Throwing Up Words

2009-10-24T00:28:00.000-07:00

Two months.
61 days.
Speechless.
Wordless?
feeling abandonment,
not being able to write a single thought.
not being able

to write a single letter.
...or even a dot dot dot to suggest that after 8 weeks of silence
there is more to come.

Self expression is a bitch at the dawn of another day
and to a caffeine dehydrated mind
and hesitant hands
the fallacy that exists in story-telling
because what is real
and imagined
is neatly shelved in disorganized stacks
of one's mind.
I am a dusty publication,
the omega in a tragic afterthought kind of way,
one that refuses
and refuses
and refuses
to accept.

Looking Up

2009-08-23T21:51:00.000-07:00

I think I know what we're looking for.

When I was little, I prayed for every chance to sleep under the stars. It's amazing, isn't it? To believe in things that we cannot even see. We're told that what's out there is unknown. And we learn to accept that these great things are so powerful, powerful enough to create a force of belief that radiate between humans and transcend the distance that eyes can perceive.

Then why do I look up and feel so lonely? Everything I know is down here, tugged by gravity onto solid ground.

What we're really looking for is for a friend who will see in the sky the same burned out stars and burning suns that we imagine and believe in. To look towards the same direction and create from doubt the imagination of all possibilities.

Peace out, Philippines

2009-08-16T06:15:00.001-07:00

Not to outdo myself, but I as predicted, I started writing this
on a hammock (check)
using my laptop (check)
sipping a cold drink (check)
consumed by feelings of wanting to prolong time (and check).

Now I'm laying in my room, on my soon-to-be empty bed, listening to the hum of the air conditioner and feeling every bit of the hot summer air still.

And I have no words to describe this moment, except for maybe, this is life. I look forward to a tomorrow when I'll be able to call it wonderful again. :)

my nothing words, my every thought

2009-08-14T06:21:00.001-07:00

I've been restless, pacing back and forth, rearranging thoughts in my head in an endless attempt to find a more stable state. You know those stories about spontaneous combustion (yeah, I know, silly.), but it could happen to me sometime soon if I don't let this out, whatever it is that no words from any language or level of complexity can express. Well, maybe a poet's tongue, maybe an encyclopedia length book, maybe if I spoke 10 words per second and had about a week to say it. Or maybe if I could sit down long enough to write some 500 word entry with the best intentions and no reservations to say exactly how I feel.

I feel regret, I feel the words borrowed from fiction: "That’s been my problem. I miss what I already have, and I surround myself with things that are missing.” I'm running away from time, which is inescapable and downright unfair. I think in questions and somehow arrive at answers that every neurological connection derives from uncertainty and self-destructive imagination.

As of late, the first second of every waking moment jumps quickly to the thought of leaving, and the inevitable statement directed to myself, "damn it, I wish I could stay." The horizon I see is a negative empty space that looks as desolate as the spacial distance between the surface of the earth to the sun.

It get so bad, that every hello I say mentally projects the mirror image of a goodbye at the end. I want you, here, now, maybe for as long as forever if fate would have it. But what I really need is for you to say "hey, that empty horizon over there, it holds secrets that you'd be delighted to discover. Every person you've ever met, every emotion you've ever felt, all of that waiting for you to start walking toward it, and this is possible because that horizon, is still a place, not just an idea. Turn that fear of the unknown into curiosity."

God, I just need stability. I need certainty. I need tomorrow to meet today at a point where I'll be waiting, feeling okay.

Shatter and Break

2009-08-13T23:16:00.000-07:00

I feel like inside me,

the whole world is breaking,

breaking apart into continents

near the beginning,

after Pangaea,

before anyone ever realized

the shape of the world.

Or maybe it's just me that's breaking. And I know exactly why.

Love against the Night

2009-08-12T06:30:00.000-07:00

If tonight, the world can sleep
this restless shadow of mine,
awake,
will keep watch over you, love.
No sad lullabies of
sycamores and breeze
can lull a fluttering heart
to dream.
The days are clear as running water,
but the black night shall
rise in greed
to steal you in your sleep.
Stay.
We'll lay with a shroud,
covered in need of each other.
The warmth of cotton
will feel like the liberated
rays of the sun
the darkness has managed to erase.
Somewhere, we'll race
another twelve hours of the
watchful moon,
until, until, until
the night lets us go.

* * * * *
(I think I am slowly getting my poetic tongue back. :] )

Relax and Recap and Relapse

2009-08-06T21:54:00.000-07:00

[So apparently, everyday you learn something new. Today I learned and relearned a lot. ]

The heart has so much capability to love. You can give love away and get it back as easily like a perfectly thrown boomerang. You can let go of a bunch at once, in all directions, different speeds, varying distances.

I think I'm working on trying to be more optimistic? If life can't be objective, then you might as well take the place on stage with the best view.

The music I've been listening to screams profanity and anger, "fuck this, fuck that." Half the time, I don't even know what the lead singer's screaming about. We can all be dramatic. Live in a world of misplaced, broken, mirror-imaged antonyms. Today, I choose angry music, I choose mellow living, I choose happy thoughts.

I must be losing my mind (okay, this can mean three things), and maybe it does mean three things. All I know is that
1. I'm thinking crazier than ever.
2. Someone/place/thing else is keeping my thoughts.
3. My mind is maybe trying to run away from me.

Oh, and I'm borrowing this, because it sounds like bullshit and the convincing truth both at once:

"We all have the potential to fall in love a thousand times in our lifetime. It’s easy. The first girl I ever loved was someone I knew in sixth grade. Her name was Missy; we talked about horses. The last girl I love will be someone I haven’t even met yet, probably. They all count. But there are certain people you love who do something else; they define how you classify what love is supposed to feel like. These are the most important people in your life, and you’ll meet maybe four or five of these people over the span of 80 years. But there’s still one more tier to all this; there is always one person you love who becomes that definition. It usually happens retrospectively, but it happens eventually. This is the person who unknowingly sets the template for what you will always love about other people, even if some of these loveable qualities are self-destructive and unreasonable. The person who defines your understanding of love is not inherently different than anyone else, and they’re often just the person you happen to meet the first time you really, really, want to love someone. But that person still wins. They win, and you lose. Because for the rest of your life, they will control how you feel about everyone else."

Chuck Klosterman, Killing Yourself to Live

2009-08-05T21:26:00.000-07:00

(the little praying mantis that landed on my Gatorade bottle, and had the nerve to play fight with me.)

Today I love,
sliced bananas on my morning's Coco Crunch and soy milk,
a silver moon, dilated as a pupil, hiding between clouds,
the baby lizard in my room that has managed to coexist with me,
Pablo Neruda's "If You Forget Me" poem
[...But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine...]
and feeling love.

currently playing: "Reunion" by Stars ("Tainted Love's too slow to dance to, so we'll leave them all behind")

Other recent musical acquisitions:
Bikini Kill
Peter Bjorn and John
Stars
No Doubt
Incubus
The Used
Spoon
The Noisettes
Portugal the Man
Barcelona

I'm thinking about auditing Filippenko's Astronomy 10 class just because I hear he's amazing, and of course, because it's astronomy.

If tomorrow the sun shines, I will trade in driving the Honda Civic for our Honda motorbike. This, I swear.

Words and Colors

2009-08-02T21:43:00.000-07:00

Current song:
"Colors" by Barcelona,
She’s always waiting for me to speak
But all she hears is whitest noise
Though I may not communicate my
Heart, she knows the color I’m screaming

She makes my heart scream color
I know by now she should have found me out
Every sense I have has been exhausted
But color makes her smile

------------------------------

Life happens, even when you are sitting there, eyes flowing through words while imagining things. Funny thing is, I learn many profound things about life, just sitting with a good book and a cup of something throat-burning.

Updates on my so called "summer reading" list
~~The Time Traveler's Wife~~ by Audrey Niffeneger

~~The Alchemist~~ by Paulo Coelho

~~Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close~~ by Jonathan Safran Foer

~~Choke~~ by Chuck Palahnuik

~~Acquainted With the Night~~ by Lisa Russ Spaar

~~Running With Scissors~~ by Augusten Borroughs

The Tenth Insight by James Redfield

Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe

Recently, I've been adoring anything, well, wordy. And if it's not novel pages, it's photographs of words and letters landscaped to become unconventional. The downside to this is realizing that writer's block is a most painful affliction, the symptoms- obvious when the pen and paper are still unused after an hour or two of wanting to create something beautiful. (So yes, Brian Fennell, I know what you mean when you sing, "Trying to form the words that somehow might mean I am feeling".)

But anyway, I found this paragraph, from Betz White, and you can imagine the heavy feverish feeling of not being able to write, slowly being lifted off my chest. Because even if one can't write, one can read.

"I believe there’s a place in everyone’s life
real or imagined
in your mind or in your heart
in your backyard or far far away
where you are truly yourself.
Not defined by what you do or to whom you belong
but by the person you have always been deep down at the core.
The authentic you of your childhood, when long summer days stretched on forever.
When time stood still and there was nowhere to be but right where you were.
Fun and joy and life just happened."

Amen.

Texture

2009-07-30T23:11:00.001-07:00

can you guess what it is?...

...the inside of a water bottle

my yin and yang of cuteness

thank you for locking

Just today, I noticed how much in awe I could be, staring at the texture of everything, from cloth to foliage, animal skin and ground surfaces.

My 365 goal this year: a 1 photo a day of something abstracted. ( But of course, being my procrastinator self, I won't start until that Nikon D40 is purchased and mine, soon.)

The Long Short Stories I Wish You Knew

2009-07-16T06:53:00.000-07:00

(just pulling thoughts from my journal):

Waiting

I wonder why, that feeling. Waiting? Sudden impulses to stand still, always in silence, always alone - on rooftops, under street lights, sitting on stairs, sinking in bed. Just waiting. It isn’t even as though words could explain that the vision of seeing ten feet ahead is just like looking five years down the road. No. Not at all.

The burden (or is it longing), of waiting for someone you have yet to meet? Defying the Montagues and Capulets, and sneaking out at night to stand on street corners. After a while you start to measure time by the number of passing cars, the length of green lights, the inch movement of 747’s in the sky - departures, arrivals, until what’s inside your chest is roaring louder than that engine flying overhead as you stand, waiting for a ‘hello’ to resonate to familiarity and rapid heartbeats. By daybreak, empty thinking has got you imagining that you’ve seen the future and it’s a blank face you wake up to, a blank face that mirrors your better half. A blank face, and it is all there is, all you know.

But if you’re not of the waiting-and-standing-still kind, then you must be the waiting- walking kind? You walk to meet someone somewhere, and sometimes the urge is so strong that you run, like ‘Run, Forrest, Run’ because you don’t know where to or who. A romantic on the road. Dangerous, amorous. And on street corners, you turn and bam…Collision.

Maybe I’ll meet you on one of those waits, maybe I have.
The point is, we meet, and I think that’s where our story begins.

-

Look closer. I am not an adult. Just a kid. With such great responsibilities.

-

Imagine that. Conversations with one’s mind happen mutely. Not even words. No. Images. Photographs. Stills. Visions in color, in black and white, in monochrome, in darkness, in light.

The output of thoughts running not on electrical ac/dc, but tactical wiring of aesthetic self-expression.

-

I don’t know why, but I
Always find myself staring at ceilings, at skies,
Anything directly overhead.
(and don’t you dare suggest it’s because of my height =P )
-

You know what gives me heavy boots? No matter how much you know someone, what is theirs can never be yours.
Or perhaps I’m just greedy that way.
-

I think we are part of the trendsetting culture. The ones who denounce fads just as others begin to embrace them; replace things even if they’re not broken, build layer upon layer of fresh ideas, stacked in a drawer and put away before dust begin to build up. We marvel at the oddities, lamenting the Joneses and the other Joneses next door. Are we part of the culture too impervious to evolution, too idle for another revolution? The ones who stay awake to create and destroy, but never settle, thus never satisfied; “tomorrow is so yesterday”. Why are we always one step ahead? What are we running away from? “Today is a toast for the day after the next,” and with that, a chuckle.

They Can't Love What I Don't Show; Lists

2009-07-11T00:13:00.000-07:00

There have been too many times when I’ve drowned you with these perfect lines
And you’ve heard me say that I can cure you
This morning I woke up with this overwhelming fear of love
And I’m not sure if I can resurrect you

I’m walking up to you so slowly
It’s about time, it’s about time to fly away, but wait
I swear it’s different cause I’m lonely
Fold your wings, you’ll need them more one day

- "It's About Time", Barcelona

*Note to Bianca and/or Melissa: your fiance/ my lover (Brian Fennell + group), in SF at Slim's on August 12, and we, are missing it.

also missing: Brand New @ Slim's and Azure Ray and Spinnerette @ GAMH.

