible to be seen with, to hang out with, to… to be friends with? Her never-ending tips on de-stressing, her insistence on giving my face and wardrobe a make over, her incessant lookout for potential boyfriend material on my behalf… I should have seen it coming. She was trying to make herself look good, whereas I was just a charity case.

Our friendship was a sham.

She was probably just biding her time until popularity decided to land at her feet. And when our fight erupted she saw her chance to escape. I don’t know when she started being buddy-buddies with Rina and her crew, but it was clear that she genuinely wanted to hang out with them. Was she really content to be Rina’s new little sock puppet? Or was she just using Rina to get to Chris? Either way, I never thought she’d actually be desperate enough to ditch me, just to get drafted into Rina’s army of wannabe minions.

Though it hurt, I had to admit it: I was nothing but muck to her, the muck that held her back. And so she washed her hands clean of me.

Maybe it really was my fault. My complaining and flippant remarks must have driven her away. Seth was right – my sarcasm would someday come back to bite me in the butt.

“What are you doing? Go and help them. They’re your friends, aren’t they?” Mom brushed passed me, hurriedly dodging customers with a pile of mystery paperbacks in her arms.

I shut my eyes, willing my world to stop crashing in on me. But of course, that was hardly a fool-proof plan. I could hear Nat and the gaggle burst out laughing again as they pored over another article in the magazine.

“Danica!” Mom yelled. “Go assist them. Things are getting crazy as it is.”

The twittering and the giggling ceased. Shit.

Did they leave yet? I opened my eyes to peer through the dusty row of Dickens and Dumas again, only to find Rina’s nasty glare hovering close on the other side of the books.

“Well, if it isn’t the geek herself.”

I turned away and quickly wiped my tear-stained cheeks with my sleeve. “What do you want, Rina?”

“You heard your mother,” she said, sounding so sickeningly saccharine as she moved closer to where I stood shaking. “Aren’t you going to help us?”

“Hello, girls,” Mom said as she passed by me again, perhaps to grab another pile of books to shelve while Ana rung up the sales on the register. Mom smiled and then quickly strode past us to go through the back room.

“Ugh!” Clarissa jumped back, pointing a finger at my feet.

I glanced down, and saw it. A trail of paper – toilet paper – wet and unmistakably stuck to the bottom of my Mary Jane flats. I suddenly regretted scrubbing out the diaper relics smeared on the bathroom walls an hour ago. And it was all thanks to little Tucker. Thank goodness his mother already came by and picked him up.

Rina, Clarissa, and Valerie broke out in laughter.

Nat giggled nervously as she looked down at my shoes, avoiding the livid stare I shot her. She just stood there, pretending not to know me, pretending that I was nothing but a waste of space, as though I didn’t rescue her with my emergency pad from a severe period leakage the moment she hit menarche in seventh grade. She just stood there, feigning indifference, like some kind of brainwashed popularity groupie. She just stood there.

I lifted my leg up just as the temptation to kick the zombie droids in their guts and sock them with the broom I held surged through my mind. If there hadn’t been that many kids hanging around the children’s corner looking for a good book to capture their short attention spans, I probably would have gone through with it. Instead, I grabbed the still-damp toilet paper and crumpled it into a tight wad, my sorry excuse of a fist shaking with fury.

Rina shook her head in disapproval, making tsk-tsk sounds with her tongue. “And to think Seth spent his precious lunch time sitting next to a sorry sight like you. If you think for one second that you stand a chance with him, you’re in for a rude awakening, missy. You know what you are? You’re just a pathetic little dork who can’t even clean up after herself. So I’m asking you nicely, Ambrose: back off.”

Un-freaking-believable. The girl had just admitted out loud that she was scheming to cheat on her boyfriend. Chris didn’t deserve this, even if he was naïvely loyal and acted like a complete tool during those annoying pep rallies along with his jock friends.

