Momentary Enjambments

Unfinished Business

2010-08-06T13:33:00.002-05:00

The last three weeks have been nothing but rain. Cold, wet, dark, unwelcoming.

But today feels different. Hopefully different. I can see clearly around me. And like a hard slap in the face, the reason why has presented itself to me.

All of this hurt, loss, the unsettling feeling of the unknown is fading into blackness. What once was stark white and staring me in the face now dissipates into the past.

The decision I've made and this choice to move forward with it scares me, thrills me and intimidates me but these past three weeks have done nothing but knock me down and keep me there. Today I've woken to stand back up, because when the universe knocks you down you not only have to stand up, you have to hit the ground running.

I couldn't have made this decision without my family of course, who love and encourage the decision I've made despite my ambitious goals. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Rith, my love, my equal, you are a great deal of the reason why. My next move is a little selfish and I'm beyond grateful to not only lean on you. I'm grateful that you carry me when I cannot walk on my own. These next years will be so exciting to share with you by my side.

To my best friend, Griffin, know that you inspire me when you do nothing at all. You constantly remind me to reduce the debt in life, to reduce the excess and for that I thank you. Thank you for not only keeping it real, but thank you for reminding me that the beaten path isn't necessarily the right path for everyone.

The wheels of change are in motion, once everything is complete and official I'll share with the rest of you what I plan to do next. To my readers in general, thank you for sharing all of this with me, I've got big surprises in store in the coming months, stay tuned.

Stay With It

2010-07-22T15:30:00.003-05:00

I've practiced yoga with several different instructors in various studios and gyms and also at different levels of difficulty. One of my favorite things that these instructors had in common was said to the class when we were posed in the most uncomfortable of positions. "Stay with it, the pain won't last long."

And of course, it wasn't really painful or else your body would tell you to release the position, but to hear that reminder in class kept me going, kept me folded, kept me twisted, kept me bent. I say that phrase to myself more often these days and outside of the yoga classes.

A few weeks ago when my tires were stolen and I was laid off the very next day I couldn't help but feel utterly defeated. But I said to myself, both verbally and internally..."Stay with it Tash, it won't last long."

Sometimes we just need to remind ourselves that the pain simply means we're alive. Tires are replaceable and a job is just another opportunity. More importantly, our careers are not what makes us who we are, but rather its what we do. Stay with it.

Interpreter of Maladies

2010-07-15T19:59:00.003-05:00

On July 8th, at 7am I kissed my boyfriend goodbye as I walked out of our apartment to my car to get in my usual morning cardio at the gym. I got into my car, locked the doors and started the engine. I took the gear shift out of neutral and shifted to first after releasing the e-brake. I turned the wheel to drive off but my car was unmovable.

Without knowing that both of my passenger tires were stolen, I repeated the same steps to no resolve. Finally, I got out of my car to walk around and inspect the problem. As I made my way to the passenger side, there lay my car, propped on two broken red bricks without rims, tires or lug nuts.

Initially I felt confused, saddened and then angry. Really angry. I felt personally violated against. I felt targeted. My mind was overwhelmed with questions, "Who would do this?" and "Why me?" But these questions didn't help nor did they make me feel better.

I ran back to my apartment and fell apart in Rith's arms. We called the police, filed a report, called my insurance as well as a tow truck. When all I wanted to do was crawl into a ball and cry there was no time for it. With $1800 worth of damages, I'm grateful that I was not in any danger. Sure, that certainly wasn't an expense I was planning for but at the end of the day I reminded myself that all material things can be replaced.

The very next morning, because I had taken Thursday off to deal with my stolen tires, I went into work about two hours early. At almost noon that day, myself, my entire team and several others were laid off. I wish I could take back my tears in that conference room because it wasn't worth my tears. I just couldn't believe it, couldn't believe any of it. It suddenly felt that everything in my world was crashing down right on top of me. Everything that had felt safe and comfortable, everything I knew was no more. The blows weren't stopping and I couldn't help but take it personally.

If everything happens for a reason, what was the reason for this? I don't know but I hope that the answer isn't far away. As for now, I'm taking some time off to focus on me. That may sound really selfish but after a weekend of some serious defeat, my mind, heart and body need a little TLC. I'm so grateful to have a supportive and loving boyfriend and family because without them I don't know how I'll get by.

I will tell you one more thing, it's day 3 of being at home and I'm already going crazy. It's not relaxing nor is it any fun...must seriously re-focus my happy thoughts.

il dolce stil nuovo

2010-07-07T15:36:00.003-05:00

I read something really beautiful today. Currently I'm reading "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert and she talks about why she went to Rome to learn Italian. Il dolce stil nuovo means "the sweet new style." I read it and instantly it brought a smile to my face. Change is what I take away from that phrase...the sweet new change.

Though she was talking about the origin of the Italian language as we now know it, I feel it applies to anything you wish it to. At this very moment, though many things are the same, many little things around me and in my life are changing. I'm constantly in flux and certainly basking in il dolce stil nuovo.

Living with my boyfriend is so new. Everything about it is new. We do nearly everything together, we eat together, clean together, go to the gym together, sleep together and my favorite, we wake up together every single morning. I'm loving every minute of it, even when it's difficult and we argue about the little things; when he leaves one plate in our empty sink I can't help but love him all over again for all the great things he does. He does our laundry and folds it without hesitation. He picks up groceries I don't even ask for when we don't go together just because he knows I like it or crave it. He lifts weights with me three times a week even though I slow down his workout routine. And these are all silly things, but they're tiny details. There's so much more than I can't put in words. He's constantly putting me first and that means more to me than a man who leaves one dish in the sink.

When I wake up in the morning and begin to open my eyes, I become fully conscious and feel his arms around me. Safety. Security.

L'mor che move il sole e l'altre stelle...
The love that moves the sun and the other stars.
- Dante Aligheri

If you don't already, go and seek il dolce stil nuovo though most times, it certainly seeks you.

Baby Fever

2010-06-28T14:10:00.006-05:00

You know when you're old? When your entire weekend is packed with baby play dates and baptisms.

My nephew Darren James is so precious, when I don't see him during the weekdays I can't stop thinking about him. On weekends, my boyfriend and I make the trip up to Wauconda and spend the day with him yet somehow it's still not enough.

It's so funny and interesting to learn that you can watch babies do just about anything and be just in awe.

I could watch Darren sleep for hours and still not take my eyes off of him.

With my other sister pregnant, baby fever is in the air. And though babies are a welcome miracle, I'm personally nowhere near ready to want or have one.

It's a good thing we'll have two babies in the family this year...

Oral Fixation

2010-06-25T14:44:00.003-05:00

The many and albeit daily eating downfalls at the office include boxes of sugar coated donuts, homemade brownies, cupcakes, candy filled cabinets and don't forget fast food lunches -- all washed down with an endless coffee supply. No thanks!

In the last 8 or so months I've put on some weight, when I tell people how much weight I've gained I find that the usual response is along the lines of, "I can't tell," or "that's not a bad at all."

But it is bad, I'm 5 feet tall so every pound matters on a petite figure like mine. I'm not upset about the weight gain but I'm certainly doing something about it. Big changes have happened in my life since last fall when I was at my physical best: I moved out of my parent's home in the suburbs, I'm now working downtown and living with my boyfriend in the city.

New home, new relationship, new job -- change can lead to a lot of things and in my case, weight gain. Suffice it to say, I've let myself go a little bit and have put on about 8 lbs, a little less than 1 lb for every month my boyfriend and I have been together. While it's certainly not an excuse to eat anything I want all the time, I accept the change and am now moving forward with becoming healthier. I've been at the gym almost every day this week to reinforce cardio and strength training as a routine.

And because I sit at a desk for 8 hours on Monday through Friday, eating healthy is harder than one would think, or at least it was. Ever since we moved in together two weeks ago, we've been cooking dinner at home and also packing our own lunches. This is a much better alternative than running downstairs and hitting one of the many fast food chains in the Loop, it's cost effective too!

Now I don't consider myself a "snacker," but there are times while I'm at work that I just need something, a piece of gum or mint...or whatever I can grab in our company's "candy cabinet."

In an effort to appease said oral fixations, I've recently purchased a 150 count container of Yummy Earth's Organic Lollipops from Amazon. They're all natural lollipops (no artificial flavoring or dyes) and a serving size is about 3 pops for 70 calories. I've shared these with my team (and other teams) and everyone really loves them. They're also fairly sour and less sweet which is highly enjoyable. I've got them at my desk, readily available for when that craving kicks in...

The Writing Won't Be On the Wall

2010-06-21T11:18:00.005-05:00

In light of some personal realizations I've made the choice to remove myself from the Facebook community. It's been a presence in my mind for quite some time now and after evaluating my life in terms of what I want, need and where I wish to be in the future, Facebook is not a part in any of those plans.

So why does it sound like I'm talking about letting go of a relationship, it's a social networking site, not a person right? Reality check: Facebook was something I was a part of every single day. It was a part of my morning routine, as soon as I checked my emails upon waking up and again on my commute to the office. It was a part of my workday, I always kept an open screen to view updates. It was a part of any lunch or dinner plans in the form of pictures of my meal and checking in on Yelp.

And last night, after an argument with my boyfriend, Facebook became a part of us, our fight and our relationship with just an insignificant moment of weakness on my part.

No more. At first I thought I would slowly ween myself off of Facebook, maybe set a countdown of some sort to login and/or update less. And then I realized this morning, I'm not addicted to Facebook -- there is no chemical substance I'm dependent on.

I am a person; I am a living, breathing, loving, working, intelligent individual.

Facebook is a web site whose online relationships proliferate because of only one reason: we choose to and willingly participate in these menial interactions.

I participate in these menial interactions.

You have to know where you are to know where you're going. So, where am I?

I'm an aunt with a precious nephew I can't take my eyes off of. I'm in love and living with a man who changes my life for the better every single day. I'm friends with thoughtful individuals who inspire me constantly.

And I couldn't possibly ask for anything more than that.

Just Like Raindrops

2010-04-25T14:46:00.003-05:00

It's such an automatic thing to get into my car and drive to the gym for yoga. I decided today that instead of driving I'd walk the two miles to the gym. Granted, it wasn't the best weather to go walking, but it felt surprisingly amazing to walk in the rain.

When I left my condo in the West Loop, the sky was an ominous gray and a faint drizzle kissed my face. About 10 minutes into my walk bound for my gym at Union Station, the rain began to fall in heavier, colder drops. I had no umbrella, no raincoat or hood, I had just my yoga mat strapped to my back, a bottle of water in my hand and my music. I have to say that walking in a rainstorm is one of my favorite things and it's so frustrating to realize how far removed I am from simple things like walking.

As a society we're so far removed from nearly everything; we drive when we can walk, we text when we could see each other, we believe in fad diets instead of routine exercise and healthier eating, and lastly, we use credit instead of cash. Needless to say we are a society dependent on instant gratifcation. When did this happen to us or rather, when did we create it for ourselves? Since when was it okay to rely on what is convenient and quicker as opposed to what's overall better for all of us?

Sure, we have schedules and commitments but who is to say that we can't wake up a little earlier in the morning to walk instead of rely on public transportation? Why do we spend hundreds of dollars on Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig and NutriSystem? Because everyone tells us it's okay.

You'll be hard pressed to find people who go back to the source, who manage to make life what they want doing what they wish without the influence of others. I'm not crazy and by all means I am not saying everyone who takes the bus is lazy, but I'm slowly starting to realize that every decision we make is truly ours. If we don't take advantage of it, everyone else will.

Having said that, I'm going to start walking from my condo to my downtown office which, according to google is 3 miles one way. Not only does it start my day with great cardio and fresh air, but it saves me money every time I don't take the bus. Why am I doing it? Because I can and because I want to. Yes, I have to sacrifice waking up a little earlier and maybe coming to work sweaty but that's my choice.

Walking in the rain today was so liberating, people looked at me like I was crazy and I laughed inside. All around me others were ducking under awnings waiting out the rain and there I was, yoga mat in tow, walking in the downpour. Fittingly enough, Basement Jaxx's "Raindrops" played on my iPhone as I walked and it was the most serene 4 minutes of my day -- not including yoga of course.

Walking allowed me to connect with me, to listen to my own thoughts and be with myself in these moments. When you drive you have to be aware of everything, what gear am I in, is that lady going to cross, is this parking? Ridiculous. More and more I'm wondering why I even bought my car, granted I was in the suburbs and well, needed it. But living in the city with everything within walking distance what the hell am I doing with a sizeable car payment and insurance? Hopefully I'll figure it out soon, I'll think about it on my walk to work this week and keep you guys posted.

Seriously though, get out a little. You'll be surprised at what even a 30 minute walk outdoors will do for you.

PS Is anyone in the market for a manual 2007 Scion tC?

Dear Gramps

2010-04-22T09:47:00.003-05:00

April 22nd is here again and I wish I could say it's getting easier. I mean, in the general scope of things I'm okay really but ever since you passed a part of me left with you. In reflecting on how to add and remove people from my life, in losing you I've learned that sometimes the leaving can't be helped.

You should know that everyone is happy, healthy and our family is growing.

You should also know that I'm so in love Gramps, I wish you could meet him. Lolo Boy thinks he looks just like you back in the day. The way he takes care of me reminds me of how you cared for Grandma. Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve him.

When we cleaned up the house a few weekends ago mom came across boxes upon boxes of my toys and onesies that you'd saved. I'm not sure why you saved it but I suppose you didn't need a reason, you were always like a father to me. Seeing my baby clothes carefully folded and packed ever so delicately meant a lot to me. Those are pieces of me that I can give to my kids, pieces that are so much more than pictures in an album. Thank you for saving them.

The Wonder Years

2010-04-20T15:35:00.002-05:00

This past weekend my boyfriend and I were out to dinner with my sister and her husband. I'm not sure how the conversation turned to this topic, but my sister and I suddenly found ourselves talking about our childhood and how during boring summer breaks, we used to hold mock-beauty pageants with one another, actually we did mock-everything at this age -- school, news segments, etc.

This conversation then lead to the discussion of how I didn't meet my siblings until I was 7. True story.

It's one of those things where you think everyone who really knows you already knows this, but somewhere in between the whirlwind of the last 6 months, I'd omitted this tidbit from my boyfriend, unintentionally of course.

So, I know it's kind of weird and most certainly not the norm, but not meeting my siblings until that age is probably one my most favorite facts about myself. Needless to say, I was a nightmare. I didn't share because I grew up thinking I was an only child and I was quite spoiled. When three young siblings enter your life thus changing the balance (or imbalance, rather) that I once knew, I changed and I couldn't help it.

As an adult with full control of my balance, it's interesting to see how the addition of new people in your life can change you for the better. Additionally, it works just the same way when you remove people from it. In the mathematics breakdown that is your social and personal life, when will we ever produce the ideal remainder?

Can I substitute Yelp for friends?

2010-03-23T23:45:00.004-05:00

True story: I was on the phone with my boyfriend tonight having our usual run-down of our days discussion and jokingly, I posed the question in this entry's subject line.

Once I said it out loud I knew that I half-meant it, then wondered what it'd be like to slowly replace my friends with restaurant and business reviews. No, I'm not serious. Okay, crazy - yes and perhaps fed up and obviously this is not a likely or desired solution or scenario, but hey...Yelp won't ever let me down.

Yelp won't disappoint me, hurt my feelings, judge me, blow me off or change into a whole 'nother website before my eyes. Stupid comparison.

Okay back to the real matter at hand. I'm not going to lie, I've been a little distant with some people - not to avoid them per se, but I guess just to gather my thoughts and re-evaluate these friendships in the long run.

What is it with some people? Everyday I'm more and more aware that I'm constantly annoyed with a pretty decent amount of people in my life. Is it my fault for keeping them around or am I at fault for not saying anything to begin with? I bite my tongue because I feel like some of my issues with them are petty and I'm positive they'll overreact and be too defensive to understand my point of view, so my qualms feel even more unwarranted than ever. Unfortunately, the maturity gap between them and myself is ever-growing. And this is no one's fault by any means, but it is a fact of life.

Change is good, I wholly embrace it. But when change happens to the people closest to you, you can't help but want to ignore it. Or rationalize that it's just a phase. And then question the hell out of it. In watching them change before you, does this then, in turn, change you (for the worse)? Or are you the one with the problem, are you the static character in a novel of a dozen dynamic characters?

At the end of the day my issues with said annoying friend(s) comes down to either 1 of 2 (or both) things, and it's not a shocker though as both points bring out the worst in everyone:
1) materialism
2) popularity contests

I'm 24. I'm at the point where I just want to scream, "Shut up, no one cares!" at the top of my lungs. No, I don't want to hear about your non-problem problems and/or Facebook dilemmas. I don't want to hear why you're forced to do A because you never deemed B, C, D or E an option. No one is controlling you, there are no strings, no marionettes on a stage, don't act like you need to blame every other person in the world for your mistakes and shortcomings.

So again, I ask, can I substitute Yelp for friends?

That's Not My Name

2010-03-09T15:14:00.004-06:00

It was around midnight on Saturday or Sunday morning rather and in a relaxed yet slightly intoxicated stupor, I made my way out of the Violet Hour with my sister, her husband and my boyfriend. Upon walking out and dodging the throng of people waiting to get in I hear inquisitive whispers that include my name and then finally...."Tasha?!"

I ignore it at first, as I usually like to dodge people I know. Plus, if you have to be whispering about me before calling my name out in public why would I bother saying hello? By this point, my name was called about 3 or 4 times, louder and louder and so I stop and turn around to confront the bumbling idiot calling my name. I saw some familiar faces from high school. Can't a girl get a break on her birthday?

I hate running into people from high school and I'll openly admit it. I have the most awkward conversations and interactions with them. So what, we went to school together for some odd years, we really don't have to talk now.

I'm not putting anyone down by any means, I'm really good friends with a lot of peers from my high school, we talk, exchange hello's via Facebook and so forth, I respect a great deal of them but these are also certain people I've continuously maintained friendships with.

Here's what's really annoying about that night. When I stopped and faced them after calling my name out a multitude of times, they stared blankly at me. Maybe you should consider being prepared with a response, or follow up, perhaps "Hey, how are you?" But no, nothing. They started at me and I stared at them. I walked away of course, are you kidding me? What was the point in all of it, to announce to the public that you knew someone?

I keep my life and the people in it very separate from almost all of the people in my past. Now of course, there are a handful of great friendships I took along with me but for the most part I've found out that time and time again a good amount of these people don't change. It feels wrong to group them per se, but high school is so far away, I can barely remember it. I just feel so awkward when I do run into them because we run out of things to say after the "What'd you do after graduation?" conversation.

If you're going to call my name out five damn times in public say something after you've got my attention. Actually, don't waste your breath because 9 times out of 10 I'll walk on pretending I don't hear you.

Journal 3831 Update

2010-02-22T21:26:00.003-06:00

Shame on me, I'm a bad writer for not having updated my blog since January. I've tried about 5 times literally, I've written opening paragraphs....whole blog posts even, only to just delete them. I guess it's just been one of those feelings where nothing was really worth publishing on here in the first place, which yes I know is silly because something, anything would be better than not posting.

Well, I have some exciting news. I just got my journal back from my lovely cousin and her kids in California. Before this, a close friend of mine took it with him to Brazil and I had to send it out pretty much the next morning so I didn't have a lot of time to have it to myself. Anyhow, I was flipping through it tonight after haphazardly tearing through the package and I could not help but smile like a fool.

In this book of blank pages are spotted, imprinted pages of love. It's all over, from the front to the back...romantic love, family love, sexual love, patriotic love, lost love, etc. I never imagined this would be a love themed journal by any means but it's just interesting to see, no to feel what loved ones and close friends express in words and pictures. I feel like a voyeur, like I shouldn't read it but it's mine, it's a strange feeling.

This journal project is truly enriching my life, one day at a time even when it's not in my possession. All I can hope for is that it's done the same for every single person who's touched it. I'll have it for the remainder of the week and it will be sent off again this weekend, though this time it is local, whew.

A Holy Discontent

2010-01-04T18:50:00.002-06:00

"The term ideal, herein is not used in the sense of an abstract, unattainable perfection; but rather it means a worthy goal that has promise of attainment through appropriate efforts. The gap between where you are and where you desire to be creates a mental and emotional conflict, "a holy discontent" - often called stress in today's world. Normally the first response to stress is to mentally and emotionally run over the outward indications of the conflict - anger, fear, disappointment, resentment, embarrassment, or other such negative feelings. In doing this one's mind is trying to fill the gap between his expectation of what he desires and what actually exists."

-Loyd J. Ericson, The Sower and the Divine Pattern of Progress

I know if we say love

2009-12-01T16:24:00.010-06:00

I know /
if we say love /
we speak of many things

That line is taken from Sandra Cisneros' volume of poetry, My Wicked Wicked Ways from a piece entitled "I Understand it as a Kiss." The volume has been at my desk since my first day of work at my new job--at the beginning of October. From time to time I pick it up and thumb through it - when I need inspiration, when I need love, warmth, comfort or to just feel full - of all of these things or quite possibly something more.

I keep it at my desk at work as a reminder, no as a declaration - of who I am and what I do. It's very easy to fall into habits that aren't natural to you, it's easy to forget that these things, these daily minutiae aren't permanent nor are they definitive of who you are.

Truth be told I haven't written a single thing since my return from New York at the end of September. And though I feel guilty every waking moment for it, I've come to the realization that my life has not only turned upside down and inside out in the last three months, but it's been cut into a million pieces and placed back in a whole new order.

I'm in love. And like Sandra, I speak of many things.

My life as I knew it has changed, nothing remains the same though everything is seemingly just as it should be. I started my new job downtown in October, moved to Bucktown in November and here I am at the end of another year. In reflecting, I can't help but feel sad for what is gone, for what isn't mine and for what I'll no longer have. But in this sadness is love and my future and it's here and you better believe it's not going to wait for me to be ready.

Remember This

2009-10-22T21:11:00.003-05:00

Life gets busy, we got caught up in the craziness, swirled right into the eye of the storm. I keep having to remind myself to stop and smile, to appreciate my life and the wonderful people in it.

It's silly to say since my boyfriend and I are fairly young, but when I'm with him I feel so young at heart, so carefree and reckless. It's with him that I can unload my stresses while also holding both him and my stuffed Cookie Monster from NYC in my arms. Every day I don't think it can get better and it does.

Yesterday, a mutual friend of ours, a wonderful person and talented writer (Hi, Monica!) reminded me to keep on writing. She told me to document these moments, this early stage, this unrelenting happiness--because even if it doesn't last, falling in love is still and always will be the best feeling in the world.

