I was looking for tote bags and stuff yesterday instead of doing my Extended Essay (I know, I am THE best when it comes to procrastination!) and I found this AWESOME shop online called ShanaLogic! It's an indie kind of shop, and I was just blown away by their products!!
This store has every kind of thing: From cute to punk to stylish. I am not the kind of girl who wears pink stuff, but I seriously fell for the pink stuff here; it's just so great!
Besides, by buying the products in this store you're helping the artists who make these products by hand (yes! No mass production here).
If you're looking for an alternative style and out-of-the-ordinary products, this is the place to shop!
http://www.shanalogic.com/
Saturday, 25 October 2008
Thursday, 16 October 2008
Una historia increiblemente sucia pero chistosa.
Atención!! La siguiente historia contiene elementos pornográficos y humor sucio. Se recomienda que no lo lea si usted es un retrógrada, conservador o de mente cuadrada.
Atte.
La gerencia.
Bueno, nuestra corta pero muy cómica historia comienza en clase de biología. En clase "higher" tuvimos un examen aburrido...Uno de esos examenes en el que uno cree que le fue bien pero después resulta que te dieron una nota que podés contar con los dedos de una mano. Pero ese no es el punto.
Despues sonó la campana y vinieron todos los de "standard". Y después de que el profesor repatió unos trabajos calificados (yo saqué 50 en como que 3 de los 4 trabajos...mierda!) se puso a hablar de glándulas y solo el (y Alex) saben de que más.
Y llegué al punto en el que sólo tomaba notas y pensaba en la inmortalidad del cangrejo, cuando escucho al profesor decir "...pero no levantarían la pierna al mismo tiempo que la mano" (claro, en inglés). Todos se reían, y yo quería saber cual era el chiste, así que le pregunté a Ute. "Hablaba de cuando ponés la mano en algo caliente", me explicó ella.
Claro, yo de chistosita, respondí, "y si ves una cuca* al mismo tiempo?" Y Ute dijo, "O si tocas una cuca caliente."
Nos reímos porque la idea de una cucaracha caliente es bastante chistosa, pero después yo le encontré el lado sucio (los que entienden van a pensar que soy una graaaan malpensada! Los que no entienden, abajo hay una pequeña explicación). Me sorprende que Ute no lo haya visto primero...Igual nos retorcíamos de la risa en nuestros banquitos.
Más tarde, ya a la noche en casa, me puse lo que Ute dijo en mi nombre del messenger, y nos reímos un poco más. Eso, por alguna razón, me puso a pensar que alguien podría ser lo suficientemente estúpido como para tener algún negocio llamado "La Cucaracha Caliente". Le pregunté a Ute, "si tuvieras un establecimiento que se llamara 'La Cucaracha Caliente', que sería?" Y casi simultaneamente, ella contesto, "prostíbulo", y yo dije "lastimosamente, suena a prostíbulo de mala muerte". Y me dio un tremendo ataque de risa...La Cucaracha Caliente, el prostíbulo más "in" de la ciudad!
Y en resumen, queridos lectores y no lectores y otras personas en general, esa es la divertida, corta y muy sucia historia.
Hasta la próxima, mis queridos camellos flambeados (no pregunten).
* "Cuca" (además de ser una manera corta de decir cucaracha) es un término coloquial para las 'partes' de una mujer. xD Ya saben, ahi abajo.
Atte.
La gerencia.
Bueno, nuestra corta pero muy cómica historia comienza en clase de biología. En clase "higher" tuvimos un examen aburrido...Uno de esos examenes en el que uno cree que le fue bien pero después resulta que te dieron una nota que podés contar con los dedos de una mano. Pero ese no es el punto.
Despues sonó la campana y vinieron todos los de "standard". Y después de que el profesor repatió unos trabajos calificados (yo saqué 50 en como que 3 de los 4 trabajos...mierda!) se puso a hablar de glándulas y solo el (y Alex) saben de que más.
Y llegué al punto en el que sólo tomaba notas y pensaba en la inmortalidad del cangrejo, cuando escucho al profesor decir "...pero no levantarían la pierna al mismo tiempo que la mano" (claro, en inglés). Todos se reían, y yo quería saber cual era el chiste, así que le pregunté a Ute. "Hablaba de cuando ponés la mano en algo caliente", me explicó ella.
Claro, yo de chistosita, respondí, "y si ves una cuca* al mismo tiempo?" Y Ute dijo, "O si tocas una cuca caliente."
Nos reímos porque la idea de una cucaracha caliente es bastante chistosa, pero después yo le encontré el lado sucio (los que entienden van a pensar que soy una graaaan malpensada! Los que no entienden, abajo hay una pequeña explicación). Me sorprende que Ute no lo haya visto primero...Igual nos retorcíamos de la risa en nuestros banquitos.
Más tarde, ya a la noche en casa, me puse lo que Ute dijo en mi nombre del messenger, y nos reímos un poco más. Eso, por alguna razón, me puso a pensar que alguien podría ser lo suficientemente estúpido como para tener algún negocio llamado "La Cucaracha Caliente". Le pregunté a Ute, "si tuvieras un establecimiento que se llamara 'La Cucaracha Caliente', que sería?" Y casi simultaneamente, ella contesto, "prostíbulo", y yo dije "lastimosamente, suena a prostíbulo de mala muerte". Y me dio un tremendo ataque de risa...La Cucaracha Caliente, el prostíbulo más "in" de la ciudad!
Y en resumen, queridos lectores y no lectores y otras personas en general, esa es la divertida, corta y muy sucia historia.
Hasta la próxima, mis queridos camellos flambeados (no pregunten).
* "Cuca" (además de ser una manera corta de decir cucaracha) es un término coloquial para las 'partes' de una mujer. xD Ya saben, ahi abajo.
Sunday, 12 October 2008
It's application time! And I feel like baking cookies.
Soon, I will have to start my college applications.
Actually, I should've already started, which kind of fucks up the part of my plan dealing with schoolwork. I think. My ability to reason and organize things logically has long been lost. An IB side effect, my dear friends! And the fact that I cannot use an agenda like a normal human (I've tried, really, but I end up drawing in the pages and whatnot).
Either way, today we were supposed to bake cookies, which made me really happy. There is nothing that pleases my inner kid more than eating hot, gooey cookies and burning my pallate in the process. But then my mom went into the hysterics because we only had one egg left, so no cookies. I needed that stress reliever so badly...But oh well, apparently hip hop songs also work. And not just any hip hop songs, 3OH!3 songs! I am obsessed with those guys.
What else is new in my world?
There are pidgeons fluttering around and doing strange noises in the roof.
This is kind of old news, but I've been working on a new story, published in deviantART. Hopefully, someday I'll be done with part 3. SOMEDAAY.
I ate lots of brownies today. Not that it's a good thing.
I'm on a diet because, apparently, my nutrition sucks.
And, of course, deadlines are gaining up on me. Although I already said that.
That's about it for now, m'dears. I am off to study for my geography test, because I need to pull up my 5 to a 5.5* and this is my last chance! I really want that 4.0 GPA!
Thank you to whoever reads this, and thank you for the comments. They really make my day. :)
Until whenever I feel like writing!
-Luli
* In IB, a 5.5 is the rough equivalent of an 8. With all grades above 5.5, you automatically achieve a GPA of 4.0 (out of 4, of course). I am assuming that geography is the only grade I have with a grade lower than 5.5. Let's hope my assumptions are correct and that I manage to pull it up to a 5.5, because Cal 1 (aka the first quarter of the year, followed by Cal 2, the mocks or practice exams and the IB exams) is the most significant when it comes to college applications.
Actually, I should've already started, which kind of fucks up the part of my plan dealing with schoolwork. I think. My ability to reason and organize things logically has long been lost. An IB side effect, my dear friends! And the fact that I cannot use an agenda like a normal human (I've tried, really, but I end up drawing in the pages and whatnot).
Either way, today we were supposed to bake cookies, which made me really happy. There is nothing that pleases my inner kid more than eating hot, gooey cookies and burning my pallate in the process. But then my mom went into the hysterics because we only had one egg left, so no cookies. I needed that stress reliever so badly...But oh well, apparently hip hop songs also work. And not just any hip hop songs, 3OH!3 songs! I am obsessed with those guys.
What else is new in my world?
There are pidgeons fluttering around and doing strange noises in the roof.
This is kind of old news, but I've been working on a new story, published in deviantART. Hopefully, someday I'll be done with part 3. SOMEDAAY.
I ate lots of brownies today. Not that it's a good thing.
I'm on a diet because, apparently, my nutrition sucks.
And, of course, deadlines are gaining up on me. Although I already said that.
That's about it for now, m'dears. I am off to study for my geography test, because I need to pull up my 5 to a 5.5* and this is my last chance! I really want that 4.0 GPA!
Thank you to whoever reads this, and thank you for the comments. They really make my day. :)
Until whenever I feel like writing!
-Luli
* In IB, a 5.5 is the rough equivalent of an 8. With all grades above 5.5, you automatically achieve a GPA of 4.0 (out of 4, of course). I am assuming that geography is the only grade I have with a grade lower than 5.5. Let's hope my assumptions are correct and that I manage to pull it up to a 5.5, because Cal 1 (aka the first quarter of the year, followed by Cal 2, the mocks or practice exams and the IB exams) is the most significant when it comes to college applications.
Monday, 6 October 2008
Stress, stress and more stress.
My sister can't sing! Seriously. Which is the reason why right now I'm wishing I was dead.
Uuuugh.
Not to mention the IB is killing me. At least today I left school earlier because I had some matters to attend in the Spanish embassy...But either way, I still have lots of work to get through and a geography test tomorrow.
Of course, there is the matter of the extended essay, which I have not begun yet and is due the 31st of this month! Which is also the day the first quarter ends and the day my geography coursework is due. Kill me please.
To top it all off, guess who's back in town? Well, not really. He's just in my mind a lot. But yes, the ex! After I thought I had him out of my head, he's been back in there these past few days and I really miss him. Oh, senior year is such crap.
Uuuugh.
Not to mention the IB is killing me. At least today I left school earlier because I had some matters to attend in the Spanish embassy...But either way, I still have lots of work to get through and a geography test tomorrow.