Was this part of Nat’s plan to finally nab the guy of her dreams? Wait for Rina to dump him and then swoop in like a vulture to pick up the pieces as the heroine of her own contrived fairytale fantasy? Wonder how that’ll turn out.

“I don’t even want the guy,” I snapped, rolling my eyes at Rina. “He’s all yours. It’ll probably be the best thing you’ve ever done for someone other than yourself.” At least now, maybe he’ll leave me alone with Rina’s claws raking all over him.

She shot me a gloating, victorious smile, all fraudulent sweet radiance. “He was never yours to begin with.”

“Whatever, control freak. And you…” I turned to Nat, “You’re ditching me for these zombie queens?”

It was stupid of me to ask, especially since all Nat did was look up apathetically at the ceiling, as though my words didn’t even beat a note on her eardrums.

“Ugh,” Clarissa retorted, “get over it, you psycho.”

“Get over yourselves!” I threw the damp wad of toilet paper at them, watching as it flew.

The damp clump bounced off the queen bee’s cosmetic-caked cheek and landed on the open page of the Allure magazine that Natalia held. Rina gasped as her cronies squealed out of disgust. Nat turned her nose up at me and tossed the wad to the floor, where it finally landed near the heavy old broom that weighed down on my hands.

“Bitch,” Rina hissed venomously at me. “You…,” she hissed a novena of other colorfully enriching expletives before once again saying, “…bitch.”

Surprised and curious faces darted our way – unassuming customers looked up from where they stood browsing in the nearby aisles.

“Grandpa, what’s a bitch?”

I looked behind me to find a little girl who must have been around five years old or something, clutching a picture book about ballet-dancing mice. She tugged at his arm, and again asked, “What’s a bitch?”

The grandfather then snapped to attention – maybe because his hearing aids had finally picked up on the little girl’s inquisitive voice – and steered his granddaughter away from us, shaking his head as he harrumphed to himself under his breath.

I could have stayed behind and challenged the queen bee to another verbal duel, but the truth was my chances of winning were slim. Plus, there were too many people. Too many customers coming and going, and if I cracked under the pressure, I don’t think Mom would ever forgive me for blowing my lid off at Rina and her crew.

It was a hopeless battle. Despite my instincts gnawing at me to fight back, I faltered anyway. What’s the use? I was outnumbered. And Rina had already won. She’d already won when Natalia decided that she would rather be a mean girl wannabe than hang out with a spaz like me. Apparently, I didn’t matter a whit to Nat.

I dropped the broom and ran to the door, dodging browsing customers and nearly tipping over a couple of wooden chairs as I rushed past. Their laughter rang in my ears, even louder and sharper than the bells that shook violently over the shop entrance. My sinuses filled up with a heavy thudding that sent my mind reeling and my heart thumping faster. I couldn’t see, but I didn’t care that the tears were burning out of my eyeballs and cascading down my cheeks along with unwanted mucus streaming through my nostrils. I needed to get out of there – fast – before I did something drastic…

Like accidentally push a heavy bookcase over Natalia for choosing to fight alongside the prissy zombie empress, who I thought was her sworn nemesis.

I had barely made it out the door when I bumped into what felt like a hard stone wall.

“Whoa, easy there,” said a distinctly masculine voice. “Are you all right?”

I tore my blurry gaze away from the floor and looked up – which caused me to choke out a squeaky hiccup right in front of the devastating dream that waltzed into my life not too long ago. Caleb stood like a towering fortress, his arms closing in safely around me just as I crashed into him. A light-hearted smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he asked, “Miss me already?”

Just how much of that did he see?

Ashamed, I tore myself away from the reassuring strength of his arms holding me close to his chest, his cold skin and electric citrus scent awakening my senses. He tried to pull me into his embrace again – probably thinking that I needed someone to hold me up and keep me from falling. But despite my body’s natural impulse to linger there a little longer, I stepped back.

“I-I’ve gotta go. I’m sorry,” I murmured hoarsely as I freed myself from him, taking care not to get my runny snot all over his designer cashmere sweater. With a heavy sob and the momentary desire to just drop dead, I swiped my sleeve across my face.