My family and close friends know I'm not an affectionate person, it's just always been hard for me to show love and to also feel it. There are a lot of reasons why I struggled with this but he makes all of my worries simply irrelevant. We can't walk anywhere without holding hands and you know what, I can't stop kissing him.

The picture above was taken after a water fight we had spontaneously in the bathroom. I think it encompasses who are together, it makes me smile like a fool every time I see it. It's also my wallpaper on my phone and his contact photo so I see it when he calls. Whenever I get an incoming text I see it light up in the background and end up swooning all over again.

So this blog is for you Monica, I promise to remember these moments -- like that moment in the bathroom after our water fight, I promise to live in the now.

One Question

2009-10-21T15:30:00.003-05:00

So many changes have come my way in the last three weeks, new job, new relationship, apartment hunting, oh my!

Happy is a term that doesn't quite encapsulate what I feel with all of these changes coming into play but I truly feel like many pieces are coming together. Every day I'm realizing just how blessed I am.

Not having been in a relationship in years it's exciting to learn more and more about one another together. I'm slowly adjusting to taking him into account in my own choices, understanding that what I do now affects him and vice versa. It's a wonderful feeling to be able to let another person into your life, to carefully begin to depend on them and have them to fall back on.

My boyfriend and I, having mutual friends before we started dating have received a ridiculous amount of personal messages from our friends and friends of friends who are more than thrilled that we're in a relationship. And it's such a mind boggling concept to me, when I still get them I don't know how to respond except with a polite "thank you." But then I realized, in our circle of friends and family - when two people come together the bond between the rest of us only gets stronger.

I'm not crazy or living with my head in the clouds - I'm very aware that this honeymoon phase doesn't last forever, but in the meantime we're going to soak it up. It's a weird feeling being in a relationship again, especially with someone (as my family jokes) "on the inside."

Everyday we're together I ask him one question, and it's a silly question but I feel that it's important. It's a question that doesn't necessarily need to be asked of your significant other but it's also a question that should never be assumed.

On Monday night, after eating dinner and after Gossip Girl finished, while Monday Night Football played before us, I turned to him and asked this one question: "Are you happy?"

Without hesitating and without giving me his standard variation of "Yes," or "So happy," he turned to me and said that he was the happiest he's ever been. Sometimes, a girl just needs to hear it even though she already knows the answer.

I am utterly and irrevocably delirious with happy.
It consumes me.

The Happy List

2009-09-17T13:35:00.003-05:00

As unpleasant as August was for me, September sure is making one hell of a turn-around...I can barely remember what maladies befell me last month! I've been so busy with work and life I haven't blogged in so long! Needless to say, things have been wonderful and I've been feeling amazing every single day I wake up. And thus, I present you...the happy list, yet again.

This weather. I absolutely love Fall, its brisk, refreshing winds, the cold mornings and warm days, followed again by chilly nights, perfect for cuddling.

Running in this weather is prime for me, I love it!

Stockings! I'm not sure if everyone loves stockings like I do, but I love having an array of colors ready for the season, Fall is the best season to accessorize!

Journal 3831 looks freaking amazing, honestly, I cried a little at its contributions last week.

First kisses are always great. That should have been first on my list. First kisses.

NYC next weekend, I have a feeling it'll change my life.

Sandra Cisneros' My Wicked, Wicked Ways

Journal 3831

2009-08-27T14:09:00.003-05:00

Over the weekend I watched the film 1000 Journals, by Andrea Kreuzhage. About 15 minutes into the film I found myself somewhat restored from what one could describe as a beyond hellish week. Literally, it may have been about 15 minutes in that I was overcome with inspiration, passion and drive that I decided on starting a traveling journal of my own.

The idea of 1000 Journals is pure genius, I cannot even describe the roller-coaster of emotions that I felt while watching the film based on the project of the same name.

Being the true Facebooker that I am, I extended the project to my own friends, real people who have personally touched my life.

I feel that this journal, my journal, journal #3831 will change people's lives. Though that's certainly not my goal by any means, I just want to offer my friends an opportunity to step outside of their safety zones. I want to them to explore their creative sides, to find the beauty in simplicity, to create and recreate, and to simply just do. Doing something, anything...is better than a blank white page. It's progress, a statement, a defiant middle finger to stasis and routine. I want them to leave their mark, on the page and in the world. More often than not we as individuals stay silent, avoid change and glide along with our mundane lives because we're too lazy or unmotivated to create change.

Journal #3831 will be my awakening, as an individual and as a writer. I too, have needed something to turn my world inside out and this project has come along for a reason, this reason. I hope it will help my friends and their friends (and quite possibly some strangers) to understand and appreciate the concept that any contribution is meaningful. A collaborative effort is needed in order for this to really get anywhere and I'm so flattered by all of the feedback, emails, comments and messages I've received for this 3831 project.

With my sincerest apologies, I have to admit that I've been a little under the weather and so this journal has not yet been started. I do plan on stopping in my nearest Blick Studio to pick up a journal and promise that by Monday, August 31st, the first recipient will be notified that 3831 is en route.

I've also just decided on what my contribution will be to 3831 and can't think of a more perfect time and place to share it. I'm beyond excited, really.

My biggest fear, my only fear, is that 3831 will be lost, stolen or forgotten about. Although I control the mailing list and ultimately its location, I cannot always track it. Participants have one week to keep it to themselves and in this week they can share it with a loved one, a friend, a coworker, whomever - it's all a part of the spirit of the 1000 journals project so who am I to argue? As much as it scares me, it's how it has to happen, and it's time I learn to have a little faith.

Bulletproof

2009-08-19T19:58:00.003-05:00

If I could share with you just how crappy this week is going by way of an immature and silly photo response, it'd be this (below), classy, I know.

On the upside, I've been having a beyond-fantastic music week. There's a song that's been on repeat literally all day today and the more and more I listen to the words, the more I'm convinced it was written specifically for me. It's been a really long time since I've really connected with a song, its lyrics, its beats, its essence in total. But I'll stop talking about it and let you listen, enjoy.

Anyhow, I much prefer the Nacey remix of it as opposed to the original version, there's something hauntingly beautiful about it and all it makes me want to do is write, which I've promised myself I'd make time for tonight.

And lastly, the lyrics alone both disturb me yet make me feel like I'm right at home. It's certainly not complex and thoughtfully written, but rather it's simple and to the goddamn point. Because sometimes, you just need to cut out the bullshit.

"Bulletproof" by La Roux

Been there, done that, messed around
I'm having fun don't put me down,
I'll never let you sweep me off my feet,
I won't let you in again, the messages I've tried to send,
my informations' just not going in,
burnin' bridges shore to shore, I'll break away from something more,
I'm not to not to love until it's cheap,
been there, done that, messed around,
I'm having fun don't put me down,
I'll never let you sweep me off my feet,

Chorus:
This time baby I'll be bulletproof
This time baby I'll be bulletproof

I won't let you turn around,
and tell me now I'm much too proud,
to walk away from something when it's dead,
do do do your dirty words come out to play when you are heard?,
there's certain things that should be left unsaid,
tick tick tick on the watch and life's too short for me to stop,
Oh baby, your time is running out,
I won't let you turn around,
and tell me now I'm much too proud,
All you do is fill me up with doubt,

Chorus:
This time baby I'll be bulletproof
This time baby I'll be bulletproof
This time baby I'll be bulletproof
This time baby I'll be bulletproof

Bridge

Chorus:
This time baby I'll be bulletproof
This time baby I'll be bulletproof
This time baby, this time baby
This time baby, this time
This time baby, this time baby
This time baby, this time.

The Happy List

2009-08-13T12:11:00.002-05:00

I switch purses rather frequently, maybe 3 times a week and all three times this week I found random stashes of cash in all of my clutches.

"When you move out, you're going to need practically everything." My friend told me this recently, she moved out months ago was preparing me for when I move out. Slowly but surely I've been furnishing my non-existent apartment, it might even be a smart idea to get storage space so I don't have to clutter all my finds at home. There are two important pieces I'm going to be very careful selecting, my bookshelf and my desk. Both of these items are more important than a bed and must thoughtfully be chosen. My book collection is probably my most prized possession, it grows every week and holds significant memories and sentiments. My writing desk will be in my bedroom since I've decided that I don't want to have a tv in there. Plus there are so many things I need for my desk, but don't even get me started. All I really need are my books. And hello major tangent! It's wonderful to discover your taste and style through furnishing your own place. Surprisingly enough, I've picked up a lot of African and Mexican pieces and cannot wait to see what it will look like once I'm finished. The goal is to apartment shop in November with my eager and willing sisters accompanying me and sign a lease by December. I can't wait!

I bought a ticket to NYC for next month. I'm tired of saying I want to do all these things and watch as time passes me by. I'm young and healthy, there's no time like now and I refuse to keep making excuses for myself. Albeit bad timing what with having to save for an apartment and all, I figured this would be my second to last big expense. Yes, I rationalize with myself.

The last big ticket item on the list before I go hardcore frugal is....my MacBook Pro which I'm buying next month too. I was torn forever between an iMac and the MacBook but ultimately decided right now I am needing portability. I still do plan on also getting an iMac eventually, maybe in the distant future.

My UIC student ID doesn't expire until December 2010, I don't know how that happened but I'm totally going to holler at that student discount @ the Apple store. If that doesn't work, I can use a "teacher discount" for working at a performing arts academy, so no complaints here.

Shu Uemura eyelash curlers.

OPI's Fall 2009 Espana collection, of which I have already picked up 2 bottles. (Give Me Moor! and Manicurist of Seville).

Training began this morning, I don't really need to train for the Hot Chocolate Run in November, I'm just trying to incorporate more cardio into my daily routine. It feels good to be running outside again.

Aloha Eats is a wonderful restaurant that surprisingly, was more down to earth than I imagined. Highly, highly recommend the Spam Musubi.

My next tattoo I think might be my favorite, it's two lines of poetry for which I've already selected the script for. It's my second to last ink and I'm not sure if I'm more nervous or excited about getting this one. It's by far the biggest tattoo I'll have done but again, I'm deciding on how big the font should be, I keep going back and forth with it.

Chaos

2009-07-28T21:17:00.003-05:00

It's interesting to notice just how quickly order and disorder trade places in my life. These past few days have been a blur and I seem to be waking up unprepared for the next morning that follows.

My bedroom is especially a mess of clothes, shoes and books. With my long-awaited vacation to Mexico quickly approaching, the packing process has been on hold. Instead, the more pressing concern I have now is figuring out what books to bring with me on the plane.

In other news, I've been editing my brother's artist biography for his website but struggle to really get anywhere. Needing to walk away from the task at hand to gather my thoughts, I picked up my copy of The City Visible to reread my old notes. My book's folded corners and lightly tattered cover surprisingly still bring me joy and the smell of it alone (weird I know) calms me. It's a musk of mostly rainwater (I accidentally left one of my windows open with this book on the sill during a storm) and my perfume (which sprayed onto it multiple times while in my purse).

Clearly, my mind's a mess as well, but sometimes not everything should be in its proper place.

Maybe I'll start packing tomorrow.

This Poem Waits

2009-07-09T21:37:00.005-05:00

I spent a great portion of my evening lost. Lost in the restored, original copy of Sylvia Plath's posthumous collection of poems, Ariel. I cannot even register any other emotion at the moment except for the emptiness I feel. I am emotionally drained, tapped dry of any useful feeling or thought. I've forgotten how much of yourself you have to give in order to allow Plath in. Although I'm exhausted from almost reading the entire collection in one sitting, I cannot complain. Ironically, at the same time a sheath of fulfillment creeps within me. I just need to process the experience, let it register and reflect perhaps in the morning.

I picked up another (hopefully) great read today, Word of Mouth : Poems Featured on NPR's All Things Considered. I haven't gotten around to really reading it, still kind of reeling from Plath. (I'm not really interested in compilations of poems by different poets, when I do read these anthologies I read them out of order, I'm neurotic, I know). I did open the first page and was overcome with the urgent need to share this with you. It's a dedication (or at least I took it as such) to introduce the book, Quincy Troupe so beautifully and transitionally writes:

this poem waits for you to cross over
to cross over love, this poem waits for you
to cross over, to cross over love
this poem waits for you to crossover
too crossover, too, love

If this is the beginning, I look forward to losing myself in it as well.

For Brandon

2009-06-26T20:27:00.003-05:00

I suppose it's natural for me to think of you now that I'm so happy. Of course, you also made me happy, you gave me a lot of things, but after I ended it, my life fell apart. I don't think anyone really understood what it was we had, our families, our friends, much less you and I.

Driving through Inverness today I remembered you, the way we planned the rest of our lives together on hot summer afternoons like today. I saw a couple who looked like us drive past me and wondered if he insisted on her holding her hand in the car the entire trip. I wondered if he kissed her at red lights, so distracted by passion that he didn't realize the light had turned green.

The messes we've made afterwards will never happen again and to be quite honest, I hope to never see you again. Please understand that I don't say that with hate or regret, I say it with solace and fulfillment.

You were ready to give me the rest of your life and I could barely give you the next week. Every now and then I'd imagine what my life would be like with you, how different it would be, how different I would be...but all along I knew I needed more, not necessarily from you but just for me. I gave you everything I had then, it wasn't enough for you but you kept on choosing me, loving me. To this day, I'll never understand why, nor do I want to know.

I knew I Couldn't Be Anything To You But An Aspiring Lover

2009-06-13T21:53:00.010-05:00

Beatriz, a good friend of mine, also an accomplished writer and current graduate student pursuing her Master's, and well, my own personal hero, recommended new poetry to me earlier this week. Surely I'd heard of Sandra Cisneros and all the hype of The House on Mango Street, but haven't yet had the opportunity to read any of her work. The very next day, right after leaving work, I picked up a copy of Loose Woman, a collection of poems by Cisneros. Let me just mention that I have very little to no self control when buying poetry, I tend to buy several books at a time because well, let's just call the bookstore my candy store. I could actually lose myself in a bookstore for hours, I try to hit Myopic in Wicker Park at least once a week, but it's always so crowded with tourists when I go. This week I was forced to go my local B & N, not quite the same experience but they had what I needed. I was definitely tempted to buy almost 8 books but narrowed it down to only three, in addition to Cisneros' Loose Woman, I picked up Jack Kerouac's Scattered Poems and Kenneth Koch's New Addresses. And I have to say, it's been a wonderfully fulfilling week for me.

To begin with, nothing could have prepared me for Cisneros and Loose Woman. People tell me my poetry is sexually driven and raw (which I don't believe in the first place) but after having read Cisneros my hold over my own sexuality in conjunction with my writing is not even comparable--I feel like I'm incapable of harboring my sex, my memories and myself. I'm certainly not discouraged by any means, but wholly inspired and in search of something I'm not sure yet what. All I can say is that I don't know quite what it is about Cisneros' writing but as Beatriz put it, "That is the one book that I feel I could eat three times a day and feel full and sustained."

I briefly thumbed through Kerouac, I personally don't enjoy him as much but bought the book as gift to my brother who really does like him. There are collaborations with Ginsberg and other New York School poets, but again I didn't really keep that one for myself.

In my very first writing workshop class, our lecturer had us read Kenneth Koch's "Making Your Own Days." This is the one book I cannot find anywhere, I actually try not to think about it too much because it makes me really sad. The book can be purchased sure, but it was through that literature, through that class and in the notes I took so adamantly in the book that I fell in love with poetry. And I fell hard, it was only several months after that realization that I also grew to despise it. My affair with poetry is a tumultuous one, with anything I feel passionately about, there has to be flaws. I think it's because it sobers me to the knowledge that I can't take it for granted because if it always came easily to me, where is the challenge? Where is the moment of relief and gratification in completing a work? I guess it's all subjective though since I learned early on that a poem is never ever complete, that it is in fact always going through drafts. I admire that poetry changes with the writer, the moment the words tumble onto paper we're naked and unarmed, telling you all exactly what we feel and how we feel it.

But shockingly and again I digress, back to Koch. I bought New Addresses, and cannot stress enough how full I feel--my senses are sated, overwhelmed at times but in the best ways. There are two poems that I cannot stop reading, two poems that I read again and again from the moment I wake in the morning and again right before I fall asleep. Let me first explain that an address poem is exactly what it sounds like, the writer chooses objects, memories, anything really to speak to simply as if they were a person listening--they are directly addressed to in the poem itself. I first heard "To Orgasm" (one of my all-time favorite poems hands down) as an undergrad and new that Koch was a genius. I complain all the time about being happy and unable to write and Koch was the only poet who I knew actually negated that stereotype. I'll share with you an excerpt of "To Orgasm:"

Someone was there, later, to join me and you

In our festivity, a woman named N.

She said oh we shouldn't do

This I replied oh we should

We did and had you

After you I possess this loveable

Person and she possesses me

There is no more we can do

Until the phone rings

And then we start to plan for you again

(Lines 11 - 20)

However, as much as I enjoy that poem, I've fallen hopelessly enamored with another one of his address poems, "To The French Language." It's a poem I read nearly 5-10 times a day, either in succession or spaced out throughout the day. I love the way it sounds when I read it to myself aloud, I've even locked myself in my bathroom with it, and sit perched atop my sink and listen to the words clearly echo around me. I'm a woman obsessed, no joke. I think it's also because I love the way French sounds even sans poetry interspersed with it. It's just beautiful, it makes me feel beautiful; it's a poem I imagine reading to a lover, while we're in bed, dressed only in wrinkled sheets.

Overall, it's been a fantastic week of poetry and life, love and writing. But then again, poetry is life, love and writing, is it not?

Before You

2009-06-12T14:47:00.003-05:00

I never was the woman
who would’ve have been
your safe bet or worse,
your sure thing.

I’ve loved and love but
is there a difference
between having loved
and loving?

To know anything by heart
is a false accusation.

I was a woman
undone, unguarded.
I was an
interlude,
an in between,
an other.

Never
this, but decidedly

always that.

Lifeline

2009-06-07T22:07:00.006-05:00

Blessed. I feel truly blessed these days. Honestly, my level of happiness is unreal. Lately I've been trying to picture my happiest memories and the people I've shared them with but nothing compares to even a fraction of everything I feel now. And what's crazy is that I can't pinpoint any one thing that's responsible for this, I guess I just keep waiting for something to go wrong, horribly wrong.

Although I can't pinpoint every single reason why, I know that a great deal of my happiness is the solidity of my family, more specifically my sister, Czarina.

To cut right to the point, we journeyed over to Molly's (I'm laughing as I've just realized that picture above is obviously from a family wedding many years ago but I start this story with how we went to Molly's. Disclaimer: That picture is not us at Molly's. LOL!) to satiate our pangs for something sweet, plus I really needed a break from Alliance. We got our cupcakes, grabbed a table and started to talk. And I mean really talk. My sister and I talk all the time, if we're not together we still manage to talk either on the phone or though e-mail. I'm sure this sounds ridiculous but I'm constantly searching for her approval, not because I don't trust my own instincts, but because letting her down is my greatest fear.

I am without words when it comes to describing the kind of person that she is, she is the heart of our family but she is my lifeline. I don't know what came over me today at Molly's but I told her something no one knew. I told her of my one and only regret in life. Sure, you'll say I'm 23 and too young to have regrets but I doubt you've done what I have. It was like that moment in the movie "Mean Girls," when Lindsay Lohan's character experiences "word vomit." Something just came over me and I felt that she just needed to know. It was an experience that I think about almost never that when it does cross my mind I question whether or not it really happened. What's hardest I think was that it happened last August, and not when I was 17 and stupid. I knew better, I knew much better and that made the reality of it impossible to come to terms with.

It's funny though how fiction and reality can be so closely interlaced, perhaps I wished for it to unhappen so often that sometimes I believe myself and forget. Regardless, when I told her (after we had both cried for an entirely separate reason from this, and yes we cried inside the bakery) she responded as I knew she would. She didn't try to tell me that she understood or that everything would be okay. She kept it real, which is so hard to find in people nowadays, but I admire that she's always so straight with me. She is the last person I want to tell things to and the first person I want to tell things to if that makes sense. But to have someone in my life who inspires me everyday is nothing short of amazing. On my worst days she still sees the best of me and drives me to reach my potential.

I know that my family and the relationship we have is not normal, sometimes I forget we didn't grow up together because we are so closely knit. But at the same time, the relationships we have with each other both together and individually are what gives me my greatest happiness in life. I also will tell you that a significant part of why I can't share myself or let anyone in--and I mean really in relationship wise, is because I've known I could never love someone who didn't feel the same way about their family. I'll sacrifice a lot of things for love, but I'll never sacrifice them.

IV

2009-06-06T09:11:00.007-05:00

Life has been awfully generous these past few weeks and I've never felt happier, freer or more blessed than I do right now in this present moment. To celebrate this I decided to get my third tattoo this week. I don't usually plan my tattoos and act mostly on impulse. Earlier this week after shopping at Akira on North Ave I decided right then and there that I wanted to get inked again with my best friend by my side. We walked down the street to Tatu Tattoo and unfortunately there was a wait. I'm the kind of person that if the time isn't right then it's just not right.

Luckily enough, after a busy morning at work yesterday I was struck by the urge to get inked again. Back in suburbs, Libertyville to be exact, I knew I could count on my regular shop to get my third tattoo. I'm not going to go into detail about what the tattoo means because if you don't already know then perhaps I didn't want you to. I got the number 4 in roman numerals, "IV" on my left foot.

The experience was in one word, gnarly. I'm not your average girl I guess, I have a really high tolerance for pain, which I think I've mentioned in previous posts. Getting tattooed feels good to me, weird I know. Now that I have ink on various parts of my body (inner wrist, nape of my neck and foot) let me be the first to tell you that the skin on your foot is certainly more "nerve-y" as my tattoo artist put it. It didn't hurt at all but I definitely felt spasms shooting down my leg as he first traced the outline of "IV" and then lightly twitched as he filled it in with a second needle. This was also the first time a tattoo needed more than one needle, so it was a really exciting experience. And to top it off, the man knew his poetry. Now I've had dates where men ask me what I enjoy doing and hesitate when I reveal my passion for poetry, mostly because they don't know how to react or what to say, the worst is when they start to rhyme a clever-on-the-spot-little jig. Lord. But this man, upon the mention of my writing poetry asked me what style and which poet I enjoy most. Again, hesitating I smile and say I enjoy a mix of french modernist poetry, Baudelaire and also the more modern language movement. As soon as "Baudelaire" left my mouth, he followed it up with his liking of "The Flowers of Evil." So there I was, getting inked and falling love. Sometimes people surprise you and when they do it's truly a moment to be treasured. I honestly feel so lucky these days, I've been meeting some amazing individuals and have been growing closer to those already in my life.