Of course, there is the matter of the extended essay, which I have not begun yet and is due the 31st of this month! Which is also the day the first quarter ends and the day my geography coursework is due. Kill me please.
To top it all off, guess who's back in town? Well, not really. He's just in my mind a lot. But yes, the ex! After I thought I had him out of my head, he's been back in there these past few days and I really miss him. Oh, senior year is such crap.
Saturday, 13 September 2008
Why yes, I do like yaoi couples!
I saw a bunch of Bleach episodes last night, so my Bleach-loving self has come back to life.
And with it, my obsession with Yaoi couples.
But there is a slight difference, I guess. I have new couples in mind. Last time, I liked Renji + Ichigo, Renji + Byakuya and I can't remember what else.
But this time, I started off with a Gin + Izuru obsession. I am not sure why; I think it has to do with an episode I saw...Aww.
Yay! I love how Izuru is all submissive, quiet and has this air of innocence and Gin is all secretive, possesive, powerful and evil! You can clearly tell who's seme and who's uke here! They complement each other in a weird but cutely attractive way.
Renji and Shuuhei are both rather violent and seem like tough guys with a hard shell (although you can see him melt when with Rukia sometimes...), but I imagine that if they got together or something they would be totally sweet with each other. How nice. Or maybe they have the rough stuff going on! Either way, aww. And this doesn't mean that RukiRen or RenIchi are out of the picture!
That's it for now. Maybe I shall post more later...Who knows.
And with it, my obsession with Yaoi couples.
But there is a slight difference, I guess. I have new couples in mind. Last time, I liked Renji + Ichigo, Renji + Byakuya and I can't remember what else.
But this time, I started off with a Gin + Izuru obsession. I am not sure why; I think it has to do with an episode I saw...Aww.
Yay! I love how Izuru is all submissive, quiet and has this air of innocence and Gin is all secretive, possesive, powerful and evil! You can clearly tell who's seme and who's uke here! They complement each other in a weird but cutely attractive way.
Renji and Shuuhei are both rather violent and seem like tough guys with a hard shell (although you can see him melt when with Rukia sometimes...), but I imagine that if they got together or something they would be totally sweet with each other. How nice. Or maybe they have the rough stuff going on! Either way, aww. And this doesn't mean that RukiRen or RenIchi are out of the picture!
That's it for now. Maybe I shall post more later...Who knows.
Tuesday, 2 September 2008
A quick note...
Every day that goes by it gets worse, it burns more.
Every night that we talk and he leaves without mentioning that he still loves me, I die a little inside.
I've been dying too much lately.
But I rather endure the pain and wait for him to come back to me than lose him forever.
Every night that we talk and he leaves without mentioning that he still loves me, I die a little inside.
I've been dying too much lately.
But I rather endure the pain and wait for him to come back to me than lose him forever.
I want Chinese food, damnit.
I have been craving Chinese food for about 3 weeks. I KID YOU NOT.
And I think I have no homework. But I'm so scared of not having any that I'll finish both my math and geography classworks. And then I'll probably read. This is sooo fucked up.
So yeah, the other day someone said "Luli's an atheist" and, impulsively, I said (a little too loudly) "Yeah!". This was followed by an awkward silence, but nobody came forth with any negative remarks about my lack of faith. I was pretty happy about that. And if anyone decides to come at me with crap about my political views, I'm ready to defend myself. Although I don't think anyone cares enough to bring it up more than my cousin's boyfriend did when he said libertarian socialism is the same as anarchy and then recommended me a movie. He's a funny dude, so I know there was no harm intended there.
Plus, I found this in his profile pictures:
Thus making him automatically awesome. 'Nuff said.
In other news, my life still sucks when it comes to love. I can't give up on ze ex, neither do I want to. Despite him being more quiet than usual and appearing a little lifeless in our (somewhat awkward) conversations, I can't stop thinking how much I love him. I would, indeed, sell my soul to go back to the way we used to be, but I guess no can do. I am hoping this is a matter of time, and I have gravely considered throwing some Canadian universities' info into his house through the living room window or something and then making a dash for it, but I think I'd get thrown into the loony bin for sure. Plus I'd have to get there in a car anyway. Duh. Altogether, there are too many factors that make my fantasy a very far-fetched thing. I still manage to get some things (Vancouver Film School, for one) into the conversation every now and then.
As for me, I made it quite clear to the counselor that I am not interested in going to college in the United States. Now I only have to get my parents to understand that. My mom has a hard time dealing with it; I've been saying I want to go to Canada for over a year and she still makes appointments with people who deal with scholarships for the U.S. and whatnot. What the hell, mom. Seriously. I believe nobody around here has any faith in my abilities to get into a Canadian university with a scholarship. Well, I hope I have those abilities, at least. Otherwise, yeah, I'm pretty much screwed. Well, nothing beats my mom's suggestion about applying to a university in Japan just because there are scholarship opportunities. And Prince Edward (in Canada) is off the list because a) the environmental science page looks suspicious and unprofessional and b) as le ex informed, "prince edward" is another name for a dick piercing. Huh. There's something I didn't know.
Well, looks like I'm not having dinner. Chinese food or bust! I guess I get the bust because no one here is willing to contribute to my cause.
Oh! And I finally updated Billy Buttonhead. I feel like someone has poured bleach into my creative brain part. I blame school for that! Damn you, IB!
Alas, I must return to my school chores. Sigh/grunt.
Toodles.
And I think I have no homework. But I'm so scared of not having any that I'll finish both my math and geography classworks. And then I'll probably read. This is sooo fucked up.
So yeah, the other day someone said "Luli's an atheist" and, impulsively, I said (a little too loudly) "Yeah!". This was followed by an awkward silence, but nobody came forth with any negative remarks about my lack of faith. I was pretty happy about that. And if anyone decides to come at me with crap about my political views, I'm ready to defend myself. Although I don't think anyone cares enough to bring it up more than my cousin's boyfriend did when he said libertarian socialism is the same as anarchy and then recommended me a movie. He's a funny dude, so I know there was no harm intended there.
Plus, I found this in his profile pictures:
Thus making him automatically awesome. 'Nuff said.In other news, my life still sucks when it comes to love. I can't give up on ze ex, neither do I want to. Despite him being more quiet than usual and appearing a little lifeless in our (somewhat awkward) conversations, I can't stop thinking how much I love him. I would, indeed, sell my soul to go back to the way we used to be, but I guess no can do. I am hoping this is a matter of time, and I have gravely considered throwing some Canadian universities' info into his house through the living room window or something and then making a dash for it, but I think I'd get thrown into the loony bin for sure. Plus I'd have to get there in a car anyway. Duh. Altogether, there are too many factors that make my fantasy a very far-fetched thing. I still manage to get some things (Vancouver Film School, for one) into the conversation every now and then.
As for me, I made it quite clear to the counselor that I am not interested in going to college in the United States. Now I only have to get my parents to understand that. My mom has a hard time dealing with it; I've been saying I want to go to Canada for over a year and she still makes appointments with people who deal with scholarships for the U.S. and whatnot. What the hell, mom. Seriously. I believe nobody around here has any faith in my abilities to get into a Canadian university with a scholarship. Well, I hope I have those abilities, at least. Otherwise, yeah, I'm pretty much screwed. Well, nothing beats my mom's suggestion about applying to a university in Japan just because there are scholarship opportunities. And Prince Edward (in Canada) is off the list because a) the environmental science page looks suspicious and unprofessional and b) as le ex informed, "prince edward" is another name for a dick piercing. Huh. There's something I didn't know.
Well, looks like I'm not having dinner. Chinese food or bust! I guess I get the bust because no one here is willing to contribute to my cause.
Oh! And I finally updated Billy Buttonhead. I feel like someone has poured bleach into my creative brain part. I blame school for that! Damn you, IB!
Alas, I must return to my school chores. Sigh/grunt.
Toodles.
Friday, 29 August 2008
I'm at a strange point of my life...
It really is odd. Or so I believe. I hate being back to my single days, in which I find many guys attractive again (because when I'm in a relationship I tend to ignore how other guys look; I only have eyes for the guy I'm dating...yeah, I'm very loyal) and I act rather flirtatiously, which unnerves me, I don't know why.
Before I go on, I will explain what happened with my boyfriend (now my ex...again). He said he couldn't make me completely happy until he was happy with who he is, and he couldn't be in a relationship, blah blah. But he still loves me and I love him and for now it's weird and a bit awkward.
I swore to myself I wouldn't love anyone else if it wasn't him, and I'd wait for him because I believe we belong together. And I try, you know. But then there is the issue with these two other guys (not to mention that my ex seems to be pushing me away but not quite? I'm confused). The first one, I don't know what's going on with. Is there chemistry between us? Are you flirting with me and I should flirt back? Etc. The second one makes me feel like a pedophile because he must be, what, 15-16? Seriously. I don't think dating guys that are 2-3 years younger than me is bad, just not right now because at that age they have the emotional maturity of a Tootsie Roll.
I haven't even heard from my former boyfriend in the past days...I tried to talk to him yesterday but he was busy, and I'm thinking he might be avoiding me, which is making me angry and annoyed.
Not to mention all the schoolwork I have to do...Oh, and the fact that my best friend left for Canada today, so I am stuck best-friendless in my senior year from hell.
In general, I'm not in the best of moods.
Life is so annoying and weird right now. I don't expect anyone to understand.
Oh, and as a side note, I changed my religious and political views on Facebook from nothing to "Atheist" and "Libertarian Socialist" respectively. Let's see what kind of insults and nasty comments I get.
[Update: Talked to the ex. Yeah, he's "the ex" now. Everytime I talk to him it just gets worse. Why is he trying to get away from me when he once said he was afraid of me blocking him out of my life? He makes no sense. Nothing does. I hate this...I need to leave everyone behind, get out of here and start anew. I wish I was in college already...]
Before I go on, I will explain what happened with my boyfriend (now my ex...again). He said he couldn't make me completely happy until he was happy with who he is, and he couldn't be in a relationship, blah blah. But he still loves me and I love him and for now it's weird and a bit awkward.