Huge mistake – the linty cotton of my sweatshirt absorbed the moisture from my eyes just as Caleb’s warm, caramel eyes burrowed into my own. It felt like I was slowly sinking in quicksand – desperate to leave, but trapped by the pull of his gaze.

“Wait,” he said, taking hold of my arms again. “What’s wrong?”

“I-It’s nothing, I just…” I hiccupped another anguished sob, my cheeks burning even hotter with embarrassment. People who stood nearby edged a bit farther away, most likely weirded out by my blubbering. Ana, still busy ringing up the registers for the line of customers some distance away, looked up briefly toward me and winced, her lips pressing into a thin line of discomfort and sympathy. I must have been a sorry sight.

“Why’d you run? Can’t take a little j–”

I jumped at the malicious sound of that voice. But as I turned my head to respond, I didn’t quite expect to see a sudden change in disposition – especially since I just threw a soiled wad of toilet paper at her acne-free face.

Rina’s jaw fell slack, forming a big O, as her eyes bugged out at the sight of Caleb comforting me, the way it usually does when she’s trying to adjust her contacts. But after a moment, she shook it off like it was nothing to be appalled over. Meanwhile her minions continued to undress the situation with their shocked expressions.

“Dev,” Rina said, a surprised pleasantness coating her voice. “Oh my God, I didn’t expect to see you here!”

A cold breath escaped from Caleb as he finally let go of my arms.

“Club Shade? New York City? About a year ago,” Rina said, stepping closer, a playful grin spreading across her glossy pink lips. “Don’t you remember? I was dancing with my cousin Bea and her friends when you came up next to me and offered to buy me a drink.”

“No, I’m sorry.” He shook his head and looked warily at me, his jaw tightening as he saw what must have been a mass of shocked confusion on my face. “You must have me mistaken for someone else.”

“Come on, Dev,” Rina cooed, turning on her pouting powers. Normally, guys could not resist it whenever she called upon her beguiling skills. “Why are you acting like this? It’s me, Rina.”

“I told you. I’m not him.”

“But you are,” she insisted, her voice getting louder and attracting attention from the customers who stood near to eavesdrop, “I know it’s you. It’s been a long time, but that’s no reason for you to turn away from me, like the way you did the last time we met, especially after that...” She licked her lips and stepped closer toward him again, barely audible as she whispered, “that kiss.”

“That was a mistake.” He took me by the hand and turned to leave through the door he’d just entered. My hand felt limp in his cold grasp.

This was just… too weird. He’d just called Rina Van Anders – it-girl of Edgebrook, the town’s beauty queen contender – a mistake. So Dev was real, and not just some random guy that Rina made just to uphold her rep among the gals and to maintain her hotness factor.

Dev... Devereux? As in, Caleb Devereux?

I could have crashed my head against a brick wall, and the harrowing truth of it would still haunt me in the grave. I should have known. I should have known all along that he was too surreal. Dev must have been some mysterious alias he conjured up and went by when he’s out looking to score some new hot dates. Or it was it simply a fond nickname that Rina chose to call him when they were close?

Well, this was just great. I finally meet a charming guy who doesn’t screw around with people’s heads, and what do I get?

Rina’s leftover boy toy. Already soiled, like the toilet paper that bounced off her cheek.

“And just how the hell,” my former best friend wanted to know, sharply assessing me with her eyes, “did you and Danica meet?”

Natalia’s got some nerve, accusing me of betrayal. She hated it when I kept secrets from her, especially if it had to do with meeting a new guy. Like it was some sort of unwritten, unspoken code of honor among girl friends to squeal to each other about the wonders of a beautiful romance blossoming in the air. But was it my fault that she didn’t return my phone calls and signed up for Rina’s bitch-of-the-month club before I could ever tell her? If it was any consolation to Nat, any chance of me having a romance with Caleb now looks just about rancid.