On the downside, I haven't been able to write! I've been so happy that I've literally created a jolly, impenetrable wall of writer's block. I can't even write a blog post it feels. Something needs to be done about this, but until then who knows.

I've Met Some Amazing Individuals in Spanish Class

2009-05-19T10:41:00.005-05:00

I'm struggling. I'll say it, I'll admit it. I feel like I'm standing at a precipice with no option but to jump.

That's the first thing I wrote down upon reflecting on my feelings at this very moment. Those thoughts of struggling have played repeatedly in mind these past few days, weeks even. As a matter of fact, I can still hear the faint echoes of those very words. They're only drowned out by more of my own constant questioning. When I close my eyes I hold back tears. It seems all of my options lately, no matter how extreme or proactive I try to be, are rejected. And I'm left wondering what the purpose of all this is. I don't know what I want, all I know is that I want to be happy.

I allude of course to the struggle of finding a job nowadays. Now I never imagined or dreamed that I was ever going to put my degree in English to good use, but I just was not prepared for how discouraging life after undergrad would be. I know a lot of us are in the same boat and I just can't imagine what the purpose is for all of these challenges. Sure, blame the economy okay but I have to believe that there's a bigger picture here. Since graduating in December, I've yet to find a job and everyday is getting harder. I remind myself to be grateful for all things I do have, my health, a supportive family, my writing.

And also I'm grateful for amazing friends. I met May in my freshman year at UIC in Spanish class. She was Filipina, and an English major. Already I was taken aback, impressed. I was an intended-nursing major then, not yet sure of who I was or what I wanted. She was in her final semesters at UIC when we first met. I remember just every conversation being real, refreshing, no bullshit, here was an individual whose light shines through words and conversation. It was after that first semester, after having met May, that I switched my major to English. Before coming to UIC I never realized a degree in English was even an option (not literally of course, I was more concerned with what my parents would think).

And through the years we've still managed to stay in touch and she's still the wonderful individual I knew when I was 18. Only now her light shines brighter because she radiates happiness and love, she got married and might I mention is the mother to a beautiful baby boy, whose first name is James, middle name Austen. Amazing, I tell you.

We've been emailing back and forth because I'm a mess and needed to reach out to someone who has been in my situation, who knows what this struggle is really like. To keep you up to date, I made the hasty decision of going back to school and renewing my CNA/PCT certification and do that work in the meantime, I've even been considering continuing on with an ADN. My initial thoughts on all of this have been somewhat muted and its times like these when I know I cannot rely on myself. After discussing this decision with my more than supportive parents, I thought I could really follow through. When I opened my email this morning, May had shared with me her input about my dilemma.

"If I were in your shoes though, young, beautiful, and single-- If it is in you to go back to school then do it because you enjoy it, not because you're struggling for a job. In the end the goal is not to have regrets. So if you feel that this will better your future then do it. Everyone's struggling in this economy so don't let that get you down. Things will improve. Happiness is key. No matter what you struggle with- job, money, school, etc- if at the end of the day you can breathe a sigh of relief and still smile, then I say you're on the right track! With anything you do just make sure it's worth it -- again FOR YOU! "

In two emails she'd managed to summate everything I already knew. Happiness is key, why is being happy always so difficult for me? Here is someone I don't see everyday, well we haven't seen each other in years, but she just got me. I don't believe in a lot of things, fate or destiny, no. I believe more than anything that seldom do we meet people in our lives that we make connections with, people who just see you for you. But reaching out when you need them and having them reach back for you truly is a gift. I believe that May is one of these individuals and I am blessed to have her in my life. Thank you!

Happiness is key.

As far as this going back to school situation is concerned, I've decided to put off any more drastic decision making for tomorrow. The second opinion which is almost as important as mine belongs to my sister, Czarina. Last night on the phone when I mentioned all of this to her she said that although she was happy for me for making my own way, another way, she feared that maybe "my heart won't be full" if I followed through with this plan. And I also fear that she may be right. But that's another blog for another day. I'll figure out my mess later tonight when I see my sister, she freakishly somehow always knows what's best for me...or at least what's best for me AND in line with what I want.

The Impassioned Eye

2009-05-17T17:36:00.007-05:00

Sometimes, when my life isn't what I imagine it should be I forget how important it is to be happy. Sure, you'll argue with me and say being happy isn't enough but for me, it's all I really need. Losing sight of what makes us happy isn't the problem, actually allowing ourselves to be happy is. Repeatedly I remind myself to surround myself with individuals who inspire me. Unfortunately, not very many people I know do. And I know that must sound harsh but I've maintained a fairly high threshold for creativity and individuality. So when I come across someone or something that provokes a stirring deep within me I'm forever moved.

If you asked me to tell you about my brother, I wouldn't know where to begin. He's a thinker, a wanderer, a man without an agenda. He's an artist, a photographer, someone who can make something out of nothing. I'm constantly amazed at his way of life, or more so his own personal ethic for living. Basically he's taught me that everyday is another chance to start over, to start new. He's helped me to realize that my life isn't set to any one course or path. Last week he booked a flight to NYC simply because he wanted to see the Francis Bacon exhibit at the Met. When he makes a decision there's no agonizing over plans or consequences, he just decides. As a matter of fact, if you ask me now to tell you about my brother, I'll tell you this, my brother is a doer.

I do see a lot of myself in him, qualities in our ways of living intersect. We're both creatively expressive with different mediums, we're both impulsive and go wherever the proverbial wind may blow us. I actually see a lot of my grandpa in him, a simple man who knew the key to living well. For my brother, I believe living well revolves around the simple idea to just live. Through his paintings and pictures I feel that he captures moments in life that he knows will never come back again. And I feel that it's an admirable attempt that we all strive for because too soon now turns to then and we just want so badly to hold on.

Getting to my point seeing as how I've yet again digressed from what I wanted to share with you, my brother's eye for capturing moments and memories is truly a gift. I couldn't fake a well composed picture, trust me, I've tried. In an interview with Charlie Rose, famed photographer Henri Cartier-Bresson said that (and I paraphrase because I just watched it and found myself overwhelmed with inspiration) "the subject takes you." And here we are, waiting for that perfect moment when we should just allow it to happen and take us. In any case, I believe that my brother has a likeness for this outlook in taking a photo. Yesterday, the Modern Wing at the Art Institute was unveiled and world renowned architect, Renzo Piano was at the ceremony.

This of course meant nothing to me, I had no idea who he was or even that a whole new wing was being added. (I learn a lot about art from my brother and in turn I teach him my favorite things about literature, it's a wonderful balance.) Anyhow, after the ceremony as the crowd rushed into the new wing, my brother stayed back and to his amazement captured this.

Renzo Piano walked right past him. And that's great and all, I'm happy for him but aside from that I love this picture. When I look at it, I see an honest moment in a man's life, and he's not proud or boastful, instead he's contemplative and reserved. Then again, that's just my observation from his expression. I just love this picture.

Another picture that I love is one that my brother took back in August. It was actually featured in the Chicago Reader this past fall and well, speaks for itself.

You can see more of his pictures here. Also, I'm planning on visiting the Art Institute sometime this week to see the new wing, my brother highly recommends it. I was looking forward to going by myself because there are things I love to do alone, but would definitely love company if anyone wants to join. It's free admission until the 22nd I believe and I'm always in the mood to be inspired.

"Maps are for people who want to know where they're going."

-Robert Andre Gregorio

Is Age Really Just a Number?

2009-05-12T17:10:00.004-05:00

So I don't know if my mind is playing tricks on me or maybe it's just an issue of vanity, but lately I've been very aware of my age. I'm not crazy, I think 23 is still fairly young but my teenage and even college years are certainly behind me. More and more I'm finding that I'm no longer carded at the bar or out at dinner, c'mon 23! Times like these frustrate me and questions of whether or not I look old pop into my paranoid head. When my sister graduated from U of I in May of 2007, she announced her engagement to Mike at her graduation lunch. At my own graduation lunch this past weekend I clinked my water glass with a knife and asked for everyone's attention. As a joke I announced that I too was engaged, my family laughed and cheered, but then my uncle honestly asked me if I was getting married any time soon. And its times like those that I need to reiterate to myself that I'm 23 years old...and am young and should enjoy my life the way I wish, which right now is yes, unattached. Anyhow, for the most part people think I'm older than I look, which let me tell you is not at all flattering from my standpoint.

The most shocking experience happened today when a man in my building entered the elevator with his son who was furiously pressing buttons. I'd met him a couple times before either in the lobby or the elevator and all of our neighborly interactions were nothing short of cordial. I smiled at him and his son and he apologized and I insisted he not worry about it even though I was running a little late to work. A few moments later he turned to me and asked if I had any children. He must have thought I was crazy because I'm not sure what kind of look I gave him, but it took me a moment to process what he had just asked me. After re-asking him what he had asked me, he said, "Yes, do you have any children of your own?" I smiled politely, personally confused...but answered that no, I didn't have any. Enter awkward silence. So I'd imagine that most people would leave it at that but this man was something special. He then proceeded to ask, "Do you want kids?" By now I was thankful that we'd reached the lobby since I wasn't sure how to answer his question with his 4 year old son in front of us. Was I supposed to honestly answer him and tell him that no, I wasn't planning on having kids at least not in the near future?

I opted for just telling him that I was far too young to even consider children at my age, when I told him I was 23 he looked a little embarrassed and reassured me that he was old enough to be my father and apologized for all the questions and then felt the need to explain himself. Apparently he felt awkward because he was 36 (I don't know what kind of math he was doing in his head for him to think he was old enough to be my father), a single dad looking to start dating again. And apparently I looked like the woman he wanted to ask out. I told him that I was flattered (not really but it was the nice thing to say), but not looking to date at the moment so that he didn't feel like he was a creeper for politely hitting on me. Oh, just when you don't think it could get any worse this conversation was one that disproved that theory. Let's hope not to run into each other on the elevator anymore. I'm almost motivated to start taking the stairs.

I Like...

2009-05-08T18:04:00.006-05:00

When I was watching the movie Amélie, not only did I love the quirkiness of the main character, but I also really enjoyed the way the other characters were introduced throughout the film. When a new character is introduced, the narrator lists random facts about what each character likes, facts that only someone intimately close to the character would know, or maybe even facts that no one else does.

That got me thinking about my list of likes, the things or moments that I like that probably no one else would ever guess about me. I watched the movie almost a month ago and since then have been compiling a list, this is what I have so far, I hope to keep this list and see it grow.

My List of Likes

I like hard gummy bears that require a bit of chewing. Haribo gummy bears are my favorite, sometimes I'll throw the bag in the freezer for little less than 10 minutes.
I like to open my eyes for just a moment when I'm kissing someone I deeply care about, just to see the way they kiss me, the look on their face, to see if maybe just maybe, they feel the exact same way.
I like to end every yoga practice with an inversion, that extra rush of blood to the head before savasana is exhilarating.
I like to sleep in lingerie on a random night even if I'm by myself. I believe it's important to feel sexy even without a man.
I like the sound a rubber band makes when you loop it once, then twice around a small but hard piece of paper, ie ticket stub.
I like the way lightning flashes erratically into a darkened room, exposing quick yet uncertain moments of clarity.
I like the slow, fatal burn of a cigarette.
I like eating a bowl of blackberries with a glass of Riesling after dinner.

Me, My Shadow Self and I

2009-04-21T17:26:00.012-05:00

I really think this weather is starting to mess with me. Yesterday and today I've been acutely aware of my shadow self, or maybe I've just been fueling it to exist in my conscious world. I can't really explain the kind of mood I've been in lately, it's not necessarily a bad mood, I'm not sad or angry, if I had to describe it I feel closest to actually being void of any emotion. It's because tomorrow will come again, just like it has, like it always will. I just can't believe it's been four years now. Four years since I've last seen or talked to you. It's funny, when someone dies you know that logically you'll never see them again. Not at family birthdays, not at graduations, or any more Christmases. After the second year it was like you'd just gone on vacation, or moved to the Philippines, as so many retired Filipinos do...or rather, did at your age. There's not a day that goes by that I don't wonder what my life would be like if you were still here, with me. You were my voice of reason. One look at you and I'd know what to do in any situation, especially what to do with my life. Sure, we all feel lost at some point, it's only human, but this week has been especially difficult without you. Once tomorrow passes I know I'll pull myself out of this, like I always do. It seems these days I'm the only person I can rely on.

Flowers by BORN

Irving Park pages of a tattered book
this, no my, biography is easily
recalled like a finger on page follows
words, familiar.

Alone in my car eyes fixed on red, stopped
as cracked windows welcome breezes from
my childhood, strapped in the backseat of
my grandfather's car.

Scattered plastic footballs, open carton of
golden happiness with "M" handled handles,
pigtailed sectioned hair blows freely. A
rearview-mirror-happen-

glancing, gentle eyes
smile the kind of love not unloved.

Eyes fixed on red fixes on green, gas. West
Coast Video blurs to a Block, the H&R kind
of Block. Crossing Kedzie nearing Kimball, red
signals stop.

3336 W. Irving Park Road cracks in the side
walk stained crimson, cracks of head against
pavement, the Friday of that week lasted
longest, spilling in an isosynchronous Saturday
too soon. Flowers by BORN, what's in a name?

Eddies of cracks course vein-like through
city streets. Breaks in concrete print in unknown
fonts on blank pages unscripted.

___

I'm not sure if it's appropriate to say your death was beautiful. Or perhaps, it was ironic, but there's beauty in irony isn't there? I don't know if I should cry or smile because you had plans to garden that day, or because it was Earth Day, or because you suffered a fatal heart attack right outside a florist.

You're a part of the reason for the lotus on my back, a reminder that through the mud and dirt, you've always seen me through, and I owe it to you to flourish.

Toggle

2009-04-20T22:36:00.002-05:00

I wrote this unsure if it was supposed to be a poem or a journal entry. When I read it I feel it reads like prose, a narrative, not so much a poem but it does contain poetic devices. It's not finished yet but I don't think I'll be able to finish it for another few months. I want to see where I am then because finishing it in now would be unnatural.

Toggle
I can feel the wine in my
thighs, calming no numbing
my heart, like how you used to.
I wish I could walk away--with you or

from you, I'm not yet sure which.

Nor do I know the difference. If there is
truth in the mirror and I
do not know my own reflection, am I
a lie? I want to ask the questions,
or rather question the answers instead,
I want to unravel you so you
might just come undone and taste
the wine on my tongue for
yourself.

In Other Words

2009-04-18T11:39:00.010-05:00

Flipping through my Moleskine yesterday, I came across a lexical translation of a poem I'd written last October. Or rather, I came across my lexical translation of a poem originally written in Tagalog (Filipino), rewritten in English. Lexical translations are challenging, as if writing in English isn't difficult enough. A lexical translation of a poem can be accomplished when the poet doing the translation of the original poem writes or translates the poem word for word in another language. Other useful translations of a poem can include a reworking while paraphrasing but keeping the original concept of what was trying to be conveyed, or lastly the words themselves (in the original language) can be reworked based off of sound alone, a simple homophonic translation.

Personally, I've written several poems with these translation styles and have come to find that it's just as, if not more than difficult as writing a poem in my first language, English. The only difference with a translatory reworking is that sometimes there are no words that express the original sentiment. For example, there are words or phrases in Tagalog that have no English equivalent and to rework a poem written in that language leaves you with gaps. In my last poetry workshop class as an undergrad, I once wrote a homophonic translation of a poem written in Polish. The original version was short, I think a little less than 10 lines and I rewrote it in the exact same form, line for line. Honestly, it was an amateur attempt on my behalf, but admittedly it was fun. The words were already there for me, but unfortunately my words for those words sounded forced and jagged, probably because I don't speak Polish and mispronounced the poem entirely. It's a great exercise though, I highly recommend it. The only thing I can caution you against is using too many proper names, a quick solution for rewriting any foreign language. Once my homophonic translation was complete, I translated the Polish poem word for word and discovered that my version of the poem had absolutely nothing to do with the original. Some people like to translate the original before rewriting it but I need to write blind, completely oblivious of its meaning otherwise I find my version loosely echoing the original.

I've been entertaining the idea of using another approach to translation poetry, one which would involve me writing a poem in Tagalog. I can fully comprehend Tagalog and can speak it fairly well (save for my "American" accent), but having picked up the entire language from my siblings who spoke it everyday around me nearly 17 years ago, my take on writing in the language is nothing but baffling to me. Obviously you don't know this, but I was the only one among my siblings born in the states. When we first met, I didn't speak Tagalog and they didn't speak English yet. The barriers of language allowed for little to no successful communication, but still we found a way. And that's what I hope to do if ever I get around to writing a poem in Tagalog.

A Weakness of Mine

2009-04-16T18:43:00.003-05:00

As of late, I've been reading up on Buddhism and its several philosophies on life in general and more importantly, the actions we make on a daily basis to attain a more fruitful life. I read this passage while researching kleshas and recognized one of my weaknesses.

"A person with moha (delusion) gets attached to an object while completely overlooking all the faults of the object."

-Yoga Beneath the Surface, Srivatsa Ramaswami

It Feels Like Home To Me

2009-04-15T16:00:00.005-05:00

It feels like home to me, it feels like home to me,
It feels like I'm all the way back where I come from.
-"Feels Like Home" by Chantal Kreviazuk

I'm feeling more and more like myself again these days. How I ever got so far away from myself isn't a complete mystery to me, but I imagine I could have tried harder. Everyday it seems we're always in search of something or in search of someone that will define us in a new way, another way. In a way that we for some reason can't seem to attain ourselves, on our own. I didn't find something to make me realize who am, nor did I find anyone, I actually just looked within myself to recognize my own beauty, as an individual. Aside from yoga, writing, my friends and my family, and all the other outside influences that define who I am, I've actually been finding my happiness in my appearance, which never happens.

This is going to sound ridiculous and vain but I think part of the reason why I'm feeling more and more like myself is because my hair is growing. I know it's a ludicrous statement, but to a woman, any woman, hair is a big part of who we are as individuals. Short, mid-length, long, permed, dyed, you name it, we all place a high value of identity in our hair...which brilliantly explains why I need to change mine so frequently. I honestly think I suffer a mini-identity crisis from time to time and the most accessible, most drastic change I can make is with my hair. I can't really explain why it means so much to me but right now I'm in a different place. My hair is dark brown, not yet black, and about six inches past my shoulders. And everyday I wake up and notice it growing I feel like I'm back, back where I need to be, like I found center. Aside from important social occasions, I barely wear any make up. This entire week I've worn nothing but glasses and mascara, and lip conditioner only because it's been cold and my lips chap easily. I'm not saying I wasn't myself when my hair was short but let's not all forget the reason why I chopped a foot of hair off in the first place back in 2006, I'll call it a mild identity crisis. Ever since then my hair has grown but I've been cutting it along the way, having made the decision to finally grow it out (and stop coloring it) my hair is the longest it's been in three years. And I feel amazing, inside and out. I'm not insane, I promise, but hair is something you have to be patient with, and I'm not a patient person, nor am I conservative, hence my stints of pink and blond hair! But I will say this, it's rare that I feel beautiful on the outside, and as my hair grows a little longer in its natural shade I see and feel my beauty more often. I think it's because I look natural, how I used to look before all the crazy hairstyles, I'm back to where I started. And it's funny because society would deem that as a step back, a retraction, a moment of weakness and unoriginality. I see it as quite the opposite, I'm finally back to a place where I don't need to outwardly express myself with my hair, or otherwise. And let me tell you, it feels good to be back in my own skin, it feels good to be home.

Little Bit of This and That

2009-04-14T17:11:00.011-05:00

I think it's really funny that when I have time to write I have nothing to write about. On days when I have so much to say I have no time to write it down, much less blog. In the "Notes" application on my iPhone you'll find lists of random quotes that I've come across at different times, call numbers for my favorite books in the library, or phrases I've overheard in public, and even songs I've just discovered. In other words, my iPhone is my stand-in Moleskine.

I lost my glasses last summer, I think the last time I had them knowingly in my possession was back in July. After re-doing my entire bedroom I was sad but not shocked to find that they were still missing after having looked everywhere. When I do my laundry for some reason I get caught up in trying on my clothes. Seriously, hours can be lost in this process, especially since I haven't been able to wear a dress/skirt in months. I have a hanging shoe rack in my closet where most of my pumps are tucked safely away (I don't have enough closet space for the boxes so only the special shoes stay in boxes). As I put on a strapless, maroon, mini-dress I reached for my brown gladiators from the rack. I put them on to complete the ensemble while also reaching for a belt stuffed into the shoe rack. As I did this, I removed my glasses (an older pair from 2005) and placed them into the slot the belt was in. I walked over to my mirror and had a sheer moment of clarity. It was such a habit, whenever I would try on clothes or try to get dressed I took off my glasses and placed them in my hanging shoe rack. I walked back to my closet and sure enough, nestled next to my blue, Charles David pumps, lay my glasses! I guess it's true, when you stop looking for something it will find you. Dear friends, if you hear me say I've lost my glasses, please make sure I check near my shoes!

I'm taking up naked yoga. My instructor has mentioned classes where chocolate is eaten throughout the practice (little bites, not entire bars) and it's supposed to heighten all of your senses. Well, I've heard the exact same argument for naked yoga. Lately I've considered joining a private yoga studio aside from my gym since I feel like I've got a pretty good grasp on the basics and even some of the advanced moves. Physically and spiritually I need to change my yoga routine and so I've decided to practice naked. Instead of spending my mornings in class, I'm going to practice naked yoga in my bedroom and then head to the gym at night for cardio. I'm really excited about naked yoga, although I do wish I had private access to hardwood floors.

Apparently a handful of my family members read my blog, most of which I knew about but until recently I've discovered a lot more of them do than I originally knew of. My initial reaction was shock, then I was rightly mortified. I don't hide who I am from my family, but my family from out of state (and overseas!) don't really know who I am. And suddenly my mind was flooded with over-emotional blog posts, personal and sexually-driven poems, and well...naked yoga. And then I realized, this is me, take it or leave it. And it is really something that in this day and age my grandmother's brother in Manila can read my blog and e-mail me nothing but wonderful things. And it's flattering to receive a message from my aunt on LinkedIn saying how proud she is of me after having read my blog. And I have nothing to do now but keep on writing, for myself and for them.