I swore to myself I wouldn't love anyone else if it wasn't him, and I'd wait for him because I believe we belong together. And I try, you know. But then there is the issue with these two other guys (not to mention that my ex seems to be pushing me away but not quite? I'm confused). The first one, I don't know what's going on with. Is there chemistry between us? Are you flirting with me and I should flirt back? Etc. The second one makes me feel like a pedophile because he must be, what, 15-16? Seriously. I don't think dating guys that are 2-3 years younger than me is bad, just not right now because at that age they have the emotional maturity of a Tootsie Roll.
I haven't even heard from my former boyfriend in the past days...I tried to talk to him yesterday but he was busy, and I'm thinking he might be avoiding me, which is making me angry and annoyed.
Not to mention all the schoolwork I have to do...Oh, and the fact that my best friend left for Canada today, so I am stuck best-friendless in my senior year from hell.
In general, I'm not in the best of moods.
Life is so annoying and weird right now. I don't expect anyone to understand.
Oh, and as a side note, I changed my religious and political views on Facebook from nothing to "Atheist" and "Libertarian Socialist" respectively. Let's see what kind of insults and nasty comments I get.
[Update: Talked to the ex. Yeah, he's "the ex" now. Everytime I talk to him it just gets worse. Why is he trying to get away from me when he once said he was afraid of me blocking him out of my life? He makes no sense. Nothing does. I hate this...I need to leave everyone behind, get out of here and start anew. I wish I was in college already...]
Sunday, 17 August 2008
It's getting out of hand
I don't know who to trust or believe anymore. This is getting awful and enormous and ridiculous. It worries me, and it scares me, and I don't know what to do, or who to talk to, or where to look for the answers.
I don't know what's wrong with my boyfriend. I don't know what's going to happen when he comes on Tuesday and we talk things over.
I don't know if I should believe my friends, who say that he doesn't treat me like I should be treated, that he doesn't make me feel valued and important, that he doesn't love me as much as I love him, that he cares more about his friends and himself than me and that I should leave him for good.
Should I believe him when he says he's going through a hard time in his life and just forgive him and take the hit if he decides to leave me (again) instead? Or should I assume that he just wants to bail from the relationship and let him go, fearing and almost knowing for certain that he would not bother to come back?
I want the truth, but I'm scared.
He's a coward for not wanting to face me until I told him how I felt, a selfish idiot for choosing his friends (which, on the most part, I don't like) over me and implying I wouldn't fit in with them because I'm too different...And still, I love him, and my chest aches at the thought of having him go. I can feel my throat tightening and tears burning like acid at the back of my eyes.
And, in the end, everyone tells me to leave him, but they don't understand how much I love him. Even though he's making me suffer, I love him. When I think about losing him, I want to cry so bad, because I don't want to live without his laugh, without his beautiful brown eyes, without his kisses or even without his rants. I know that sometimes I get tired of hearing him talk about all these bands and movies I don't know, but it's worth it just to see the look on his face when he gets really happy or excited about something.
Though I do tend to think that I would like it if he showed his love more often...I am ashamed to say I recall the times I saw him with his ex and wished I was her. I wished he loved me as much or even more, and that he was sweet and tender with me, even in front of other people, and that he took me out more often, among other things. I thought that, had I been there instead of her, I could've made him much happier...Or maybe I would've been a lot more happier. And, after all of those thoughts and images go through my head, that's when my life seems bleak, unfulfilled and lame.
I want an answer, I need divine intervention or something. I wish there was someone who could pause the movie of my life and take some time to explain what is going on right now. But there is no such thing, and my intuition says the future is not looking bright.
No matter how much advice I've gotten, how much people I've talked to, all the different points of view I've gotten, I still feel uneasy and very, very scared.
I think I'm also angry. This might sound stupid, but I'm angry at myself. Angry for not doing anything right, for screwing up every goddamned relationship I get into, for being scared of not having someone to love and be loved by.
I wish I could just disappear. Leave without a trace. Just...Vanish into thin air. Or even die. I don't think he'd care. Maybe my friends and my parents would, but he wouldn't. And I wouldn't have to worry about anything else; not my geography coursework, school or him.
But I'm so scared of doing anything...So, for now all I can do is sit on the couch, work on my coursework, cry, and wait.
I don't know what's wrong with my boyfriend. I don't know what's going to happen when he comes on Tuesday and we talk things over.
I don't know if I should believe my friends, who say that he doesn't treat me like I should be treated, that he doesn't make me feel valued and important, that he doesn't love me as much as I love him, that he cares more about his friends and himself than me and that I should leave him for good.
Should I believe him when he says he's going through a hard time in his life and just forgive him and take the hit if he decides to leave me (again) instead? Or should I assume that he just wants to bail from the relationship and let him go, fearing and almost knowing for certain that he would not bother to come back?
I want the truth, but I'm scared.
He's a coward for not wanting to face me until I told him how I felt, a selfish idiot for choosing his friends (which, on the most part, I don't like) over me and implying I wouldn't fit in with them because I'm too different...And still, I love him, and my chest aches at the thought of having him go. I can feel my throat tightening and tears burning like acid at the back of my eyes.
And, in the end, everyone tells me to leave him, but they don't understand how much I love him. Even though he's making me suffer, I love him. When I think about losing him, I want to cry so bad, because I don't want to live without his laugh, without his beautiful brown eyes, without his kisses or even without his rants. I know that sometimes I get tired of hearing him talk about all these bands and movies I don't know, but it's worth it just to see the look on his face when he gets really happy or excited about something.
Though I do tend to think that I would like it if he showed his love more often...I am ashamed to say I recall the times I saw him with his ex and wished I was her. I wished he loved me as much or even more, and that he was sweet and tender with me, even in front of other people, and that he took me out more often, among other things. I thought that, had I been there instead of her, I could've made him much happier...Or maybe I would've been a lot more happier. And, after all of those thoughts and images go through my head, that's when my life seems bleak, unfulfilled and lame.
I want an answer, I need divine intervention or something. I wish there was someone who could pause the movie of my life and take some time to explain what is going on right now. But there is no such thing, and my intuition says the future is not looking bright.
No matter how much advice I've gotten, how much people I've talked to, all the different points of view I've gotten, I still feel uneasy and very, very scared.
I think I'm also angry. This might sound stupid, but I'm angry at myself. Angry for not doing anything right, for screwing up every goddamned relationship I get into, for being scared of not having someone to love and be loved by.
I wish I could just disappear. Leave without a trace. Just...Vanish into thin air. Or even die. I don't think he'd care. Maybe my friends and my parents would, but he wouldn't. And I wouldn't have to worry about anything else; not my geography coursework, school or him.
But I'm so scared of doing anything...So, for now all I can do is sit on the couch, work on my coursework, cry, and wait.
A letter to you...
Dear somebody,
I love you.
Do you love me? Cause lately it seems like you don't.
If you don't love me, let me go.
I need some love, you know; I'm only human.
I need you to understand that I don't really hate you.
I hate what you're doing to me.
Why do you keep me locked away from where you are?
Do I not deserve a key to your heart?
Darling, hear me cry.
This is a call back to reality.
I know life is hard...No one ever said it would be easy.
But you can't make it hard for me because it's hard for you.
Hear me scream; is there no other way my words will go past your ears?
I want to help you,
I want to understand you,
I want to love you.
If only you'd stop playing mystery man and started telling the truth;
I've tried to gain your trust but it seems like that got me nowhere.
How could you ever expect anything in life to work that way?
So, what's it going to be?
Will we be overcome by loss once more?
Will we ignore each other for another 3 months?
Will I never see you again, but hear from you every now and then?
If you stay, make me feel loved,
Make me feel wanted,
Make me feel valued,
Make me feel like someone important in your life.
Make me feel like a person, not an accessory.
I want you to stay, but I can't stay myself if there's nothing more than a shadow to stay with.
They say I don't need you,
That I'm better off without you,
But I want you.
I love you.
Don't let this die.
Placing this formal complaint,
Left in the sidelines.
I love you.
Do you love me? Cause lately it seems like you don't.
If you don't love me, let me go.
I need some love, you know; I'm only human.
I need you to understand that I don't really hate you.
I hate what you're doing to me.
Why do you keep me locked away from where you are?
Do I not deserve a key to your heart?
Darling, hear me cry.
This is a call back to reality.
I know life is hard...No one ever said it would be easy.
But you can't make it hard for me because it's hard for you.
Hear me scream; is there no other way my words will go past your ears?
I want to help you,
I want to understand you,
I want to love you.
If only you'd stop playing mystery man and started telling the truth;
I've tried to gain your trust but it seems like that got me nowhere.
How could you ever expect anything in life to work that way?
So, what's it going to be?
Will we be overcome by loss once more?
Will we ignore each other for another 3 months?
Will I never see you again, but hear from you every now and then?
If you stay, make me feel loved,
Make me feel wanted,
Make me feel valued,
Make me feel like someone important in your life.
Make me feel like a person, not an accessory.
I want you to stay, but I can't stay myself if there's nothing more than a shadow to stay with.
They say I don't need you,
That I'm better off without you,
But I want you.
I love you.
Don't let this die.
Placing this formal complaint,
Left in the sidelines.
Tuesday, 12 August 2008
Viva! Un post en español!
Bueno, como podrán observar, el post de hoy va en español, ya que pasé este fin de semana en Suchitoto y me parecería un vil crimen relatarlo en inglés. Aprovecho para disculparme por cualquier falta ortográfica o gramatical, ya que mi teclado está en inglés y el spell check de Firefox también.
(Este post también va dedicado a mi amigo Snipe, quién me ha soportado las quejas ya bastantes veces. Gracias por ser un buen amigo!)
Mi historia comienza el viernes. Me había quedado a dormir en la casa de mi mejor amiga, pero me desperté lo antes posible (a pesar de que nos dormimos tarde) para regresar a mi casa a preparar la maleta. Aunque debo confesar que en parte tenía prisa para regresar a mi casa por que era posible que llegara a visitarme mi novio (lo cual no sucedió, pero bueno).
Despues de hacer las maletas y el drama de que no vino mi novio, finalmente partimos hacia Suchitoto. No es un viaje largo, pero yo lo sentí largo por el miedo que a mi reproductor de música se le acabara la batería (a duras penas sobrevivió la pobre cosa).
