What a Not So Pleasant Surprise

It's sad really, the things I have to endure because of it. Like I eat nonstop for it's preparation, I guess you can say almost like an inauguration. Prior to it, I go on a gorging rampage which consists of shoving anything I can get my hands on into my mouth. It's rather scary actually. Then the hormones start acting up and every situation just seems so depressing and irritating; during one of these stages, I like to express myself by throw meaningless temper tantrums and pointless fits. I feel bad for whoever is there during these explosions; I can see the fear in their eyes and their hopeless attempts at trying to comfort me. And it's all because of it!

I cried yesterday because of it since I suddenly left like I was loosing a friend; the person I went to confide in ended up asking me, "Is it coming?" and I immediately blew up in a raging ball of flames and started screaming and arguing to no end, saying over and over, "Nobody understands me, nobody cares!" Yep, these are the consequences I have to face every time it comes around, I have no control over my emotions, they're just everywhere!

Right now, as I am typing away, my stomach is again protesting, chanting "FEED ME! FEED ME!" and like a great loving mother, my mom declares that there is absolutely nothing to eat in the house. So I have once again resorted to three candy-bars: Crunch, Snickers, and 3 Musketeers. But since I am so terribly hungry, I am feasting away imagining myself eating chicken and mashed potatoes instead.

I just love it when it hits me in the pit of my stomach, making me clench onto my belly and wince. What great pains I suffer from it, especially during class where everyone just hears this soft whine and it's me in the corner of the room, battling it out with my cramps.

And yep, it just happens to pay me a visit every month. It shows just how much it misses me by rewarding me with cramps, PMS, and a mean appetite. Don't you just love periods?

Something To Think About

I have a question.

Is is weird in any way that almost all of my closest friends are guys? This may seem to some like a farcical question but it really makes me wonder and ask myself; is that normal? Am I incapable of making girlfriends? Am I just not a friendly/easy to talk to person unless whoever I'm talking to happens to be a guy? I don't know it just gets to me sometimes.

I admit, I am reluctant to talk to girls or share all my feelings/thoughts with them because there's a likely chance that they'll end up repeated to someone else, yep it's called gossip and I hate it. It's just hard to converse with girls sometimes when there's that constant nagging voice in the back of your head saying "I bet she's judging you right this very minute, I bet she thinks you're pathetic and melodramatic." or questions like "Do I trust her enough to tell her this?" I just hate having to be so cautious about every little thing that I want to say. Why can't I just freely express myself?

However with guys it's a different story, I know not every girl is a gossip-queen but with guys there's no need to watch what I say. I know for a fact that I can trust the ones I talk to and count on them to give me genuine and honest advice.

But here's the issue. What if these guys who I believe are my close friends are only considerate and attentive because I'm a girl. And what if the only reason they listen and seem to care so much is because I release estrogen instead of testosterone or that I have breasts which offers some sort of distraction from whatever words coming out of my mouth.

Either way, I just don't want to be taken for a fool thinking that there are actually people out there that give a crap about what I have to say when in reality it's not like that at all. I just want make close friends that like being around me for the way I am, me with my meaningless rambles, overly dramatic stories, and my ridiculously weird comments and actions.

MTV The Hills

I'm obsessed!

I'm obsessed with MTV The Hills. Season 5 is airing this Spring and I can't wait. My friends all think I'm mentally retarded for liking this show but I just can't help it. I've been a devoted fan for years now and I've watched Lauren Conrad for years, starting from the Laguna Beach days all the way up to now. There was a teaser on TV yesterday that showed a trailer of what to expect from season 5 and I almost wept out of pure joy and happiness. Yep, I have a undying love for drama. My heart yearns for ways to make life more fascinating and provocative, so since I can't live it, why not watch it.

The Oscars

I think it's about time for another journal entry. I'm feeling extremely expressive right now and you sadly is the only "thing" to talk to at the moment. It sucks actually if you think about it, that I am basically talking to myself but anyways on a different note, I just finished watching The Oscars and have come to the conclusion that I want to be a screen playwright. Yep or if not just one of those fabulous actresses on stage wearing a big puffy curtain-like dress with thousands of dollars worth of jewelry on me. Everything the celebrities wear just seem to exude fabulous-ness and glamor.