I want another tattoo. Recently, my friend Beatriz asked me several questions about my tattoos since she was planning on getting her first one. In turn, I asked her about her piercings since I've been planning on getting one as well. I think when people see my tattoos or ask why I want another one, they simply just don't understand why. Yes, tattoos are obviously a statement of personality and individuality but I could never fully explain my reasoning for wanting them properly. And she said quite beautifully, that she feels like sometimes her outside doesn't look how she'd imagined it should. And that's more than I can say really, I wish for my outside to match my inside, the beauty and the pain, my own self-expression. I think this third tattoo may be my last one, it will also be the smallest. Or maybe the same size as my infinity tattoo. It's going to be the number 4 in roman numerals on my inner left ankle. I don't know when I'll do it, but you'll be the first to know dear readers.

Dots Speak Louder

2009-04-09T07:58:00.005-05:00

I'm almost certain residual anger stems from all of the unsaid thoughts or feelings we keep inside. The thoughts and feelings of which we initially decided to keep to ourselves in the hopes of remaining uninvolved from any future unpleasantry. Why is it easier to keep it all to ourselves instead of saying what we want and need to? Deep down I know my excuse is because it's just not worth it. I'm an advocate for confrontation, I believe it's necessary in any relationship, if you can't confront each other then communication falls by the wayside. That's another funny thing, you're supposed to communicate in order to have a successful relationship but unfortunately we all seem to have different definitions for the term. Ultimately in these situations, I choose my battles. Only the relationships that matter to me have witnessed confrontation because quite simply, I won't fight for you if it's not worth it, if you're not worth it. The scary thing about being brutally honest with someone you care about is that the result can come to one of two conclusions: either your relationship strengthens or it just has to end.

In poetry it is most important to show the story and not to tell it. Anyone can write a poem if all they do is throw flowery metaphors in with some cliched emotion. The difficulty comes when we forget how to feel. The trick is to texturize it, to engage the senses to allow the reader to see the picture that each carefully chosen word helps to depict. For example, I can tell you about the red chair or I can show you the red chair, what it feels like to sit in, the uneven back leg that wobbles with shifted weight, the support it unexpectedly provides. Telling you what the red chair looks like is insignificant. The bottom line is that we have to cut out all the bullshit in order to be relevant but that concept is easier said than done. We focus too much on drawing the lines that connect the dots when in reality, the dots speak louder. In poetry and in life, it's so much easier to fill the space with flowery metaphors, to walk around other people's feelings, to keep things to ourselves. But in any case, not everyone deserves to be shown the red chair.

Mirror

2009-04-07T19:24:00.004-05:00

Reflection Exercise

Look at yourself in a mirror for as long as you can stand it. Describe yourself in as much detail as possible. Build a poem around your own reflection: the way your body changes over time, the small details of your face that no one notices, the reality of “facing” yourself, etc.

My face is a canvas of oily, olive skin: warm, welcoming, smooth. Overplucked eyebrows suggest a certain level of vanity. Boring, bland, brown eyes are lined with black kohl, creating an unintentional seduction. My eyes are glassy, empty, knowing, pained, expressionless if I stare a little longer. Underneath my eyes the kohl is softly smudged, flawed. My cheeks are pink, full when I don't smile. My nose is Filipino. Round, short, no bridge. I hate my nose. In the space between my nose and upper lip is the mole I grew up loathing. Sometimes I don't notice it's there but tonight I do, it's pretentious in its place, right above my upper lip, distracting. My lips are pursed, quiet, curved, keeping me from telling you the truth that only my tired eyes know of.

Revolt

2009-04-06T21:35:00.004-05:00

If there's one thing you should know about me it's that I keep everything. Literally, everything. I'm not a pack-rat by any means but I keep a lot of sentimental miscellanea from all aspects and junctures of my life. My grandpa was an accountant who always did my family's taxes and after he passed away I received my check in the mail and never cashed it. To this day, that check hangs on my cork board. I keep receipts from important purchases, not for superficial buys, but for example, I have the receipt for my Moleskine worn and mostly faded inside the pocket of my Moleksine. In high school I kept shoe boxes of movie tickets, pictures, and love letters..."love" letters from past relationships. Don't worry, I've long since thrown all of those shoe boxes away. The point I'm trying to get at is that all throughout college I was careful to keep all of my writing materials. I have a litany of books from different generations, movements, and even countries, all from the different classes I took. Along with these books I've kept my notebooks which hold all of my color coded, neatly written, highlighted, personal-dialogue-along-the-margins notes. If there is any one thing I am passionate about it is taking notes.

While preparing some materials for my tutoring session today I rifled through stacks of notebooks, some of which contained my penmanship that I found both familiar and unfamiliar upon looking at it. Side note: It's interesting to see how much your handwriting changes, how it is still changing, and how much of yourself shows through the swift movements of your hand. I think now more than ever I see myself in my writing. Or maybe now more than ever I'm oddly aware of certain eccentricities that I never noticed before.

In one of my notebooks I kept a handout which contained an excerpt from Education and the Significance of Life by Jiddu Krishnamurti. An outstandingly bold green caught my eye, I read the passage that my 18-year old self highlighted and smiled because I knew what I had thought was important then was wholly insignificant in comparison to the passage several lines below it. And my intention for this blog was to just share this passage with you but of course I got sidetracked. I think everyday we make decisions that change the rest of our lives, master of the obvious, I know. But really, I think a good handful of us make decisions that please other people, more than it pleases us. We're constantly searching for something new, at least I know I am. Be it a lack of adventure, or a crave for change, it seems no one thing is ever enough to leave me satisfied and I have yet to decide if that works for me or against me. Anyhow, passages like this are few and far between. It's seldom that I ever read something that clarifies and puzzles me, that answers questions but poses new ones...when I read this passage I felt it, and it shook me to my core.

"Revolt is of two kinds: there is violent revolt, which is mere reaction, without understanding, against the existing order; and there is the deep psychological revolt of intelligence. There are many who revolt against the established orthodoxes only to fall into new orthodoxes, further illusions and concealed self-indulgences. What generally happens is that we break away from one group or set of ideals and join another group, take up other ideals, thus creating a new pattern of thought against which we will again have to revolt. Reaction only breeds opposition, and reform needs further reform."

Thoughts Before Bed

2009-04-05T23:17:00.002-05:00

My friends say they admire my strength for being able to cut people out of my life without looking back. It occurred to me, as I realized I missed you for that fraction of a moment, if I was perhaps just weak for giving up on you altogether.

A Little Bit of Everything

2009-04-03T19:00:00.012-05:00

First things first, it feels amazing not to be plastered to my bed, hair stuck to my face, with a Kleenex box clutched tightly in my palms while dozing in and out of consciousness. I can finally breathe out of both nostrils and go several minutes without coughing too terribly. I also have my energy back and went to yoga this morning after missing Wednesday and Thursday. That was probably the hardest thing about being sick, I just didn't have the energy for yoga, much less the ability to breathe properly for controlling my ujjayi breath. On top of being sick, I've also been going into the studio on my week off to get some side work out of the way so I haven't really had any time to rest. Last night I decided to drink a little more Nyquil than what was recommended by the label, but no worries, I know my body and am almost completely better.

So now that I'm feeling better I must blog since I promised myself I would make more of an effort to write more frequently on here. I can't promise you this will be an inquisitive, thoughtful entry though, I'm really just quite rambling. Speaking of rambling, as I'm blogging here I'm seriously in the zone with some old-school Musiq Soulchild and can't help but sway. I might also still be semi-buzzed off of last night's nightcap.

I'm not trying to pressure you, just can't stop thinking about you.

Seriously, he's taking me back, for some reason it reminds me of when I was a freshman at UIC all over again, boy crazy and immature. And an intended-nursing major. Which by the way has been weighing on my mind like crazy lately, so much would be different in my life if I had stuck with nursing school but I know deep down that my heart wasn't in it, and it still isn't so I know for me, I made the right choice. Moving on...

Let me just say how ecstatic I am to finally bask in the sweet relief that is the month of April. I'm not going to lie to you, March has kicked my ass for what felt like all 31 days of the dreadful month. It was one of the most mentally, emotionally, physically and spiritually challenging months of my life, and all I can say is that I survived. That's all we can ever do though right? Surviving is key in any situation that life might throw at you, sure we can do it gracefully or get beaten to a pulp by it...but what matters is that in the end, we survive. And survive I did.

But I wouldn't have done it without the people in my life who love me, support me and catch me when I fall, who in turn, help me stand back up when I'm ready to. And it's amazing to have a wonderful group of individuals to count on. I've been working on "opening my heart" in yoga and in life and so far the rewards have been phenomenal. Progress.

Lots of change going on over here, first off I'm getting rid of my bed. I'm moving some stuff around in my bedroom, it just needs a new feel and I want to create a more productive atmosphere. In place of my bed I'm getting a futon which occupies a lot less space. I've decided to get a desk where I can write, or at least try to. I've always struggled to write at home, perhaps a lack of inspiration? Well, I'm taking matters into my own hands and plan to get all of this moving around and rearranging done by tomorrow night because I'll be in Wisconsin all day Sunday with Justin. March has successfully kicked both of our asses and we just want a whole day to unwind and sleep, knowing us. Also, since his birthday was on Sunday and well, I was running in a snowstorm, we're going to try to have a birthday re-do so I'd really like to be situated with my bedroom project by then.

Anyhow, I really need to get back to renewing my passport online otherwise my ticket to Mexico will be useless and a waste of money that I didn't have in the first place, but hey...you only live once right?

Credit

2009-03-31T20:47:00.004-05:00

It's weird to think of yourself in terms of ability, but we do it everyday, whether or not we realize we're doing it, it happens. How much work can I get done today? How much weight can I lose in a month? How much money can I save before moving out? We ask these things of ourselves constantly, okay maybe not these questions, but questions are asked. Physically I know what my body is capable of, I know what I can accomplish only because in the last year I've been challenging myself incessantly. With the Shamrock Shuffle 8k over with, I kind of feel like I'm capable than more than I ever dreamed, certainly more than I could ever give myself credit for.

I'm not going to lie to you, by mile 3 I was struggling, ironically enough I was struggling to breathe. When the air is that cold your lungs are doing double, triple the work. All the pranayama in the world couldn't help me out of that situation, I just had to deal. I've also come to realize that running is all mental for me. There were no physical setbacks or ailments, mentally I was focused too much on my breath. Unfortunately I forgot to remember to breathe the right way. When the breath is controlled the mind is at ease and vice versa, or so the Dalai Lama says. Overall it was an amazing experience, I cannot compare anything to it. The snow, ice, slush and ice water filled puddles only added to the gnarly running experience. I have to take a moment to thank my sister and her husband who ran by my side the entire time, never leaving me. And thanks to all the awesome bystanders who cheered on and high-fived complete strangers, talk about encouragement.

I will say this, I had only one goal for this run and that was to finish in the time allotted. And I'm so glad to say that I reached my goal! Unfortunately after sprinting my ass to the finish line all of my pictures doing so are goofy. But it's okay because I'm high on life and no one can take that away from me. In yoga today one of my friends, Dawn, (who also ran the Shuffle) told me to write my finish time on the back of my bib, just to have for myself. When I got home I did just that and hung it up on one of my cork-boards. Dawn reminded me to be proud of myself because as my first run, I accomplished exactly what I intended. And I stopped to think about this, I shouldn't need someone else to remind me to be proud of myself. Which brings me back to this whole idea that we don't give ourselves enough credit for the things in life that we accomplish. Why is it easier to believe in the negative, to see and acknowledge all the things we cannot do or cannot have as opposed to recognize the positive? It's all in how you see things I guess, for which I am now making adjustments. Anyhow, it's difficult to do so trust me, I know...but from now on I'm going to try harder to stop and realize just how awesome I am because I don't half-ass anything, at least not anything I believe in. And I fully believe in myself.

Questions

2009-03-27T16:36:00.015-05:00

First, just some rambling. I suck at life and am coming back to Facebook. Let's just leave it at I lost a bet. I am going to hear it from so many people, my phone has been flooded with texts about deleting my account the second time.

Second, the past week has been so crazy in preparation for this Sunday's Shamrock Shuffle. I'm a mess of emotions right now, this is my first official run, something I signed up for based solely on impulse...and perhaps the slight coaxing of my sister in law. I can't believe two months have passed since I signed up for the Shuffle. No amount of running or personal training could have prepared me any more than right now, if I'm not ready now I'll never be. I'll tell you one thing though, I can yoga (yes, I'm using it as a verb) anyone into the ground, but running on Sunday is messing with my mind. I can do 75 minutes of non-stop yoga but 75 minutes of steady running...I don't know. Obviously the challenge is in trying new things and I'm all about challenging myself. Our theatre director here just scolded me today about not telling her I was running the Shuffle sooner because her cardiologist-husband would have given me a running mask. You know, the ones that make you look like you're about to rob the place. Anyways, she was really concerned about how cold it's going to be and stressed the importance of "moist air" for my inhale, which I definitely understand. One of the parents overheard the conversation and jumped in, doling out helpful advice. I'm so psyched for the Shuffle and it feels amazing to have so much support. Ugh, let me just rant though, I spent FOUR HOURS shopping for a running outfit and still don't understand why Nike only has "L" and "XL" sizes available in almost all of their cute running tanks. Absolutely frustrated, I have a full Nike outfit with a Victoria's Secret running top, take that Nike. Moving on...

The one thing I absolutely LOVE about my job is that I'm surrounded by children every single day. They have so many questions and no amount of answers ever seem to be enough for them. "Miss Tasha, why are you running on Sunday? What's it for? Does it raise money for something good?" I have a group of girls who religiously arrive to the studio early just to talk to me before class. They crowd around my desk, ask to play with my iPhone and for some reason are fascinated with my calendar. "Miss Tasha, why do you have so much yoga scheduled? Miss Tasha, who is Justin and why are you having dinner with him at 8pm?" One of the instructors and I were talking about this and she suggested I implement a new rule. Everyday the girls get three questions, if they ask three questions that's all they get and they have to save their questions for the following day. I haven't had to use it yet, but I imagine it's because they're just excited about spring break.

On the upside, the girls are so supportive and insightful, especially at such a young age. I share aspects of my life with them (all appropriate) and they just can't get enough, sometimes I feel like they can give me the most honest opinions because their minds are so uncontaminated.

I've been reading The Path to Enlightenment and the first thing I learned is that an uncontaminated or ignorant mind is the most powerful apparatus for retaining knowledge. It'd be like starting your life from scratch, without memory or sin, able and willing to fully absorb the abundance of life. Children are so free, in their thoughts, words, and actions. It's hard to distinguish the point in our lives where all that changes, when we stop asking questions because our pride gets in the way or because we're afraid of putting our hearts on the line. Children have it so easy, no worries, commitments or responsibilities. And it's funny because they think we have it all. We have our nice cars, expensive phones, and no curfews. It's easy to want something when you know you can't have it, that's half the desire right?

Hmm, maybe I won't enforce the three-question rule. I love that they ask questions, they really should keep asking questions, and who am I to stop them?

Noise

2009-03-25T15:03:00.030-05:00

Noise. It's a funny thing, when we wish for silence all we hear is the clutter around us. And if not the clutter around us, we hear something even more bothersome, our own thoughts. When we want to drown out the noise the silence that comes is almost deafening, at times unbearable. Is there any happy medium that exists in which the noise in our lives just becomes less than the loudness of our thoughts and more than the dull hum of the mundane?

When I woke up at 4am to the birds chirping in the trees, I got to thinking about the noise in my life. The racket drowned out what was most important, me. Somewhere in between the summer of weddings, finishing school in the fall, and the birds singing this morning, it was Spring again. And I almost failed to notice.

Had the noise in my life been that loud? Or was I too distracted to tune it out?

Spring is a time for rebirth and new beginnings but lately I've been feeling like I'm just back where I started, no growth, no progress, just the same old Tash. As much as I loved the clamor in my life this past year, things have got to change because I don't want to be here, in this exact same place, next year. Slowly, one by one as any fine tuning job would, I've been eliminating the superfluous minutiae from all around me.

If you haven't already noticed, one of those aspects is Facebook. I'm not going to explain why I deleted it because well, it just doesn't concern you. But although Facebook is an excellent tool for social networking and "staying in touch," I really cannot rationalize with talking to people through comments on a regular basis and not physically spending time with them altogether. I'm not that kind of friend.

I can't promise that I'll never come back to Facebook, but in the foreseeable future it's just not for me.

The noise that is the hardest to drown out, mute, or even lower altogether is the constancy and loudness of my heart, of what it wants, needs and can't have. When I write I let go and it's the only instance in my life where my head is overruled by my stupid heart and I write what I feel, without thinking, without second guessing myself, without worry. It's the weirdest thing because I have difficulty reading my words. When I've written a poem, a journal entry, or even blog entry, I can't go back and read it for a week or a month. For some reason I feel like what I'm trying to say gets lost in translation, and although the beauty is in the attempt...I'm still usually unsatisfied. And I know that is a huge problem that I need to face and come to terms with because I need to be able to recognize myself in words, not just in thoughts. And that's where finding my voice comes into play. If I want others to be able to hear me, I have to first hear myself. And I just can't do that with all the noise that used to drown me out.

For where I'm at in my life right now I just want to...need to find my voice again, in life and especially in writing. Those of you who don't really know me will probably assume that I'm suffering from some dark and dramatic inner turmoil, but it's actually just the opposite. I feel like I can breathe again. And it's not that I can't balance the noise in my life, I don't think there's any reasonable balance for that. It's just that I want to clearly hear the music that's important to me as well as the static in between.

In the meantime, I will admit that Facebook withdrawal is keeping me highly entertained because parts of the day go by and I still find myself thinking in status-updates. For example, today went a little something like this...

Natasha just decided what mixtape to run to for the Shamrock Shuffle.
Natasha (in the past three days) has watched seasons 4, 5 and 6 of Sex and the City.
Natasha is trying to be less connected and isn't sure why she has an iPhone, FML.
Natasha still needs to renew her U.S. Passport or she can say adios to the ticket to Mexico.
Natasha cannot wait for the season premiere of My Boys...c'mon, c'mon.
Natasha has a stack of foreign (mostly Korean and Italian) films waiting for her when she gets home.
Natasha should really get back to work!

Karma

2009-03-22T22:12:00.002-05:00

"No experience is causeless; rather, everything that occurs has its seed in a previous action; and every action sows its seed on the mind that will eventually ripen in accordance with its nature."

-The Dalai Lama, The Path to Enlightenment

Spring Equinox

2009-03-21T11:52:00.021-05:00

Since yesterday was the first official day of Spring, we celebrated in yoga this morning at 6:00am by doing 108 sun salutations. The spring equinox is welcomed in many yoga studios around the world today. Sun salutations are basically just hatha poses that are held and repeated, keeping an energetic while graceful flow the entire time. The salutations ring in the new season allowing you to really cleanse yourself, physically, mentally and emotionally.

When I walked into my studio right at 6:00am, the sky was dark, the room was warm but almost heavy. It was just my instructor and four other women who participated and we aligned ourselves in front of the floor to ceiling windows, ready to welcome the sun. As we transitioned through numerous poses, my instructor kept repeating one question, "Ask yourself what you want to let go from the Winter and what you want to hold on to and see blossom in the Spring?" I smiled inside, knowing the answer to both questions.

One of the reasons for performing the 108 poses is in due part to represent all 108 feelings. "Some say there are 108 feelings: 36 related to the past, 36 related to the present, and 36 related to the future." And I loved the idea of that, I'm really inspired with growth and transcendence, nothing can come of nothing. Throughout the two-hour practice I experienced many emotions, most of which were honestly unexpected. I mentioned that the room was heavy in the very beginning, it was a dark and closed-off space emotionally. As we progressed through the poses, spring cleaning if you will, the room opened up to us, the sun rose and you just were incapable of not feeling this overwhelming change. While holding an extended pigeon I specifically remember feeling the heaviness of this past winter and all the changes it brought, all of lessons I learned and also the hurt I endured. I felt sad, bitter, regretful...and realized how much of that I had inflicted on others.

And suddenly it just didn't matter anymore. I put my head down and reached my arms forward and silently shed a single tear, letting go.

I realized that I've lost track of myself again, and with that a lot of adjustments will be made in all aspects of my life. I don't believe that my life is on any one path but I do know that I've given so much of myself in the last year and have almost next to nothing to show for it. And that saddens me but at the same time, you just have to accept everything as it is because nothing that has been done can be undone. It's seems like a simple idea in theory but to actually let it sink in and to let it into your open heart takes more strength and wisdom than I've ever known before now. Relationships, all relationships, even the one we have with ourself is a delicate balance of give and take. You have to take care of yourself because sometimes you'll find yourself alone, even with a loving a family, a significant other, and a handful of friends, you'll still feel lonely and you're the only person that will look after you when that happens.

Needless to say, celebrating the Spring Equinox is an experience I'll never forget. I learn new things everyday, especially from my practice of yoga and because of it I learn more and more about who I am as an individual apart from the entire world. The entire session was restorative and emotionally awakening for me, I only wish there's something in your lives that can make you feel this way as well because everyone deserves to bask in it, even for just a moment.

And with that, I'll leave you with the intention I set for today's practice. It was the mantra that I kept repeating and promising silently to myself: "Open your heart."

Every Little Thing

2009-03-20T00:00:00.039-05:00

You always hear that it's "the little things" that matter most. The situations in which this tidbit of insightful information comes into most use is when something has ended, when something has changed, or when someone new comes into your life and you know from the beginning that they're going to change it forever.

We're so quick to re-evaluate our lives once something, someone or some place, at one point a staple in our daily lives, is no longer a part of that dependable routine. Almost everything comes to an end and it's only in hindsight that we can look back and dissect, taking every little thing into account. And it's not that we're overly analytical, no, I believe that it's purely human nature at work, inquisitive and thoughtful. Selfishly, we always want answers. For example, we always ask the age-old, "What could I have done differently?" And then a plethora of would-be instances surface, a collection of alternate solutions leading to different outcomes that might always seem like the result we would have wanted. But what is it that we really want anymore? Can any one person truly answer that knowing 100% that they want just the one thing and nothing else? I begin to wonder if maybe the paths we take in life are for the betterment of ourselves driven mainly by decisions that ultimately are the lesser of evils. I don't believe that everything happens for a reason, I don't believe in fate or any other false method of reassurance. I honestly believe that we get what we want in this life because we make it happen for ourselves. I look at my life right now and albeit not the life I'd imagine myself having at 23, I can take full responsibility for my slight disappointment. That's not to say I'm not happy, grateful, loved, or surprised everyday but I do know that a lot of things could be different right now and I acknowledge that.