I drew my hand back from Caleb’s cold grasp and hid it within the safe, warm pockets of my linty sweater. He will not take hold of my hand again – at least, that’s what I promised myself. I could barely trust myself enough to stand back as he tried to reassure me with those soft caramel eyes of his, beseeching some kind of absolution. But I held my ground.

He stood there, looking hurt and confused. Probably internally berating himself for the verbal slip-up.

Meanwhile Rina smiled smugly to herself, her arm resting on her hip like a vengeful goddess basking in the glory of her own destructive handiwork.

I looked away, focusing instead at the stack of shiny fashion magazines in Rina’s hand, amazed at how the obsession to become the alpha chic epitome can completely corrupt a person into abandoning her principles.

“Bullshit.”

The sound of breaths getting sucked in cut a nasty echo in my ears; people were no doubt galled at what had just rolled off my chapped lips.

“What… did you just say?” Nat asked.

“You heard me,” I muttered, still focusing with a full-throttle death stare at the copies of Cosmo and Teen Vogue, as though they were to blame for turning Nat into a zombie queen wannabe. “You’re all full of it.”

“What?” Rina asked, skeptical.

Losers don’t have anything to lose, right? So I plunged ahead anyway, unwilling to let her taunting get the best of me, saying, “There’s more to life than hairspray and hooking up, you know. Are you really that blinded by your own reckless conniving that you’re willing to flick to the side like some kind of bug every person that you think doesn’t matter?”

Rina scoffed, and then rolled her eyes when she said, “You know what your problem is? You’re just jealous. Face it, Ambrose. You don’t have what it takes. And you’re just jealous that your friend Natalia would rather hang out with us than with a complete flake like you.”

I swallowed the nervous pulse in my throat and let out a breath as I took her words in, finally looking up from the magazines held in her hand. My voice came out hoarse as my heart rose in my throat again, but I said it just the same: “Better a flake and a fool than a fake and a phony.”

The next thing I knew, flames burst in between us. Rina and her crew screamed, drawing the attention of every person inside the bookshop. She dropped the burning pile that she was just about to purchase onto the wooden floor. Flames sprang up even stronger than before, dancing and licking anything it touched, a violent red and orange glow.

I stared and stared, hardly believing it as I watched Megan Fox’s face on the cover of Cosmo crackle and melt away into ash.

Soon everyone else started to panic, screaming incoherently as someone bellowed, “Fire! Fire! Fire!”

“What happened?” Mom asked upon emerging from the back room, her voice carrying over the chaos. “Oh my God, Danica! Are you all right? Danica!”

I turned around and ran, too freaked out to look back at the damage.

*********************

I love pictures... and picture books, hehe. But here's how the setting of the scene kind of looks like in my head as I'm writing:

This is how the outside of Ambrosian Inkwell looks like (pretend it doesn't say 'Blackwell' on the sign), just with some flowerpots and an old, antique bench outside the windows.

So above is what Ambrosian Inkwell kind of looks like... except somewhat dimmer and with a bit more shelves. (The picture above is actually the inside of the NYU bookstore, courtesy of Google images.)

And here:

Above is what the children's corner of Ambrosian Inkwell would look like (again, courtesy of Google images), except with some comfy soft rugs on the floor so that the kids can sit on them and read.

And of course... the magazines that caught fire:

I'm on to writing Chapter 18, and then the rest of the novel. Even after about 111 pages, I'm still nowhere near halfway done. It'll probably be about as long as J.K. Rowling's or Stephenie Meyer's books. As long as it takes me to get the full story out. Until then, my friends...

Happy Story-Dreaming! ;)

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

I freaking love my friend, Liliana. :)

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

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

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


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

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


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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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


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

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

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

Somewhere Only We Know

I didn't want to roll out of bed yesterday morning because it felt too warm and cozy. But, alas, I had to finally come to terms with the ungodly hour of 6:00 AM, for the sake of seeing my friends Katie and Agatha. We hadn't hung out in forever (well, since last spring).