Stalking Results Calendar:

The Honorary Title @ Bottom of the Hill, September 13
AC/DC @ San Jose, September 2 (but on a Wednesday night?!)
Treasure Island Music Festival, line up TBA, Oct. 17, 18

----------------------------

1. David Downton (http://www.daviddownton.com), I will be you someday.

2. Let me be shallow for just one second, and say that I love love love the return of matte pink or coral lipstick.

3. Does anyone know when we can start buying the Stanford vs. Cal football tickets? (Palo Alto this year, right? because Shri, you know what that means)

4. ASUC Art Studio now offering Plastic Camera Workshop and B/W and Color photography studio use.

5. I'm trying to figure out the best medium to use for thick black lines that sketchbook paper can take.

Glory Box

2009-07-09T06:18:00.000-07:00

ink on sketchbook, 07.09

I'm so tired, of playing
Playing with this bow and arrow
Gonna give my heart away
Leave it to the other girls to play
For I've been a temptress too long

Just. .
Give me a reason to love you
Give me a reason to be a woman
I just wanna be a woman

Glory Box: Portishead

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yF-GvT8Clnk

---------------------

I resent stereotypes.

I resent that just because I wear dresses with heels and run around like I was born wearing a set of 4 inch ones, a few would presume that I shriek at the sight of broken nails. I resent that just because I paint my nails red to match my red lipstick, or draw skirts in the shade of pink , that I can't prove my worth to be considered as brave as the average guy next door.

I resent that just because I can sprint fast or laugh as loud as anyone, a few would presume that I can take a punch and be okay with it. I resent that just because I can drive well, or never refuse an invitation for adventure, that I can be treated boyish, and without consideration that I play with dolls too.

I'd like to see traditional views redefined. Don't label me like a stickered vinyl record filed away under some stereotype that even you can't define.

:]

The Places Where I Grew Up

2009-07-05T06:33:00.000-07:00

La Paz Beach, Zambales. Spot the dog. Do it.

If only I can show you the places where I grew up, I think you'll understand why I think the world is so beautiful. I used to walk dirt paths and narrow unpaved streets lit by the moon, fell asleep under trees where lovers carved their initials, climbed water tanks and abandoned houses, imagined the future and studied the past between shadows of the setting sun.

I wish I can lend you my childhood for you to feel all the love I felt, the laughter that made my stomach ache, and smiles that left my face feeling paralyzed. I think you'll realize why I am who I am, and somehow that makes knowing me a lot easier?

Naivety and Spending Spree

2009-07-03T06:10:00.000-07:00

Just a few randoms before a question:

I wish the world was flat like the old days, then I could travel just by folding a map.

I love love love love sunsets. I used to be so afraid of oceans because I thought somewhere near the horizon was a big drop of a waterfall. :/

And, I also find it quite amusing that when I was a kid, I would point upwards to the sky when referring to the direction of China, or Japan, or the US. When you think about it, now I should be pointing downwards toward some imaginary point on the ground because well, the world is round and I should really account for the shape of spheres, and circumference and all.

Also amusing? Children. They're adorable and they've got these big eyes and heads and really tiny hands and feet and they talk in this really high pitched voice and most of all they know exactly what to do to make me smile without actually knowing. And they say the funniest stuff when they're asleep.

------------------------------

Finally, some funds. Is it time to tire out the "plastic fantastic" credit c's? (no, not really). But I do think I deserve to spend a little?

Dilemma? Which one/s to get.

A. Nikon D40 (because I've wanted one since foreverrr)

OR

1. A drawing/graphics tablet (so I can finally become a legit Photoshop/Illustrator user, and let my oil paints dry out :P)

+

2. Screen Printing Kit (because it would be damn awesome, printing/doing my/your graphic tees)

+

3. Ipod Shuffle (since my Ipod classic is too heavy to carry around on jogs)

+

4. Hard guitar case (because my Yamaha has needed a home for a while now)

5. Arbor longboard (but if and only if Marilyn promises to teach me how to ride one. :P)

So, camera vs. misc stuff?

------------------------------

I really really want to go here.
Shout out to my friends. I wish you were all here to drown out the boredom with adventure. :)
There's too little randoms going on.

10 Things You Don't Know, Antukin

2009-07-01T23:53:00.000-07:00

Antukin by Rico Blanco

Iniwan ka na ng eroplano
Ok lang baby
Wag kang magbago
Dito ka lang
Humimbing
Sa aking piling
Antukin

Kukupkupin nalang kita
Sorry wala ka nang magagawa
Mahalin mo nalang ako
Ng sobra sobra
Para patas naman tayo
Diba?

chorus:
Sasalubungin natin ang kinabukasan
Ng walang takot at walang pangamba
Tadhana'y merong trip na makapangyarihan
Kung ayaw may dahilan
Kung gusto palaging merong paraan

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IWysdUiydgk)
--------------------

Ten things you don't know about me (unless you are Hope, or something).

I love it when people play with my hair. If I could pause forever then and there, I would.
I was addicted to Burt's Bees chapstick, now addicted to instant iced coffee, will be addicted to using prismacolor.
No matter how many kneaded erasers, paintbrushes, eye liners and sketchbooks I have, I always end up buying more out of want.
Put headphones and music in my ears, and you can get me to do pretty much anything, even the most boring tasks.
I was actually 2 months old on my first plane ride.
There would be 5 Abilles running around now, if it hadn't been for 2 miscarriages.
I am currently learning how to drive a motorbike.
I feel like I have lived most of my life for someone else's purpose.
There was a point when I really wanted to marry Chris Carraba (of Dashboard), Conor Oberst (of Bright Eyes) or Matt Skibba (of Alkaline Trio).
I cringe at the sight of polka-dots of red against a white background.

----------------------

What is so wrong about staying in one place forever? I wish I could. Anywhere.
Just be there, always knowing where to find yourself, always coming back no matter where you've been.

Hang Me Up To Dry

2009-06-28T23:46:00.000-07:00

sketch sketch sketch. need prismacolor.

this is Dobie/ Jaguar. he's a little devil, but I love him anyway.

-----------------

My problem is that I know how to write a good letter.
I can express on paper, with my hand, what I can't in the air, with my voice.
I'm trying to write a letter to my brother (who seriously hangs out with prostitutes, sometimes treats beer like water, and is very likely about to throw his future away.) I love you, and I need you to stop. Please.

Where do I even start?

-----------------

I'm planning a grand adventure. I can't speak until all is set. :)

-----------------

Dear, I fear we're facing a problem
you love me no longer, I know
and maybe there is nothing
that I can do to make you do.
Mama tells me I shouldn't bother
that I ought to stick to another man
a man that surely deserves me
but I think you do. (Love Fool lyrics, originally by the Cardigans. good song)

-currently eating up the NFG version of LoveFool from From the Screen to Your Stereo Part II.
These days, it's all about covers.

I Want to Paint You

2009-06-24T06:11:00.000-07:00

There is a man on the moon,
I wonder if he can feel the weight of my stare.
filled with longing-
a longing that the night imagines
while starving to build a stellanarious bridge
from the craters of the moon to the
surface of the intangible,
only to burn it down with the breaking of day.

I do not know you.
The façade that I recognize, the voice
Oh the voice that sings
and brings the erasure of despair.
I can’t know you…completely.
To paint you would be a wonderful fallacy
but it is the life within-
a mother-of-pearl smoothness that the
cover captures the contour
and reflects back the world in all luminescence.
I would paint feelings and a thousand imagined
colors.
I would paint summer day after summer day,
gentle waves
and raindrops as they fall from eyelashes.
Shape and form as they appear
would disappear in dark caves.
I don’t know you.
But I want to paint you-
Alla Prima
strokes slowly revealing
peeling off layers,
the tips of brushes swaying within arm’s reach.
Within my arm’s reach,
but you are far from everything.

The man on the moon,
he is far from everything.

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

I am trying desperately as desperate gets, to rid myself of this writer's block. This is the first I've written since many moons have passed. There's so many beautiful things to write about, and for once, I wish I could spurt it all out, throwing up words and swallowing descriptions. That time will come. Waiting waiting waiting.

-------------------------

In other news, our cat, Garfield is back, after being gone for 12 days. :D

One Word.

2009-06-22T06:41:00.000-07:00

Stolen.
One word answers.
and For the sake of fast internet and waiting for Saw V to load online.

Where is your cell phone? dead

Significant other? waiting

Your hair? dancing

Your mother? laughing

Your father? drinking

Your favorite thing? paint

Your dream last night? eggs

Your favorite drink? Orange Juice?

Your dream/goal? happiness

What room are you in? bedroom

Your hobby? observing

Your fear? goodbyes

Where you want to be in 6 years? universe

Where were you last night? dreamland

Something that you aren't? angry

Muffins? penguin

Wish list item? peace

Last thing you did? smiled

What are you wearing? clothes

TV? Dexter

Your pets? Mick.

Friends? forever

Your life? most-amazing

Your mood? happy-go-lucky

Missing someone? always

Drinking? nope

Your car? scion

Something you're not wearing? hair-tie

Your favorite store? eclectic

Your favorite color? sea-green

When was the last time you cried? hmmm.

Who will resend this? _________

Where do you go to over and over? dreamland

My favorite place to eat? house

Favorite place I'd like to be at right now? ocean

-----------------

A Failed Attempt at Speech

2009-06-17T20:02:00.000-07:00

The clock mocks
my waking hours,
screaming distance! distance!
Look for the moon
in June,
and soon you’ll start to see
his dance-
across the sky
in a beautiful line.
We share his silver-bullet
color,
his wide-eyed eyed shape,
his other face
and when he says goodbye
to one, hello to the other.
I send my thoughts with
the moon-
He knows that soon
and somewhere, someone
wakes to bend their neck
in search of a
reply
from the other side of time.
A sign! A sign!
That’s all I need
so will you speed it up?

--------------------------

I wish I was a writer. I wish I was a physicist. I wish I made more wishes on shooting stars. I wish I saw more shooting stars. I wish Iwishwishwish.
It’s been a while since I wrote anything worthwhile.
It’s been never since I understood completely how the universe works. Just the pull of gravity. I understand that because I feel it. “Gravity isn’t only what makes us fall, it’s what makes our muscles strong.” But, it isn’t all a vertical attraction to the ground we walk on, you know. Sometimes I feel gravity, the center of it being walking beings, mere walking beings. You, me, and them, the center of gravity? How do you explain the pull that you have on me? The natural inclination to gravitate towards your direction? Everyday I bump into strangers, and just as easily, I feel a force of repulsion. But for some reason, for some reason, being around you feels just like following the law of gravity.

It’s okay if you don’t believe me. Look around you, and you’ll start to feel it.

--------------------------

I am still laughing from the mental image of one of our maids slapping the hell out of one of our dog’s face for barking insanely and profusely at birds. At birds!

I am still laughing from the vivid sound of my brother meowing at the dinner table.

I am still laughing from the feeling of waking up being tickled.

I have infinitely many reasons to laugh nowadays.

And I am still laughing.

Pangarap Ko Ay Makita Kang Naglalaro sa Buwan

2009-06-14T22:12:00.001-07:00

some quick friendly faces: James (left), and Sylvester (right)

Pangarap ko ay makita kang naglalaro sa buwan,
Ang alay mo sa akin ang gabing walang hangganan.
Hindi mahanap sa lupa ang pag-asa.
Nakikiusap na lang.
Himala, kasalanan bang humingi ako sa langit ng
isang Himala? Kasalanan bang himingi ako sa langit ng
Isang himala?
(Rivermaya- "Himala")

Today I woke up to an endless cobalt sky, for miles and miles no sign of anything between me and the early sun, me and the late half moon. Had it been dawn, my naked eye could have met the death of constellations minutes before sun-up. Days like this leave me believing that something somewhere knows that I am looking up, and that something mirrors right back through incalculable miles.

You can call me a blind believer. You can call me heretic, even foolish for having faith in things I can not myself prove. Einstein, now he said, “Our situation is the following. We are standing in front of a closed box which we cannot open.” True, and for these things left unknown, science and faith have always battled for. But to an extent I think the answer is better sought through the fusion of both. It takes faith in people to believe what science has proven. Consider this: our perception of life could be the greatest mistake in living, but how will we ever know? The world exists in an objective truth that we can only imagine.

-----------------------------

Forever is a really long time and infinity is a really large space (quite an understatement, actually). The idea of something that we cannot observe scares me beyond my wits, but a greater fear is that somehow, someplace, something could, could exist so that forever is but a second and infinity, an inch.

-----------------------------

I have always been in awe of aboriginal lifestyles, the ability to withstand the challenge of time and endure the temptation of a fast changing age.

The other day, I saw on TV school-aged Aetas (indigenous people of the Philippines) who walk 3 hours from home, having to climb mountains, navigate through forests and traverse rivers to get to school. On your next half hour drive or 15 minute walk to campus, please think about it.