Y se preguntarán ustedes qué tiene de genial un viaje a Suchitoto (si es que saben a lo que me refiero), ya que con una vez o dos que uno vaya es suficiente, y yo he ido unas 3 o 4 veces. Bueno, resulta que después de que mi hermana y yo nos quejamos de que siempre vamos a hoteles feos (vivan los padres ahorrativos y todo eso! (sarcasmo)) y de que por una vez solita nos hubiera gustado ir a un hotel bonito, nuestros padres decidieron darnos el gusto y nos llevaron a un hotel super genial (y creanme, vale la pena ir a Suchi para quedarse en este hotel!) llamado los Almendros de San Lorenzo. Nosotras, encantadas y fascinadísimas no nos aguantábamos las ganas de llegar.
Como de costumbre, hacía un calor intenso en Suchitoto. Sentía que nisiquiera me había bajado del carro y mi cuerpo ya era una fuente. Pero el hotel estaba divino y a ninguno le cabía la sonrisa en la cara. Eran casi las 5 de la tarde, pero aun así mi hermana, mi papá y yo salimos a dar una vuelta y a comer unas pupusas. Al regresar nos bañamos en la piscina, después fuimos a cenar y regresamos al hotel a descansar, listos para un día a lo espontáneo, ya que no habían planes.
A la mañana siguiente, yo me desperté tipo 10 am, ya que me había acostado algo tarde, y estaba medio lela por que me había tomado unos calmantes (un poquito mas de la cuenta) para poder dormir, pero no me hicieron efecto hasta mucho después de lo que yo había calculado. Aún así, no partimos hasta mucho después de eso, llegando a la una y cuarto de la tarde. Todos habíamos desayunado muy bien en el hotel, así que no nos molestamos en almorzar.
Mi mamá sugerió que fueramos a Cinquera, un pueblo que queda relativamente cerca de Suchitoto en el cual hay un ex campamento guerrillero y una "cocina vietnamita" que mi mamá moría por ver.
Creo que de puro milagro llegamos, por que íbamos sin mapa y con instrucciones vagas, pero, cerca de una hora despues de haber salido de Suchi, llegamos al pequeño y tranquilo pueblo de Cinquera.
Este pueblo fue azotado por la guerra hasta el punto en el que sus habitantes tuvieron que huír y regresar al haber pasado el peligro. En su modesta plaza central se encuentra la cola de un avión de guerra, y en el pequeño patio afuera de la antigua iglesia se encuentran tres ojivas, unos recuerdos de la guerra que han sido acogidos por el pueblo y adaptados a la vida moderna, ya que a falta de campana de iglesia, se utilizan estas ojivas para llamar a la gente a misa (esto nos sorprendió; al principio no entendíamos por que había un grupo de niños golpeando las ojivas con piedras).
Nos dirigimos a la ARDM (La Asociación de Reconstrucción y Desarrollo Municipal), pero ésta se encontraba cerrada. Un hombre muy amable a quién encontramos sentado afuera de la iglesia se tomo la molestia de guiarnos hasta la entrada de la reserva ecológica de Cinquera, donde se encuentran el ex campamento guerrillero y la bendita cocina vietnamita (mi mamá no paraba de mencionarla; se los juro, estaba enamorada de esa cosa).
Decidimos tomar el tour guiado que nos llevaría hasta un mirador y luego a el ex campamento guerrillero y la cocina vietnamita en el descenso. El hecho de tener que caminar hacia un mirador no me era de mucha gracia, ya que hacía calor y acababamos de caminar un buen tramo desde la plaza central de Cinquera. Pero en fin, había sombra en el bosque y de igual manera me hacía falta el ejercicio. Sin mencionar que últimamente le estoy tomando más interes a todo esto de la guerra (esto es, en parte, gracias a la ida a perkin con mi mamá, mi hermana y mi novio...ese viaje estuvo espectacular!).
[Debo agregar que el guía era un muchacho divertido y que nos motivó a seguir subiendo. También iban unos amigos con el, y entre chistes y charlas logramos subir hasta el mirador.]
No les voy a decir que fue como darle la vuelta a mi cuadra. Para nada! Fue toda una odisea. Parecía que no llegabamos jamás..."Uy, que horror, faltan 50 metros y vamos en subida!"....Menos mal que habíamos desayunado bien, por que si no, yo hubiera desfallecido (además que me pongo de muy mal humor cuando tengo mucha hambre). Pero la bajada la senti 5 veces más rápida, especialmente por las ganas de ver la desgraciada cocina maravilla.
Llegamos al ex campamento conocido como "La Cascabel". La razón por la cual quede impresionada era por cómo los guerrilleros pudieron usar esa mini área (diría yo) como hospital (improvisado, supongo), área de entrenamiento y (obviamente) campamento. Pero bueno, esos guerrilleros si que me impresionan cada vez más. Después llegamos al área donde estaba la cocina. Menos mal que habia un gran cartelote y que el guía nos dijo que esa era la cocina, por que si no, yo no me daba cuenta.
La cocina eran unas piedras estacadas contra la tierra. Unos túneles cubiertos por tejas cerámicas partían de los hoyos en las piedras donde cocinaban hacia más arriba en la montaña. Este método fue utilizado por los vietnamitas, y lo que hace es que disipa el humo para que los enemigos no los encuentren. Bastante ingenioso!
Lo que más risa me dió fue que mis papás habían creído que la cocina eran unas estructuras de metal (que no me acuerdo que eran, si tanques de almacenamiento o qué). Los miraban como en un estado de mistificación, preguntándose como rayos funcionarían esas cosas, cuando el guía les dijo que la cocina era "esta" y apuntó a las piedras. Ese momento no tuvo precio. Jajaja!
Llegamos de regreso a la entrada del parque a las 4 de la tarde, ya con bastante hambre y ganas de regresar a Suchi (aunque yo queria ver si encontraba pupusas en Cinquera!). Llegar de regreso a Cinquera fue como llegar al cielo. Lo primero que hicimos fue comprar agua, y después mi hermana y yo comimos unas tortillitas algo feas, pero con el hambre que teníamos el sabor no importaba mucho. No cabe mencionar que las pupusas me las tuve que ir a comer a Suchi, pero ni modo.
Al ir regresando a Suchitoto nos encontramos con el guía del parque y sus amigos, quienes iban a un pueblo que quedaba cerca, así que los alcanzamos hasta allí. Al irnos alejando cada vez más me dieron ganas de regresar algún día, aunque en ese momento mi prioridad era comer.
Tipo 5 de la tarde llegamos a Suchitoto, y lo primero que hicimos mi hermana y yo fue ir a comprar unas papas fritas (no muy saludables ni limpias, creo yo, ya que una media hora después me dio dolor de estómago) y unas pupusas para calmar el hambre.
Para aplacar el calor y el cansancio, nos metimos a la piscina un buen rato y más tarde fuimos a cenar al restaurante del hotel. Fue un buen final para un buen dia.
A la mañana siguiente, un tranquilo pero caluroso domingo, mi papa y yo fuimos a caminar, pero no logramos ir más allá de la Fonda El Mirador, ya que el calor estaba pesado. Nos regresamos al hotel, donde arreglamos un poco la maleta y esperamos a que mi hermana y mi mamá salieran de la piscina para poder alistar todo y regresar a San Salvador. A pesar de que nadie se quería ir del hotel, ya queríamos regresar a nuestro hogar. Salimos de Suchitoto al mediodia para llegar a almorzar a San Salvador.
Y bueno, fue un gran viaje, a pesar de que pasé horas buscando un lugar o una persona que vendiera paletas de sombrilla y no encontré nada.
A veces siento que por más extranjera que séa, no puedo negar que, en todos estos años, una parte de mí se ha vuelto Salvadoreña.
(Este post también va dedicado a mi amigo Snipe, quién me ha soportado las quejas ya bastantes veces. Gracias por ser un buen amigo!)
Mi historia comienza el viernes. Me había quedado a dormir en la casa de mi mejor amiga, pero me desperté lo antes posible (a pesar de que nos dormimos tarde) para regresar a mi casa a preparar la maleta. Aunque debo confesar que en parte tenía prisa para regresar a mi casa por que era posible que llegara a visitarme mi novio (lo cual no sucedió, pero bueno).
Despues de hacer las maletas y el drama de que no vino mi novio, finalmente partimos hacia Suchitoto. No es un viaje largo, pero yo lo sentí largo por el miedo que a mi reproductor de música se le acabara la batería (a duras penas sobrevivió la pobre cosa).
Y se preguntarán ustedes qué tiene de genial un viaje a Suchitoto (si es que saben a lo que me refiero), ya que con una vez o dos que uno vaya es suficiente, y yo he ido unas 3 o 4 veces. Bueno, resulta que después de que mi hermana y yo nos quejamos de que siempre vamos a hoteles feos (vivan los padres ahorrativos y todo eso! (sarcasmo)) y de que por una vez solita nos hubiera gustado ir a un hotel bonito, nuestros padres decidieron darnos el gusto y nos llevaron a un hotel super genial (y creanme, vale la pena ir a Suchi para quedarse en este hotel!) llamado los Almendros de San Lorenzo. Nosotras, encantadas y fascinadísimas no nos aguantábamos las ganas de llegar.
Como de costumbre, hacía un calor intenso en Suchitoto. Sentía que nisiquiera me había bajado del carro y mi cuerpo ya era una fuente. Pero el hotel estaba divino y a ninguno le cabía la sonrisa en la cara. Eran casi las 5 de la tarde, pero aun así mi hermana, mi papá y yo salimos a dar una vuelta y a comer unas pupusas. Al regresar nos bañamos en la piscina, después fuimos a cenar y regresamos al hotel a descansar, listos para un día a lo espontáneo, ya que no habían planes.
A la mañana siguiente, yo me desperté tipo 10 am, ya que me había acostado algo tarde, y estaba medio lela por que me había tomado unos calmantes (un poquito mas de la cuenta) para poder dormir, pero no me hicieron efecto hasta mucho después de lo que yo había calculado. Aún así, no partimos hasta mucho después de eso, llegando a la una y cuarto de la tarde. Todos habíamos desayunado muy bien en el hotel, así que no nos molestamos en almorzar.