My best friend and I were talking a few days ago about our exes and she told me that from the very beginning you already know why it will end. And there we were, evaluating years of failed relationships between us and sure enough, we did know. And it's not because we're negative people, if anything she's a hopeless romantic--but it's also because in relationships (like most people) we lose ourselves. And it really is only after the fact, once it's ended that we see all the problems. Although I'm a self-proclaimed extrovert, I can also be thoroughly introspective, blame it on the writer in me. It's important to evaluate oneself, to put all your flaws on the table and realize that you need to change things if the result is continually failure. And because I tend to dive head first into my innermost thoughts, I can usually pinpoint the exact moment when I know it's over. And it's a peculiar thing, I'll get the same uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, recognize it is conveniently wrapped in deja vu and in that moment all I can do is ignore it all the while knowing full well that this is it. And I can't really explain it any more than that. I guess all I can say is try it, try to imagine what that's like and just put yourself there. It's the kind of moment that stays with you forever, silently playing on repeat in the background.

I was recently reminded that we meet new people every single day, most of them strangers but some of them do serve a larger purpose. Every single person in your life has a reason to be there and I think that's something that is all too easily overlooked or forgotten. It's just important to keep in mind that everything changes, whether we want it to or not, I do believe that change is out of our control and that unfortunately, it works both for us and against us. The trick is not to deal with the transition of the daily grind, not to "adjust" to your new routine or the new you, but to enjoy and appreciate every moment of it. And although sometimes this transition hurts more than we'd initially like to admit, the pain is there to remind you that you're still alive and all you can do is the best you can.

All The Wrong Places

2009-03-16T21:37:00.003-05:00

i. in the chill that blanketed me on that Spring night, fingers

unbuttoning thoughts,
look further.

ii. on my arms, in the un-space where my skin pressed up against your skin,

just skin, justskin. was it there?

iii. melting into pillows underneath you with an
echoing agreement
signed&sealed

with b | r | o | k | e | n sighs.
(check beneath the covers.)

iv. was it in the arch of my back?

v. was it in the drop of sweat that gathered, heavy

on your brow?

vi. did it rest on top of you as I
positioned myself in place?

vii. then / now, is / was, a separation:

separating you from I without so much the courtesy of a
hyphen or comma. just empty white space.

maybe that's where it was all this time.
or maybe it was never there.

Inspiration

2009-03-10T17:18:00.007-05:00

There's something disturbingly peaceful and melodic about the sweet sound of an electric tattoo machine. The first time I walked in to a tattoo shop, Metamorph in the city, I felt eerily safe. Now that may have been just because I was with my brothers and sister but the idea of getting my first tattoo wasn't as nerve-wracking as I'd always imagined it would be. My first tattoo, the infinity symbol on my inner right wrist, is one of my most favorite things. I'm not sure I've worded that as eloquently as I'd liked but when I look at it, even just in passing or with just a wayward glance, I'm inspired all over again. I love that everytime I look at it the symbol takes new meaning. I was sifting through my Moleskine late last night and found this.I'm assuming I wrote that in there to remind myself that everything is cyclical and that no one feeling, emotion, or moment will last forever. It sounds a little morbid on the surface but when I think about it I feel like it's almost reassuring. I know it's a little blurry but it reads:

"Infinity as a place, ever going, happiness won't last and sadness will end. Unboundedness."

The past few days have been so overwhelming for me and I almost feel like I can't reach the surface. The surface of what you ask? I don't even know myself. I wouldn't say I'm drowning but life has a tendency to pile things stackloads high when you can barely see anything at all. The problem is that I have to finish everything at once, every menial task as well as the life-changing decisions that I crave so badly to ignore. I feel like every other blog post is another rant on "change," but little changes can certainly accomplish drastic results.

A month or so ago I was needing to get inked again but this time wasn't sure what I wanted. Unlike my infinity tattoo which I knew I wanted for the longest time, I couldn't seem to pinpoint where I was now, in this point in my life. And then it actually just came to me, yoga has been a mainstay in my daily routine and I wanted to get something that represented how yoga makes me feel, how it's changed my way of thinking, my way of living and especially loving.

Last week my yoga instructor was explaining the concept of desire. She said that in every desire of ours is a little piece of ourselves. Ideally, she was explaining that the things/people/life we desire are all outward reflections of what we want for ourselves. When she said this I realized that the things we desire aren't necessarily the best means in which to attain our ideal life, that those desires can in fact work against you, taking a little part yourself with it. So what happens if there's nothing left?

Perhaps overly contemplative, I got to thinking. This morning in yoga my instructor asked us each to imagine our lives as a movie, our movie. She asked us what we've accomplished, how we've grown and whether or not we could keep watching the movie the way it was now. My immediate response was no. Sure I've accomplished some things, I graduated college, I'll be published in a few months, I've greatly improved my health...but as happy and humble as all of that makes me, there's still so much missing.

When I walked into the tattoo shop by myself this morning I was determined. Be it a visual and physical reminder of myself wanting more in my life, I find that it inspires me to change the things that I do have control over and that everything happens for a reason. When the needle was on my skin I felt calm, relaxed and even smiling. Getting tattooed is like the perfect amount of pain, not painful per se but absolutely a little pleasurable. I think breathing (as with yoga) had a lot to do with the sense of serenity and concentration that floated over me. It's the only function that our bodies can accomplish both involuntarily and voluntarily, our breath is an amazing tool for calming the heart, simple and incredibly effective.

First let me say that the Lotus pose in yoga takes a remarkable amount of practice, concentration, meditation and patience. What looks like a simple cross-legged position is actually one of the most difficult poses to get into and hold. But once you stretch, bend and breathe into it, you truly feel centered and at ease. The symbol of the lotus flower varies but mainly revolves around one main idea, that being that the flower (deeply rooted in the mud) arises and blooms untouched and stands tall, unwavering. Obviously you can imagine what I'm trying to get at here, in life no matter how complicated things get, no matter how many mistakes you make, no matter how badly you've been hurt, you will rise above and reach another level of purity if you just believe that you can and promise to dedicate yourself to...well, yourself.

Graduate School

2009-03-07T13:05:00.003-06:00

Lately I've been entertaining the idea of going back to school. I know I've only been out of school for 2 months but often I find myself missing it. And that "it" involves writing something meaningful, learning new things and just growing as an individual from the experience. In the last few months I've immersed myself in my work and give or take a moleskine entry or two, I have not been writing. I even struggle to continue blogging simply because sometimes I'm honestly at a loss for words. What to write, what to write about, do people even read this? Should that matter? Every now and then I try to check in with myself, asking if I'm happy and if not, what can I do to change that. So while everything else in my life is falling into place, I feel like my writing has just fallen by the wayside. In school it was a priority to write, it was involuntary, I just had to write. But now that I've graduated the true test is now and I'm failing miserably.

I wanted to start a new blog but even found that impossible, what would I name it, would it be for just poetry? Needless to say, I've scrapped that idea. For now.

Anyhow, I'm itching to get out of Illinois and away from everything that I know. But at the same time so many factors are working against me in terms of moving out of state. Graduate school as a resident is already a handful so to come from out of state is even more expensive, plus the cost of living and all that. I was talking to my mom this morning about her thoughts on getting my MFA in Writing and she was shocked I wanted to go back so soon but was pleased I wanted to further my education. When I transitioned the conversation to moving away for school she was visibly against the blasphemous idea. I'm honestly so torn but I feel like NOW is the time for me to do this, when else in my life am I going to have this chance? I'm heavily dependent on my family, emotionally, intellectually and financially (which, slowly I'm trying to grow apart from) so picking up and moving away to go to school would have to be a well thought out plan.

I must absolutely take into account that I'm someone who acts mostly on impulse. If it feels right, and feels good I'm always game (which I will argue is not always the best decision). Graduate school is another commitment and I don't know for sure yet if I'm ready to take on that responsibility, just because I want to doesn't make it the right choice for me. So for now I've requested information from colleges/universities in Illinois to see my options and to take this one step at a time. I'm not going to lie, the MFA writing program at Columbia College did make my heart skip a beat.

Truth

2009-02-10T19:03:00.000-06:00

"At the risk of sounding like a broken record, the problem with the young poet is that she’s an inexperienced feeler. So she makes all kinds of mistakes with people. Mostly herself." - Adrian Blevins

Pick me. Choose me. Love me.

2009-02-09T04:10:00.010-06:00

"The important thing is this: To be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become." - Charles Dubois

Often I feel that people spend most of their lives trying to discover who they really are. I always scoffed at this idea, why wouldn't anyone know who they are? I never really understood this concept until I started practicing yoga. It's hard to explain because I always thought I knew who I was but now more than ever do I feel positive and confident in who I am. Practicing yoga everyday allows me to discover something new about myself everyday. And this discovery ranges from my ability to achieve a calm mind, my flexibility in certain poses, my concentration in balancing positions and overall my dedication to the practice. I've never felt so in tune with myself on every and all levels. Lately I wonder how I've lived without yoga as a staple in my life. When I'm in the studio and practicing on my mat, all my worries are set to the side of the mat. And I don't mean to sound all hippie and carefree, but when I'm working through my Vinyasa, I flow at my own pace, a pace and rhythm that truly brings me joy. Recently I've realized that in my life outside of yoga, I am actually holding myself back from being happy. And this holding back stems from daily choices to long term choices. There are a lot of people I chose not to let in because sometimes I fear I can't open up or allow them to see the real me. There are a lot of people who have this idea of the woman they think I am when inside I'm the exact opposite. The point I'm trying to get at is that with the help of yoga I know what I want at this point in my life and I'm going to get it. No more distractions or procrastinating, and most importantly, being scared is no longer an option. I finally understand that I deserve so much more than what I have right now, at this very moment and the only person that can change that is me. I wish everyone could find what makes them see and understand themselves in a way they haven't before, I wish everyone finds their own kind of yoga because I've never been happier than right now. I've never been more happy in who I am as a daughter, as a sister and as best friend and as a friend. And so, with the posting of this entry I just want to let all of you know that big changes are on the way. I'm dedicating myself to happiness and what it takes to attain it because finally (finally!) it's dawned on me that I deserve to be happy. And not just generically or temporarily happy, I mean as happy as I can possibly be. And in this process, I'm removing the excesses once again, a pre-Spring cleaning if you will. For starters, most of you who read my blog know I don't post as frequently, simply because in the last 5 or 6 weeks I've been going through these changes and didn't understand why or how I would or could explain that to you.

The bottom line is that I want to be the best version of myself, and to get there a lot of who I am now is going to go, unfortunately that includes stubborn habits, unhealthy solutions to long-term problems, and also several people that I currently surround myself with. The hardest part of letting go is the safety and security we feel in the truth that consistency brings us. Even if that consistency brings us a false truth, so many of us turn the other way because it's easier to do so. I've always been interested in understanding the human condition and in learning about it, I go back to my roots. I try to understand it from the other part of my life that brings me joy and self-discovery, and that is poetry. In my situation I've come to understand that my choices have been a maelstrom of quick-fixes, impulsive actions, illogical goals--all of which resulted in temporary happiness. A quote I've come to appreciate and live my life by explains that "Happiness is a conscious choice and not an automatic reaction." Of course, if you really think about it, happiness can be an automatic response to something or someone that brings us joy. But think about it on a deeper level, everyday we find it easier to dwell on the things we don't have or the aspects of our own lives that remain unfulfilled. By actively and consciously opting happiness, we can begin to see exactly what joys our lives are filled with and the people that make that possible. All I'm saying is that change begins and ends with you. And I'm choosing to break out of my pattern, I'm choosing to be happy, and for once I am choosing me. I mentioned earlier that to try to understand that human condition, I do so with poetry. I've already shared and cited this poem and author, but I think I've overlooked the most striking line, which is ironic since I never noticed it before even though it was written in significantly smaller font, is repeated twice and is also italicized. Again, it's Mónica de la Torre's poem, "Pattern Recognition." Interlaced throughout her poem and its stanzas of an existence driven solely by pattern, the lines read: (ll. 5, 13)

so strong is this hunger for pattern
that we see it even when it isn't there

The simple italization of those lines alone suggest her use for a specific poetic technique. This technique of setting an "aside," is usually noted by a set of parenthesis. In this case, she has chosen to italicize these lines and has set them in margins against the natural alignment of the poem itself. Visually, the lines immediately jump out at me, significantly breaking the pattern and working against it. By using this method of an aside, she speaks to herself on another level that goes unnoticed almost every time for those who don't know how to look it at. And until today, the lines went unnoticed.

We are so dependent in a habitual lifestyle that gradually we become drones--robotic, overworked and under-loved. And we settle because we can. But this time, I choose me. And trust me, I will not settle.

Lastly, there's a song that I listen to at least once every single day that I want to share with you. Life is crazy already and sometimes we get thrown into the chaos without ever knowing how to remove ourselves from it. This song has always brought me back to my center.

So, my apologies. The person who originally uploaded the video requested the disability to embed it, guess you just have to click here.

Without You

2009-01-20T17:09:00.011-06:00

I wasn't sure if I was going to write about this but I think since it hasn't left my mind that I should definitely try to let it out somehow. I had an interview yesterday morning in Des Plaines, the company was literally just a few miles down from the cemetery where my grandparents are buried. While leaving the interview I actually debated about stopping by their crypts (they didn't want to be buried in the ground and instead are resting in a private mausoleum). Part of me felt guilty for not having stopped by sooner or more frequently, the last time I was there was in the spring of last year, sometime around my birthday. Another part of me knew I couldn't handle it, going there and being by myself, alone with my thoughts and just so alone in every definition of the word. Maybe I was afraid of the silence, afraid the peacefulness of that spot. I decided to go and visit, pay my respects since I was already in the area, again feeling guilty of the "convenience" of the situation. Since their mausoleum is located off of a private road away from the main cemetery, I drove slowly around the bend. There must have been an inch of snow on the ground, nothing difficult to drive in. As I came around the bend I was going no more than 5 mph and was gliding along in neutral, my foot off of the gas. Suddenly and in slow motion, my car spun twice out of control, completing two 360's. I sat there with the gear shift in neutral and my hands in the air because no kind of counter steering would have prevented it. And in those few seconds that I was spinning I surprisingly found myself praying, talking to my grandparents who are no longer with me and this provided me with some kind of solace. I'm not religious by any means and I believe Catholicism is hugely flawed but I do believe in God and the idea that there is something more when we die. I am not going to get into that now but after that happened I regained control of my car and parked, grateful that there were no other cars or visitors nearby. As I walked to their crypts my legs were shaking, I doubt that I was in shock from the spin-outs but I felt oddly calm. Inside I felt a familiar stirring, I found it difficult to swallow and as I rounded the corner, tears streamed down my face--fresh, salty and warm. The pain in my heart grew and it felt empty without them, I felt empty without them, it was as if they had passed just yesterday. I put my tear-stricken face up to the frozen marble plaques where their names were side by side and felt so sad, the saddest I've felt in the longest time. After I left the cemetery I made my way back home and just felt so lost. No other feeling or experience can compare to losing someone you love, unfortunately I lost the both of them within a year of each other and I think in that time my heart hasn't healed, not sure really if it ever will. Ultimately I am grateful for the 20 years I've had with them, oftentimes I've forgotten that they raised me more so than my parents. My father was in the Philippines until I was about 7 or 8 and my mom was at work during the day and at DePaul every night, finishing her degree. My childhood memories consist of many days and nights with my grandparents and the safety, security and love I felt in the simple acts they showed me. The last memory and the last time I saw my grandmother was in a hospice center. She wasn't staying there permanently, she was moved there from the hospital for weekend observation. I followed her ambulance on Lake Shore Drive and my mind was clear, in front of me I could barely make out my mom's silhouette as she hovered over my grandma. I remembered thinking that this was it, that her time was almost here and there was nothing I could do to stop it. In her room, with an expired nursing tech certificate, I bathed my grandma in her bed and she smiled the entire time, thanking me incessantly as I held the warm sponge to her then yellow skin caused by her liver infection. In that moment the roles had reversed, as she had bathed me and cared for me as a child, it was my turn to take care of her and although it saddens me that she passed so soon after my grandpa, I'm also grateful it wasn't any longer because living without him was no life at all for her. And now I'm sad again, but I feel strangely better after having let that all out. All I'm saying is that telling the people you love that you love them whenever you get the chance isn't enough. Make the effort to tell them everyday, at least that's what I try to do because these moments turn into memories too quickly and the emptiness in our hearts will never be filled again.

Two Asians and a Webcam

2009-01-08T07:32:00.013-06:00

Ew, I know what you were thinking! :)

I have the bestest friend a girl could ask for. That's all.

Happy Birthday siSTAR!

2009-01-04T18:30:00.006-06:00

Sometimes I forget that my sister Czarina and I are 14 months apart in age. I feel like we're at completely different points in our lives, both of which are finely tuned to our personal likings. The other day I was thinking about school and how following after her in every grade was nothing short of difficult when we were younger. As if packed schedules of honors classes wasn't daunting enough, following in my sister's footsteps was an entirely separate challenge. The roll call at the beginning of class for every new year was always met with a hesitant, "...Gregorio? Natasha?" I'd nod of course, raise my hand and smile and answer the question that always proceeded that moment, "Yes, Czarina's sister." And every year I'd enter classrooms with the bar already set. The funny thing is, it wasn't only until recently that following my sister was actually an honor. At her wedding this past June I actually based my Maid of Honor speech on her perfection. And I didn't write it with blinders on or anything, I really do feel that way. Inside and out, to me she is without flaw and I'm lucky to have even been associated with such an honorable and studious academic reputation, at the very least.

Czarina turned 24 today! I woke up late this morning at quarter to 9 and jumped out of bed to make my 9 o'clock cardio kickboxing class. (I've made the commitment to go to the gym 6 days a week this year.) After that class finished I decided to stay for yoga at 10, thinking I'd have enough time to shower and get ready for her birthday lunch at Uncle Julio's. So mistaken. Instead of showering and changing I decided that buying an embarrassing display of balloons was more important. On a crazy time crunch, I literally twiddled my thumbs as the lady behind the counter slowly (we're talking sloth-like) inflated 12 latex balloons and 1 mylar balloon. I ran out of the store, carefully placed the gigantic balloon obstruction in my tiny car and sped home where I met my parents to head to the city. Needless to say, I rocked my yoga wear to Uncle Julio's. Oh yeah. Don't I look like I'm 12? See, not all women go to the gym with full on make-up. Eh.

How cute is she? She begged for us not to sing in the middle of restaurant but anyone who knows my family knows that we live to embarrass one another and there is no room to negotiate otherwise. She was mortified but she knows we love her. Happy Birthday TVB!

Since we were already in the area, the entire family split up and ran errands before meeting back at my sister's and Mike's apartment. Not so much the Crate and Barrel fanatic, I decided to go to Blick with my brother where I wandered the aisles like a kid in a candy store. I had to convince myself that I didn't need yet another Moleskine but...I decided to take up Watercoloring. Look at what all this free time is doing to me! So I bought some supplies and fancy watercolor paper in the hopes of exploring my creativity through painting. Isn't that exciting? Oh and, I ordered a trial from Rosetta Stone to begin learning French. :) There's so much I want to do and realized that there's no better time than right now to do them. Ah, it's good to be unemployed. As long as I have my gym membership and my car, I'm a happy girl.

Culmination

2008-12-30T16:04:00.023-06:00

With 2008 coming to a close, I can't help but begin to feel a little nostalgic. I have to say that this has been the most transitional year in my life thus far and I'm terrified to see it go. Yes, terrified.

For so many years and by default, my life ran on a cycle which revolved mainly around school. I knew of nothing else. And upon the completion of my college career just a few weeks ago, my life now seems out of control. I've enjoyed the freedom of doing all the things I want on my own time but it's all beginning to feel too liberating. And I don't know if it's odd to complain about having so much free time but I've never been one to just "go with the flow." I have always been a creature of habit and needed some semblance of order in my life. Lately I feel like everything and everyone around me is moving at a set pace while I watch my life tread by in slow motion. There's nothing like it really, and I can't really describe it any more than I already have.

When I was in school I whined about finishing and needing a break and now that I'm out of school I feel that I'm suffering a fate much worse. And it doesn't help that the job market (in my field especially) is not doing well. I imagined myself to have a month-long break and then jumping right back into the mix, but that's not looking very promising at this juncture. I'm currently entertaining the idea of finding some consulting work just for a change of scenery. I need something in my life to change because I'm starting to get a little stir crazy.

You know it's funny when I started to write this blog I had no intention of it sounding negative but it's not until I really begin to write that I realize what is nagging me. On a lighter note, I really am looking forward what 2009 will bring, although I actually believe we bring the things we want in life to ourselves. I don't believe in luck, fate or destiny. I believe in hard work, ambition and determination. Nothing like a little affirmation to turn the blog positive eh? God I hope I get out of this funk soon.

How about a quick recap of my favorite 2008 moments in pictures?

JANUARY 2008: I bought my car, not sure why there's no snow on the ground.

FEBRUARY - MARCH 2008: I don't have any pictures on here without accessing my Facebook and you all know how I feel about that. Plus, I didn't take a lot of pictures on my birthday because it was a gigantic mess thanks to my insane ex-boyfriend.

APRIL 2008: The realization of the pointlessness of clubbing, the amusement that gravity brings, and double wedding shower madness.

MAY 2008: My sister Michaela's bachelorette celebration, rehearsal dinner and wedding! She's an Azul now!

JUNE 2008: My sister Czarina's bachelorette celebration festivities and her wedding, she's a Carden now!

JULY 2008: The Taste with my best friend, feeding duckies before eating again round 2 and turkey legs...also the 3rd annual B & W Party.

AUGUST 2008: The very last first-day of school for Jacky and I!

SEPTEMBER 2008: Best friend and Mom's birthdays!

OCTOBER 2008: Chilly weather = scarves and light coat season! Can you tell this is beginning to be a lot of work?

NOVEMBER 2008: Soliciting Fran at work, gingerbread house making and Thanksgiving!

DECEMBER 2008: I've been a little preoccupied so the only picture I have from this month is that one that I took yesterday (of my new boots with my new camera!). Happy New Year's, I look forward to the stream of mass texts tomorrow night!

Fragment

2008-12-18T20:51:00.004-06:00

(Below are the ending stanzas of a poem I wrote, it's titled but I don't want to give away too much so I left it out. I also left out the very last stanza because it's the most significant and intimate stanza of the poem and I'm not ready to share it, not sure I'll ever be. I've been in the most peculiar mood lately and instead of straining for something to write void of any passion, I figured this would be more than enough for now for those of you who have been bugging me to blog.)

...entangled under
heavy sheets, suffering an incapacity
to rise. (I had the overwhelming need
to taste you then.)

Omphalic falsities forgotten or
perhaps manipulated. We were an inexorable
fate, essential yet appealed.

Ferromagnetic moments.