It was the same old thing as last year's Alumni Day at the Academy of American Studies, except that most of the alumni that came were from the class of '09. Time feels weird - I'm in the middle of my sophomore year of college, and I only just graduated a couple years ago, but somehow there's this distance I feel. A kind of displacement. Like I belong, yet only on the periphery.

At around 9:00, We were served bagels and muffins for breakfast with a helping of some orange juice before heading into the auditorium, where the real reason for Alumni Day would take place. Each year, the assistant principal pretty much asked a group of alumni (representative of those who commute to school, dorm, or go to a private college) to answer some general questions about our college experiences. Katie, Aggy, Gloria, and I decided to sit somewhere toward the back so that we wouldn't get called on. And since we were really just there to see some of our favorite teachers again, the four of us decided to go upstairs to the 4th floor and find them, since there really wasn't any point for us to stick around that long in the auditorium.

We found our history and economics teachers - one of them even called Katie a "wise guy" for saying that there should be a thing as "AP Plumbing" when the conversation branched off into the practicality of having schools specificallly designed for future plumbers and electricians. We walked into the art room, thinking that we would find our funny, cool art teacher. But who did we find instead? The government teacher (who strongly resembles 'Mr. Clean' because of his shiny bald head) in the middle of giving his bored students a lecture. I guess some things don't change - his classes were always so tedious because he would spend most of his time overanalyzing every little so-called error that the Democrats would be doing. But still. Who would think that a junior government class would take place in the school's art room?

Anyway, moving on...
I saw my English teacher, but he was too busy teaching, so we didn't stop by to talk to him. I guess that maybe we still felt awkward around him because he would usually have a serious look on his face, as though he's always thinking deeply about something. He was the teacher that most of the girls would swoon over and crush on because of his charming personality and his enthusiasm for teaching. He was like the character Will Shuester in Glee. Katie was like, "I knew you still  had sonar ears when it came to hearing his name." So I had a bit of an infatuation for the guy. But he was one of the best teachers I've ever had, who pretty much opened a wider door to writing for me. The girls adored him; the guys wanted to be him (despite the occasional jokes they'd make out of stupidity). He was just one of those charismatic people, the type you can't ever seem to hate because there's just something about that person that makes you feel either inspired or motivated.

After that, Katie, Aggy, Gloria, and I just chilled out in Steinway. I didn't have cash on me, though I wished that I did. There were a couple of stores that sold really pretty and sparkly jewelry that would have gone well with a whole bunch of my outfits. But then again, everything became expensive. Earrings - the cute, costume type of earrings - used to cost around $3-$4. Now, a decent pair is at least $8. And if you want the really sparkly, elegant earrings, be prepared to fork over $20 to the cashier. Oh, the temptation of accessory shopping.

After walking around Steinway for some time, we headed over to Aggy's house and watched He's Just Not That Into You. I had already seen it twice before, but I couldn't get enough of it. Somehow, the movie always manages to make me laugh. It's become one of my favorite movies, ever. So forgive me if I'm about to sound a bit obsessive. :)

Out of all the storylines in the film, my absolute favorite is that of Alex and Gigi (played by Justin Long and Ginnifer Goodwin). They were the couple that I was rooting for since the beginning. I guess it's because I could really relate to Gigi.

For instance:
You think you've met a cute, funny, charming and decent guy - and you think that there might be a spark between you and him. But as it turns out, the guy ends up stomping on the little pieces of your heart as he walks out of your life because he's just not that into you. And it's a cold reality splashed onto your head, a jarring and painful truth that you cannot bear - the fact that you were rejected, unwanted, and alone. And it makes you wonder. It really makes you wonder what the hell it is that you did wrong. Your girl friends try to help. They pat your shoulder, offer a hug or maybe even their cashmere-clad shoulder to cry on because they care about you. But the truth is, they're probably just as lost as you are, and instead they tell you that the guy just can't handle your beauty and your brains and your delightful personality. So the guy runs, like every lying dipshit that's wormed his way into your life and shattered the already fragile pieces of your heart, while you just sit there and cry helplessly.