Mi mamá sugerió que fueramos a Cinquera, un pueblo que queda relativamente cerca de Suchitoto en el cual hay un ex campamento guerrillero y una "cocina vietnamita" que mi mamá moría por ver.
Creo que de puro milagro llegamos, por que íbamos sin mapa y con instrucciones vagas, pero, cerca de una hora despues de haber salido de Suchi, llegamos al pequeño y tranquilo pueblo de Cinquera.
Este pueblo fue azotado por la guerra hasta el punto en el que sus habitantes tuvieron que huír y regresar al haber pasado el peligro. En su modesta plaza central se encuentra la cola de un avión de guerra, y en el pequeño patio afuera de la antigua iglesia se encuentran tres ojivas, unos recuerdos de la guerra que han sido acogidos por el pueblo y adaptados a la vida moderna, ya que a falta de campana de iglesia, se utilizan estas ojivas para llamar a la gente a misa (esto nos sorprendió; al principio no entendíamos por que había un grupo de niños golpeando las ojivas con piedras).
Nos dirigimos a la ARDM (
Decidimos tomar el tour guiado que nos llevaría hasta un mirador y luego a el ex campamento guerrillero y la cocina vietnamita en el descenso. El hecho de tener que caminar hacia un mirador no me era de mucha gracia, ya que hacía calor y acababamos de caminar un buen tramo desde la plaza central de Cinquera. Pero en fin, había sombra en el bosque y de igual manera me hacía falta el ejercicio. Sin mencionar que últimamente le estoy tomando más interes a todo esto de la guerra (esto es, en parte, gracias a la ida a perkin con mi mamá, mi hermana y mi novio...ese viaje estuvo espectacular!).
[Debo agregar que el guía era un muchacho divertido y que nos motivó a seguir subiendo. También iban unos amigos con el, y entre chistes y charlas logramos subir hasta el mirador.]
No les voy a decir que fue como darle la vuelta a mi cuadra. Para nada! Fue toda una odisea. Parecía que no llegabamos jamás..."Uy, que horror, faltan 50 metros y vamos en subida!"....Menos mal que habíamos desayunado bien, por que si no, yo hubiera desfallecido (además que me pongo de muy mal humor cuando tengo mucha hambre). Pero la bajada la senti 5 veces más rápida, especialmente por las ganas de ver la desgraciada cocina maravilla.
Llegamos al ex campamento conocido como "La Cascabel". La razón por la cual quede impresionada era por cómo los guerrilleros pudieron usar esa mini área (diría yo) como hospital (improvisado, supongo), área de entrenamiento y (obviamente) campamento. Pero bueno, esos guerrilleros si que me impresionan cada vez más. Después llegamos al área donde estaba la cocina. Menos mal que habia un gran cartelote y que el guía nos dijo que esa era la cocina, por que si no, yo no me daba cuenta.
La cocina eran unas piedras estacadas contra la tierra. Unos túneles cubiertos por tejas cerámicas partían de los hoyos en las piedras donde cocinaban hacia más arriba en la montaña. Este método fue utilizado por los vietnamitas, y lo que hace es que disipa el humo para que los enemigos no los encuentren. Bastante ingenioso!
Lo que más risa me dió fue que mis papás habían creído que la cocina eran unas estructuras de metal (que no me acuerdo que eran, si tanques de almacenamiento o qué). Los miraban como en un estado de mistificación, preguntándose como rayos funcionarían esas cosas, cuando el guía les dijo que la cocina era "esta" y apuntó a las piedras. Ese momento no tuvo precio. Jajaja!
Llegamos de regreso a la entrada del parque a las 4 de la tarde, ya con bastante hambre y ganas de regresar a Suchi (aunque yo queria ver si encontraba pupusas en Cinquera!). Llegar de regreso a Cinquera fue como llegar al cielo. Lo primero que hicimos fue comprar agua, y después mi hermana y yo comimos unas tortillitas algo feas, pero con el hambre que teníamos el sabor no importaba mucho. No cabe mencionar que las pupusas me las tuve que ir a comer a Suchi, pero ni modo.
Al ir regresando a Suchitoto nos encontramos con el guía del parque y sus amigos, quienes iban a un pueblo que quedaba cerca, así que los alcanzamos hasta allí. Al irnos alejando cada vez más me dieron ganas de regresar algún día, aunque en ese momento mi prioridad era comer.
Tipo 5 de la tarde llegamos a Suchitoto, y lo primero que hicimos mi hermana y yo fue ir a comprar unas papas fritas (no muy saludables ni limpias, creo yo, ya que una media hora después me dio dolor de estómago) y unas pupusas para calmar el hambre.
Para aplacar el calor y el cansancio, nos metimos a la piscina un buen rato y más tarde fuimos a cenar al restaurante del hotel. Fue un buen final para un buen dia.
A la mañana siguiente, un tranquilo pero caluroso domingo, mi papa y yo fuimos a caminar, pero no logramos ir más allá de la Fonda El Mirador, ya que el calor estaba pesado. Nos regresamos al hotel, donde arreglamos un poco la maleta y esperamos a que mi hermana y mi mamá salieran de la piscina para poder alistar todo y regresar a San Salvador. A pesar de que nadie se quería ir del hotel, ya queríamos regresar a nuestro hogar. Salimos de Suchitoto al mediodia para llegar a almorzar a San Salvador.
Y bueno, fue un gran viaje, a pesar de que pasé horas buscando un lugar o una persona que vendiera paletas de sombrilla y no encontré nada.
A veces siento que por más extranjera que séa, no puedo negar que, en todos estos años, una parte de mí se ha vuelto Salvadoreña.
Sunday, 3 August 2008
Screwy Sunday
Ah, Sunday. A day commonly used to bond with the family and spend quality time together.
Not really.
Sundays in my house can go from the best thing ever to plain shithole sucky. Today was one of the latter kind, but I won't go into detail because it will take FOR EVER. Seriously. I had to modify this post and make a two-page story into a few lines.
So, long story short, I got angry because I lost something and everything went to hell. My mom got angry and wanted to throw me out of the house (for real), but here I am. Though there is no guarantee that I will remain here...Perhaps she'll send me off to granny's house, where there is no food (except whole-wheat cookies, sugar-free juice, a peach or two and milk) and no internet (nooo!!).
After that, I went to the fair with my best friend, her boyfriend and her niece (although I only had $16 to spend, boo hoo).
It was packed like an air-tight sealed coffee package (I call them coffee bricks). It always is...It is, after all, the consumerist fair where you can buy any kind of cheap crap and one of the only places (or the only?) in the city with "safe" rides (aside from school carnivals, although they only last a day or two, whereas this lasts a whole week).
I remember once my grandpa took me and bought me a really pretty necklace. Like most people, we were there namely for the rides, but it began to rain and we had to go into one of the shops for cover, and because it was so cold he had to buy me an ugly red sweater to keep me warm. My grandpa was the best.
But this time it didn't rain, although it looked like it would. We managed to go to two rides (one of them had a REALLY long line, so we rode twice in a row), although my best friend only watched us from afar and took pictures because she's not fond of rides.
I finally got over my fear of the "Kamikaze", a ride with two pod-like structures that go up and around, so at the top you are upside-down. It was incredibly fun, and I think I left my friend's boyfriend deaf with my screams. It was so fun that I rode it twice, and even now I can recall the thrill and fear that I felt as I was left hanging upside down, staring at the huge crowd beneath me.
It really broke my heart how her niece was mean to her the second time we rode the pirate ship. My best friend didn't want to ride it, and her niece was throwing a tantrum because she wanted her auntie to go with her. The boyfriend and I went with her and tried to calm her down, but she pushed us away when we tried to hold her hand. As the ride started up, I tried to spot my friend down in the masses of people. At first, I couldn't see her because she wasn't waving back or taking pictures. When I finally saw her, I realized why neither her niece nor her boyfriend were as happy as they were when we rode the ship earlier in the afternoon.
Even from high up in the air I could see the tears in her freckled cheeks, and it made me want to jump out of the ship and hug her. I tried to smile back at her but felt like a hypocrite, so I just stared ahead at the darkening sky and the lights of the ride against it, appearing and disappearing as the ride went up, down, up, down.
We went past various stands of games such as fishing, which my friend's niece played and won 4 prizes. Afterwards, we spent like $5 on those machines where you can fish out plushies, but only managed to retrieve a large-headed baby mickey mouse, which the little girl kept. I was amazed at how much stuff she bought; she had that plushie, plus another two and the toys she won at fishing.
My friend and I were tired of walking around with her niece, so we went into the main building to look at stuff and her boyfriend took her niece to the rides again.
We had fun pointing out all of the cheap crap that we would never in our lives use, although I must admit I saw some things I would actually buy.
I almost had an orgasm when I saw a stand that sold video games and things of the sort. My friend, I think, was wincing inside, but I went in and asked the guy about games for Nintendo Wii, because my sister wants to buy some.
Now, I'm not a game expert, but I think my sister has probably the worst taste in video games. Firstly, I think she just bought the Wii because it got so much publicity and everyone was saying how cool it is because of the wireless remote and whatnot. But if you ask me, I say Wii is a synonym of crap. The only good thing about it is that you can move around and stuff, but I personally prefer the Nintendo Gamecube. I don't know about gaming, either, and I know Play Station is probably better, but I always wanted a Gamecube (although I was happy with my 64, I don't know why my mother had to give it away). Thankfully, the Wii takes Gamecube games, so as soon as I can, I am buying some remotes and more games.
But I didn't find anything interesting games in that stand (just Tony Hawk Underground; I always wanted a skating game), so we moved on, and further on, we came to another video game store, and they had used Gamecube games for sale. I found Soul Calibur, a game which I loved since I first played, for $10 and, even though I don't have any Gamecube controls yet, I bough it.
Hopefully, I'll get at least one remote tomorrow, and, someday, I'll get more games. I'm DYING to buy Naruto Clash of Ninja and a few others. (If anyone who knows about games reads this, could I get some recommendations?)
After buying my game (by this time my friend's boyfriend and niece had rejoined us) we wandered around some more until everyone got tired and we decided to leave. The last thing we purchased were some rings; I'd spent all of my remaining money on the game, but when I dug in my pockets I found out I had a dollar, so I bought a nice ring.