-----------------------------

Garfield, our one year old cat hasn't come home in 3 days. :(

Insomnia, you know, that unbearable feeling?

2009-06-10T00:41:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I lay still, full attention on the capacity of my lungs to rise and fall. Sometimes I can feel the passing of blood through capillaries, so I close my eyes and imagine life. There’s this shape I can’t quite make out in the darkness of five am, but I know it’s there, because sometimes all you can do is feel when all other senses fail you.

There are cracks on the ceiling, spelling out messages my mind’s eye had once seen. Cobwebs have collected in the most desolate corners of my mind, places where spiders spin and spin and spin intricate patterns that imitate capillaries- fragile and tragically beautiful. Empty rituals that break the habit of mindless thinking…the taunting ticking of the second hand of his face, faster, faster…the cold side of the pillow ceases to exist…cotton suddenly starts to feel like the weight of the entire ocean…

I don’t know what force can keep me up so deep in thoughts of…nothing. At two am, I’m waging war against the seven minutes that promised deep deep deep slumber. At two-fifty nine, my mind refuses to accept the birth of another digit. Minutes pass like hours. Sometimes I can feel the ceiling crashing down, frustration building up and pushing it away, like helium balloons rising to the atmosphere, exploding for the desire of the sun. The walls have mouths, whispering in indiscernible tongues, and the vibrations are bouncing off my chest, so that I need to harmonize my breathing. I am walking the never-ending corridor of time, passing through door after door, creating shadow after shadow, then I realize that I am the light at the end, and I am burning.

Kaleidoscope, Layers of Dust, Edge of a Cliff

2009-06-09T00:27:00.000-07:00

Life is a kaleidoscope. Colors and colors and colors fill your vision, patterns blind you with the unthinkable combination of explosion and fireworks. When you look away, you regret doing so.

Life is a layer of dust, collecting on table tops, unaffected, until some human fingerprints disturb the surface. At the point of contact, particles rearrange. Forever changed.

Life is the edge of a cliff, eroding, waiting to fall. The winds- carving out a work so abstract, so plain and simple, until the core, the very core of it, stands exposed and vulnerable.

Life is nothing and everything. Who am I to definite it?

"Those not busy being born are busy dying". (or something like it) Bob Dylan.

---------------------------------

Dear Vannalyn,

Not everything needs definition. Not everything needs calculation.
Do you believe me?
But is everything, everything an art?

Lock and Key

2009-06-07T06:19:00.001-07:00

this is me crossing the International Date Line.

“So many people enter and leave your life! Hundreds of thousands of people! You have to keep the door open so they can come in. But it also means you have to let them go!”

I wish I could write an encyclopedia of one word entries for people in my life. One word key that unlocks their heart, closing like a fist, opening up like a flower…
I know that-
Music is the key to my brother TJ’s heart.
Humor for my other one, Joervyn.
Chance for my dad,
Selflessness for my mom
I wish I could define the key to my mine. Right now all I’ve got is the lock.

Hello other side of the world!

2009-05-28T02:50:00.000-07:00

Hello other side of the world!

I miss you, but not really. see you all in 80 days or so? :D

photos coming soooooon. for now, *insert picture of me here, smiliing*

sige, paalam na (woah, my tagalog is sounding sooo much bettah!)

if you could Just Let Go.

2009-05-21T16:25:00.000-07:00

[Capones Island, Zambales, Philippines]

I'm still stuck on Mae, their lyrics, the melody...

We've got all night just to make it all right
Would you take a walk with me?
I'll give you all I've got just spare me your time
And I promise you won't want to leave
Are you, are you falling for me?
This time, we'll find what we both need

There's an old oak tree
We can swing and sway
We'll lock arms and legs (You're so far away)
When I look at you
You're so far away
Oh so far away
Oh if you could you just let go

[thanks for introducing me to this song, Bianca. I melted when they played this live.]
------------------------------------------

This is it. I just got here, and I'm leaving again. I don't know where I ever got the idea that I'll be satisfied as an eternal traveler, a wanderer without a particular destination. I used to have these dreams of uprooting myself from one city to another, getting to know the places/people/culture and leaving just before I fall in love. It would be the safe road to never missing anything, I thought. But juggling 3 distinctly and geographically separate places, especially if you love someplace/person/thing unique about each one, it makes it impossible to look forward to leaving. I know I will feel this again in August; I can just see me on a hammock, sipping juice straight from a coconut, writing another emotional blog and hating on the feeling of nostalgia. :(

Here's to a satisfying summer. May you discover/feel whatever it is you are looking for (I'm just trying to discover home). As for me, I'll be on the other side of the world, but you know where to find me. If you search enough, I am with the whispers of the wind. :)

Secrets

2009-05-18T13:13:00.000-07:00

I am a very private person.
When I tell stories, I often leave out details for me to keep to myself, filed away secretly in my mind. It makes me feel like its mine- the story, the beautiful mixture of time and place, the details and emotions. Especially emotions. I have a hard time sharing the experience resulting from a combination of chemically induced feelings from within my skull. Afraid of forgetting them, (and later questioning if it ever really happened, like the tree in the forest that falls and makes no sound) I draw/write/destroy/create/paint them on my journal (my blog entries are not so private after all). I think that's where I keep my dearest thoughts, though to a foreign eye, they can never be deciphered from the way my mind flows from pen to paper.

I have become less private recently, yes. Less secretive, introverted, shy. I find myself opening up to certain people more, even sharing (oh my gosh) deep thoughts that haven't found their way into my journal. I'm keeping track of who I said what to, for the sole purpose of that someday when I might want my thoughts back. :)

Empty.

2009-05-16T17:11:00.000-07:00

photo from flickr

I'm still rolling the dice about how I'm feeling. I wish there were fewer sides. I've always felt awkward at the end of any stage: school, summer, birthday, year, age. Especially if it involves packing, a few goodbyes, some tears. I like hellos so much more. Hello, summer! :[

Scene 1, Scene 2

2009-05-15T00:32:00.000-07:00

1st photo: My life this week has consisted of a change between two scenery. From the messy handwritten notes on my OCHEM notebook as viewed while laying on my stomach, and the clear blue sky and newly sprouted buildings while laying on my back, I don't think I have left my bed much at all. I know what you're thinking, this girl must sleep 24/7. Aye, but I do not. If I can't sleep all day, I can at least stay in bed all day. Such is the life during finals week.

2nd photo: But I wish my view is of this instead, Dave Elkins of Mae, within arm's length away as it was last Saturday, all soundwaves drowned by the voice that sings so that I am caugh in suspension. Over the past few days, Mae's pulsating drums, guitar, and bass fusion have become my only satisfying auditory nourishment. :)

-------------------------
Here we are, here we are,
windows down we see a shooting star.
Stop the car.
Waiting for nothing but our beating hearts, going far.
Oh, the summertime.
So feel the air, feel the air,
take the map and point to anywhere.
I don't care. Fingers through your hair,
the sky I've seen is blue and green.
Oh, the summertime.

A shot of a narcissitic case of neurosis

2009-05-01T22:53:00.000-07:00

My words are still-life. From observation, I paint the portraits of things that stay still long enough to make an impression. I borrow letters from colors and lines, creating some lingering silhouettes of fallacy that carve accidental three dimensional forms in someone else' nightmare-ridden mind. I could deliver lines with a perfectly slurred tendency, held back by visions of infusing tainted thoughts that were never meant to be created. When I choose my words carefully, with eyes discernible of all possible combination of mistakes, I might as well kiss truth goodbye. I may paint a vision of equilibrium, balance, even harmonic rhythms from an amalgam of words, but I can destroy the canvas just as easily.

I observe, translating what I see into spilled poetry of street signs, gray eyes, and internal rhymes. My words are pictures of stories that a twenty year old has seen, familiar and unmistakably innocent.They are shadows from 3 am hallucinations, quick glances of shirt collars and bent wrists, pen markings, and gaze collisions. They speak of songs and psalms, melodies and elegies, of things forgotten, remembered, and often barely noticed. Inescapable are the trains of lyrics that dance as smoothly as they are sung.

My words are here to stay.

I wish I was a heartbeat that never comes to rest

2009-04-29T23:38:00.000-07:00

Run Lola Run:

Mankind, probably the most mysterious species on our planet. A mystery of open questions. Who are we? Where do we come from? Where are we going? How do we know what we believe to know? Why do we believe anything at all? Innumerable questions looking for an answer, an answer which will raise the next question and the following answer will raise a following question and so on and so forth. But in the end, isn't it always the same question and always the same answer?

---------------

What is the answer?

We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time-.T.S. Eliot

It scares me always on the first occasion that I remember that time is fleeting. Could this be the reason that I lose myself in photographs? paintings? Capture the rapture through the aperture. Maybe this is the answer.

There is beauty around you

2009-04-27T00:44:00.000-07:00

Time off.
One can only BS so much for a proposal of an 8 page essay about a topic you know so little about. Interesting, nonetheless.
------------------------

There is beauty around you. A bougainvillea laden path may be the most beautiful thing on this side of the block, but remember that someone, sometime ago, planted its seeds, cultivated its growth for you. for you. for you.

-----------------------

Photo of Garfield, at 3 months old?
-----------------------

I used to sleep for days, unhindered, uninhibited by feelings of guilt about getting too much rest. These days I find myself waking up before the call of my alarm, before the full morning sunshine begins to burn my feet, and every ray of reflection against the mirror not having the chance to stay steady without my interruption.

Something is changing. Something is happening, stirring my insides to the point that I can barely find reason to stay asleep. As if the day promises something that dreams cannot.

------------------------

New Soul, Time is the Artist

2009-04-25T16:35:00.000-07:00

Things change. We bend and mold to life's dynamic chimeras of every imaginable circumstance.

Time paints on a once blank canvas since the beginning of life- layering, erasing, mixing colors and entities that change the image so little, yet reinvents the meaning of the whole- maybe often too much.

Sometimes we get the titanium white that blanks out what otherwise might remain a visible mistake. Other times, the erasure comes from the blending of two colors, resulting in an undesired gray. Then there are the beautiful mistakes, mistakes that accidentally make the art perfect, by failure, by design.

I am near the edge of an unimaginably defined line, a brush stroke executed by the brilliant artist, one of the few beautiful mistakes. Time will mold and reshape me into what I suspect will be a work too satisfying, displayed, desired, and eventually complete.

There are so many things to look forward to.

I'm a new soul I came to this strange world
hoping I could learn a bit about how to give and take.
But since I came here
felt the joy and the fear
finding myself making every possible mistake.
-"New Soul" by Yael Naim

These days I've been thinking too much...

2009-04-22T00:02:00.001-07:00

These days I've been thinking too much...

Sound waves reach my ears with such small effect that the roar of motorcycles at 3 am in the morning are whispers compared to the drone of heartbeats. Thud becomes more than an onomatopoeia but chants in half-realized dreams of waking hours spent in complete silence. Complete silence? Is not there another kind? When you hear thoughts so clearly, the firing of synapses are producing some orchestral battle of choices, how do you politely end the concerto?

Master conductor, who are you to dictate the music to my life? The fat lady begins to sing, and I interrupt so that she never finds the chance to finish.

Lawrence Hall Of Science

2009-04-18T21:45:00.000-07:00

Atop the Berkeley Hills sits Lawrence Hall of Science, whose parking lot, as many know, might have one of the finest views of the entire bay (and apparently a great date area at night). On a clear day, the horizon visibly stretches as far out as Alcatraz, the Golden Gate bridge, and beyond. If Alice in Wonderland had a museum, it would probably closely resemble the childlike yet beyond comprehensible style of this hall. Sure, kids could freely wander about, through Animal Grossology and Water Works, but "elders" can also lose themselves quite easily in the whimsical details and displays.

After visiting, I have come to the conclusion that my very own professors (and researchers, staff, etc) probably created Lawrence Hall of Science for their own enjoyment. I think (strongly) that they have found the answer, the secret of life- transforming themselves into kids at night and on weekends, while putting on the facade of professors and intellects during weekdays. They might probably even be the kids you see running around the parking lot and playing with exhibits in Lawrence Hall of Science. So the next time they talk about their "kids," they probably mean playmates.

:p

My Konstantine

2009-04-13T21:55:00.000-07:00

I wish that you can listen to this song on an almost summer night, while walking alone past the shadows of trees, under the eternally poetic sky that artists so often find inspiration from . I wish that you can listen to it, and be spurred to think about love.