So this years or year 2008's "Slumdog Millionaire" reeled in a lot of Oscars, claiming Best Picture, Best Director, Best Music Score, and a bunch of other "bests" that I can't seem to remember. Oh another note worthy person is Kate Winslet who snatched an Oscar for Best Actress from the movie "The Reader", which I personally haven't seen yet but want to. Other nominated films were "Milk", "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button", "Wall-E", "Doubt", "The Dark Knight", and "The Duchess", which I really want to see since the movie stars Kira Knightley.

Overall the Oscars was beautiful, beautifully designed and arranged. Plus there was an added bonus for those who love seeing Hugh Jackman dance, talk, sing, and just apparently do everything. I know I did.

Naked Chocolate Cafe

If I had to recommend a place, it would be the Naked Chocolate Cafe. Its located only in Philadelphia, PA I think, and I had the pleasure of drinking and eating chocolate there last summer. Okay that sounds gross but it is the most deliciously appetizing drink I've ever had and the cake was scrumptious. Search it up when you get the chance and if you live in Philadelphia then you probably know what I'm talking about. Oh how I envy everyone who lives there!

Yumm!

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

I have been reading this one book called A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and it's one of those inspirational and heart-wrenching novels. The story is basically about "a young girl's coming of age at the turn of the century". The book takes place in America during the start of the 1900s, where times are extremely tough for those who are poor and education is hard to maintain. The story describes the narrator as a smart girl who loves to read but has to constantly deal with problems life throws at her, but the great thing is that through all these experiences with poverty, loss, and isolation, she slowly grows and matures into a intellectual and driven writer.

I haven't finished the book yet but from what I have read so far is superb. You rarely come across a book like this, where you sympathize for the narrator. What's great is the writing, Betty Smith writes in a way where you feel like you're there in the story; as if you're the one witnessing it all happen.

It's a Saturday and I've done nothing but read the whole day. It's okay though, the weekend is the only time I actually get to read, chapter after chapter. Everything feels so peaceful when you have a hot cup of tea, maybe something to munch on (for me it's dark chocolate), and a good book. I realize that reading makes food more enjoyable and reading before you go to bed makes sleeping more relaxing.

Tetragrammaton

So today I had a jam session with my friend, we are putting together this collaboration of the song "Tetragrammaton" by The Mars Volta which I must admit is a pretty awesome song. Normally I don't listen to stuff like that but that song I guess is an exception. So here's the plan, since I have been learning piano for about 7 years and my partner is like this crazy electric guitarist, I think this whole synchronizing crap might actually work.

The thing is that there's this senior talent show and I guess we're going to just go for it. I, unlike my friend, am super shy around people I'm not comfortable with so preforming in front 600 people might not be the best idea. But oh well, I'm gradating so why not?

After that whole escapade, I went to get a badly needed haircut for 20 bucks which is a pretty good price. When I was sitting there, the lady that was cutting my hair started speaking to me in Korean which of course I completely do not understand but she went on ahead anyway. All I did was smile and said "volume please?" and she nodded and started slicing and hacking away at my hair. Before I could even have a chance to shake my head, most of my hair was cut off leaving the back super short. The next thing you know the lady pulls out a blow dryer from out of nowhere and starts drying my hair. She runs her damn hands all though my hair, flipping my it back and forth while scratching my scalp which was awfully unpleasant. Then she started babbling again, holding the damn blow dryer 2 inches from my scalp. I felt like my scalp was on fire.

Yep. This is what I get for a cheap haircut, boyishly short hair and a burnt scalp. But you know what? My fucking hair is as voluminous as ever.

Craving

I am craving Tapioca Milk Tea. I don't know if you've ever tried this sensational drink but it's like heavenly elixir to me. It's almost like coffee, it's an addiction. I need to have one every week or so or else I'll feel incomplete, like something is missing. Well right now my taste buds are tingling for boba milk tea. I need to thank whoever invented that drink but at the same time I have boba milk tea to blame for all the cellulite that has accumulated around my thighs over the past few years. But oh well I guess it's a love-hate relationship.

And on a cold rainy day, there is always boba milk tea in an urn. It's orgasmic.