So even though the day started out crappy, it got better. Tomorrow I hope I can go buy a control and I'll practice so I can totally kick my boyfriend's ass at SC when he comes back from the beach!
Not really.
Sundays in my house can go from the best thing ever to plain shithole sucky. Today was one of the latter kind, but I won't go into detail because it will take FOR EVER. Seriously. I had to modify this post and make a two-page story into a few lines.
So, long story short, I got angry because I lost something and everything went to hell. My mom got angry and wanted to throw me out of the house (for real), but here I am. Though there is no guarantee that I will remain here...Perhaps she'll send me off to granny's house, where there is no food (except whole-wheat cookies, sugar-free juice, a peach or two and milk) and no internet (nooo!!).
After that, I went to the fair with my best friend, her boyfriend and her niece (although I only had $16 to spend, boo hoo).
It was packed like an air-tight sealed coffee package (I call them coffee bricks). It always is...It is, after all, the consumerist fair where you can buy any kind of cheap crap and one of the only places (or the only?) in the city with "safe" rides (aside from school carnivals, although they only last a day or two, whereas this lasts a whole week).
I remember once my grandpa took me and bought me a really pretty necklace. Like most people, we were there namely for the rides, but it began to rain and we had to go into one of the shops for cover, and because it was so cold he had to buy me an ugly red sweater to keep me warm. My grandpa was the best.
But this time it didn't rain, although it looked like it would. We managed to go to two rides (one of them had a REALLY long line, so we rode twice in a row), although my best friend only watched us from afar and took pictures because she's not fond of rides.
I finally got over my fear of the "Kamikaze", a ride with two pod-like structures that go up and around, so at the top you are upside-down. It was incredibly fun, and I think I left my friend's boyfriend deaf with my screams. It was so fun that I rode it twice, and even now I can recall the thrill and fear that I felt as I was left hanging upside down, staring at the huge crowd beneath me.
It really broke my heart how her niece was mean to her the second time we rode the pirate ship. My best friend didn't want to ride it, and her niece was throwing a tantrum because she wanted her auntie to go with her. The boyfriend and I went with her and tried to calm her down, but she pushed us away when we tried to hold her hand. As the ride started up, I tried to spot my friend down in the masses of people. At first, I couldn't see her because she wasn't waving back or taking pictures. When I finally saw her, I realized why neither her niece nor her boyfriend were as happy as they were when we rode the ship earlier in the afternoon.
Even from high up in the air I could see the tears in her freckled cheeks, and it made me want to jump out of the ship and hug her. I tried to smile back at her but felt like a hypocrite, so I just stared ahead at the darkening sky and the lights of the ride against it, appearing and disappearing as the ride went up, down, up, down.
We went past various stands of games such as fishing, which my friend's niece played and won 4 prizes. Afterwards, we spent like $5 on those machines where you can fish out plushies, but only managed to retrieve a large-headed baby mickey mouse, which the little girl kept. I was amazed at how much stuff she bought; she had that plushie, plus another two and the toys she won at fishing.
My friend and I were tired of walking around with her niece, so we went into the main building to look at stuff and her boyfriend took her niece to the rides again.
We had fun pointing out all of the cheap crap that we would never in our lives use, although I must admit I saw some things I would actually buy.
I almost had an orgasm when I saw a stand that sold video games and things of the sort. My friend, I think, was wincing inside, but I went in and asked the guy about games for Nintendo Wii, because my sister wants to buy some.
Now, I'm not a game expert, but I think my sister has probably the worst taste in video games. Firstly, I think she just bought the Wii because it got so much publicity and everyone was saying how cool it is because of the wireless remote and whatnot. But if you ask me, I say Wii is a synonym of crap. The only good thing about it is that you can move around and stuff, but I personally prefer the Nintendo Gamecube. I don't know about gaming, either, and I know Play Station is probably better, but I always wanted a Gamecube (although I was happy with my 64, I don't know why my mother had to give it away). Thankfully, the Wii takes Gamecube games, so as soon as I can, I am buying some remotes and more games.
But I didn't find anything interesting games in that stand (just Tony Hawk Underground; I always wanted a skating game), so we moved on, and further on, we came to another video game store, and they had used Gamecube games for sale. I found Soul Calibur, a game which I loved since I first played, for $10 and, even though I don't have any Gamecube controls yet, I bough it.
Hopefully, I'll get at least one remote tomorrow, and, someday, I'll get more games. I'm DYING to buy Naruto Clash of Ninja and a few others. (If anyone who knows about games reads this, could I get some recommendations?)
After buying my game (by this time my friend's boyfriend and niece had rejoined us) we wandered around some more until everyone got tired and we decided to leave. The last thing we purchased were some rings; I'd spent all of my remaining money on the game, but when I dug in my pockets I found out I had a dollar, so I bought a nice ring.
So even though the day started out crappy, it got better. Tomorrow I hope I can go buy a control and I'll practice so I can totally kick my boyfriend's ass at SC when he comes back from the beach!
Thursday, 31 July 2008
Initially, I was doing it for brownie points
Today I had to wake up early (groooan), so I only got about 4 hours of sleep (double groan, considering I've been getting about 8-12 hours of sleep every other day). My mom had asked me if I wanted to go with her to a town famous for its pottery, where she, along with her co-worker, would conduct a few interviews (by a few I mean two formal ones and some random questions to random people here and there).
At first (yesterday), I had said yes, then I got angry and said no. But this morning I really had no choice. At 7 am, she burst into my room and stood over my bed saying "wake up!" repeatedly. I groaned and waved her away, but she kept insisting and then left, leaving my door open (which I LOATHE; I cannot sleep peacefully with an open door, so my parents use it as a wake-up method).
So then, still struggling to open my eyes and get past the morning stupor, I weighed the odds of going and not going, deciding that if I went I might get on my mom's good side for being a good sport and whatnot. I'm still trying to get her to buy me a handbag I saw last Saturday; she says I won't get it until I "change my ways" and learn to be patient and be nice to people, blah blah. But that method of hers doesn't really work, for every time she reminds me that I'm not getting the handbag, I go berserk and feel like hitting someone. Is it that hard, to please a girl?! I never ask for a handbag. Up till a few months ago I was a handbag hater (even though I've always found Louis Vuitton stuff so damn pretty), and now that I ask for one, I can't get it. Seriously, it wasn't even that expensive! 35 bucks. Jeez. You'd think a penny-pinching mother like mine would recognize a good deal when she saw it. But I digress.
At least I got to buy a frappuccino on the way to the town, which didn't do much except keep me awake for a good 2 or so hours and upset my stomach (gah, I'm never buying them again). The fun thing about these trips is that I am practically part of the team now (since I am becoming the somewhat official document translator for the project they're working on), so I get the whole scoop of what's going on at the office and what is said by who in and out of meetings. And I get along very well with her co-worker, who is the coolest person over 25 I've ever met; I admire her. It's fun, except for the part in which my mom tries to platonically set me up with the son of her boss (or at least I think it's one of the bosses). It's weird in so many ways.
So the drive took us a while, especially because my mom spilled some coke (the drink, not the drug...duh) and we had to stop to clean it up. What sucks is that my mom had her crappy new age music and we couldn't do anything about it. Luckily, her co-worker found a Soda Stereo CD and majority ruled, so the crappy music was out.
Before I go on, I must give you some background on the place we went to. The workshop was called Moje, it was located on the outskirts of the town (although the shop was located near the town entrance, along most of the other pottery-and-such shops) and it is a place where teenagers/young adults can learn to elaborate pottery, work with wood or metal, design and stamp shirts (as we went in, we saw a guy with a really cool shirt which he had made) or learn about cooking (but this last one is not fully elaborated, from what I understood). Aside from learning any of these trades, they also learn about business management so they can set up their own businesses and be able to manage them appropriately. This was created out of the need to improve the quality of the businesses of this town (which are mostly small and owned by the locals) and to get juvenile delinquents out of the street ("the idle mind is the devil's workshop"; give the kids some work and they'll stop killing people and whatnot).
This is, in my opinion, is an excellent project, and I was amazed at how these people had worked very hard to get numerous foreign companies to aid them. They had not only hands-on workshops but also theoretical classes, which I believe are of the same importance as practical classes.
The whole place was very well structured and organized, and we had the chance to see everyone working, both in their theoretical classes and the hands-on workshops.
The people doing pottery were awesome. At a glance, it looks easy, just sitting there turning a wheel and shaping clay with your hands, but they did if for such a long time and with such care and concentration...I don't think I could ever do that; it requires both coordination and patience, two qualities that are not very profuse in me.
Everyone was astonishingly polite and disciplined, too. We were treated with great respect and not once did I hear a guy whistle at me (ugh, it's so annoying when men do that!) or making obscene gestures (yeah, I could throw rocks at those, too). Though my mom did point out that the guys were "looking at you in a tender way", which in normal English translates to "checking you out".
And I guess change can be made; you can take delinquent teens and give them something to do and get them out of their bad habits. At a first glance, I was rather scared of the guys in the metal workshop because a few of them looked like someone I would not want to encounter in the street at night, much less in a dark alley. However, encouraged by my mom's co-worker who approached them to take some pictures, I got close and admired their work. One of the guys had a really cool wristband, which we complimented and said he should definitely make more of and sell. And there was also this other guy (good-looking, I must add...though never better than my boyfriend, heh) with a totally kickass red Fender shirt (which he had made...well, the design on it). My mom, as usual, did not fail to comment on the way he was looking at me when I told him how awesome his shirt was, and how I'd wanted to buy a Fender bass but they were too expensive.
After looking around, we went back to the office of the man who was showing us around, and my mom and her co-worker asked questions about the place and blah blah. I didn't mean to be rude or anything, but I was at about to fall asleep, had my mother not been poking me occasionally in a very discreet manner. It wasn't that I found the whole thing boring (well, some of it was, since I'm not really into economy and the country's educational system), it was mostly the lack of sleep and the fact that the coffee was beginning to wear off (quite quickly, too). But thankfully, after 4 or 5 yawns, the interview came to an end and I went off to wander outside of the main building before we left. I was captivated by the beautiful roses and metal decorations around the parking lot and near the entrance, but I started to feel woozy so I just walked over to the car and waited for everyone else to get there so we could leave.