Something Corporate- My Konstantine
I can't imagine all the people that you know
and the places that you go
when the lights are turned down low
and I don't understand all the things you've seen
but i'm slipping inbetween
you and your big dreams
it's always you
in my big dreams

and you tell me that it's over
wake up lying in a patch of four leaf clovers
and your restless, and i'm naked
you've gotta get out
you can't stand to see me shaking
no
could you let me go?
I didn't think so

and you don't wanna be here in the future
so you say the present's just a pleasent interruption to the past
and you don't wanna look much closer
cuz your afraid to find out all this hope
you had sent into the sky by now had crashed
and it did
because of me

and then you bring me home
afraid to find out that you're alone
and i'm sleeping in your living room
but we don't have much room to live

I had these dreams that i learned to play guitar
maybe cross the country
become a rock star
and there was hope in me that i could take you there
but dammit you're so young
well i don't think i care
and if i hurt you
then i'm sorry
please don't think that this was easy

then you bring me home
cuz we both know what it's like to be alone
and i'm dreaming in your living room
but we don't have much room to live

and konstantine is walking down the stairs
doesn't she look good
standing in her underwear
and i was thinking
what i was thinking
we've been drinking and it doesn't get me anywhere

my Konstantine came walking down the stairs
and all that i could do is touch her long blonde hair
and i've been thinking
it hurts me thinking that these nights
when we were drinking no they never got us anywhere
no

this is because i can spell konfusion with a k
and i like it
it's to dying in another's arms and why I had to try it
it's to jimmy eat world and those nights in my car
when the first star you see may not be a star
I'm not your star
isn't that what you said
what you thought this song meant

and if this is what it takes
just to lie in my mistakes
and live with what i did to you
and all the hell I put you through
I always catch the clock
it's 11:11
and now you want to talk
it's not hard to dream
you'll always be my konstantine

konstantine, they'll never hurt you like i do
no they'll never hurt you like i do
no, no, no no no no no no

this is to a girl who got into my head
with all the pretty things she did
hey
you know
you keep me up in bed
this is to a girl who got into my head
with all the fucked up things i did
hey
maybe
baby
you could keep me up in bed
my Konstantine
spin around me like a dream we played out on this movie screen
and i said
did you know i missed you? [x7]
oh god i miss you

and then you bring me home
and we'll go to sleep, but this time, not alone, no no
and you'll kiss me in your living room
i know
you'll miss me in your living room
cuz these nights i think maybe that i'll miss you in my living room
we don't have much room
i said does anybody need that room?
because we all need a little more room
to live

My Konstantine

I Want

2009-04-11T23:00:00.000-07:00

Reading Henry James' The Aspern Papers.

Alas, now I want to trade Berkeley for Venice, my car for a gondola, and a Saturday night for a warm summer dusk. I want to walk along the piazza in a red dress, catch the sight of well dressed men in plain view, speak in tongues of a romance language, and feel the burning desire to capture the flight of birds against the darkening sky.

I want...

Oh, Brother, Sesame Street and Sex

2009-04-08T18:20:00.000-07:00

There were nights when the sounds of thunder and the slices of lightning would drive me to the the deepest of fears. What they were were ideas hidden in the dark, highly likely formed by irrational thoughts of untimely death. It was in this moment that I took comfort in the soft breathing of my younger brother, peacefully asleep as I struggled to catch the rhythm of the night and fall into slumber.

This was back when I was about seven, he was five. At night, he covered himself head to toe in a blanket, and would always somehow kick it off and wake up in the morning shivering. I slept soundly without a blanket, wake up entangled in one. We were different in every sense. He was always afraid of things lurking in the dark; I hated sleeping with any ray of illumination.

We aged and every birthday seemed to further mark this difference. I was dubbed the genius of the family, he, the poster boy of physical beauty. But we always got along, like the cliched yin and yang, left and right, moon and sun. He was my illumination.

I guess as I reached the double digits, I left him behind in the state of childhood, becoming too cool to watch the popular anime series and play video games. Things changed the moment he got taller than me and started to share the same inclination towards rock bands and rhythmic drum and guitar fusion. We were synchronized again, in the same page and actually very much alike.

Aging does that to you. I used to embrace every character and likeness that separated us from being the same child. Now, I get reminded frequently of our "twin-ness" by listening to bands and songs we share intense liking for. 45 days left. :)

-----------------------------

My English R1B GSI officially and traumatically ended what is left of my innocent views of childhood. Discussing in class Freud and his questionable belief that every repressed feeling and thought can be linked back to sex, the topic of Sesame Street was brought up. Sesame Street? Sex? What?! There is the Count's "Song of the Count" that some You Tube genius manipulated to bleep out every use of the word count by the Count. You can only imagine the giggling that ensued. Check it out yo!

Transuranium Elements c/o Berkeley

2009-04-07T14:25:00.000-07:00

I love that I can tell you my exact location using elements from the beloved Periodic Table.
This morning, Vanadium (element 23) and Selenium (34) were seated in the auditorium where Lawrencium (103) received his Nobelium (102) in Berkelium (97), Californium (98), Americium (95).

Thanks to the Cyclotron in the UC Berkeley Lawrence Laboratory, the collective efforts of Lawrence, Seaborg, Oppenheimer, and other physicists, I can proudly say that 12 elements were discovered and named by my school: Neptunium, Plutonium, Americium, Curium, Berkelium, Californium, Einsteinium, Fermium, Mendelevium, Nobelium, Lawrencium, Seaborgium.

How I covet a periodic table signed by Seaborg.

Omegle: The Next Big Thing

2009-04-07T01:14:00.000-07:00

I have found the next big thing: Omegle.com is a site that allows you to chat with strangers without having to make a user name or anything. It's completely anonymous and you can give as much information as you want. You can log off or close a conversation anytime, and start a new one. Great for casual and very random convos.

The first conversation was pretty weird and short. The conversation died once I said that I wish I had a good joke to tell. :(

Anyway, I tried it again, and the second time talked to a person from Santa Monica, CA and who is currently a student at Washington University in St. Louis in Missouri. He is a 2nd year film major who recommended some some really cool movies! Thank you whoever you are! He also visited Berkeley last month, apparently knows some friends here. What a small world.

Network, Punch Drunk Love, Michael Clayton, Trouble in Paradise, Goodfellas, Trainspotting.

If you have seen any of it, holler! :) I'm always looking for great films. And now I tell you, visit Omegle. com. It's pretty awesome.

Violence. Suicide, Homicide

2009-04-05T15:34:00.001-07:00

Man kills 5 children because wife was leaving.
Suicide bomber kills 22 in Pakistan.
Binghamton shooting rampage kills 14.

and that's just news this week.

Please, if you want to commit suicide, dig your own grave, and don't take others with you. You shouldn't even try to kill yourself in the first place. You have no business hurting people who appreciate life.

Spiritual Journey?

2009-04-05T14:54:00.000-07:00

Someday, I would like to trace Jesus' steps.

Literally. In Jerusalem, from the Jordan River to Golgotha. To see the places he has been, walk the paths as many before me have done just to find the wind, the sun, the sands that still carry his trace.

It won't be a pilgrimage or act of devout worship. I think it will be more of a spiritual journey. Yeah, someday.

abstracts and randoms

2009-04-01T14:58:00.000-07:00

even the clock forgets
the minutes he has killed,
going in circles to erase tracks
of the murder.
The only indication of time
ever stopping
is the absence
of seconds.
----------------

Why do you keep glancing-
my direction
your eyes have
so much to say-
bitter like a longing
sweet like a song
that casts an other worldly
gray
from eyes dilated,
clear,
solid,
gold.
--------------

CONTEMPLATION
content-------contemplation
not-----------contemplation
in-------------contemplation
tempo,--------contemplation
plot-----------contemplation
a--------------contemplation
point----------contemplation
once-----------contemplation
met-----------contemplation
in------------- contemplation
time.----------contemplation

Summah! I miss you

2009-03-31T14:49:00.000-07:00

I miss this already, and we haven't even been back a week from break!

Summer! summahh! where art thou?

Mexico was amazing!
You must:
1. Visit a Mayan village
2. Explore ancient ruins
3. Speak with locals on buses in Spanish
4. Snorkel an underground river
5. Open your eyes underwater in an ocean inlet
6. Capture the turquoise Caribbean sea in still frames and photographs

Cancun Blue and Puppies

2009-03-22T21:25:00.000-07:00

Hello cohorts! Technological advances and tourists' demand have allowed for Cancun to be with abundance of Wi-Fi! Therefore, I bring you exciting news.

I am in hot Cancun right now, in a spacious timeshare unit (so spacious, I have my own bathroom, but I'll put pictures up tomorrow to show my point.) I'm not going to pull the jet-lagged excuse because the time difference is only an hour, but I can tell you that I am quite tired just from seeing foreigner after foreigner walking the long distances down the beach and throughout the streets.

I'm heading to Isla Mujeres tomorrow, but for now I'll leave you with pictures from my window seat on the plane.

Pictures: click on them for FULL EFFECT!
1st row: Disneyland themed Alaska Airlines plane. How cool would that be to ride in it?

2nd row: Woke up mid-flight to these snowflakes that formed because of high altitude! Also, ominous looking clouds. I found a circus elephant and a pack of lions after staring at clouds for at least an hour.

3rd row: A coral reef formation off the coast of Mexico; View of the north end of Cancun's Hotel Zone from the south end Club Regina at Westin.

AND most importantly: new picture of our Kelly's litter. The non-black colored one is the only female!

Death Sentence

2009-03-19T10:12:00.000-07:00

The countdown starts the moment we are born.

Right now, all chain of events seems to lead me to news about death sentence.

I've taken up reading Prison Writings: My Life is my Sun Dance by Leonard Peltier, an American activist for the American Indian Movement, also currently serving 2 life sentences as prisoner #89637-132. The question of whether or not his sentence is rightful is beyond my judgment as even he says that his book is meant to educate, not garner sympathy.

And then there's the Austria incest case, in which Josef Fritzl, 73, is sentenced to a life in prison after being convicted of rape, incest, imprisonment, enslavement, etc. In summary, he drugged his daughter about a quarter of century ago, locked her up in the basement of the apartment house and repeatedly raped her, fathering 7 children. One of the children, a 19 year-old, saw daylight for the first time when she was taken to the hospital for necessary treatment.

Lastly, a photo of Charles Manson, flashed on my laptop, large and quite spine chilling. This picture of the 74 year old was taken recently and released to the public. Comments on the article indicate that despite nearly 40 years of imprisonment, the general sentiment against him has not abated.

I guess we are all born with the death sentence. As they say: there is no cure for birth and death save to enjoy the interval. Well, they can't. That's prison life for you.

obsession

2009-03-18T21:26:00.000-07:00

"We all need somebody to look at us. We can be divided into four categories according to the kind of look we wish to live under.

The first category longs for the look of an infinite number of anonymous eyes, in other words, for the look of the public...

The second category is made up of people who have a vital need to be looked at by many known eyes. They are the tireless hosts of cocktail parties and dinners...

Then there is the third category, the category of people who need to be constantly before the eyes of the person they love. Their situation is as dangerous as the situation of people in the first category. One day the eyes of their beloved will close, and the room will go dark..

And finally there is the fourth category, the rarest, the category of people who live in the imaginary eyes of those who are not present. They are the dreamers."

-from the novel the Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera

--------------------------
When I obsess about something, I obsess about something. Against the blue skyline, the Berkeley hills and vertical blinds, my laptop repeatedly failed (or is it the internet?) as I refreshed, refreshed, refreshed post after post of my newest latest blog addictions. I know. I really should find a more worthwhile hobby that does not involve dependence on the WWW.

From Postsecret, I bring you confessions from bus rides:
1. I make an effort to sit next to the creepiest person aboard the bus whenever I ride, in hopes that they'll do something insane and I'll have a story to tell all my friends.

2. I make a conscious effort to sit and stand next to the "creepiest" people in hopes that they will not feel like they are avoided. I hope acknowledging them as people with no differences brings a little dignity.

3. I've noticed for months now that people hardly sit next to me and when the bus fills up, I'm often the last person anyone will sit next to. Even though I don't understand why, it has had a significant effect on my self-esteem (to the point where I've brought it up in therapy).
Sitting next to me is probably one of the kindest things a stranger could do.

4. Today I sat in the back of the bus next to the one lonely person thinking about how I could possibly make their day. As soon as I sat down, they moved two seats over away from me. Some people just like sitting alone.

---------------------------

Want.to.cut.my.bangs. Keep.scissors.away.from.me.

Want.to.buy.a.laptop.tablet.Keep.credit.card.away.from.me

Did not realize that I will be in Cancun by Sunday afternoon. whoa.

That is all.

protests

2009-03-16T19:46:00.000-07:00

Coming from a school that reputedly protests everything, I find it hard to place myself on the spectrum that measures activism. I've heard (several times) that only in Berkeley will you have a team to build an atomic bomb and have the students to protest it. Is it still true, or have the student activists become ghosts of Berkeley's past?