Finished

2008-12-12T11:51:00.005-06:00

In the fall of 2004, I walked into UIC as an intended nursing major. On Wednesday night, I walked out an English major. Every moment leading up to that very day was filled with anticipation, excitement and apprehension. And now that Wednesday has come and gone, I can't believe I'm finally done with school. I distinctly remember filling the bubbles in on my Scantron for my last final happening in slow motion, the pencil circling each letter in slow, graphite swirls. Walking off of the campus for the last time was surreal as well, like placing the last piece of a 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzle in its respective, vacant slot.

Needless to say, I'm ten kinds of happy right now. I also want to thank everyone for their unwavering support in my days as an undergrad, I couldn't have done it without you.

Now to be brutally honest, I don't know what to do with myself. Everyone close to me is begging me to take a break, reminding me of the whirlwind that has been the past twelve months of non-stop school and work. But I can't help but to want to stay busy, to stay focused, organized and planned. For the past twelve months, it's all I've known. And we can't forget my poor day-planner with color coded events specifying my work schedule, essay due dates, even down to my workout schedule. That day-planner is completed, it being the end of the year and all. Which by the way, where did the time go? Lately it feels every time I look forward to something it arrives almost too soon and I'm left wishing it hadn't happened so fast.

I've applied for several jobs so hopefully I'll be busy again soon, hopefully not too soon. But I will say this, it feels amazing to be done with school and finally be the proud owner of Bachelor's Degree. It feels amazing to plan my weekends for me, and not for working on essays, projects or presentations. I love waking up and not having to rush out the door, and although I won't do it, I love that I have the option to spend whole days in bed with a good book. Okay, maybe I will do it, but not entire days I promise!

I'm also really excited because now I have all the time to focus on my health again. Now that I've slowly incorporated meat back into my diet, I've lost five pounds in less than a week. I'm not saying that's healthy, but I think I was doing the vegetarian diet unhealthily towards the end and my body was in dire need of protein. Also, although I have a Bally's on Townline Rd and literally three minutes away from me, but I still drive out to my favorite Bally's in Deerfield, which is a drive that is starting to bother me. After meeting my sister who is a member at Lifetime Fitness, at her gym on Wednesday morning, I didn't need much persuasion in deciding to make the switch. Deep down, I blame the steam room, where I definitely almost fell asleep. Anyhow, I've decided to join Lifetime again (I used to be a member in Algonquin), and I cannot wait to get started. The Lifetime Fitness in Vernon Hills is the largest Lifetime location in the nation and requires Onyx membership for its facility and services. And although it's three times the monthly fee than Bally's, it's highly worth it and it's a lot closer to me, about five miles down Milwaukee Avenue and I'm in need of some change myself. I was going to go first thing this morning but after realizing I was too sore to get out of bed, decided against it. Besides, I should take advantage of sleeping in more often right?

On a final note, I know I said I really wanted to start reading Aldous Huxley's The Doors of Perception, but after careful consideration, I have picked up the intimidating Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. I should be done with it by oh, February. Surely, I'm joking with you, besides anyone can read a book quickly, but how much of the information do they actually retain? So for my first book non-school related, I'm reading Atlas Shrugged. Go big or go home right?

No Signal

2008-12-07T22:50:00.005-06:00

About three hours ago I tried to send a text message. After twenty minutes without a reply I checked to see if the message was actually sent or in my outbox. Sure enough, the message was not sent. I turned the phone off after realizing it was "searching for a network." Two hours go by and I'm turning my phone and off, taking the battery out and putting back in and nothing changes. Eventually I call T-Mobile to try to troubleshoot the problem with my Shadow. In a call that lasted a little over an hour, my phone is still useless. So I've moved my SIM card back to my old BlackBerry to see if the problem is the card or the phone. It's funny because I'm not really upset mostly in part because the men that helped me tonight were hilarious. So just an update, I'm not screening calls or texts, I'm just having some technical difficulties.

In other news...

I totally called that Pacman would defeat De La Hoya in the 8th round. And what happened? TKO at the end of the eighth round. I'm not going to lie, I felt a little sad for De La Hoya. It was clearly an uneven match for the latter who looked helpless at the start of round 5.

I have decided to longer abstain from eating meat. There are several reasons for this decision, so ask me and I'll tell you. I have decided though that I'm not going to eat red meat, no burgers or steaks here.

I met Devon last night! My sister's best friend, Ria, had her precious baby boy two months ago. He is the most adorable baby I've seen in my life, with the most pinchable cheeks ever!

Always buy enough icing for the cupcakes you bake. (In my defense, my sister was at the store and was doing me a favor by picking up icing for me so she didn't know which kind I usually buy for when I bake. Thanks though!)

And now get ready for some pictures. Don't make fun of my apron!

Remember that Christmas tree I was telling you about outside my work? It was snowing yesterday and look how big it is!

Doing what I do best, baking!Letting the cupcakes cool before icing them while also admiring the festive cupcake wrappers.TA-DA! I ran out of icing.
Oh, Dev-Dev I miss you!
Czarina feeding Devon.
Devon looks curious but still a cutie.
He was holding my hand :)

UPDATE: My phone is officially out of commission. Actually, not my phone -- my SIM card, so I have to take it in and swap it for a new one tomorrow. If you can't get a hold of me, that is why. Sorry in advance! If you need me just leave a voicemail which I promise to check periodically.

Entropy

2008-12-02T22:39:00.003-06:00

At dawn there is the silence

of my vacant bed.

Muted sighs remember mid-length nails

digging into the small

of your back.

I used to wrap myself

in white linen. (I used to be just as

clean).

But this was when we used

to fit

unforced.

Now the displaced realities

impress only incompatibility.

You are impossible to ignore.

I could hear you from across the room

even if you had whispered your "about that"
insincerities.

Snow

2008-12-01T16:33:00.011-06:00

I'm fairly certain it's safe to say that it has finally snowed! Sure, it's been snowing intermittently for the past few weeks, but nothing has actually accumulated on the ground. As of yesterday however, that has changed.

When I woke up this morning a bright, white light reflected into my bedroom, and like a little girl waking on Christmas morning I sprang out of bed and pulled the blinds open.

I was unprepared for how much snow had fallen, it wasn't a record storm or anything, but just seeing a significant amount of snow on the ground takes me to my happy place, where joy and an oddly calming sensation unite. Bottom line: I love the first snowfall. Nothing makes me happier. What makes me almost as happy is driving in the snow. I love the control of a stick shift, gliding along in neutral while everyone around you panics, slamming the breaks and fishtailing. 'Tis. The. Season!

Waiting for the elevator on the 6th floor of my building:
Even when I had to clean off my car I was smiling. So it wasn't that much work, but the snow was heavy and I could only reach so far to clean off my windshield.
The trick is to open the door without letting snow fall inside.I figured I didn't need to clean off my moonroof, I couldn't reach it if I wanted to.This picture is for Fran: Pandapple & Frosty say hello :)Half an hour later it was safe to drive...So pretty...And that's my blog about snow. I love snow. Don't hate me.

The Family That Plays Together

2008-11-28T23:38:00.024-06:00

Happy Thanksgiving! This week has been packed with so much to do that I am barely struggling to stay awake to post this but after watching the video of my cousin singing his rendition of The Police's "Roxanne," I just had to blog and post it for you.

But first, let me share with you the best part of my Thanksgiving dinner.

That's the cake my family orders for every holiday, birthday or special occasion. It's kind of a big deal in our family gatherings to always have this cake.

Not only does it taste amazing, but it also holds a lot of good memories, plus I don't think we'll ever get sick of it.

That picture up there is the cake right before I cut into it, and this picture below is the cake the following morning.

Once it gets to that point we pretty much just attack it with forks, no plates or slices necessary because that is how we roll. This cake never lasts 24 hours.

After specifically informing my mom that I was going to sleep in on Black Friday, she and my aunt took turns jumping on my bed at 5:30 in the morning to drag me along on their shopping escapades. After an hour of my refusals I was finally tempted out of bed with the incentive to drive my aunt's new X3.

After finding absolutely nothing I came home, packed my gym bag and headed to the gym to get in some much needed cardio. After an hour and a half of straight running I decided that my hair needed a touch up. And by touch up I mean full highlights. It's a lot lighter in person, my mom thinks I'm blond, she's funny like that.

Every year, on the day after Thanksgiving, we have a second dinner at my Uncle's place downtown. My sister and I steal a moment to take a picture in the elevator with our desserts but I couldn't quite angle the camera so it's just of the two of us. Underneath her Wii Sports package you can barely see her dessert from Dinkel's, a Hutten Kuchen. Let me tell you, it was tasty.

The Thanksgiving dinner take two...my uncles tried to force feed me a slice of ham, turkey and a spoonful of kare kare, but I dodged their attempts quite nicely, thank you.

And then time for some dessert...And I got to see my super adorable cousin, Aubrie. My uncle handed her some plastic chopsticks and she playfully used me as her drums, I still have both eyes, whew!
And now time for some Laviste-Gregorio Rock Band action. I apologize in advance about some of the wayward angles, yours truly got into the Riesling. Here's my cousin Cameron giving you everything he's got :)

This is his version of "Are You Gonna Be My Girl" by Jet.

And my personal favorite, "Roxanne" by the Police.

Isn't he adorable? Now I'm going to try to go to bed so I can make it to tae kwon do class in the morning so I'm sure there are a lot of grammatical errors, please keep in mind I'm about to fall asleep and it is late! I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving and spent time with family.

The Cardens

2008-11-26T15:18:00.027-06:00

This is how I spent my summer: full-time summer school, full-time work, laced with final fittings, weekend bachelorette parties, in addition to your typical maid of honor duties. Times two. Both of my sisters, Michaela and Czarina got married this past summer, three weeks apart no less!

I can't properly describe what it's like to have your sisters get married. My sisters are my soul mates, my partners in crime, my role models and my best friends. Oddly enough, I didn't feel any kind of loss because a numbing happiness surged through me at the thought of knowing these men, my brothers in law, will love them more than one could imagine. I've seen my sisters grow, change and better themselves in these relationships and it is only through their relationships that I believe the possibility of love exists.

I don't have permission to post the professional pictures from Michaela's and Paul's wedding, so I do apologize that I only these pictures up. Sorry Bubbas! Hopefully I can do a follow-up blog with Michaela's and Pj's wedding! (Send me pictures!)

But while I'm waiting on those proofs, I have just gotten these pictures from my other sister, Czarina. Now these pictures are but a fraction of the entire album even though I did want to put them all up, I could not. Okay, and I know everyone says this, but never have I ever seen my sisters so beautiful as when they were brides.

And again, these aren't my personal pictures, they were taken by S1 Photography. Oscar and his crew did such an amazing job and really captured what Mike and Czarina are all about. His pictures are romantic, subtle, old world and classic. These are just some pictures of my favorite moments from their wedding day, enjoy! (Click on the image to make it bigger, and if you want a link to the entire album just ask.)

Czarina and Mike: The Cardens
June 15, 2008
Patrick C. Haley Mansion
Joliet, Illinois

The fairy-tale settingTurning my sister into a princess.
Sisters trying not to let our emotions get the best of us.The bridal entourage from left: Renee, Heidi, Me, Michaela, Sam, Czarina, Karen
All of us looking at the camera in all our purple and pink glory.
The groomsmen from left: Vic, Brad, Rob, Mike, Jim, Pj and Chris
Now that's one hot boy-band CD cover if you ask me.
My proud Pops and stunning sister before the ceremony.
Anxious bride...
...and anxious groom.
The prettiest flowergirl I've ever seen.
Moments before walking down the aisle.
A beautiful bride.
Almost there!

"She's so precious!"My proud parents
Mike's proud parents Exchange of the rings.
First kisses as Mr. and Mrs!
My expression says, "I love Cardens!"
She's a Carden!My mom and my aunts tearing up the dance floor.Congratulations Mike and Czarina, I love you!

Oh Christmas Tree!

2008-11-21T15:19:00.004-06:00

It seems a little early this year, but I get to work and what do I find!?

Several burly men assembling this gigantic Christmas tree! Although this picture is sans the burly men, (I think they went on break) you can still see this huge tree. Or, huge frame of a tree rather. How exciting is this? I for one am pretty damn excited.

Last year, since the academy is located in the center of the quad, several Christmas trees (much smaller than that one) were put up, lining the cobblestone pathway with festively decorated and beautifully lit trees. I guess this year they decided to make one giant tree instead. No complaints here.

I'm suddenly craving a cup of hot chocolate with mini marshmallows. I might just run to Starbucks, but that will certainly ruin my appetite.

Now I don't know where those men went but I hope they come back soon because I want to see that beauty in all her glory. I'll post more pictures if they continue tonight, otherwise I'm here all day tomorrow and you better believe I'll be waiting for it to be completed!

Ex Post Facto

2008-11-20T02:48:00.008-06:00

When I miss you, it's never about missing you completely, as a whole.

I don't look back and think of how I miss you. I don't reminisce of the good and the bad. And I don't miss you as a person, who you were or who you are.

I miss the stolen fragments that occurred between one moment and the next.

These scattered memories align out of place, paradoxically, in my mind. Because it is only through this reckless, jigsaw way of still wanting you, that you and I could ever make sense.

'Tis the Season!

2008-11-18T10:25:00.018-06:00

I stopped looking forward to the holidays probably at the age of 15 or 16. The cause of this dismal outlook on a seemingly happy and cheerful time is due in part to bad luck, family problems, and my own personal struggles that always just so happened to take place on Christmas.

I know I’m difficult to be around during this time of year, as I am unwillingly subjected to painful memories and Christmases past, haunted in my own ways. Also, since the death of my grandparents in 2005 and 2007, respectively, no holiday is ever the same, although we do try to make it as enjoyable as possible.

The one thing I look forward to however, is the first snowfall. I can name a handful of people upset with me and my wish for snow, but for the rest of you who encourage my silly want for those fluffy, white flakes, I thank you. A few you of you texted me on Sunday at the falling of this season’s first flurries, and thanks for that also. I looked outside my bedroom window to witness this year’s first official snowfall. Sadly, it lasted for barely five minutes.

Yesterday, Fran and I went to lunch at Big Bowl. We had our amazing spicy green beans, she had scallops and shrimps, and I had chili pepper chicken with noodles--no chicken, of course.
And then our waiter, Tim, tricked us into getting dessert. We shared pumpkin mochi and a brownie, am I making you hungry yet?
After our filling and sweet treats, an unplanned, spontaneous boft day ensued. After posing with the sad looking Japanese-like lego man outside of Legoland in Schaumburg, we ventured into Ann Taylor Loft to look for scarves. And maybe gloves.
Two hours and two shopping bags later, we looked out into the darkening day to find what? (NOTE: We did make a fitting room montage of clothes we tried on, but that would make this blog even longer, if you want to see the entire album, click here.)
It was snowing! And then we took more pictures with the lego man!So only second to my addiction of my love for watching the first snowfall is actually being outside in it. Our cashier at Ann Taylor Loft was visibly annoyed and confused by my excitement about the steady, falling snow, but that did not distract me from immediately jumping around outside the Streets of Woodfield.

After playing in the snow like children, I went with her to Target on her journey to find the perfect hand vacuum. Target was another adventure in and of itself, I honestly wonder how we get anything done together. After finding her cute but hopefully just as effective Dirt Devil, we found ourselves in the holiday aisle. We posed with lit, faux Christmas trees, cooed over “Baby’s 1st Christmas” ornaments, and fought the temptation of making holiday martinis.
However, we did succumb to the amazing holiday tradition of DECORATING A GINGERBREAD HOUSE! No, I am not kidding.

I couldn’t remember the last time I made a gingerbread house, and my emotions got the best of me. Surprisingly enough, right there in the holiday aisle of the Schaumburg Super Target, with my best friend by my side, I found myself excited about Christmas for the first time in years. With the gingerbread house kit in hand, we spent another ten minutes deciding which candy canes to get while making the gingerbread house, we decided on the spree flavored candy canes, yum.
We rushed back to her place after deciding the top priority was getting into jammies and sweats and making that sweetly scented house sparkle with candy and icing.

(Fran's side of the house)

(My side of the house)

Hours later, our icing covered, sugar coated hands completed our tasty masterpiece.

The front of the house.

Fran's final touches.

My finished side.

Fran's finished side.

And now, time for a video. Be on the lookout for my kleptomaniac best friend, and my complete lack of noticing her steal! Enjoy. And Happy Holidays!

Best Text Message Ever

2008-11-14T11:45:00.003-06:00

Days like these are my favorite. The kind of days where I struggle to get out of bed and instead spend all morning texting my best friend. The texts usually involve picture messages of our lazy butts still in bed, in this case, I sent her a picture of my messy bedroom in hopes to beckon her over to help me clean. It didn't work, her room is just as messy.

We have these days about once every three weeks, where we'll stay in bed texting each other plans about what we're going to do and where we're going to meet up. I'll suggest we meet at the gym, she'll suggest we go shopping. We always laugh at how much time we waste texting about our plans instead of finally getting up and doing them.

Don't get me wrong, I've been up since 6am but I haven't done anything remotely productive. So finally about an hour ago, I got up, did my laundry, and cleaned my room. Having fallen asleep in last night's makeup, I went to the bathroom to do my morning routine, only this time, applying a face mask. Leaving the bedroom door open, I heard my phone sounding off incessantly, when I returned to check it, this is what I found:

I have the best friend ever. And now time to wash off my face. Happy Friday!

Keep Me Warm

2008-11-12T18:44:00.004-06:00

I told myself I wasn't going to blog about this yesterday when it initially crossed my mind.

But do you know that feeling, where right after leaving someone you're so ridiculously happy that you want to turn back to see if they're smiling too? Well I never do, turn around, that is. And as I was walking away I realized this, that I want someone that I can turn around to and see smiling. It's not even about seeing them smile, it's just to have the strength to turn around.

I've always been so proud, so guarded, and so detached when it comes to relationships. It's not that I am incapable of letting someone in, it's something else inside me that honestly won't let me open up. Be it all my failed relationships, random hookups, and my casual approach to dating--I just can't do it.

My friends and family joke around that I'm like a guy when it comes to dating, which now that I think about it, is just an incorrect gender stereotype. Women can date without so called "feelings," but when we do it (sleep around, that is) we inherit all the negative slurs that men do not. And I don't regret a single thing because I know if I'd taken all the chances and opportunities to be in several relationships, I'd be much worse off. That those men would be much worse off because frankly, I was never ready.

The hopeful lover in me wishes that one day I'll just know. That he'll come along and poof! I'll let down all my guards and love again.

But the grounded, rational side of me knows better. And that's something that I'm working on everyday.

So why blog all this baggage? I'm not usually a sap for prime time dramas, but I've Netflixed the last season of Grey's Anatomy because I've been too busy to stay current with it and have fallen two seasons behind.

Season 4 was weak if you ask me, but I just watched the finale and I have to admit that a tear fell. I'm not sure if it was the candlelit blueprint, the desperation in Meredith's scared but pleading voice, or the familiar melody of Ida Maria's "Keep Me Warm" playing in the background, or if it was a combination of all of it, but it really got to me. Okay, so not that all of those key ingredients weren't important in making the tear fall, but it was a line that Meredith said. And it's so embarrassing to post this, but it was simple and to the point, beautiful yet terrifyingly honest, "I believe that we can be extraordinary together rather than ordinary apart."

And enter tear...

I can't remember the last time I cried. I wasn't balling on the floor or anything, but a tear fell and I felt something. In such a long time I haven't felt so willing to be open. I haven't felt this lonely in a really long time. Don't get me wrong, I'm aware I haven't been in an exclusive relationship in 3 years, but at the same time, I've never been single. Ever. Just last week, Francesca's boyfriend asked who I was dating "now," and he didn't mean in a hurtful way, he meant it in a playful way. And I wasn't offended by it, but I realized that I don't want my friends to have that impression of me. I don't want to have that impression of myself.

So I don't know, I don't know what I'm saying and I don't know what I want. I just know that sometimes I wish I had someone that I could call at the end of long, horrible day like today. I know that I miss falling asleep on the phone with someone and waking up to see that we're still connected. I know that sometimes when I can barely stand that I wish someone would take my hand and help me walk. I know that I miss being missed and being told so.

However, I do know that someday I want someone who will make me turn around, someone that I can be extraordinary with.

Mixing it up

2008-11-07T21:16:00.005-06:00

So I always get caught up in the playlists I create on my iPod and end up listening to them non-stop when I'm commuting. Eventually, I get sick of the playlist and just put my entire iPod on shuffle, but somehow the songs on the most recent playlist that I'm trying to get away from play anyway. It's so easy for me to get in to a funk with my music, I have the attention span of a peanut. I do most of my writing on the train, unable to really write while sitting still in a silent room. And while I'm on the train, I'm almost always plugged in to my jams, inspiration if you will.

Thumbing through my Moleskine, I notice I haven't written anything since Monday. And I write something everyday in that thing. Midterms (exams and papers) have gotten so intense that it has been impossible for me to make any new mixes, both for my iPod and my car. Speaking of midterms, let me just say that I got a 103% on my all-essay British Literature exam. The numbness in my right hand that day was entirely worth it.

Like my boredom with the playlists, I also tend to grow bored of my CD's. I recently gave a stack of CD's to Fran on Wednesday so I knew I needed to make a new mix for my car. And tonight, I did just that...I've also put the mix on my iPod for workout purposes. The first two songs are a little mellow for working out but they're what I call "feel good" jams. Sam Sparro's cover of "American Boy" is surprisingly refreshing. And "Autumn Sweater" is mellow too but with the weather being as cold as it is, I thought it was appropriate to add it. You should also google the lyrics to the song too, I love the lyrics. Anyways, I really need to get back to doing my hardcore cardio routine this week because I don't want to grow dependent on losing weight without working out. And especially since I'm on my second week as a vegetarian, I'm losing weight by just eating healthier, and I definitely want to get toned, hence the need for cardio. (I'm pretty sure that previous sentence is a run-on, my brain is scattered from a really busy day at work.) I don't know why it's so difficult for me to get to the gym everyday, I used to go everyday religiously and now I'm lucky if I go twice a week. Keeping my iPod updated makes a big difference, so I'll try to stay on top of that.

Lush Bofts

2008-11-05T20:19:00.014-06:00

I debated about whether or not to go to my one and only class today and ultimately decided to go since the weather was so nice. So I got ready, got dressed and got on the train.

In sending my regular "good morning" texts to my best friend, she reveals to me that she has the day off. I insist she come downtown so we can have quality "boft" time and she does. We always tend to have the best time together when we don't plan ahead, our schedules work best when we make spontaneous dates.