That was the interesting part. After that, we went to this other shop back in town which had a 50-year story and specialized in miniature pottery and whatnot. The guy had even taken his art to New Mexico, where everyone adored it and he was referred to as "artist" rather than "artisan" (which I could tell he was very proud of, and it made us all smile). What I really liked was that the founder of the store, the current owner's father, also gave pottery classes back then, all free of charge, and they let students work there so they could pay their studies. However, the ministry of work or something of the sort came to say they couldn't employ minors, even if they were being paid the same as everyone else (which kinda sucks, cause lost of people here really need the money).
I was quite proud of myself, too, for I made a question, and even though I had some difficulty paying attention, I was following most of the interview. I could do so much better with more hours of sleep and without an attention deficit!
So then it was half past 12 or so, and everyone (except me) wanted to go have some lunch. So we bought some pottery from that last shop, saw a few more shops (and what he said about quality held true; his miniatures were the best in town), and then we left. I had the intention of buying some juice from this small store that sells the best natural juices I've ever tried, but I was too full (and in pain) from that morning's frappuccino, and nobody else seconded my motion; they just wanted to go back to the city and have lunch. So, we came back and had lunch at Asia Grill.
And that's about it for today. Now it's raining and there's not much I can do but read; there's not much I can do anyway.
In the end, I decided that I no longer cared about brownie points; the experience I got from my visit is worth more that 10 Louis Vuitton handbags.
(That sounded too much like an essay ending, didn't it?)
P.S.
I'm really sorry if something sounds incoherent or there are any grammar mistakes; as much as a grammar freak I am, I am having a hard time keeping my eyes open. But with this crappy memory o' mine, I had to write it while it was fresh!
At first (yesterday), I had said yes, then I got angry and said no. But this morning I really had no choice. At 7 am, she burst into my room and stood over my bed saying "wake up!" repeatedly. I groaned and waved her away, but she kept insisting and then left, leaving my door open (which I LOATHE; I cannot sleep peacefully with an open door, so my parents use it as a wake-up method).
So then, still struggling to open my eyes and get past the morning stupor, I weighed the odds of going and not going, deciding that if I went I might get on my mom's good side for being a good sport and whatnot. I'm still trying to get her to buy me a handbag I saw last Saturday; she says I won't get it until I "change my ways" and learn to be patient and be nice to people, blah blah. But that method of hers doesn't really work, for every time she reminds me that I'm not getting the handbag, I go berserk and feel like hitting someone. Is it that hard, to please a girl?! I never ask for a handbag. Up till a few months ago I was a handbag hater (even though I've always found Louis Vuitton stuff so damn pretty), and now that I ask for one, I can't get it. Seriously, it wasn't even that expensive! 35 bucks. Jeez. You'd think a penny-pinching mother like mine would recognize a good deal when she saw it. But I digress.
At least I got to buy a frappuccino on the way to the town, which didn't do much except keep me awake for a good 2 or so hours and upset my stomach (gah, I'm never buying them again). The fun thing about these trips is that I am practically part of the team now (since I am becoming the somewhat official document translator for the project they're working on), so I get the whole scoop of what's going on at the office and what is said by who in and out of meetings. And I get along very well with her co-worker, who is the coolest person over 25 I've ever met; I admire her. It's fun, except for the part in which my mom tries to platonically set me up with the son of her boss (or at least I think it's one of the bosses). It's weird in so many ways.
So the drive took us a while, especially because my mom spilled some coke (the drink, not the drug...duh) and we had to stop to clean it up. What sucks is that my mom had her crappy new age music and we couldn't do anything about it. Luckily, her co-worker found a Soda Stereo CD and majority ruled, so the crappy music was out.
Before I go on, I must give you some background on the place we went to. The workshop was called Moje, it was located on the outskirts of the town (although the shop was located near the town entrance, along most of the other pottery-and-such shops) and it is a place where teenagers/young adults can learn to elaborate pottery, work with wood or metal, design and stamp shirts (as we went in, we saw a guy with a really cool shirt which he had made) or learn about cooking (but this last one is not fully elaborated, from what I understood). Aside from learning any of these trades, they also learn about business management so they can set up their own businesses and be able to manage them appropriately. This was created out of the need to improve the quality of the businesses of this town (which are mostly small and owned by the locals) and to get juvenile delinquents out of the street ("the idle mind is the devil's workshop"; give the kids some work and they'll stop killing people and whatnot).
This is, in my opinion, is an excellent project, and I was amazed at how these people had worked very hard to get numerous foreign companies to aid them. They had not only hands-on workshops but also theoretical classes, which I believe are of the same importance as practical classes.
The whole place was very well structured and organized, and we had the chance to see everyone working, both in their theoretical classes and the hands-on workshops.
The people doing pottery were awesome. At a glance, it looks easy, just sitting there turning a wheel and shaping clay with your hands, but they did if for such a long time and with such care and concentration...I don't think I could ever do that; it requires both coordination and patience, two qualities that are not very profuse in me.
Everyone was astonishingly polite and disciplined, too. We were treated with great respect and not once did I hear a guy whistle at me (ugh, it's so annoying when men do that!) or making obscene gestures (yeah, I could throw rocks at those, too). Though my mom did point out that the guys were "looking at you in a tender way", which in normal English translates to "checking you out".
And I guess change can be made; you can take delinquent teens and give them something to do and get them out of their bad habits. At a first glance, I was rather scared of the guys in the metal workshop because a few of them looked like someone I would not want to encounter in the street at night, much less in a dark alley. However, encouraged by my mom's co-worker who approached them to take some pictures, I got close and admired their work. One of the guys had a really cool wristband, which we complimented and said he should definitely make more of and sell. And there was also this other guy (good-looking, I must add...though never better than my boyfriend, heh) with a totally kickass red Fender shirt (which he had made...well, the design on it). My mom, as usual, did not fail to comment on the way he was looking at me when I told him how awesome his shirt was, and how I'd wanted to buy a Fender bass but they were too expensive.
After looking around, we went back to the office of the man who was showing us around, and my mom and her co-worker asked questions about the place and blah blah. I didn't mean to be rude or anything, but I was at about to fall asleep, had my mother not been poking me occasionally in a very discreet manner. It wasn't that I found the whole thing boring (well, some of it was, since I'm not really into economy and the country's educational system), it was mostly the lack of sleep and the fact that the coffee was beginning to wear off (quite quickly, too). But thankfully, after 4 or 5 yawns, the interview came to an end and I went off to wander outside of the main building before we left. I was captivated by the beautiful roses and metal decorations around the parking lot and near the entrance, but I started to feel woozy so I just walked over to the car and waited for everyone else to get there so we could leave.
That was the interesting part. After that, we went to this other shop back in town which had a 50-year story and specialized in miniature pottery and whatnot. The guy had even taken his art to New Mexico, where everyone adored it and he was referred to as "artist" rather than "artisan" (which I could tell he was very proud of, and it made us all smile). What I really liked was that the founder of the store, the current owner's father, also gave pottery classes back then, all free of charge, and they let students work there so they could pay their studies. However, the ministry of work or something of the sort came to say they couldn't employ minors, even if they were being paid the same as everyone else (which kinda sucks, cause lost of people here really need the money).
I was quite proud of myself, too, for I made a question, and even though I had some difficulty paying attention, I was following most of the interview. I could do so much better with more hours of sleep and without an attention deficit!
So then it was half past 12 or so, and everyone (except me) wanted to go have some lunch. So we bought some pottery from that last shop, saw a few more shops (and what he said about quality held true; his miniatures were the best in town), and then we left. I had the intention of buying some juice from this small store that sells the best natural juices I've ever tried, but I was too full (and in pain) from that morning's frappuccino, and nobody else seconded my motion; they just wanted to go back to the city and have lunch. So, we came back and had lunch at Asia Grill.
And that's about it for today. Now it's raining and there's not much I can do but read; there's not much I can do anyway.
In the end, I decided that I no longer cared about brownie points; the experience I got from my visit is worth more that 10 Louis Vuitton handbags.
(That sounded too much like an essay ending, didn't it?)
P.S.
I'm really sorry if something sounds incoherent or there are any grammar mistakes; as much as a grammar freak I am, I am having a hard time keeping my eyes open. But with this crappy memory o' mine, I had to write it while it was fresh!
I was asked to stop breathing
I lay limply in bed, my eyes unfocused, my breaths becoming shorter every time.
Sometimes, I just feel like my body is asking me to stop breathing. Be it out of sadness, lack of energy or lack of will, I do not know, but I'm trying to find out.
This was a weird day. It was, in part, good. I wrote a short story on my other blog which I thought was great. But not everyone thought the same. And I've been drifting in and out of a sinking feeling of depression (and some anger).
My boyfriend (whose opinion I care about a lot, not only because I love him but because he is also a writer) said the story had bits that were "a little too personal". I did sort of base it on a real-life event, but I would never, EVER murder anyone. How could I? It's just writing. It's art. I had to exaggerate things to make them more dramatic and appealing.
I feel like I've failed, thus making me a useless pile of crap. But I can't change the story...It's my art. It's like asking Van Gogh to change his sunflowers into lilies because of popular demand or something.
I'm caught between my writing, which is one of the things I care about most, one of the hobbies I have successfully continued and possibly one of my outstanding talents, and my boyfriend, whom I also love immensely.
What to do, what to do...I don't want to talk to him out of fear that I will either end up feeling worse, that he will dump me or that something worse will happen.
But at the same time, I don't want to leave this hanging in the air.
What to do? Life is such a complicated thing...It's really hard to keep everyone pleased and everything balanced; there's always something tipping over.
So I'll just sit here waiting for my breathing to get back to normal, hoping it doesn't stop completely.
Edit: I think I feel better now cause I actually changed a bit to make it less..."Personal". Hopefully, that will make everyone feel more at ease about my mental condition.
(FYI, no, I am not a psychotic killer. My sole mental problem consists of ADHD, which is not even remotely interesting, but is a whole lot safer.)
Sometimes, I just feel like my body is asking me to stop breathing. Be it out of sadness, lack of energy or lack of will, I do not know, but I'm trying to find out.