Berkeley student above Sather Gate, circa 1969

Berkeley tree-sitter, 2008

I had a conversation with someone about some protest on Lower Sproul some days ago.

"Did you see the people protesting?"
"Yeah, they were standing right outside of Bear's Lair?"
"Yeah, wearing skirts to protest against the skirt-assaulting pervert?"
"No, I'm talking about the protest against Panda Express."

You know you are in Berkeley when your choice of which cause to join is as vast as the combinations of routes to get from one building to another. =)

2009-03-15T22:34:00.000-07:00

Vannalyn wants to learn the language of fashion, the skill of design, the art of figure drawing.

-----------------------

Today was a good birthday to say the very least. Too emotionally satisfied, too physically tired to say much. So thank you for an amazing day! It is not the food, the celebration, or the eventfulness of 24 hours that measures a good birthday (i think). It's always the people who remember it and celebrate your existence with you. The thoughts, the efforts, the seconds/minutes/hours preparing for a day to celebrate all your days.

Thank you Mom and Dad for creating a genetic miracle. ;-p

----------------------
If I told you things I did before
Told you how I used to be
Would you go on with someone like me
If you knew my story word for word
Had all my history
Would you go on with someone like me
And we don't care about the young folks
Talking about the young stuff
And we don't care about the old folks
Talking about the old stuff too

Spike and Mike

2009-03-13T21:16:00.000-07:00

Mmmm....Warm sugary goodness of hot chocolate.

" Spike and Mike's Sick and Twisted Animation Festival is like Disney with tits."
-Robin Williams, Actor

Just got back from Spike and Mike's Sick and Twisted Animation Festival shown at VLSB, yo! The sick and twisted in me (which is approximately 67%) really enjoyed it in a sick and twisted way. Some of my favorites, or rather, some of the ones I remember are:...Ch-chhh-check out.

CAUTION: This is not for the weak of heart or die-hard conservative.

Snowman

Cuddle Sticks

The Willowz

Thermodynamic miracles

2009-03-12T18:13:00.000-07:00

Quoted from Watchmen, graphic novel

"Thermodynamic miracles...events with odds against so astronomical, they're effectively impossible, like oxygen spontaneously becoming gold...and yet, in each human coupling, a thousand million sperm vie for a single egg. Multiply those odds by countless generations, against the odds of your ancestors being alive; meeting; desiring this precise son, that exact daughter...until your mother loves a man she has every reason to hate, and of that, a union, of the thousand million children competing for fertilization, it was you, only you, that emerged. To distill so specific a form from that chaos of improbability, like turning air to gold...that is the crowning unlikelihood, the thermodynamic miracle.

...But the world is so full of people, so crowded with these miracle that they become commonplace and we forget. I forget. We gaze continually at the world and it grows dull in our perceptions. Yet seen from another's vantage point, as if new, it may still take the breath away."

-----------------------

Another beautiful day. Cold, but beautiful. When is this freezing spell going to end. Isn't it about time for shorts, tunics and flats?
Presti, the infinitely cool MCB professor wears green glasses. Green is the new black, yo!

Hell no!

2009-03-11T19:46:00.000-07:00

Survey Results -

Falling In Love in a Coffee Shop

2009-03-11T13:56:00.000-07:00

a series of fragments I wrote while listening to Prof. Harrington talk about differential equations.

----------------
From now on, I'll have a label specifically for my short writings.
----------------

He bends forward to warm his nose with the steam coming from his coffee cup, rubbing his palms on the porcelain curvature of this early morning ritual. The next person through the door was an aging man in retrospectively fashionable suspenders and a black fedora. He is followed closely by a young catch, blonde, curvy, and tall.

Ten minutes ago, he was the only person in the lonely cafe, ordering the usual black espresso; other than that, the waiter behind the counter knew not his name nor anything else aside from his choice of coffee.

To a curious bystander, he could pass for just another caffeine enthusiast, there for his first dose of the day. But if you were a regular, you would know. He sat in the same corner, nervously, eyes seemingly glued on the door, warming his hands as he waited. If not for his clothes, you would suspect that he never leaves this cafe. But he does. He always leaves after two hours of surveying who comes in and out of that black frame and see-through glass which rings a tiny bell for every disturbance.

Let me tell you his story. I first noticed him last year, about late summer. He was just another regular customer, who got his coffee to go. He came in, bought coffee, then left. That was his routine. He never once stopped to gaze at the interesting signatures on the coffee tables nor the homey ruggedness of every wooden chair. That changed. November, I think it was. He showed up with a beautiful woman with enviable auburn hair and the clearest porcelain skin life can create. They sat on that table by the corner where he sits now, happy from fits of laughter and who knows what else. They stayed until closing time.

The next morning he came in alone, but instead of getting his coffee to go, he sat down in that spot where he had been in temporary euphoria with the woman. But he was alone, his laughter replaced with the silence of hopeful longing. This became his routine, and frankly, I think he never really left this coffee shop since then.

2009-03-06T16:22:00.000-08:00

First page of Watchmen says I've seen this before. Yellow smiley face and mystifying smeared blood. Something dark, something dreary. Really. I had a dream of this combination before.

First sound wave to reach my ears. Melodic construction of pitch, beats, and rhythm says I like what I hear. I came close to the stage, closer still was the voice screaming love like it was a natural thing to feel.

First vision of dramatic shadows contrasted with pounds of trash. Art in its finest when you dissect that what is in front of you isn't how you thought something so visually strange and beautiful can make you see.

First glimpse at elevator says hello. A smile from a cute stranger from the seventh floor (?) and the menthol smell caught in that small space. Pleasant encounters you didn't think can make your day.

But it is Friday, and the finest of days happen when the week is but behind you.

--------------------
Reading: Watchmen by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons
Seeing: Shadow portraits from Wasted Youth art piece by Tim Noble and Sue Webster
Listening: Shake My Hand by The Jakes

Sleep

2009-03-05T10:10:00.000-08:00

Recently, a light was put up from the still vacant constructed building next door. It shines right through the vertical blinds, into our room, reflecting the reflections on the mirror, reflecting back to the vertical blinds, painting shadows from stencils of light which keep me up at night, deep in thoughts of feeling trapped. It makes our room feel like prison. On the other hand, there is liberation to be found from having such patterns on the wall; they distract me from other uglier thoughts, like waking up early the next day.

But last night, I woke up to the sound of heavy raining, convinced that it must have been hailing because the sound was unusually loud. The reflections on the wall and the light escaping through the blinds gave the instant impression that I was somehow in a bamboo hut, that the outside and the inside were two worlds colliding. I fell back asleep, smiling.

------------
Is there such things as a reverse Fatal Familial Insomia? Can I self diagnose?

shoes, shoes, shoes

2009-03-04T15:01:00.000-08:00

Two new pairs of shoes makes Vanna a happy girl. =)

I've always wanted to have pictures of my clothes, shoes, accessories, etc to make mixing and matching easier. But then after doing that with some shoes, I figured it would take days. Forget it. Meanwhile, here are some of my shoes, because lately, I have been obsessing about footwear! Rain, please go away. I miss wearing non-waterproof shoes. My rain boots need a break!

2009-03-01T21:33:00.000-08:00

The less there is said, the more there is to say.

----------------------------------
Melissa, you can call me emo. It is true. I am emotional.

Im tired of being bored,
I'm through with the headaches at night
And my hands, they tremble like earthquakes,
Under the table, under the daytime sky,
Good-fucking-bye.
[ALK 3- Good Fucking Bye]

I am guilty of paranoia

2009-02-27T15:35:00.000-08:00

Roommates

2009-02-26T20:55:00.000-08:00

Roommates:,

Bianca says it’s because the campanile on a foggy night
is a distant memory,
tapping, snapping, whistling to instant, incessant crescendo
of the wailing of fire alarms,
after laughing at innuendos and dancing
to Blue way past
midnight
naturally, unmistakably,
insanely
high off of the scent
of rain.

Melissa says it’s because style is an art,
After browsing, stalking the miles of road that forward thinking artists
walk on:
Four inches of unstable heels
Monochrome white, gray, black,
Unknown labels and waist cinches
Inspired, le tired, fired up
to make up what art there is
In clothes tomorrow.

Selena says it’s because the caffeine
can keep her up
deep in thoughts of being anywhere, everywhere, and seeing
dark rooms of cinemas,
hour and a half long features of fiction
flash before her eyes, with sighs, she
retires to bed and wakes up
with thoughts in her head
of getting away.

I say it’s because of the characters
The blur of lights, and nights
With fits of laughter
The wait for the elevator, the line
By the Sather
Gate
The brilliance, the dance of the sky
And the enantiomers of colors and
Stained boots
From jumping on puddles
By the creek.

And then what?
I suppose that it’s because things
Can remain
Unexplained
Ingrained
in this time and this time only
tomorrow is fleeting.
We must live for today.
We must.

-------------------------

Inspired by a newly found blog of inspiration. =)

This is life in Berkeley. yours. mine. ours.

Random events make for the best blog entries

2009-02-26T15:09:00.001-08:00

Coming home from Safeway today, weighed down by packages of tofu, eggs, veg/fruits and snacks jumbled in four bags, I thought about some form of punishment where one had to carry all their belongings with them at all times. Like, if no homes existed, and there were no such thing as a closet/cabinet/drawer, would humans be much less packrats? This is hypothetically speaking of course. Well actually, not, as homeless folks have to do that all the time...just something to think about.

Anyway, I got on the elevator and guess what, got stuck...for days. I smiled when I realized that if there ever was a time to be stuck in an elevator, coming home from grocery shopping would be it. Okay. Confession. I did not get stuck. The thought just occurred to me as I looked to see what floor I was on, but it might as well have happened since I don't have much to do today anyway.

Now I leave you with three random things that I realized were really annoying and day-ruining (eh?) IMHO.
1. When the punched circles of paper from a hole puncher spills everywhere, and there is no vacuum in sight, so you are forced to pick up every bit of it.
2. When jackets/sweatshirts have the hood part down and inside out, and the inside portion is exposed.
3. When you take a nap with perfectly straight/manageable hair, then wake up to a nest of crimps, waves, and tangles.

And also, my current song addiction. Oh, boy, I know this will be playing over and over and over on my laptop and in my head for the next tens of hours.

Spinnerette- Valium Knight (mp3 link)

Fall into an abyss
Won't you give me, just one last kiss
Valium knights in my bed
Only now, he's a vagrant in my head
Golden love is holding on
Holding onto what we had before

JFK's sun went down
He left the thorns of fallen crown
Marilyn Monroe's come I'll swallow
She is the guts, the glory, sorrow

Random Music

2009-02-23T18:05:00.001-08:00

I recall a light from someplace in my imagination that once showed me the shadowed contrast between delusion and imagination. Dumbfounded, starring at non-existent matter and invisible air like they were strips of developing polaroid slowly exposing itself to space, I realized the limitless capability that creative minds have to imagine something out of nothing. It requires particular sensibility towards the art of the abstract and vague, and the reality of plain perception. And here I create not fallacy, but an alternate wholly-fictional realism (ha, does that make sense?) that I may or may not trick myself into believing.

----------------------------

Analysis of my music:

Only, surely, a mad man would listen to Belle and Sebastian one minute, and From a Second Story Window the next. I kid you not when I say that my music is as bipolar as bipolar music goes. The most amusing of all is the shuffle + crossfade playback that results in the occasional merging of happy lyrics and chaotic drums and growling. :) And with this, I leave you with the top ten albums that have influenced me musically, and yes, even spiritually (particularly on days when I escape from the world and hear and breathe nothing but the repeated songs of certain bands.)

1. BACK IN BLACK- AC/DC
2. ROCK STEADY- No Doubt
3. FROM HERE TO INFIRMARY- Alkaline Trio
4. GIVE UP- The Postal Service
5. PAST MASTERS, VOLUME ONE and TWO- The Beatles
6. X&Y - Coldplay
7. YOU CAN PLAY THESE SONGS WITH CHORDS- Death Cab For Cutie
8. WET FROM BIRTH- The Faint
9. JUNO SOUNDTRACK- Various Artists
10. THIS IS SINATRA VOLUME ONE and TWO- Frank Sinatra

P.S. This deviation in tone and manner of writing is a consequence of reading the American Gothic novel, Edgar Huntly, or The Memoirs of a Sleepwalker. hm.

A bunch of blogbabble

2009-02-19T23:59:00.000-08:00

Hello my dears. Just taking some time off from editing my analytical essay of Poe's "The Gold-Bug." Hopefully this "time off" gives me fresh air to breath from being confined to 3 pages of Word document and reading and re-reading lines over and over, repetitively and intensely. What better way to do so than blogging, right? As it turns out, from experimental procedures I have recently undertaken, a cup of hot chocolate and a corner table with a nice view are the best remedy to boredom resulting from organic chemistry and essay editing. Yay, Starbucks?