Routine

Well I guess that's what you can call my life: routine. Basically I do the same shit everyday, I wake up like 10 minutes before school starts, put on whatever first comes to mind, keep my hygiene in check, go from class to fucking class with the same apathetic attitude, munch on something when the bell rings for lunch, and then come slumping back home. Once I get home I immediately go the place that offers instant satisfaction: the kitchen. After that I turn on the TV which helps me shut off my brain for the next couple of hours and before you know it, I'm knocked out on the couch. Same shit everyday.

GOD why is life so fucking bleak right now? I just don't know what to do anymore so that my life can be somewhat spontaneous/interesting. The only thing that seems to be constantly changing are my journal entries.

I just wish there was more to worry about than just school, grades, and weight. Sadly there really isn't much to think about besides that since apparently my life doesn't give me enough fucking variety to keep my mind occupied.

I need to take a vacation, get away from my monotonous-drool-mundane existence. Yup. I have my days.

I am in love

I think I am in love with Sylvia Plath, her poems are glorious!

"Lady Lazarus"

I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it-

A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot

A paperweight
My face featureless, fine
Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify?-

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me.

And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot-
The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies

These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so i feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.

It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical.

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shot:

'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart-
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash-
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there-

A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.

Me, Cook? I Think Not.

So I was sitting in the living, hunched over a magazine, waiting for the food to cook itself and the next thing you know I am on the computer once again. Its a simple rainy Sunday and the weekend has been great so far. I was able to go ice-skating yesterday and managed to receive a big purple-green bruise in return for attempting to skate. Today is movie night with friends and we decided to make pot roast and mash potatoes together but the funny thing is that I just end up prancing around the room watching everyone else cook. I guess some people in the world are just meant to eat food, not cook it.

But I did buy this jazz CD that I immediately popped into the CD player and the next thing you know the sound of elegant jazz filled the whole house. It's the type of fancy dinner restaurant music that makes you just want to light candles and pop open champagne. So while I was reading a magazine and watching everyone else cook, I realized that I could really get use to this, living life on my own. Maybe renting an apartment with friends and just living together for college. I enjoyed the laughter; the "oops" and "oh shit" that echoed throughout the kitchen. It is just such a huge transition from the constant nagging my parents give me over every little thing.

The rest of the night was spend gorging on meat and mash potatoes while watching Love Actually which I must say is a very cute British movie. So there goes another free meal and another weekend, tomorrow is Monday and what better way to start of the week than to sleep in til twelve o' clock.

Clarity

It is a clear day. It is Valentines Day. The skies are actually blue, the air is crisp, and there are just enough clouds in the sky. I just love the weather and the clean fresh air right after a two day shower. When the sun emerges from behind the many gray gloomy clouds, its the most beautiful thing. I feel brand new like the rain has washed all my worries away, evaporated into the air, taking all the stress and complications with them.

So on this lovely day while I am here sipping on my steamy coffee, I decided to take some pictures from my backyard so I hope you enjoy them as much as I did.

Since it is Valentines Day and all, I have decided that it is the perfect day for ice-skating. Although Valentines Day is so overrated with disgustingly sweet chocolates and a bunch of "I love yous" everywhere, I think we should still take advantage of this day even if there happens to be no significant other.

An interesting poem...

"Cut"

What a thrill -
My thumb instead of an onion.
The top quite gone
Except for a sort of hinge

Of skin,
A flap like a hat,
Dead white.
Then that red plush.

Little pilgrim,
The Indian's axed your scalp.
Your turkey wattle
Carpet rolls

Straight from the heart.
I step on it,
Clutching my bottle
Of pick fizz.

A celebration, this is.
Out of a gap
A million solders run
Redcoats, every one.

Whose side are they on?
O my
Homunculus, I am ill.
I have taken a pill to kill

The thin
Papery feeling.
Saboteur,
Kamikaze man -

The stain on you
Gauze Ku Klux Klan
Babushka
Darkens and tarnishes when

The balled
Pulp of your heart
Confronts its small
Mill of silence

How you jump -
Trepanned veteran,
Dirty girl,
Thumb stump.