Anyhow, we headed to Water Tower to visit her boyfriend, Tony, and have lunch to satisfy our craving for salad that only the salad bar in the food court would appease. We've practically mastered the art of making our own salads there, it's ridiculous. Tony had sushi though and I realized I didn't miss it as much as I thought, true story. We talked about what was new in our lives, school, work, and at one point I had to convince Tony I wasn't dating five guys like he thinks I am. Where does he get these ideas? Fran and I were so entertained because when we all go out we still feel like Tony is there to babysit us, oh how we love old men.

After lunch we dropped our stuff off at Clarks, Tony's store, and prepared ourselves to do some damage. She's been persuading me to try Lush for sometime now but I've never gotten around to it. Sure, I've been inside the store and played with the vegan lotion bars, but I haven't really taken the time to really notice the products. Let me just tell you that we spent nearly two hours inside Lush. Oh my goodness, we practically had to be pulled out of the store. We saw a bath bomb demonstration and literally sampled every tester and every scent imaginable. I can't wait to shower and wash my face, and what's really exciting is that it's all vegan and all natural, no chemicals added whatsoever.

I got soap, perfume, shampoo and face wash that hint at one scent in particular, jasmine. How weird, because I didn't even realize I liked jasmine. As soon as I picked it up I just knew it smelled like "me." And Fran said the exact same thing. As soon as I smell it I think of sex. I'm not joking, not the smell of sex lol, but just sex. It's honestly the sexiest scent I've ever come across. Watch out world. I can't stop smelling it! Uh, I can't really explain it. Guess you'll have to smell me!

After deciding to finally leave one of the most amazing places on earth, we headed out and crossed the street to H & M, sadly we returned empty handed. We did however, make our way back to Water Tower and into the....FRANGO store. Oh my goodness, I almost died. We picked up a couple small boxes, a Frango cookie and some cute little mints she's loved since forever.

So like the nerds that we are, we took our goodies and sat down and talked about our Lush products over chocolate. We were loud as usual, cracking jokes that only she and I would ever understand (is, are, is, are?). I really can't describe how nice it was to sit there with her doing nothing at all but still having a really fun time. That's the thing about best friends I guess, you really only do need each other.

Oh! And so we got a cookie that we wanted to share together, so I took it and said that she would get the bigger piece, and then broke it in my hands. What are the chances that the cookie would break evenly down the middle? More laughter.

So I drove us home and we came back to my place so she could change. For those of you who don't know, I've been looking everywhere for my black pencil skirt, not realizing that I had left it at her house a month ago in a frenzy to change into something else.
So she came back here and we changed clothes like we always do--so much so in fact that we forget that half of our closets are filled with the other's clothes. I put on her shirt and she put on my dress and belt and the silly boftness time ensued. :)

And yet another pointless but fun blog from yours truly. Seriously, school is keeping me so busy that I'm using my blog as more of an update site and compilation of random daily goings on.

I'm still writing poems though, just ask my Moleskine. You know what though, I've been too happy lately that even my poems are reflective of it, not really something I know how to use to my benefit in writing. But there's a big shocker huh? Another writer who writes best about pain. I'm trying to break the stereotype, give me some time :)

Aren't you glad to be updated on the fact that I'm now currently obsessed with Lush? I hear Christmas gift ideas. Mmhmm.

And here's our favorite picture that she's insisting I post on my blog. This one's for you boft, thanks so much for today. Love you!
And with that, I'm jumping in the shower with all my sexy scented Lush stuff. And finally I can wash my face with "Angels on Bare Skin," Fran's new favorite thing. I'll think of you in the shower dear ;)

Yes, we can!

2008-11-04T06:27:00.006-06:00

So I went to bed ridiculously early at ten last night to make sure I wasn't too tired to get up at 5am. I got up, got ready and got to my polling place at quarter to 6, it was still dark outside. People looked at me as I stood in line, clearly the youngest person up to vote at 6am. The line was already out the door but on a nice morning such as this one, no one minded. I really enjoyed that everyone in line was friendly and fun to talk to. The last time I voted it was at night and the lines were really long.

An elderly lady arrived and I insisted she stand in front of me, when everyone else heard me offer her my place in line, others overheard and persuaded her to move to the very front of the line. It's funny how perfect strangers can provide a sense of unity, cheesy huh?

Well, I'm happy to say I'm proudly rocking my "PROUD TO VOTE" sticker (on my ostentatiously blue coat). Anyhow, history is going to happen either way, so be a part of it and vote!

I'll probably update later on if anything exciting happens downtown. No, I am not going to the rally, I was a little too slow on the e-mail registration process :(

Boft: Noun or Verb?

2008-11-01T19:11:00.010-05:00

It's both, actually.

And now for a random blog.

To begin with, Boft, or Boof as a noun is my best friend, Fran. Boof as a noun is also her best friend, yours truly. I can't remember how many years ago we decided to start calling each other "boof." Calling each other Fran and Tash just didn't sound right. We first just started calling each other "best friend" in public, every now and then we still do, but it eventually became too much work to say two words. "Best friend" then turned into "bf" which sounded a little too much like "boyfriend."

Then one day she came up with "boof," I think it was an accident actually, I can't remember. So for a year or so we called each other boof. It just kind of felt right, I can't really explain it. It got to the point that saying "boof" became natural and literally no one began to question it. It felt so natural that even our parents call us "boofs." Her boyfriend calls us "boofs," and some of the men I've dated since we've adopted the term has called us "boofs." We've even had professors call us "boofs," it caught on like wildfire. :)

Around this time last year we were walking down Michigan Avenue, on one of our "galavanting" escapades, talking about life and such. Somehow the conversation turned into how far we've come and how we've grown that we decided we needed another name. And "Boft" was born. It's funny when we talk about the story now, like we'd been dating for years.

Boft as a verb just means bofts spending time together, for example, "Boft, let's boft today." And that sounds incredibly dirty as I read this out loud but there's nothing sexual about it. Yes, we both know what "boft" means if you look it up in the urban dictionary, no relation!

So with the craziness that is our lives, I haven't seen my boft in two months! And so today, I'm happy to announce that I got to see my boft, I visited her at work. Sadly, we did not get a chance to boft. Maybe next time, boft?

UPDATE: For those of you who have been asking, my first week without meat in my diet is going really well, thanks for the support! Yesterday and today especially I've been feeling really light and energized. Oh and, I'm currently transitioning from 2% milk to light soymilk. Soymilk is an acquired taste, at least that's how I feel. It's not terrible though. I literally have to tell myself out loud that "I can do this," while I drink it or eat it with my cereal. I chase it with water. :) The only downfall honestly is that it's expensive. You know, it's really weird, I thought it would be harder than this to take meat out of my diet. But yesterday and today I've eaten at The Cheesecake Factory and Joyyee's. And if I can eat just vegetables at those two faves of mine then I'm set for life.

UPDATE #2: Fran just told me of how "boof" came along. Okay, so remember how I said we wanted to call each other "bf" but it just didn't sound right? Well we were on the phone and she was on her computer and she was typing and every time she came across "b" and "f" she always wanted to say "bf" pronounced, "bfff," like just the sound. We started laughing of course, and decided that it sounded like "boof." For a brief period her dad called us "beef," ha, oh well, at least he thought it was funny.

UPDATE #3: I was in Forever 21 today and do you know what I heard? First they played "Atlantis to Interzone," by the Klaxons--not the original cut of it, THE REMIX OF IT BY CRYSTAL CASTLES. So I'm already annoyed that I'm hearing one of my favorite songs inside a chain store but what do they play next? "Sleepy Head" by Passion Pit. No, I'm not joking. I left not too long after. Sigh.

Thinking about Inking

2008-10-30T19:40:00.009-05:00

So I've been entertaining the idea of my next tattoo practically the day after I got my first one (left, please excuse my workout ball).

As many of you will recognize, that is the symbol for infinity. No, I'm not a mathematical whiz and enjoy the symbol for its numerical representation. I'm more interested and inspired by the philosophical and literary concept of infinity.

My own reason for getting this tattoo was to utilize it as a reminder. A reminder that warns of momentary happiness and how in that very moment, sadness lurks. It's a reminder that infinity is cyclical and unbounded, that no happy thing or moment will last and in a way that realization is daunting, which helps me try to stay grounded and rational in my life's choices. Infinity for me is a place, a location, and not a space of time. It's the idea that happiness lasting forever is impossible and vice-versa with sadness, it's a double edged sword.

I've been staring at my lone tattoo a lot lately, realizing that it's taken on multiple meanings for me now and I'm ready for an addition or extension to this tattoo. I've already selected a location for my tattoo number two, and that's on the nape of my neck.

I think next to the collarbone, the nape of the neck is the sexiest part of a woman's body, one that is also less noticed and appreciated. I've thought about getting a tattoo on my collarbone but ultimately decided that I might regret it because it's a location I admire on myself often and would somehow view it as tainted.

So I began to do research on the nape of the neck and discovered that the etymology of the word "nape" is unknown. Okay, I'm not sure if I'm the only one who does this but I constantly look up etymologies of words and this is one of the first words I've come across that has no distinct origin. I loved it immediately because the symbol for infinity has no definite origin as well so already there is a connection to my first tattoo.

But for quite some time I've been wanting to get a tattoo of some powerful words by Sappho. It's a quote that I've come across time and time again over the past several years that moves me, stirs me to core, as an individual and as a writer.

May I write words more naked than flesh,
stronger than bone, more resilient than
sinew, sensitive than nerve.

Now of course that's a lot of text and to imagine that transformed as a tattoo would be painful, expensive and would take up a large part of my body. So for the time being, I'm going to pass on that idea, however I'm thinking if I do get this tattoo it might just be the first line.

Another idea that I've been researching is the notion of the sublime. Sublime and infinity go hand in hand and share that same concept of being simply unattainable. I'm not going to go into it any further because this blog entry will never end, no pun intended.

But that's where I stand right now in terms of my next ink. I just ordered A Philosophical Enquiry into the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful by Edmund Burke from Amazon to read a little more about this parallel and let me tell you, I'm really anxious to learn as much about this as I can.

This is How I'll Remember You

2008-10-29T13:39:00.009-05:00

Different things remind me of different people in different ways. The most sensitive trigger of memory comes to me through scent. I'm sure this sounds insane, but I really remember people's scents and draw most of my memories with them from that alone. I could be walking on a busy street downtown and catch a whiff of cigarettes and Acqua di Gio and suddenly be overcome with resentment, anger, and passion all at the same time. I connect with the way someone smells because more often than not no other person will smell the exact same way. However, in my previously cited example, I've come to find that almost every man owns a bottle of that wretched cologne. Anyhow, I love the authenticity in the idea of one's scent. I want to remember you in my own way and sometimes the strongest connection to that would be (in my case) through scent.

Of course we'll always have our memories, the images of which are seeded carefully in our minds, tucked away for that moment that brings us back. Memories however, can be unreliable if depended on alone. Of course you'll argue with me about this but really...the details can begin to fade, the dates become fuzzy and only the general thought of what once was remains. When I inhale a familiar scent of someone's cologne, or whatever fragrance it may be, I'm immediately there, in that moment that was once tucked away.

Here's a brief catalog of scents of those closest to me:
My pops smells like Old Spice and Marlboro's. My mom smells of Chanel No.5. My eldest sister, Michaela, smells clean--medically sterilized clean, and newly showered clean, like alcohol. My brother smells of mint toothpaste and Febreeze. My sister, Czarina, smells like Strawberry Lipsmacker and summer, yes, summer has a scent and she smells like it, like the midday sun on a July afternoon. And I feel I should mention the scents of my late grandparents, whose smell I can't hide from no matter where I am when I come across them. My grandpa smelled of starch spray (for ironing clothes), newspaper and freshly brewed coffee. And my grandmother smelled of waxy lipstick and moth balls.

But right after the power of remembered scent is that of sound.

I can't stand it when a song comes on that forces me to stop what I'm doing. I don't mind it because it makes me stop what I'm doing, but because of the reason of why I have to stop. Let me begin by saying that music is a part of my daily life. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't listen to music either from iPod or from my iTunes library on my laptop. I don't remember the last time I listened to the radio--wait, that's a lie. It was this past Sunday in my brother in law's car on the way to my cousin's birthday and I distinctly remember hearing a "siren" song? (I think it was by some rapper).

Anyhow, I'm picky about my music so every single song I have in my library is personal to me. So personal in fact, that I seldom ever share my music. I make mixes for my sisters every now and then but I'm very protective of my music. That also sounds insane, but hear me out. When I connect with one song, an entire album or a band, I feel like I can breathe easier. Like the lyrics of a song I love somehow makes sense of my life--or at least the part that I feel it applies to. It's a double edged sword of course, because these songs that I love can make me feel the highest of highs but also the lowest of lows. And that's the beauty in it, the beauty in music, you begin to find your own answers through someone else's words and melodies. And when you finally connect with a song you'll always remember that moment of significance, when it happened and who it happened with or because of. Unfortunately I'd like to tell you that disconnecting is also possible, but certain songs will always be associated with certain people for me.

So I was typing a paper in the computer lab today, listening to my iPod which was on shuffle. And one of those songs came on. And I swear, I stopped typing mid-sentence. The walls around me felt like they were closing in. The scarf around my neck felt restraining. You may as well have been sitting right next to me doused in your cologne. My first reaction was to hit forward on my iPod but I think in doing so all the times previous to this one, I'd forgotten to delete it from iPod completely. I lost my train of thought and had to stop typing my paper altogether. I let the song play through and I listened. I noticed how the words post-relationship sounded like an entirely different song. I wasn't bitter. I was grateful that this song, over time, had reinvented itself on its own. The words were the same and so was the music but the message that came across was something else, something new. And it was then that I decided not to delete it.

It's not like I can delete a scent from my memory bank. And I think being reminded every now then only makes you stronger since scent is usually involuntary. You don't go walking around looking for people who smell familiar--they just walk past you. So why should I delete the song, because I can? Deleting it may be the simplest solution but I've never been known to take the easy way out.

Perspicuity

2008-10-27T22:32:00.004-05:00

I sit inside a window sill

and listen to my thoughts.

I sleep inside the voids unfilled
where new memories form new clots.

I see these images in front of me
that mar what I wish they were.

I reach out for you in the morning
only to grab a fistful of air.

I strain to live bravely in my definition of
that word, where was and is confuse
me and want and need are unheard.

Happy First Birthday, Aubrie!

2008-10-26T16:27:00.005-05:00

[10-26-08] Ate Tasha and Baby Aubrie

So, aside from it being extremely windy outside, my baby cousin just turned one! I cannot believe how time flies, oh my goodness. She's so precious. And let me tell you, she smells like roses.

Family gatherings are always interesting for me. It's a time for eating and tsismis for us Filipinos, who's working where, who's dating whom, etc. It's basically our own way of catching up with one another. My grandma, (not really my grandma, but my late grandpa's sister whom I refer to as Lola, or grandma, out of respect) pulled me aside today and told me to make sure to just have one baby. I laughed and told her I was nowhere near having children yet but that I'd keep it in mind.

She said that was wonderful news and I insisted I'm far too selfish to even think of having kids right now. Having written that last sentence out, I begin to wonder if I'm a horrible person. I like to think of it as just honest. Don't get me wrong, I love kids and I enjoy being around kids, I'm even really awesome with kids, just as long as they're not my own. Which got me to thinking, do I even want kids? I mean, when it comes down to it, I think I just want one, or two tops. And I want both boys. I wish my sisters would start having kids now, but I understand that they want to wait a year or so. I can't wait to be an Aunt.

When I finally do have children (if I do decide to), I want to make sure I'm ready to give myself entirely to them. Parenting is self-sacrifice. And I'm not ready to give up my dreams just yet, there is still so much I want to do with my life before having kids. Of course I'm not saying having a baby would force me to give up my dreams, but it would certainly postpone it. So until then, I'm just going to have to borrow other babies :)

Aubrie and Czarina

Loving her face with Miks

Centerpiece

Cz and I

Singing "Happy Birthday"

Super windblown sisters

Dear Best Friend,

2008-10-24T18:55:00.005-05:00

Me and You, from that infamous night, you know the one.

I was driving home today and popped in a random CD. And do you know what I heard? Shake & Pop, by Green Velvet. I nearly swerved off the road. Suddenly a montage of our infamous nights out clubbing came back to me, VIP treatment, the comped drinks, access behind the DJ booth, the fake engagement rings, after parties, the drunken breakfasts at IHOP, and how can I forget the secret code words in lieu of, "Get this f***ing creep away from me!," or "It's too dark in here, what does he look like?" Gone are the days of our reckless youth, my dear. And even as I type this on a Friday night, I'm so happy to just be home, eating sushi and watching Entourage in my sweats and Bears hoodie. (A far cry from tight tops with plunging necklines, tight jeans and four inch stilletos.) Do you remember how much pain we were in on your birthday at Soundbar? We're getting old Fran, we can't rock it like we used to!

It's a silly example, but I love to think about how far we've come, both in our friendship and as individuals. My first memory of you was in Professor Pate's English class, (um, yeah...) you sat across from me, with your long hair and braces. We played a game of two truths and one lie, and you said something about a yo-yo. I think about all our random memories and I can't help but smile, grateful to have you in my life. Even when we talked today, we're not sure why but we are so comfortable with one another it's almost unhealthy! When my life gets chaotic, you set it back into order. And I know I've been a little MIA lately (sorry), but I miss you, and love you.

When you get stressed out again, just read this and remember when:

You left me with Eduardo.
Blueberry! Blueberry! Blueberry!
"Where did he go?"
Washing machine
No, really, she's not interested.
The alphabet (that was 80% me!)
Toros sure are number one
Boho-cheeeek
Wait, you have a tattoo?
Reindeer are real?
"Poetry" (british accent)
That's sawa like it
You work at one OH clock
Me: "Hey, I think that's *******, don't wave." You: (waves obnoxiously)
boofs + wine coolers + pizza = one of the best sleepovers ever
Hooters escapades
swee-thurt & lo-at-he

Love always,
Your S/C

Fire Alarms And...

2008-10-23T21:59:00.008-05:00

UPDATE: So after a day of what seemed like never-ending exams, I made my way to my last class. I walked into the classroom and up the steps to the third row and low and behold, at my feet on the third step is a brochure that I pick up, whose bold and bright lettering reads, "WHY YOU SHOULD BE A VEGETARIAN." Weird, right? Well I certainly don't believe in fate or destiny or anything, but I do believe in coincidences, and this one motivated me even more. Just thought I'd share that with you today after my blog last night.

Also, I meant to reveal something about myself after learning about Alice being a vegetarian but forgot to while trying to write yesterday. Only two people know this about me but I have a serious attraction to fire alarms. I'm not kidding, every single time I walk into a new building, I almost always spot the fire alarm, probably because I'm also usually looking for one. I'm not sure what this fascination with fire alarms is all about, but I've always wanted to pull one, not to set off the alarm and incite a panic, but because it's contained in this protective glass casing just begging to be pulled. I can't explain it. How's that for random?

I just watched the documentary The Devil and Daniel Johnston. Honestly, I don't know what to make of it yet. The credits began to roll and I kind of just sat there, still trying to process what I'd just seen. First off, I will say this, Daniel Johnston is nothing short of brilliant. I just downloaded some of his songs which are some of the most raw confessions in the form of music that I've ever heard. Johnston has also been diagnosed as manic depressive, or bipolar. Someone close to me is diagnosed with manic depression and I realized, in watching this documentary, that a lot of his mannerisms and episodes truly hit home. If anything, it really drew me in, like I could almost make sense of his wonderful chaos. He's also a talented artist, a skill that came naturally to him that stemmed from his love for comics. His drawings really remind me of Federico Fellini's sketches from his dream diary released after his death entitled, Federico Fellini: The Book of Dreams, which I've had the opportunity to thumb through. Fellini claimed to live quite literally in his imagination, unable to distinguish the truth from the imaginary, and the diary is just stunning to look through. I can definitely see a parallel between Daniel Johnston and Federico Fellini, they're both the kind of individuals who, after being exposed to, you walk away kind of stumbling and speechless, only craving to know more. And that experience does not happen often.

Food For Thought

2008-10-22T17:46:00.007-05:00

If you are what you eat, then I am eel wrapped in seaweed, rolled in rice, dressed in black caviar. Yum. Well, that's what I ate for lunch today anyway.

Every Wednesday, I have a lunch date with my friend, Alice.

I sat there, chopsticks in hand, listening to her story idea for a fiction piece she plans to write in the next few weeks. We begin to talk about everything, plans for our Chicago Filipino American Film Festival outing, Spanish class memories instigated by her random sighting of our awesome professor, my recommendation for Cut Copy's first album, Bright Like Neon Love, which by the way I'm starting to love more than their second album, In Ghost Colours. I'm not sure how the conversation turned, but suddenly she mentions that she's a vegetarian. At this point, the chopsticks are put down and I begin to ask her what seems like a thousand questions.

First let me say this, do you ever think you know someone, like truly know someone, and then they reveal something about themselves that you would never have guessed on your own? I love learning new things about my friends, it's so refreshing. Anyhow, when she divulged this, I stared at her in shock and admiration, it was as if she was telling me she volunteers at a soup kitchen. I really look up to individuals who try new things to live to their fullest potential, especially when those choices take an extra amount of effort on their behalf.

Alice has been a vegetarian for seven years, deciding to go sans meat in her sophomore year of high school after watching a PETA video. Don't get me wrong, she's certainly not hardcore pro-PETA, but the video really did affect her. The same shocked look is still plastered on my face as she tells me this. She then goes on to continue to answer all my questions. I've been interested in trying it out for a few months now, I like that it's so detoxifying and it's good for your body, if done properly. She tells me she always feels so light and refreshed, which I would love to feel nowadays.

After completely changing my diet around this time last year, I've become more healthy both physically and mentally, having lost a little over 40lbs now. I do feel however, that it's time I take the next step, like my body needs something more. It's so difficult to try and go vegetarian living at home with parents who are constantly cooking pork, beef and fish. Fish, I love fish. I could write a poem about fish. Going vegetarian would mean no more sushi with fish, crab, or eel. That would definitely be one of the hardest parts I'd have to overcome. There are always avocado and asparagus rolls, but will it be enough?!

So I've decided to start next week on Monday. No meat, fish or poultry. I'd have to really make an effort to include my protein in my diet, thankfully she's given me many tips and ideas. I'm only going to do this for a week to see how I feel afterwards and evaluate if this is something I could benefit from in the long term. I'm so excited to start though!