So maybe it is our faults. At least, partially. We let our imaginations get carried away too often, with aspirations for a fairytale ending with some shining knight you're destined to be with. Maybe we shouldn't live under the impression -- no, the illusion -- that we will end up with the perfect guy and live a wonderful, worry-free life.

Anyway, while we're on the subject, it's probably fitting to put some quotes from the movie here. And okay... so my favorite ones happen to be stuff that Alex and Gigi said. Just some food for thought:

• Gigi: A girl will never forget the first boy she ever liked.
  
• Gigi: We are all programmed to believe that if a guy acts like a total jerk, that means he likes you.
  
• Alex: If a guy doesn't call you, he doesn't want to call you.
  
• Alex: So trust me when I say if a guy is treating you like he doesn't give a shit, he genuinely doesn't give a shit. No exceptions.
  
• Alex: If you can find him, then he can find you. If he wants to find you, he will.
  
• Gigi: Maybe he lost my number or is out of town or got hit by a cab.
  
  Alex: Or maybe he's not interested in seeing you again.
  
  
  
• Gigi: I would rather be like that, than be like you.
  Alex: Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?
  Gigi: I may dissect each little thing and put myself out there so much, but at least that means that I still care. Oh! You think you've won because women are expendable to you. You may not get hurt or make an ass of yourself that way but you don’t fall in love that way either. You have not won; you’re alone, Alex! I may do a lot of stupid shit, but I’m still a lot closer to love than you are.
  
• Alex: Hey, Kelly-Ann, uh, did I get any calls?
  Kelly-Ann: Since you asked me 11 minutes ago, no. Not a lot of phone traffic.
  Alex: [He checks his cell phone for a signal.]
  Kelly-Ann: Oh my god.
  Alex: What?
  Kelly-Ann: What’s her name?
  Alex: Who?
  Kelly-Ann: The girl, Alex.
  Alex: There's no girl.
  Kelly-Ann: You can't hide it, man. I know strung-out and you are S-T-R-U-N-G O-U-T.
  Alex: [He laughs it off.] Pleaseeee. [He starts to walk away.]
  Kelly-Ann: [She follows behind.] This is amazing. You can't focus, right? Jumping every time your phone rings, checking your email a hundred times a day, wishing you could write songs...
  Alex: [He scoffs.]
  Kelly-Ann: No, feeling the need to bring up her name in random conversations...it's always the same and it has happened to you, my friend.
  Alex: [He realizes she's right.] Shlt.
  Kelly-Ann: Welcome to my world, asshole. Let me get the door.

And so, it all culminates to this... My favorite scene in the entire movie. I just about swooned.
(I couldn't find a high-quality one without subtitles, let alone one on YouTube that allows embedding, so don't mind the German[?] subs, hehe.)


He's Just Not That Into You (You're My Exception)

Heidi | MySpace Video

I would melt if the guy of my dreams (whoever he is) told me that.
"You are my exception." :)

So the lesson? I'll give the stage back to Gigi, who cleverly put it this way at the end of the movie:

"Girls are taught a lot of stuff growing up: if a boy punches you he likes you, never try to trim your own bangs, and someday you will meet a wonderful guy and get your very own happy ending. Every movie we see, every story we’re told implores us to wait for it: the third act twist, the unexpected declaration of love, the exception to the rule.

But sometimes we’re so focused on finding our happy ending we don’t learn how to read the signs. How to tell the ones who want us from the ones who don’t, the ones who will stay and the ones who will leave. And maybe a happy ending doesn’t include a guy. Maybe it’s you, on your own, picking up the pieces and starting over, freeing yourself up for something better in the future. Maybe the happy ending is just moving on.

Or maybe the happy ending is this: knowing after all the unreturned phone calls and broken-hearts, through the blunders and misread signals, through all the pain and embarrassment… you never gave up hope."

Wise words, indeed. ;)