- Sylvia Plath

The Night

We grow accustomed to the Dark -
When Light is put away - As when
the neighbor holds the Lamp To
witness her Goodbye

A Moment - We uncertain step For
Newness of the night - Then - fit our
Vision to the Dark - And meet the
Road - erect -

And so of larger - Darknesses -

Those Evenings of the Brain-When
not a Moon disclose a sign - Or Star -
come out - within -

The Bravest - grope a little -
And sometimes hit a Tree
Directly in the Forehead
But as they learn to see -
Either the Darkness alters -
Or something in the sight
Adjusts itself to Midnight -
And Life steps almost straight.

- Emily Dickinson

Acquainted with the Night

I have been one acquainted with the night. I
have walked out in rain - and back in rain. I
have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat. And
dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry Came over
houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-by;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. I
have been one acquainted with the night.

- Robert Frost

What I love here is the contrasting view points of both poets writing about the same topic: night. In Emily Dickinson's poem you get a sense of sadness and uncertainty at the first two stanzas but later you see that feeling gradually progresses into awareness and realization. Frost however presents this depressing aspect throughout the whole poem. The mood is very gloomy and towards the end of the poem you feel extreme pity for the speaker especially when Frost repeatedly says "I have been one acquainted to the night," is means that the speaker is and has been accustomed to loneliness and misery.

It's amazing how both poets mention night and darkness but have similar yet completely different perspectives of what darkness really represents. Dickinson speaks of darkness in a way that symbolizes hope and optimism, it's like although the speaker fails to find his/her way, in the end the light at the end of the tunnel always prevails: there is always that beckon of hope in every situation life throws at you. Frost however registers this idea that there is just so much sadness and negativity in life that a person eventually has become accustomed and almost accepting towards whatever wretchedness life has to offer.

Just love how the poems are similar when it comes to certain aspects of the night while in the end still being completely different in each poet's true perspective of life. What is interesting is that both poems reveal so much about each poet's attitude and perception of the sorrow and grief that shrouds people's everyday lives.

Running with Scissors

Just finished Running with Scissors, and my final thought was "wow what a quirky book!" But the thoughts that flooded in afterward were intense. The whole story was very strange but exhilarating, its really refreshing to finally get to read something that strays so much away from reality. Every time I picked up the book, it was like escaping into another world where the worries and dilemmas I go normally through have no significance whatsoever in comparison. I just loved how there were so many detailed scenes in the book that were so hilarious. Whenever there was a incident that seemed like a complete disaster, the author always knew how to switch it around, making the situation seem like something humorous.

Overall its one of those books where it gets you thinking, I feel like just reading the book makes you more mature in someway. Seeing how the narrator faces insanely chaotic situations, makes you feel like you can deal with any shit life throws at you: 'when life gives you lemons, make lemonade'. Now I feel like being psychiatrist, it seems like it would be an mind-boggling yet entertaining profession.

Memorable Quotes:
"According to Hope, Freud died of kitty leukemia. According to me, Freud died of being trapped in a laundry basket for four days without food or water. "

"You can't come in here, this is my mastabatorium! "

"The stress had caused the psoriasis on Hope's scalp to produce extraordinary quantities of snowy flakes...The flakes would collect on her shoulders and scatter down the front and back of her shirt. This gave her the appearance of an actress taking a break from shooting on the set of a blizzard."

Memorable Moments:
"Look at your damn face," my mother said. You've got the face of a man twice your age. Thirty-seven years old going on eighty."
My father was very drunk by now and the only way he could imagine restoring silence to the house was to stop my mother from breathing.
"Get your damn hands off of me," my mother screamed, struggling against my father's hands, which had found their way around her neck.
"Shut the hell up, you bitch." His teeth were clenched.

"I hate my life," Natalie said again.
"I hate the ceiling," I said.
The ceiling was low, much too low for the room, much too low for the old Victorian house. The ceiling wasn't smooth either; it was bumpy, like the backs of a woman's legs. The ceiling had cellulite.
"It's old," Natalie said, as if this meant I should forgive it.
"It's horribly depressing."
The yellow light against the yellow walls against the old wood floor, itself a shade of yellow mixed with brown. The total effect was not cheery. It was crushing. It was yellow coming down on you. It was...
"Let's get rid of it then," Natalie said suddenly, looking around.
"Rid of what?"
"Let's take down the ceiling."
I smirked at the idea.