Meanwhile, have you heard the news that there lurks some creep around Berkeley, waiting to prey on skirt-wearing girls? The offense involves skirt-lifting and attempted sexual advances. The victims are usually ladies walking around Berkeley between 10 pm to 3 am in the cold in a skirt. I guess that excludes me, sort of? :) Unless of course, I decide to develop a habit of switching pajamas for skirts and sleepwalking to who knows where. Beware.

Also, on a more personal note, after attempting to find which class best provides the setting for notebook doodling, I have found success! (yes, success is counted sweetest by those who never succeed - from the very thoughts of Emily Dickinson herself, but nevermind that). It has come to a tie between Math lecture (right) and MCB discussion (left). There. I've spent enough time blogbabbling. Go! Free yourselves of my thoughts!

The Office Promotion

2009-02-18T22:10:00.001-08:00

I'll take some time from my busy (not!) schedule to promote the Office, and share something cool I found: ad for Puma!

Schruteness of the Day:

Dwight Schrute: What is my perfect crime? I break into Tiffany's at midnight. Do I go for the vault? No. I go for the chandelier. It's priceless. As I'm taking it down, a woman catches me. She tells me to stop. It's her father's business. She's Tiffany. I say no. We make love all night. In the morning cops come and I escape in one of their uniforms. I tell her to meet me in Mexico, but I go to Canada. I don't trust her. Besides, I like the cold. Thirty years later I get a postcard. I have a son, and he's the chief of police. This is where the story gets interesting: I tell Tiffany to meet me in Paris by the Trocadaro. She's been waiting for me all these years, she's never taken another lover. I don't care, I don't show up. I go to Berlin. That's where I stashed the chandelier.

Saving Memories, Creating New Ones

2009-02-17T23:44:00.000-08:00

I've just spent 10+ minutes of my life saving memories created from 5+ hours of typing and 2+ years of blogging, just in case the whole world wide web does the great depression stock market on us and crashes...you never know...

While that was happening, a green light just turned on and turned off out of nowhere...strange...and the world outside just got colder. Am I prematurely planning for a cloudy day when tomorrow will be another episode starring soaked cold students with dysfunctional umbrellas? (I'm not talking about me here. promise)

I so know what I'm going to wear. But more on that tomorrow, when all is certain. Meanwhile, here is a picture of more clothes I wish I had. When am I going to get a job already? Oh, and I'm getting much better at Photoshop illustrations, don't you think? ;)

2009-02-16T14:36:00.000-08:00

It must have been autumn. I wrote beautiful stories to frame the beautiful encounter we just had. I wrote for days, smooth pages sucked the life out of my pen, creating meaning out of words. They became alive. The day before was a haze that blurred the cinema through my foggy glasses. When the movie ended was when I began to cry. People left. I sat still. The next moment, I feared the dark shadows under the overpass. Drunk from the overly emotional and delusional mess that was, I feared everything. I sat still, but this time, on the curb. I sat staring at the concrete until it turned yellow from the oncoming headlight of your car. Thanks for picking me up and picking me out- of a crowd. But no one was around to hear the rest of the story.
Then I woke up today in a dark room I used to know so well. The acidic smell of pouring rain, the tapping that it created, the avalanche of its downpour. Somewhere, someone is moving, oblivious to my breathing. The moment was fleeting- I got up. I stepped on the heels of shoes I don't remember wearing last night. The rain is pouring much heavier now and from the heavy drapes a lonely shadow came. One look told me that it was you, coming back for something you had forgotten. I keep my eyes closed, imitating sleep, I hate to see you leave, even if your coming is but a figment of my imagination. I fell asleep and in an hour woke up to a vague and questionable sunrise; the clouds keep me guessing for time. Then an explosion sent my head spinning like a ferris wheel, ferris wheel, ferris wheel. Reality hits hard like a head on collision against rocks...

fictional paragraph copied straight from journal written while I was half-taken by sleep. I have many moments of failed creativity.

2009-02-16T01:30:00.000-08:00

Disillusioned, I feel like I can do anything.

Was browsing through Amazon earlier for tablets so I can finally paint mess-free (on Photoshop, that is. ) Can you imagine the possibilities. Meanwhile, drawing by mouse will have to do, as you can see with my scribble to the left.

<---------------

Also, I'm really sleepy but for some reason, I'm not ready for zzzzzz's. say whaaaat?

Plane Crash and Black Boxes

2009-02-13T14:37:00.000-08:00

In view of recent events, mainly the plane crash that occured yesterday over Buffalo, New York , I have been doing some reading regarding plane crashes and recovered black boxes that detail recorded conversations in a cockpit seconds before a plane crashes.

On January 31, 2000, Alaska Airlines Flight 261 departed Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, heading for Seattle, WA, with a short stop scheduled in San Francisco, CA. Approximately one hour and 45 minutes into the flight, a problem was reported with the plane's stabilizer trim. After a 10-minute battle to keep the plane airborne, it plunged into the Pacific Ocean off the coast of California. All 88 people onboard were killed. (Source: HowStuffWorks.com)

Here is the recording between Captain Ted Thompson and First Officer William Tansky and the Los Angeles Route Traffic Control Center (LAX-CTR).

4:09:55 p.m.	Thompson: Center, Alaska two-sixty-one. We are, uh, in a dive here, and I've lost control, vertical pitch.
4:10:33	Thompson: Yea, we got it back under control here.
4:11:43	Tansky: Whatever we did is no good. Don't do that again...
4:11:44	Thompson: Yea, no, it went down. It went full nose down.
4:11:48	Tansky: Uh, it's a lot worse than it was?
4:11:50	Thompson: Yea. Yea. We're in much worse shape now.
4:14:12	Public address: Folks, we have had a flight-control problem up front here, we're working on it.
4:15:19	Flight 261 to LAX-CTR: L.A., Alaska two-sixty-one. We're with you, we're at twenty-two-five [22,500 feet]. We have a jammed stabilizer and we're maintaining altitude with difficulty...
4:15:36	LAX-CTR: Alaska two-sixty-one, L.A center. Roger, um, you're cleared to Los Angeles Airport via present position...
4:17:09	Flight attendant: Okay, we had like a big bang back there.
4:17:15	Thompson: I think the [stabilizer] trim is broke.
4:19:36	Extremely loud noise
4:19:43	Tansky: Mayday
4:19:54	Thompson: Okay, we are inverted, and now we gotta get it.
4:20:04	Thompson: Push, push, push...push the blue side up. Push...
4:20:14	Tansky: I'm pushing.
4:20:16	Thompson: Okay, now let's kick rudder. Left rudder, left rudder.
4:20:18	Tansky: I can't reach it.
4:20:20	Thompson: Okay. Right rudder, right rudder.
4:20:25	Thompson: Are we flying? We're flying, we're flying. Tell 'em what we're doing.
4:20:33	Tansky: Oh, yeah. Let me get...
4:20:38	Thompson: Gotta get it over again. At least upside down we're flying.
4:20:54	Thompson: Speedbrakes
4:20:55	Tansky: Got it.
4:20:56	Thompson: Ah, here we go.
4:20:57	End of recording

Doesn't that give you chills, especially the last line "Ah, here we go." Then crash.

I recall a couple of years ago, my flight to the Philippines was delayed for 2 hours. We were already all seated inside, just waiting for takeoff. Many people were complaining, naturally, as it was announced that there were technical difficulties with the 3rd engine. I thought, go right ahead and fix it. Fix it well. Better arrive late than not arrive at all.

Flying always worries me.

2009-02-05T11:42:00.000-08:00

I am walking to class, umbrellas crowded like an outgrowth of shrooms. I nearly bump into Frechet and it made my day, I tell you! I wish Neha also had him for Chem 3A. She would absolutely start a fan club. Yes, that I am certain of.
----------------------
In other news, it's raining. That's self evident and apparent. You really don't need me to tell you that, and I don't know why I needed to tell you that, especially since I just wrote about umbrellas and shrooms, and yeah, i'm blabbing on and on and on, feel free to stop reading...now. ;)

2009-02-01T21:14:00.001-08:00

For my grandfather: I hope this message will reach you, even if the manner of words are nowhere near how I write them now, or the time as relevant. If it reaches you someday when the culmination of our existence are in the past, then I know exactly where you are: in my heart, as near as the wind now unseen, forever felt.

I am not certain when we met or how; does it even matter? Memories are sacred windows where you can watch time go by and see so much. When my mom was a roaring teenager, she used to stare at the door for the exact moment you came in from work so she could give you your house slippers. Now, we both know that this scene ends with her asking you for money to buy bubble gum pink nail polish, and later on to ask you for permission to date my dad. She was so in love, she tells me years later. I am what my mom's age was, and though I like to think that I know everything about life, I still learn so much from her.

Thank you for raising her the way you did. She is everything I can ask for in a mother. During the harsh winter in New York before I came into this world, I can picture a scene of her 21 year old self, young and still naive about this world, hand on her belly waiting for me to say hello. I can picture her as she took me home for the first time, perhaps grateful to you and grandma for bringing her life to experience what is to become her longest and most important job- motherhood.

Thank you for saying yes to my father, as he asked you for your daughter's hand in marriage, for accepting him into the family, for letting her cease to become your little girl. That must be one of the toughest things a father ever has to do. When the time comes, I know my dad will do the same for me. When the time comes, I can only hope that he will look back into the past (with you in mind), see everything you have ever done for Mama, and find the faith to let me go.

Thank you for the Sundays when we visited, and the days in between. Thank you for the summer day ice cream flavors, the jokes, the laughter, the protective hugs. From day one of our lives until the last day of yours, I am certain that you embrace that growing feeling of love for us, though nowadays, you might not remember much.

Thank you for your courage to sail the deep seas, despite it taking you so far away from home. I would not be here, sitting here, with so much of an open,wide road in my vision, if not for that risk that you were willing to take. Maybe I took after you with the faith that no matter how incalculable the distance is from home, I will always find my way back.

I wish I could be there to smile upon you now, even if you are in your death bed, and I am at the beginning of my life. Thank you, I love you, and I will always remember you.

2009-01-31T21:33:00.000-08:00

Admit it. We all dream of the perfect story to accompany the unsinkable feeling of falling in love; the idea that perhaps one day, when your child asks you how it felt, you can recall it as vividly as the laugh lines on your husband's face that trace every unforgettable moment of your existance in his life. Here is a journal entry stolen from Marilyn, on her recollection of the first moments with her first love.

-----------------------------------

I met my first love on an educational trip to Thailand and Cambodia, in a group of twenty women and two men.

When I first met him, I was so weak that I couldn't grip my fists. Whatever I held in my hands was free to escape with the slightest struggle- my fingers could only wrap, but not hold. Being a newly-declared vegan wandering the country of Thailand can do that to you, especially when there isn't a gram of tofu in sight, and you believe that you can survive on willpower alone. I eventually gave up my search for soya in southeast asia, and instead picked up a search for his attentions: the sporadic sparkling glances, the random flirtatious advances, the warmth in his voice and eyes when we were alone, so different from the cool, aloof boy i knew when the rest of the travellers were around.

My condition worsened while in Cambodia. I ended up slumped on his arm one night, after days of exploring ancient ruined temples and a night of heavy drinking, or rather a night of gathering liquid courage. I was tired of his antics and tired of trying to survive on my own. I demanded that he prove himself to be a goddamn asshole, or choose to be my knight in nerdy-cool tourists clothes. He kissed me the next night and carried me out of the discotheque when i forgot my flipflops in my bag, which had made its own way to our hotel. I knew it, I thought to myself. In his own words, he was 'an asshole with a heart of gold'.

We slept side by side on the twenty-four hour plane back to the States. I recuperated in the land of soft medium and firm tofu in every supermarket and peanut butter at every corner store, but I found that I still needed him. There was force in my step and will in my heart, but they were not enough for me to stand on my own anymore. In his arms, I didn't pretend to be strong. I knew he'd take care of me.

I can't quite describe what it felt like, falling in love with him. Maybe like he was blending into me, like he was working the knots out of my shoulders and strengthening my spine, maybe like he stepped into my shoes and walked on my ground with me, my back melding into his chest, my arms into his arms, until at last my muscles and bones could stand of their own. But by then, I didn't them to. He was so far enmeshed in my body, my spirit, my heart. It was like a venn diagram: there was him, me, and us.

2009-01-30T18:29:00.000-08:00

Today was a great day.

I woke up in good spirit.
The morning weather was pleasant.
My essay due date is postponed until Wednesday.
People showed me that they care through small gestures.
I saw artworks by Rauschenburg, Dali, Miro, Matisse and others.
The bus ride to San Francisco gave me a lot of time to think about life.
I'm in a pretty good place right now. Thank you God. =)

*pictures from SF Moma trip.
The first row are clips from www.1000journals.com, a project involving people around the world. Had the chance to add my mark because visitors are allowed to draw/write/create/destruct the journal
The last row shows a big room sized screen of videos, one side a video of people talking and waving to the other video screen across from it.