This was a weird day. It was, in part, good. I wrote a short story on my other blog which I thought was great. But not everyone thought the same. And I've been drifting in and out of a sinking feeling of depression (and some anger).
My boyfriend (whose opinion I care about a lot, not only because I love him but because he is also a writer) said the story had bits that were "a little too personal". I did sort of base it on a real-life event, but I would never, EVER murder anyone. How could I? It's just writing. It's art. I had to exaggerate things to make them more dramatic and appealing.
I feel like I've failed, thus making me a useless pile of crap. But I can't change the story...It's my art. It's like asking Van Gogh to change his sunflowers into lilies because of popular demand or something.
I'm caught between my writing, which is one of the things I care about most, one of the hobbies I have successfully continued and possibly one of my outstanding talents, and my boyfriend, whom I also love immensely.
What to do, what to do...I don't want to talk to him out of fear that I will either end up feeling worse, that he will dump me or that something worse will happen.
But at the same time, I don't want to leave this hanging in the air.
What to do? Life is such a complicated thing...It's really hard to keep everyone pleased and everything balanced; there's always something tipping over.
So I'll just sit here waiting for my breathing to get back to normal, hoping it doesn't stop completely.
Edit: I think I feel better now cause I actually changed a bit to make it less..."Personal". Hopefully, that will make everyone feel more at ease about my mental condition.
(FYI, no, I am not a psychotic killer. My sole mental problem consists of ADHD, which is not even remotely interesting, but is a whole lot safer.)
Wednesday, 30 July 2008
You've got dibs on my heart
I couldn't sleep last night, even after I began the blog and wrote that one entry.
So, after I turned off the computer, I just sat there listening to music, and I felt this weird kind of throbbing sensation inside of me. I couldn't stop thinking about my boyfriend, either. And, a few songs later, I realized that I was...I don't know how to explain it...I guess I could say anxious, which drove me to write some really cheesy poems. It hurt me how I was feeling so much love for him and there was no way I could get it out. So I just fell asleep like that while listening to The National.
The feeling is still there, because I do love my boyfriend a lot, but it isn't fighting to burst out of my chest like last night. Still, I wish I could find a way to let him know how much I love him, because sometimes words just aren't enough.
And I guess it's weird that I get these impulses, but I think I know where they're coming from. Deep inside, I fear being alone or losing what I love, so I get a harder grip on what I cherish. That's another thing I've got to control, for I don't want to turn into some sort of people-hogging psycho or something. I don't think I'm on a dangerous level, but still, I have to watch out. Don't want to get anywhere near there.
On a lighter and brighter notice, I didn't miss my bass lessons today! And I'm making some progress. Hopefully, the teacher did not notice I haven't been practicing.
However, I'm thinking about going to another music academy or something of the sort after my 12 paid classes are over. This teacher doesn't motivate me much and I don't get a very positive feeling from him. But I guess I can always check YouTube for classes and whatnot. Hopefully, someday I'll be able to actually play a song and not hunch over the bass like the hunchback of Notre Dame.
It's midday; I still have the whole afternoon to finish the goddamn book.
But for now, it's time for lunch.
Toodles.
So, after I turned off the computer, I just sat there listening to music, and I felt this weird kind of throbbing sensation inside of me. I couldn't stop thinking about my boyfriend, either. And, a few songs later, I realized that I was...I don't know how to explain it...I guess I could say anxious, which drove me to write some really cheesy poems. It hurt me how I was feeling so much love for him and there was no way I could get it out. So I just fell asleep like that while listening to The National.
The feeling is still there, because I do love my boyfriend a lot, but it isn't fighting to burst out of my chest like last night. Still, I wish I could find a way to let him know how much I love him, because sometimes words just aren't enough.
And I guess it's weird that I get these impulses, but I think I know where they're coming from. Deep inside, I fear being alone or losing what I love, so I get a harder grip on what I cherish. That's another thing I've got to control, for I don't want to turn into some sort of people-hogging psycho or something. I don't think I'm on a dangerous level, but still, I have to watch out. Don't want to get anywhere near there.
On a lighter and brighter notice, I didn't miss my bass lessons today! And I'm making some progress. Hopefully, the teacher did not notice I haven't been practicing.
However, I'm thinking about going to another music academy or something of the sort after my 12 paid classes are over. This teacher doesn't motivate me much and I don't get a very positive feeling from him. But I guess I can always check YouTube for classes and whatnot. Hopefully, someday I'll be able to actually play a song and not hunch over the bass like the hunchback of Notre Dame.
It's midday; I still have the whole afternoon to finish the goddamn book.
But for now, it's time for lunch.
Toodles.
I wish I could begin with a more positive note...
So, I have no idea what I'm doing here. I just felt like writing about my life. I got kind of tired of writing about/through other characters.
Why third party, you ask? Because I always feel like the third party.
There's friend 1, friend 2, and me. I'm the awkward piece that's just placed there out of convenience or rather lack of anything else to do. I don't really know where I belong or just what I'm doing anywhere.
And really, my mind is always somewhere else. I have no damn idea where. I'm always trying to remember what I did last week, or what was such-and-so movie or book about...You get the idea. Basically, I'm a very, VERY scatterbrained person.
Hell, I can't even remember what I learned last week in my bass lessons...
That is just one of the many things that's wrong with me.
And, oh, I hate starting this blog on such a negative way, but I just feel a depression coming on. Another of the reason's why I'm writing.
It's not that I loathe my life; I don't! Believe me, I have a wonderful boyfriend, a nice family, a relatively new bass (I did lose my pick, but that's not a major issue in my life right now), and lots of things to keep me happy.
But I just get this feeling every now and then. I was reading this boring book (a summer assignment...blergh...I usually adore reading!) and then I began to reflect upon it and tried to formulate what I would say to the teacher once I got back to school. It was rather hard for me to remember every single detail, every critique and every sentence that made me furrow my brow with anger. Then I tried to remember other books I read (a fair amount, I believe; I won't say I'm a walking mass of literary knowledge, but I do have some experience) and I realized I have little memory of most of the things I've read throughout my life. Ask me about any book I've read before and I won't be able to say much. Or maybe I'll mess up the order of events. A lot.
And then, of course, is the issue of abandoning stuff halfway through. I've really got to work on this if I ever plan on having children.
I've always wanted to stick out in the crowd, to do something. But I never finish anything, and that has been pointed out more than enough by my mother, who is constantly poking and prodding me to get off my lazy ass and do something with my life, be that go out with people, find out about possible colleges and scholarships, tidy up my room, blah blah blah...
So, I don't know what to do right now. Perhaps I'll just go read that book out of lack of sleep and hope I don't miss my bass class tomorrow (again...), or I could keep looking for my damn pick, or I could study the stupid driver's manual (since my boyfriend didn't exactly help me study today, but I don't blame him, because it was mostly my fault), or just sit here listening to music and staring at the ceiling (which is what I do most of the time).
What have I done with my life? Have I done anything productive at all? I realize I've wasted so much time staring and listening and just thinking, and doing all of this just to forget about it and do the same all over again because there is nothing else I feel like doing...
I see it not as a lack of action but rather a lack of motivation. And what's worse is that everyone around me seems so motivated. It makes me feel like a useless stump of a person. So that is why I write to you, oh dear audience, in hopes that this so-called writing of mine will lift up my spirits and help me keep track of my messy life.
More later. I hope you keep reading, for this can only get better. Seriously, this post was a crappy, sad rant. Stick around for the next one.
Why third party, you ask? Because I always feel like the third party.
There's friend 1, friend 2, and me. I'm the awkward piece that's just placed there out of convenience or rather lack of anything else to do. I don't really know where I belong or just what I'm doing anywhere.
And really, my mind is always somewhere else. I have no damn idea where. I'm always trying to remember what I did last week, or what was such-and-so movie or book about...You get the idea. Basically, I'm a very, VERY scatterbrained person.
Hell, I can't even remember what I learned last week in my bass lessons...
That is just one of the many things that's wrong with me.
And, oh, I hate starting this blog on such a negative way, but I just feel a depression coming on. Another of the reason's why I'm writing.
It's not that I loathe my life; I don't! Believe me, I have a wonderful boyfriend, a nice family, a relatively new bass (I did lose my pick, but that's not a major issue in my life right now), and lots of things to keep me happy.
But I just get this feeling every now and then. I was reading this boring book (a summer assignment...blergh...I usually adore reading!) and then I began to reflect upon it and tried to formulate what I would say to the teacher once I got back to school. It was rather hard for me to remember every single detail, every critique and every sentence that made me furrow my brow with anger. Then I tried to remember other books I read (a fair amount, I believe; I won't say I'm a walking mass of literary knowledge, but I do have some experience) and I realized I have little memory of most of the things I've read throughout my life. Ask me about any book I've read before and I won't be able to say much. Or maybe I'll mess up the order of events. A lot.
And then, of course, is the issue of abandoning stuff halfway through. I've really got to work on this if I ever plan on having children.
I've always wanted to stick out in the crowd, to do something. But I never finish anything, and that has been pointed out more than enough by my mother, who is constantly poking and prodding me to get off my lazy ass and do something with my life, be that go out with people, find out about possible colleges and scholarships, tidy up my room, blah blah blah...
So, I don't know what to do right now. Perhaps I'll just go read that book out of lack of sleep and hope I don't miss my bass class tomorrow (again...), or I could keep looking for my damn pick, or I could study the stupid driver's manual (since my boyfriend didn't exactly help me study today, but I don't blame him, because it was mostly my fault), or just sit here listening to music and staring at the ceiling (which is what I do most of the time).
What have I done with my life? Have I done anything productive at all? I realize I've wasted so much time staring and listening and just thinking, and doing all of this just to forget about it and do the same all over again because there is nothing else I feel like doing...
I see it not as a lack of action but rather a lack of motivation. And what's worse is that everyone around me seems so motivated. It makes me feel like a useless stump of a person. So that is why I write to you, oh dear audience, in hopes that this so-called writing of mine will lift up my spirits and help me keep track of my messy life.
More later. I hope you keep reading, for this can only get better. Seriously, this post was a crappy, sad rant. Stick around for the next one.
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