Hope slammed her book shut. "Natalie, you are so foul-mouthed. What's the matter with you, hm? All day long you whine about wanting to go to Smith and you can't say ten words without suing the F-word."
"That's right, Hope. I'm just a foul-mouthed whore. I'm your little slut sister."
"That's enough," Hope said.
"Go fuck yourself," Natalie gave her the finger. Then she turned to me. "Let's go to McDonald's. Let's get some McNuggets."
"Oh, bring me some?" Hope said sweetly.
Natalie snickered darkly. "We'll bring you a dead squirrel if we happen to see one on the side of the road."

"Help me lift this fucking mattress. We're going to turn a negative situation into a fun situation."
We are able to ease the mattress into the swimming pool out front without making so much as a splash.
The television set, the chair and both nightstands didn't make much of a splash either.
"Hey motherfucker," Natalie screamed toward the front office of the motel. "I did like you said and looked everywhere and I still didn't find my earrings."

American Teen

Yesterday my friends and I decided to have a movie night so we gathered around the TV to watch American Teen. Unlike all the other teen movies, this was a documentary. It's a documentary about 5 completely polar-opposite teens who all happen to go to the same high school. I love the director's choice of characters because each person was unique in their own way. However I didn't find one that related to me but maybe that's because my existence is so damn mundane, either way I really enjoyed it. For a person who loves reality shows, this movie was perfect.

I love having the opportunity to just take a peek into other people's lives just so I get a glance of just how bizarre and interesting people can really be. Like most people, I loved the character Hannah; there was just so much personality oozing from one person. She had big aspirations of becoming a director in a major city which is always exciting. The great thing was that in the end she went out to pursue her dreams even though both her parents opposed of the idea.

I am actually going off to college in a couple months as well and its great to just be able to see how other teenagers around the country struggle and stress about the same things that I have been through. Going off to college is a major step, I see it as barely the start of life.

Peace and Quiet

My house is chaotic, everything is a mess. My thoughts are constantly being rapped by multiple muscular men. There is no peace and quiet; something that I desire oh so much. Out of all the rooms in the house my pest of a brother is deciding to play his clarinet in this one. What is suppose to be harmonious melodies are coming out like farts and banshee screeches. My mad monster of a mom is screaming up a storm even though its already been raining all day today. My papi who enjoys a couple of beers after a "long day of hard work" is loafing on the coach, breathing with what seems like his entire massive belly which appears to be the only thing that's moving.

Yup, I'm just waiting for it, my mom like a vulture is going to scavenge for something to scream at while my dad bellows back using all the strength that's left in his enormous belly, while my brother blows the freakin hell out of that stupid goddamn clarinet! And I am going to just sit here and sulk until the day comes when I finally get some peace and quiet.

The Mysteries of Pittsburgh

So I recently finished this one book called The Mysteries of Pittsburgh which in many ways like the title, mysterious. Its basically about this guy who is really confused about what he wants out of life and especially love. So throughout the story which is really only the summer months of June, July, and August, he experiments with his sexuality. First with his girlfriend Phlox and then with an another man named Arthur. However towards the end of the story he falls in love with both of them, ruining his relationship with his father, who is this gang leader, in the process.

What's sad about the story was that it always seemed like Art was in his own little world where he was constantly lost and confused about what he wanted; having to decide between who he loved more and also having to live up to his father's expectations. In the end, Art decided to run away from everything, from his father, from Phlox and Arthur.

I guess you can say that this story has a strange concept but the thing I found really interesting about the book was how the author wrote. The way he phrased ideas together and the way he basically put things into perspective. Overall the book was very different than anything I ever read, but definitely worth it.

It's this thing called...

Yeah remember that post below this one? Well its been two days since that post and I already feel shitty. All thanks to this wonderful thing can the "period" where you feel nauseated, fat, bloated and willing to rip anyone's head off for saying the "wrong" thing. I guess the best thing to do now is to curl up into a ball and whimper for the next couple of hours before my cramps to subside. Wow what a great way to spend my Sunday!