Yeah. Today was good.

If Poe Was Alive Today

2009-01-27T23:13:00.000-08:00

If Poe was alive today,
I would accuse him of being the brain behind Dexter,
Annabel Lee would not be the title to a song by Tiger Army.
If Poe was alive today,
Fellows with beards, black coats, and a smug look might not be considered as creepy,
The raven might not be as cool of a bird,
or black cats not as scary.

If Poe was alive today, I would not have to write an essay due on Monday. But then again, where will I get my dose of sickness if Poe was alive today?

Packing

2009-01-16T22:04:00.000-08:00

Almost packed! I hate packing for long time destinations, yet it's a grain of sand's annoyance compared to unpacking.

For the first time in God knows how many years, I don't want to leave Long Beach. I don't know what made this break different from the other previous ones, but I feel fulfilled. Simple as that.

The Butterfly Effect

2009-01-14T22:35:00.000-08:00

A butterfly flaps its wings along the coast of Brazil and causes a massive hurricane in Florida. The Butterfly Effect. Similar to Chaos Theory, and in ways manifested by the law of Entropy.

Now think. What have you mindlessly acted on that may have created a far more serious consequence unbeknownst to you? Think twice before you do, say, and commit.

**********

Took a stroll by the beach with our newly arrived Nikon P80 Hybrid.
Met a cat who lives in a cardboard box on the grassy cliff by the beach across the street from my room.
:D

Best of Wandering

2009-01-13T00:44:00.000-08:00

While the word 'vacation' may instantly conjure up images of sandals, sunglasses, sunburns, and even neck-hugging cameras, let us first consider vacationem, Latin, meaning 'leisure, a being free from duty.' Did you say, free from duty?

While waiting for Eurotrip to load via Megavideo (thanks, world wide web), I made lists off the top of my head:

Five songs that scream vacationem:
1. On An Evening in Roma- Dean Martin: best heard while strolling through a jazz-filled night in Roma.
2. Island in the Sun- Weezer: for sound effects, consider crashing waves and sea gull flocks.
3. Piazza New York Catcher- Belle and Sebastian: save for a leisurely drive through coastal America
4. We Will Become Silhouettes- The Postal Service: for looking down from your hotel room balcony into the city
5. Spinning Away- Sugar Ray: replay and rewind when savoring the view of the forest after a long days' hike.

Movies:
1. The Beach: an island in Thailand
2. Under the Tuscan Sun: Tuscany, Italy
3. Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants: Mexico and Santorini, Greece
4. Lost in Translation: Tokyo, Japan
5. Duma: Saharan Africa
6. Motorcycle Diaries: South America

2009-01-09T00:55:00.000-08:00

In the graph of my intrinsic progression towards that which is forthcoming, the points that can be plotted follow the line of best fit. With the overall shape taking an incline (positive, yes!), optimism is the constant and determination is the variable.

How far can one push a rock off of a cliff without losing contact and without losing grip? In considering the dire need of foresight, one cannot advance without taking a step back. This is the component that many seem to be missing. In learning to fold an origami already formed, for example, it must first be undone to be re-done.

Last blue moon, there was this tacit notion inside of me that the road ahead would be an unobstructed one. No, my friend. A detour sign doesn't mean return to where you came from. Turn around and find another way!

2009-01-08T23:23:00.000-08:00

No matter how close two people are, there is infinite distance between them.
(just something random from Dexter.)
-----------------------------------

I will be on academic probation.
Damn.

What the hell has happened to me?
I can't point my finger to another direction. The consequences are a result of no one's actions but my own.

IT's OfFiCial

2009-01-06T21:03:00.000-08:00

It's official.

I am going here: (Cancun, Mexico)

and very possibly here: (Ambergris Caye, Belize)

To beachcomb, lay on the sand and see this: (Mayan Ruins)

and documenting it with this: (Nikon Coolpix P80)

and this: (Minolta SRT202)

But first, I must hit the gym. I know Cancun is a crazy place to be during spring break and as much as I'd hate to be surrounded by many college party-going prototypes, there was no other time to go.

Bianca, I know you want to make the $10 gym membership worth it. Let's hit the gym together, sistaaa! :D

I'm Wide Awake. It's Morning

2009-01-01T01:32:00.000-08:00

I'm wide awake. It's morning. And Two Thousand and Nine!

Oh, right now I feel like I can write for days, pages and pages long.

Cleaned out some stuff for the new year. Found some old journals with my primitive (wrong W.C., but what can you do?) poems on it. Same theme about getting away from here, running to the distant horizon just around the river bend, you know, PG-13 teenage angst, because well, I WAS 13.

lagoons...
skies like velvet cloth draped with sequins...
twilight.

Twilight. That word has been ruined for me. (Media, I blame you!)

Two Thousand and Nine!

2009-01-01T01:21:00.001-08:00

My head is off in outer space,

My heart flutters somewhere in the airy sky,

My feet are planted on the solid ground.

Am I REALLY that tall? =D

Travel/Vacation

2008-12-29T20:53:00.001-08:00

Today was all about Travel and Vacation.
Planning, I mean.

1. I renewed my passport
2. Started the process of booking my flight to the Philippines
3. Booked a reservation with my aunt's timeshare in Cancun
---> Going to Cancun and Isla Mujeres, Mexico during Spring Break (if my Aunt is given those days off) or before I leave for the Philippines in May!
4. May/may not go to Toronto, Canada in August before school starts (depends on when my cousin is having his baby's baptism)

Was going to go to Channel Islands (particularly Santa Cruz Island) on Friday, but weather and beach is too cold in winter to Kayak the Sea Cove/Cave. Most probably will go in August instead.
Now planning a drive up PCH highway 1 to Cambria, Pebble Beach, etc, on Friday, unless a better destination comes up.

How's it going, guys?

St. Anthony Reunion

2008-12-26T23:14:00.001-08:00

Life does not last forever. Obviously. And a span of 5 years seems like a span of infinity and yesterday, the trip feeling like the whole walk around the world and then back. Wow.

Seeing the people you haven't seen in a thousand days when you used to spend a thousand minutes with them per month, easy. It's surreal, mind blowing, out of this world. Everyone is old and young, you want to hug them and don't want to see them at the same time. I was afraid they might think I am exactly the same, and totally different all at once. What do I want them to think? I wish I knew who I would be now back when I was 13. I wish I knew who everyone was going to be. Would I have treated them how I did? Would I have chosen differently, folded and hung the relationships and friendships that I was proud of and still am? I'm babbling on and on about what was. But what could be? Is it too late to change the course of our friendships now? Too late?

It's saddens me to think that we will part our ways eventually, not be in each others' lives the way we are now. We can't be neighbors our whole life through. But when we do see each other again, my friend, I hope you will remember me as I remember you.

How I Met Your Mother

2008-12-19T22:05:00.000-08:00

Now that I have conquered 3 seasons, +/- 66 episodes, +/- 36 hours of The Office, next on the list: How I Met Your Mother. Over winter break. It will happen! I already saw the first two episodes and couldn't stop laughing.

Check out the "How I Met Your Mother" cast's re-enactment of the important events of 2008, yo! Care to take a guess?

Answers:
1. 4X200m US relay team, 2008 Olympics (Cheering for Phelps)
2. The Jonas Brothers + fans
3.Indiana Jones, Kingdom of the Crystal Skulls
4. Sex in the City, Wedding breakup scene between Mr. Big and Carrie Bradshaw
5. Sarah Palin and John McCain, duh!

Evolution

2008-12-19T00:48:00.000-08:00

It's unfortunate that due to the parameters of time, we are unable to witness extreme evolution before our eyes. Wouldn't it be most absolutely mind-blowing to witness a progression of geographical, astronomical, scientific normalities and abnormalities spanning millions and billions of years?

There are, however, "evolutions" most apparent to us that happen as we look into the mirror from day to day and year to year.
I've dressed up emo, punk, retro, posh, prep, and plain lazy. I've dyed, cut, grown, twisted, braided, corn-rowed, pigtailed, bunned my hair; applied and re-applied, removed, caked on make-up and when stripped of all of this, I will look the same.

The same. The same Vannalyn, surely, aged with time, but the same round faced, thick-lipped, dark-eyed blend of palette of my mom's gene, my dad's gene, of the same Mitochondrial Eve that we share. The mix of DPI's that I see printed on pictures, or reflected by mirrors of myself are mine.

The best of all? I am witness to my own evolution!

Curse them Evil Leprechauns

2008-12-16T00:28:00.000-08:00

I guess I should clarify somethings about my blog.

Sometimes, I write about things that I think about but not necessarily believe. I like to question things that are of the other side of the argument. My previous entry regarding Death and Immortality was not meant to impose a certain idea on anyone, or is it in any way a statement about how I view the value of life and the importance of death. The beauty of questioning and taking the other side of the argument, thus allowing ourselves to think like someone else, expand the picture to a wider view. Thinking outside of the box or walking in someone's shoes, so to speak.

If you ever catch that the direction of my blog is taking a different turn, an unusual course away from the main road, please consider this: I read the blogs that I have written in the past, and yes, sometimes they seem morbid and sometimes sad. I write them, yet I do not believe that I am a person who can be read like my blog. I can only hope that is normal? What I write about is an extension of my thoughts and only a fragment of my thoughts. I'm sure if I wrote about all that I think about, you all would be bored, right? =)

Sometimes I feel like a different person everyday.
----------------------------------------------------------------

On the upside, I read somewhere that I had to post 16 random facts about me. Curse them evil leprechauns, if I don't they'll come after me!

Well, maybe not. I'm sure the evil leprechauns have more important things to do than read my blog. =D

Facts:
1. My feet are most extremely sensitive to cold. They and only they feel hypothermia even when it's 60 degrees.
2. I don't really have coins in the coin pocket of my wallet.
3. Instead I have a rosary,
4. a guitar pick,
5. and a cool looking shell.
6. I always wonder what it feels like to be in prison
7. I could live off of a bacon diet/ indulgement. =)
8. Ever heard of the phrase, "love at first sight?" it doesn't make sense.
9. If it does, then how can it be that "love is blind?" =D
10. My eyes feel like magnets. Does that explain to you why I sleep a lot?
11. I cried watching Blood Diamond, but not the Notebook, Titanic and other dramance movies.
12. Oh, beeswax. I am aDdiCTed to Burt's Bees!
13. I, like Bianca (wink wink) probably open the fridge about 20 times a day.
14. I feel like a bitch for wanting to listen to music more instead of sitting and talking to others while waiting for class to start.
15. Fifteen, my birthdate. I wanted so badly to have the same birthday as a famous painter, so I can say that I am an artist resurrected. Salvador Dali, perhaps?
16. Bianca says that I can't be a lawyer, because I would lose everybody with my logic.

No she says I gotta go study!

Death after Life, Life after Death

2008-12-11T11:59:00.000-08:00

In a serious attempt to delay what one must do before/during hell week (no, not procrastination! i swear!), I post another question that dances around a certain topic that most of us are afraid of: death.

I've heard several times from sources on different occasions that expecting death allows us to live and truly live. Search for death quotes, among the famous ones: "He not busy being born is busy dying" (Bob Dylan) or "Death is more universal than life; everyone dies but not everyone lives" (A. Sachs).

I guess my question is: Does impending death and knowing that we are all born to die drive us to live? What if we were immortal and time was no object?

I quote from a friend, Veronica:

Death is an ingenius structure of life, for without it, we live forever, thus what do we live for, without the drive to achieve anything but continue merely as a zombie? With an expiration date, we set ourselves personal targets.

Though I see the side which considers death as an ultimatum or a deadline to enjoy all earthly wonders, what if we had forever?
Maybe I wouldn't feel so bad about sitting down to watch TV, sleep an extra hour, take the longer and unplanned road ahead. Maybe I would consider taking the time to write a book, sip coffee by a window instead of just go go go!

Don't you feel so rushed with life? But then again, my question may only have minimal to do with answering Death vs. Immortality. Instead must I consider: Where is the line between living recklessly, without fear, or with every apprehension to waste time? Where?

I am Cold

2008-12-08T16:21:00.000-08:00

So, your idea of having fun is partying it up
Thursday Night
Friday Morning,
Friday Night,
Saturday Morning,
from sundown to dawn,
Saturday night and
Sunday morning?
Passed out on the lawn
looking like in mourning?
So your idea of having fun is lighting up
Who knows what,
from God knows where
on some street corner,
at a park, on a bench,
and dusty, old, cold stairs
gasping for air while you smoke,
you're barely there?
You jump for joy
and sing for laughter,
waiting for the approval
of your sad and lonely "friends"
Tomorrow it won't even matter
to you or to them
that you wasted your time
wasted.
So your idea of having fun
is getting drunk, crunk,
sunken on a bar seat
counting beats and
eyeing some men, eyeing you,
counting one, two, three,
to take you home?
Is this your idea of having fun?

*oh, will our world become a dystopia because the youth of today will pass on to youths of tomorrow the ugliest, nastiest habits, until, until...until, the line of homo sapiens or "wise men" are nothing in history books but a bunch of extinct, forsaken drunks and insert other ugly nasty words ____here_____?

What do you See?

2008-12-08T16:02:00.001-08:00

Most of my inspiration come from visuals and spoken stories that I encounter, like an accidentally discovered web page, a texture on somebody's skirt,or the shape of a tree as defined by shadows and the sun.

From the mixture of seeing others write religiously on a journal (ex: Melissa), with the discovery of a book in Barnes and Noble, 1000 Journals, I now embark on a journey to fill a journal with mixed media, mixed art, mixed emotions and a platter of inspirations.

The TOOLS

1. 4x6 in. Artists' Sketchbook, hardbound, in black
2. 0.7 metal tip Ink Pen
3. Green Art 12 Acrylic Paints
4. Higgins waterproof ink and fine tipped sketch blade
5. HB-8B General's and Prismacolor Drawing Pencil

Here are 6 of the 13 pages already inked.

Follow the Links for info on 1000 Journals Project:

1000 Journals
SFMoMa Exhibition

Little Ashes

2008-12-01T20:54:00.000-08:00

I'm dying dying dying to see a movie that will not be out in theaters until March 2009! Oh how do I wait for this?

Little Ashes stars Robert Pattinson as Salvador Dali and Javier Beltran as Federico Garcia Lorca.

"In 1922, Madrid is wavering on the edge of change as traditional values are challenged by the dangerous new influences of Jazz, Freud and the avant-garde. Salvador Dali arrives at the university; 18 years old and determined to become a great artist. His bizarre blend of shyness and rampant exhibitionism attracts the attention of two of the university's social elite - Federico Garcia Lorca and Luis Bunel. Salvador is absorbed into their decadent group and for a time Salvador, Luis and Federico become a formidable trio, the most ultra-modern group in Madrid. However as time passes, Salvador feels and increasingly strong pull towards the charismatic Federico - who is himself oblivious of the attentions he is getting from his beautiful writer friends, Margarita. Finaly, in the face of his friends' preoccupations - and Federico's growing renown as a poet - Luis sets off for Paris in search of his own artistic success. Federico and Salvador spend the holiday in the sea-side town of Cadaques. Both the idyllic surroundings and the warmth of the Dali family sweep Federico off his feet. Salvador and he draw closer, sharing their deepest beliefs, inspirations and secrets, convinced that they have found a kind of friendship undreamt of by others. It is more that a meeting of the minds; it is a fusion of souls. And then one night, in the phosphorescent water, it becomes something else..."- IMDB SUMMARY

Salvador Dali, one of my FAVORITE PAINTERS! Art! 1920's! Robert Pattinson! Spain! Are there any other keywords that I won't be excited about?

:D

Random

2008-12-01T10:35:00.000-08:00

Another gray day in Berkeley! Eyeluvit! :D

Speaking of love, I want AC/DC's new Black Ice album! They still possess the same sound after 30+ years! love, love love!


I've just seen a face,
I can't forget the time or place
That we'd just met, she's just the girl for me
And I want all the world to see we've met
Na na na na na na

Had it been another day
I might have looked the other way
But I had never been aware
And as it is I dream of her tonight
Na na na na na na

---"I've Just Seen A Face" by the Beatles (sweet, ain't it?)

Sudden Surge of Memories

2008-11-23T21:02:00.001-08:00

I've done some of my clearest thinking inside of cars, with the windows rolled down while driving in the direction away from the city. At several instances during the six hour drive to Grand Canyon, I stuck my head outside the window to take in some of that aer vitale, while attempting to navigate the way with only the dashboard illumination and moon as the source of light. The black road ahead seemed so uncertain, but so did the skyline of mountains and the faint glow of several thousand stars. I thought about how beautiful the raw earth must have been before settlements, civilizations, and suffocating populations. Oh, what radiance have we given up for comfort?

We stopped by some small town, no more than a point in a map. Is this where inspiration comes from? Being so far removed from the city and the bubble you call home, at four o' clock in the morning, blanketed in the cold and crispy air, the promise of a sunrise just a horizon away?

I've felt it before during yet another dark morning drive, this time from Salt Lake to Yellowstone in Montana. I loved every sight of light from barns of towns with less than a hundred in population. Less than a hundred. Can you imagine the peace? The quiet? The unobstructed view of miles and miles away?

Listening to Coldplay brings back a sudden surge of memories.

Disappointment

2008-11-16T19:59:00.001-08:00

Disappointed that the class I signed up for isn't the class I'll be taking. Same time, same place, different instructor, different theme, different book list.

I was so excited to have an English R1B class whose focus is on literature that considers the sanity of accounts of ghost stories where the main characters hear voices and other such enigmatic murmurs.

The topic is now switched to Secrecy and Detection with book list:

Sigmund Freud, Dora: An Analysis of a Case of Hysteria; Harriet Jacobs, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl; Henry James, Turn of the Screw and The Aspern Papers; Herman Melville, Billy Budd and Other Tales. Edgar Allan Poe, The Portable Edgar Allan Poe. Course Reader.

Screenings: Rear Window (dir. Alfred Hitchcock, 1954), Sparrow (dir. Johnnie To, 2008), or possibly other films.

Read any of the above books?

The journal I wanted to write but couldn't

2008-11-15T09:41:00.000-08:00

I find a lot of faults in my life.

Why am I here, here, instead of where my family is? Why did I get such an early independence for a trade off of what? Education?
Some years in the past ago, I came so near to never coming back to the United States. I cried for days because I dreaded the flight back to LAX; I dreaded leaving my life. Every glorious summer in everyone's life was rebirth and death in mine. The rest of the year was a cycle, I felt like a momentary bubble free floating in air, waiting to burst in the sunshine. Free floating, but where was the independence in that?

I have occasional issues with self image.
My sense in organization and planning has deteriorated in the past couple of years.
Sometimes my view of the world feels corrupt. Feels impossibly upside-down.
As I can recall once or twice, I had woken up in the morning wishing I hadn't, wondering why I did.
I believe my faith in God comes clearest only when I need something. Need something. How selfish is that?
My family says I nearly died from an asthma attack when I was five or six. I'm afraid of another episode.
At night, I look at the skies, at the constellation overhead, and wonder what another life would be like.
I feel married to my chosen major, career, road.
I sense some failure somewhere in the future.

It's times like this I doubt if fate is not merely a result of many coincidences.

Then I step out of myself, to see clearest and closest to being unbiased. It always seems easier to make a choice when it's not personal.
Then I step into your shoes, their shoes. Maybe things are clearer from here.

And realization.
I would not want any other life. Have it another way, and it wouldn't be mine. The choices I've made are the cause of why I am here. There is no reason to live in the past, to dwell in regrets of yesterday.

Then I look around.
There are worse people in worse situations. In hunger, poverty, illness, mental derangement, some sort of incapability. Many times the choice is not left up to them. To be alone, depressed, even dead. Is there anything I could do? In a messed up reality, we look at them and compare, happy that their life is not ours. The life that you have might be better than theirs, but what did you do to deserve it?

I want to do what I want to do. To make my parents proud, to aid another life. Even a small candle, when lit, can erase all darkness in a large room. If today I can make a smile come your way, know that you have brought a smile to me too.

My family will always have my back. I'll get by with a little help from my friends.

The monkey on my back

2008-11-11T18:39:00.000-08:00

Daydreaming is the monkey on my back. Or procrastination. No, I'm pretty sure it's both.

Everyone is gone, and I'm my only friend at this instant, submerged in thoughts of mathematics and beyond.

Melissa, I'm using your desk because I can't focus in the living room, the kitchen table, or my own desk. I'm not even going to try studying on my bed because I know I'll only fall asleep.That's also a monkey on my back...Anyway, I saw your T.S. Eliot book of poems, I picked it up and read it.
Now I must have swallowed the urge to write write write because I don't feel like doing anything else but that.
---------------------------------------------

Like the sick sweet silver moon,
or the sharpness of its craters
Your words from yesterday are the tethers
to my eventual sensual broken howling.

The false impressions left in mid-day drinking
of paint and turpentine water
will leave you sober and awake
later, dead and dreaming.

-----------------------------------------------

hahaha. Okay, that didn't make sense. But my timed writing is up, and can't afford to edit. Calculus calls.

Go Cal!

2008-11-09T17:09:00.001-08:00

Our Golden Bears may have lost to the Trojans in football, but the flame of my school pride was rekindled by the news that Death Cab for Cutie will be playing a free concert here as a result of Berkeley winning the Ultimate College Bowl. Now that's the political activism we were once known for!

In other news, I've been sleeping like a baby...or a tweeker. I've had a shut eye total of 23 of the last 48 hours. And I realized I'm addicted to lists.
Procrastination ensues as I continue to read (pointless) lists such as 7 Works of Art That Are Taking A Beating and 6 Other Animals Dogs Will Adopt.

And now I'm blogging. I always seem to find myself blogging instead of studying for a midterm or doing a homework. By virtue or birth, Procrastination comes with an I.

Oh, and I'm STILL sleepy. I guess another hour can't hurt.

Berkeley Baracks the Vote...and RALLIES

2008-11-05T23:22:00.001-08:00

Last night felt like a dream. As if the spirit of old Berkeley from the 60's resurrected for just one night enough to show us a glimpse of what solidarity there was in this town, the streets filled with welcomed cacophony. The Golden Bears had come out of hibernation to celebrate the election of the one we've been waiting for. I couldn't believe it. Like the thousands of other people, I ran out of the apartment to the streets below. I'll let the pictures speak.

(Photos courtesy of Daily Cal)

On Telegraph Ave. and Durant

Doe Library, the Spiral Staircase on Main Stacks

At the Free Speech Movement Cafe in Moffitt Library

On some street in Berkeley

On Telegraph Ave.

Marilyn, this is part of why you should be at Berkeley. :)

2008-11-04T20:39:00.000-08:00

Okay, I am not done.

The dust has cleared over the battle ground. We should no longer dwell on the truth the Democrats won over the Republicans. In voting, we may be divided, but when the "winner" has been chosen, must we not rally behind him in full support? We are Americans first, party constituents second.

Let's embrace unity because a new dawn is just a horizon away

CHANGE

2008-11-04T20:36:00.000-08:00

CHANGE is upon us.

The PEOPLE voted right.

It feels like New Year; I'm with chills down my spine.

HAPPY OBAMA, my friends!!!

To the Stormy Weather

2008-11-03T14:54:00.000-08:00

Sometimes all it takes is a little getting wet to realize that the storm is only here temporarily. Walking home in the rain without an umbrella, I thought about how I am a miracle and you are a miracle. We are each other's miracle.

Think about it. We may stare at the same moon as someone else across the world, but to think that we are here on the same land and our paths have crossed multiple times and that you are my friend and I am yours. Oh.

How we are even here in the first place is beyond what anyone can explain. Whether you credit science, praise God, or believe in nothing at all, you can't deny that you being here was against all odds. The fortuitous genetic mutations that may have led you and us and homo sapiens where we are in the midst of technological miracles, the formulation of the universe and how the hell earth came to be so nourishing, was against all odds. Fate could have happened another way and we never would have experienced any of this so called life.

Wake up tomorrow and realize that you have been given another day. Yesterday is no longer yours except for the memories you have saved. What is yours is today and the hope of tomorrow.

Happy living.

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Well, baby, I've been here before
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor
You know, I used to live alone before I knew ya
And I've seen your flag on the marble arch
And love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
-Jeff Buckley- "Hallelujah"
*Great song. Listen to it.

Where is my mind?

2008-11-02T17:32:00.001-08:00

You know your life is getting to be so monotonous when you blog about something exciting that had happened in your life, but that such things so rarely occur that you consider it a change when it does. See my drift? Me neither...

Okay then. If there ever were such a thing as spontaneous combustion, perhaps it will happen to me...any minute now. Or if it were possible for a book and a person to mold into one, I'm sure that it would have happened to me a long time ago and many times since.

Well, if you were to ask me about where I want to be right this instant, I wouldn't know what to say. But my head is always in outer space, not in the sky, not on land, and never on water. Where is my mind? I know my body is about to be engulfed in an afternoon fog that will first engulf our building.

Here is where I want to be:

But Berkeley is where my heart is.

Oh, and about this post, what can I say? Life is a bunch of randoms.