She mentioned this vegan ice cream hot spot in NYC, that she promises to take me to when I'm ever there, to get "the best ice cream" she's ever had. Oh, I should probably mention that Alice is planning to move to NYC after graduating, she is one of my pro's on my list of why I should go, the writing scene and the music scene are among others. But we'll see what happens when I get to that point, as for now I'm trying to mentally prepare myself for seven days without meat, fish and poultry. Who am I kidding? I'm trying to mentally prepare myself for seven days without sushi that has crab, eel and tuna! One day at time, right?

Thanks so much Alice, you're my favorite rockstar. I hope you know that in the next couple days I'm going to be bugging you day and night about what's okay to eat!

P.S. Oh! And last week, I wrote about the lyrics to "Hands Down," that I saw written on the wall of the women's bathroom in Stevenson Hall. For some strange reason, I ended up in that same stall today and just so happened to have my camera on me.

Heremakhonon: A Novel

2008-10-21T22:21:00.007-05:00

Have you ever been assigned to read a book for class and enjoyed it so much you almost feel like you're cheating your professor? That is precisely how I feel about Maryse Condé's novel, Heremakhonon. Admittedly, my initial reaction to this particular text was that of frustration. The novel, originally written in French, was translated into English by Richard Philcox. Certainly, as with any translated text, much is lost through the process of translation. Also, Condé is well versed in history, English and philosophy, continually referencing Aphra Behn and Frantz Fanon.

What I really enjoy about this novel is its protagonist, Veronica Mercier, a woman from the Caribbean who returns to West Africa on a quest to discover and establish her identity. An unreliable narrator, Veronica is constantly misreading situations, misinterpreting interactions of other characters, and is misguided by her own poor judgment. But what is admirable about her is that she speaks through a sort of interior monologue, a stream of consciousness, if you will. What's stunning is that the reader cannot tell if she is talking or thinking, meshing the complexity of her unabridged, innermost thoughts with revealing what she deems appropriate to say out loud. There are no quotations used to indicate a response, leaving the reader with the problem of having to figure out which speech is dialogue and which speech is interior monologue.

I'm finding myself constantly enlightened by the social and political aspects Condé touches on in the text. More importantly, Veronica moves through the novel thinking the man she is sleeping with will give her the sense of identity she has been seeking. She falsely imagines that she is a free woman, to express herself sexually with the men she chooses--the problem however, is that all the men she mentions having slept with or is currently sleeping with--have instead, chosen her.

In class today, my professor mentioned the tradition of arranged marriages. Although it's not the most common form of partnering these days, many of us consider ourselves "free" in choosing our significant others, our sexual partners, and ultimately, the person we will marry. My professor mentioned Veronica's sexual relationship with Ibrahima as a kind of "trading up," because ideally, he is the West African's equivalent of a prominent white man.

She then brought to light the idea that we (most of us, anyway) sleep with people whom we think would maintain a sort of class consolidation, appropriately perpetuating the class we belong to, or with an aim to attain a higher status level, in conjunction with society's norms. On some level, I admit that yes, of course I choose who I date, who I sleep with, etc, but how much of what goes in to that decision making does that notion of class consolidation apply to? So, naturally, I begin to wonder about this concept and take into consideration men I've dated--and realize in the puzzled faces of students around me, that I am not the only one thinking about this. But that's another blog entry in itself...

I envy Veronica in the sense that she is so misguided yet is so clear in few, but certain significant observations. For example, on page 47, her interior monologue reads:

"In my opinion, it's not the first time you make love, but the second, that is the most delicate. You are no longer strangers, eager to get to know each other. Not yet intimate enough to stop at nothing."

It almost seems impossible that, for a character who stands in the way of her own answers, she is able to strip away the bullshit and get right to what matters, appealing to readers on levels previously unmatched. I really like the idea of the delicacy of the second time, it's true yet who, before reading this, already knew that? I mean, of course the first time with any new person is going to be tricky and awkward and sometimes pleasurable, but really, who stops to think about the second time? With it, there's still a fraction of the unknown that is attached, but it's nothing like the first time, going in without any prior knowledge. You're both hopefully at ease this time, not focusing on the pressures that come with the first time you have sex. There's no hesitation, no holding back, and simply no reservations. You "get to know" the other person through physical exploration, as if by kissing someone passionately unlocks their secrets, and by firmly framing their face in your hands as you do so, uncovers truths about the center of their very being. At the same time, the second sexual encounter is nothing like the tenth time you sleep with someone, when you already know full well what they enjoy, their preferences and quirks have been memorized time and time again. You are "not yet intimate to stop at nothing," she claims, and damn, isn't she right?

I could go on, but hell week has only just begun and I've spent nearly an hour blogging about this instead of being more productive. The bottom line is that this novel is certainly worth reading although I highly recommend doing some research and finding some secondary materials to better assist you in your understanding of the plot. There are a lot of literary and philosophical references, most of which were lost on me until I did some further research. I think Veronica, in not knowing herself, has the innate ability to reveal to ourselves a portion of our own identity, through her own exploratory experiences.

Hey, Guess What?

2008-10-18T15:20:00.003-05:00

It officially takes me six hours to type a six page paper. I've lost my touch.
I went to the gym at 7am today before heading to the studio and working for eight hours, I think I'm crazy, it might also explain point #1.
You cannot properly scan a poem if you forget to scan the first line of the stanza, which I just found out I had done, therefore throwing my scansion of the poem totally off. (I was wondering why there was an unusual amount of headless feet while scanning, duh.)
Cooking with whole grain pasta is not as exciting as I thought. You can definitely taste a difference, it's not that bad though.
My hair has no shape. The hair just falls where it does naturally, no volume, no body, no shape, something needs to be done about this.
I haven't written in my Moleskine in three days, I cringe at the thought of unrecorded knowledge.
I checked to verify my voter (re)registration was valid in Lake County, at the moment it is not. I'll be damned if I have to go back to Lake in the Hills to vote, something must also be done about this.
I watched Sydney Pollack's Sketches of Frank Gehry recently and was stunned speechless.
My LinkedIn profile looks ridiculous and why doesn't anyone have a picture?
Picking movies for the Chicago Film Festival is nearly impossible with my schedule, somehow I'll make it happen, promise! (clenches fists) So far must-sees include: DéFICIT and Serbis.
Off to Wisconsin I go. Have a wonderful weekend!

Ruminations

2008-10-16T20:04:00.004-05:00

[THURSDAY, OCTOBER 16] seven am sunlight seeps through eyelids closed to tint pink flesh inward. strangers sleep together for the first time, folded Tribunes in lap. shadows cast from vacancies in the landscape like dancing latticed light shows on pavement. art form: dodging heybabystares. #60 opens doors students crowd jamming each other to board in hordes of threes. "The nights can get so lonely, someone to hold, if only." (Who is Amelia, anyway?) picked up a power bar and a gold machine. at that moment turning to the scent that is yours, discord. cursing the stranger under my breath, I missed you. rotating doors spin me outward. weaving through labyrinth of drones who can't walk: stopping-turning-pausing-texting-bending-tripping people. I hate crowds. "Hair," I say. (precisely the answer he anticipated.) thank you for catching my glasses that began to fall off of our table. I admired the unspoken dialogue we had today. blue hat constricts thoughts building into migraines, need to leave, cannot breathe. shelley's west winds blow the summer way. summer is overrated anyway: a four month joie de vivre that starts too slowly and ends too soon, at least I have my scarf.

Kalamansi

2008-10-16T15:57:00.003-05:00

Since my mom was still finishing college while I was growing up, my grandparents pretty much raised me. When I was sick, my grandpa would boil hot water and squeeze kalamansi into the cup for me to drink. He always did this for me when I was sick, and I'm not sure why, but it was the best remedy for any ailments I had. I can almost imagine him preparing this, perched over the stove, watching the water while cutting fresh kalamansi.

With the chaos of the past few days--all of which seemingly have meshed into an infinite amount of hours, my body is worn out. I haven't been sleeping for more than four hours at a time, and when I wake up, it's go-go-go. It probably didn't help that I walked around in the rain yesterday running errands and such. I also tend to forget to eat. Believe me, with my schedule the way it is, it's hard to remember to eat something. Every morning I have two organic, whole wheat, flax seed waffles. And since I'm full in the morning, I forget to eat anything else during the day.

When I woke up this morning I felt sick but pushed myself to get ready and get to campus early to work on some papers before class. I got my work done, went to class and by my third (out of five) class, I could literally feel the heat coming from out of my eyes, my headache intensified and for some reason my ear began to ache. I left in the middle of class because I seriously thought that I might honestly just collapse by the end of the day.

After spending a pretty ridiculous amount of money on soup, nyquil and other things at the store, I realized all I really want is a warm cup of water infused with kalamansi. It's been a really long time since I've missed my grandpa. I mean, I miss him everyday but with how non-stop my life has been, I haven't taken the time to really miss him. Until right now.

The Writing's on the Wall

2008-10-14T18:37:00.012-05:00

Or, in today's case, the stall. I don't particularly pay attention to the random scrambling of words and thoughts on bathroom stall walls, but one section of lines caught me off guard today. What I originally thought was a stanza of a poem was really lyrics to song broken in four lines. I always think it's interesting to see how other people break thoughts or lines into segments--which is why I even noticed this particular scribble on the wall in the first place.

After reading the first two words, "My hopes," I literally felt my heart flutter inside me, I knew what was to immediately follow those words, the feeling was familiar, the lines were rehearsed, a memory of you came flooding back to me, ironically in the privacy of a public bathroom.

My hopes are so high
that your kiss might
kill me so won't you
kill me, so I die happy?

I laughed to myself realizing "our song" held significance to someone else, so much so in fact that they needed to write out the lyrics on the bathroom stall. And then I laughed out loud at the realization that we even had a song--who has songs nowadays?!

I cannot describe the way I miss you, it's not the kind of "miss you" like I yearn for you and want you back, no. It's mostly the way in which I miss you, how when I think about you a cheesy smile surfaces, how when I talk about you, people don't believe me. When I read the lyrics to our song on the wall today I told my friend, Jacky, about it, about you, and us. I told her the story of how I sent you flowers for your 26th birthday--and how at the very mention of it, she laughed in my face in disbelief. "You? Sent...him...flowers?" she said. And then I explained how I couldn't see you on your birthday because it was in the middle of the week and you, my dear, are in Wisconsin. She told me that she wished she knew me when we were together because she cannot imagine the kind of person I was then (with you), especially knowing the person that I am now. I told her how our away messages were lines from "Hands Down," by Dashboard Confessional--a song, our song, that no matter how many times I listen to and no matter where I am when I do, your face is the only one I see.

I make such a conscious effort to not be in a relationship that when I stop and remember when, I remind myself of who I was and what I wanted, a question that I still don't know the answer to. What I do know is that I've never been more myself than when I was with you.

When I texted you today to tell you about the writing on the wall, I knew immediately how you would respond. And now, even as I write this, you cannot stop texting me. I love that we can exchange memories and thoughts and feelings without worrying about anything, about overstepping our boundaries or crossing any lines.

I love that I know you so well. I smile in reflection at all the things I loved about you. I admired the drive you had in finishing school and remember how in the middle of your night classes you IMed me as your professor walked by. I loved that in the midst of your busy schedule you coached middle school basketball, and I love that now that you've graduated and are working full-time you STILL coach basketball.

I can't explain why the last time we saw each other (two years later) everything felt the same, exactly the same. There was no pressure, no awkward sexual tension, it just felt right. You came over and we watched Smoking Aces in my bedroom, I can't remember when or even why, but you took my hand in yours and I remember not even realizing it until I had to get up and stop the DVD when the movie ended.

I don't know why all of this is coming back to me now, or even what it means, but I am grateful for you, your very being and the side of me you brought out when I was with you, a side of myself that I haven't seen years.

I listened to Dashboard during my entire ride home today, on the train and even in my car as I drove back. When the acoustic strumming of guitar strings began in "The Ghost of a Good Thing," I teared up. I remembered how a line from the song ("Love is like a role that we play,") was my away message, and you IMed me, our first conversation in months. I'm sorry I made it impossible for you to talk to me. I'm sorry that for the next year or so afterwards, the only conversation we had was through lines of lyrics in our away messages. But I think in not saying what we wanted to directly to each other, the words of these songs gave us the dialogue we needed because we simply would not have done it justice. And most of all, I'm sorry that I told you I loved you back (for the first time) in an e-mail. I'm sorry for a lot of things.

I don't know why you are in my life. I don't know why you were in the first place, but I am certain there's a reason. I might not find out today, or tomorrow, or in a year, but I believe I'll figure it out when the time is right.

Meow and a Mini Family Reunion

2008-10-12T18:50:00.006-05:00

Yesterday I met up with my cousins, Jannie and Joanna, from California...in Evanston. I haven't seen them in more than ten years. We used to spend summers in California, oh the memories. The matching outfits, the daylong games of tong its, backyard barbecues, and (gasp) a choreographed dance skit birthday gift? It was so good catching up, we've appointed Jannie as reunion coordinator, we figured either Denver or Vegas for the location, although c'mon, who wouldn't pick Vegas?! Let's hope it's not another ten years. Family is love, that's all.

Lol at this guys. Was her name really Meow?

(Note: Now that I've been looking at this, I'm guessing it might actually the program that prints the receipts, that's more probable huh? Either way, we still got a good laugh.)

Facebook's Final Attempts

2008-10-12T14:42:00.009-05:00

After an entire morning and mid-afternoon worth of saving pictures from my Facebook account, I am pleased to announce that...

I love that they have an easy reactivation option, what's that about? Now it feels so unofficial. Anyhow, I was personally entertained at Facebook's final attempts at reasoning with me to stay. For every option on the deactivation page, they've come up with counter-arguments about what you could do instead of deleting your account.

First of all, high five to the guy who came up with the first reason, honestly, funniest thing I've laughed at all day. And literally, for every button up there (I clicked on all of them) there is a balloon with an excuse for why you shouldn't delete your account. Points for effort FB, points for effort. It's the end of an era my friends. Life sans Facebook has begun! :)

Goodbye Facebook?

2008-10-10T12:12:00.006-05:00

Four years ago, I was a freshman at UIC, back when AsianAvenue was as popular as Myspace and Xanga was what Facebook is now. Admittedly, I was a member of both social networking sites, as well as the now more popular sites Myspace and Facebook.

When Facebook first launched for UIC students in December of 2004, (Facebook was not always open to everyone and used to operate by selecting certain universities to join) I was excited. I knew about Facebook a few weeks before they made it available for UIC students to use, my friend at the University of Iowa told me to keep an eye out for it. And that I did. Back then it was known as TheFacebook, it was simple, clean, and easily navigated.

Myspace suddenly blew up and I invested every free minute into leaving comments on my friend's profiles, updating my "about me" section, and carefully rearranging my Top 8, keep in mind that Top 8 was the only option then. I eventually grew bored of Myspace and I deleted my account in December of 2005. My cell phone (about 10 minutes after the deletion) was flooded with texts and calls about why I deleted my account. Did I really need to explain myself? Contrary to popular belief, Myspace really is "a place for friends." (That is, if you plan to grow dependent on communication with your "friends" via comments on a hot pink background, with blinking text and loud music.)

NOTE: I did open another myspace account later that summer. It's not because I felt like something was missing, it really was just out of boredom. Interesting how the reason that made me delete it made me add it again in the first place. This time, it lasted until September 2008. Because then I had finally come up with reasons that stemmed beyond boredom.

By then all my time went into my Facebook account, uploading pictures with clever album titles, writing on friend's walls, tagging friends in previously mentioned albums, and even befriending professors. I think the initial concept of Facebook can be appreciated, "An online directory that connects people through social networks at colleges." Please take note of the last word in that sentence, colleges. If you do a google search for Facebook, you'll see that line directly below the website URL. If it is focused on connecting people through colleges and universities will someone please explain to me why I constantly have a Joe-Nobody from No-Network trying to add me as friend because "I'm beautiful" and because he "wants to get to know me better?" Know me better? In order to get to know me better one must know me at all in the first place. My Facebook account has been on private for years now, no one can view my account except for my friends and I've limited the information that appears when someone searches for me.

With nearly 400 friends (all people I know "personally"), I can't help but wonder what the point of Facebook is anymore, for me at least. In the last three months of my final semester in college, I'm beginning to learn so much about myself. Yeah, yeah, we all think we want to "find ourselves" in college, it's almost a rite of passage, but I speak not mockingly. The people closest to me have seen a change in me that I can't even really explain to you. I guess it was driven by a means to reduce my life's excesses, irrelevent things (and people) I wasted my time on. I feel as if my life is unfolding before me, not the life I imagined for myself as a little girl, but the life I want to make for myself as a twenty-two year old woman.

Which brings me to my next point, relationships. I think I've gotten used to contacting and interacting with friends online that I've forgotten the value of a good face-to-face discussion with a friend. Honestly, what's more personal than talking to someone face-to-face, seeing them react at a story you'd just told, or hearing them tell theirs as you watch and wait eagerly. I've been seeing my friends more and more in the last few weeks and I have to say that it just feels so rewarding. I don't think there's any way to say this without sounding like a dork, but spending time with people who know and care about you and vice versa is irreplaceable. Once a week I have lunch dates with my friend, Alice. Twice a week, I have coffee with my friend, Jackie. And I totally look forward to these dates because it is nice to know that basic human communication can take place outside of the electronic ether known as the web.

So here it is guys, I'm going to delete my Facebook account come Monday. I'm giving myself the weekend to copy and save all the pictures (from 4 years ago on Facebook) that aren't on my hard drive now.

NOTE: I am by no means putting down the people who are still members of Facebook and Myspace. This is a personal decision that has nothing to do with your own reasons for maintaining your membership with these sites. I still have friends who will never give up Facebook because it is fun but I know that for me it's much more fun spending time with my friends face-to-face, not Facebook.

The Namesake

2008-10-08T08:01:00.003-05:00

A year ago I read Jhumpa Lahiri's collection of short stories, The Interpreter of Maladies. These nine stories revolved around Indian-American families whose lives changed upon emigrating from India and settling into America. Lahiri's first novel, The Namesake, was adapted into a film of the same name. I have not read the book version but have recently watched the movie starring Kal Penn, Tabu, Irfan Khan and Jacinda Barrett.

Before finally watching this movie on Monday, I had heard so many rave reviews from friends, mostly generic "It's just such a good movie," type-comments. Since I had already read and enjoyed Lahiri 's writing, I knew it was worthwhile. So I figured maybe I'd watch the movie before I read the book (I like to read the book first) simply because there is just no time for me to read it now.

About ten minutes into the movie, Ashima recites William Wordsworth's "I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud," to Ashoke and his family at a rather informal arranged marriage meeting. And I think it was the way she recited it, the hesitating yet certain way the words came out of her mouth just moved me. You believe in her sentiment, she does not recite the poem to impress the family, you know that she too was moved the first time she read it and that comes off quite clearly in the way she shares the poem. Fast-forward: they get married and move to America and have two children, Gogol (Kal Penn), and Sonia (Sahira Nair).

I could write you an essay on Wordsworth, but I won't. "I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud," is in short, a poem that praises the power of memory whose significance still carries affective power in the present day.

I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud by William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars
that shine and twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
in such a jocund company:
I gazed - and gazed - but little thought
what wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

The first three stanzas set up the experience Wordsworth had while walking with his sister, Dorothy, as they came upon a long row of daffodils at the edge of a lake. (Although, if you want to be technical, Wordsworth added the second stanza eight years after it was originally published.) But in the fourth and final stanza of the poem, we learn that Wordsworth is still stuck in the original moment of the first experience. And it doesn't hold him back, "And then my heart with pleasure fills, / And dances with the daffodils" (23-24), it instead gives him solace. Wordsworth constantly invokes these "spots of time" throughout his poetry, and they can especially be found in one of his most famous poems, "Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey."

What I love about The Namesake, the movie version at least, is that you don't know whose story is being told. The movie is composed of sections that focus on different members of the Ganguli family. We feel the alienation, resentment, and the misunderstanding between all of them. Like Wordsworth, Gogol's parents, Ashoke and Ashima adjust to America but still remember and yearn for their life in India. Their own reflective spots of time help them through the difficulty of leaving behind family and old traditions to forge an entirely new kind of life for their children. The movie constantly flashes back to various segments of their lives back home. And it's through this method of superimposing their memories to their present day lives that ultimately provides them with their own sense of solace.

The very last scene of the movie almost killed me. It's another flashback of Ashima, Ashoke and young Gogol at the waters edge. The scene was shown earlier in the movie but only from Ashima's perspective.

Ashoke and Gogol walk to the edge of the rocks, surrounded by splashing waves. Ashoke is holding on to Gogol's hand as they come to the end of the path. He mentions to Gogol that they had come all this way only to forget to bring the camera and take a picture. He asks Gogol if he'll remember this moment, remember that they came to a place where they could no longer go on, and Gogol naively replies, "How long do I have to remember it for?" Oh my, there's just so much at work in this scene! It's beautiful and I think if the filmmaker can capture and invoke Wordsworth as Lahiri has so stunningly well, then I may need to pick up that book sooner than I had realized.

This movie possesses an abundance of themes and I cannot touch on all of them, but I do honestly recommend you watch it. And I want someone to talk about it with, so do yourself and myself a favor!

My Morning Mix

2008-10-07T00:02:00.005-05:00

Unfortunately, I've been so busy that I haven't burned a new CD for my car in about a month. I usually listen to my iPod in my car but prefer to listen to my CD's because they're usually themed and even bear clever (if I do say so) titles. After finishing hours worth of homework, I'm pleased to say I've managed to find the time to make myself a new CD for my morning enjoyment. There's just something about my morning drives, I need to have the right music to listen to. Perhaps I foolishly believe that setting the right playlist in the morning can put me in the right state of mind for whatever the day will bring, who knows? This is probably the most random mix I've made thus far, it started with a theme but now that I'm reviewing the playlist I'm not sure there is one anymore--although for me, all of these songs have one thing in common. (No, I'm not going to tell you what that is.)

Although You May Laugh by David E. Sugar
Purple Haze by Jimi Hendrix
No Ordinary Love (Sade cover) by Deftones
Out of Control (State of Emotion) by Kenna
Both Sides Now by Joni Mitchell
Comfortable by John Mayer
Living Proof by Kelis
I'm in Love by Audio Bullys
Atlantis to Interzone by The Klaxons
You Can't Always Get What You Want (Soulwax Remix) by The Rolling Stones
Crying by TV on the Radio
Welcome Ghosts by Explosions in the Sky
Blue Light (Bloc Party cover) by Igor Kurtagic
C'Mere by Interpol
Electioneering (Radiohead cover) by Cold War Kids
Sparks by Royksopp
Africa Just Wants to Have Fun by Volcano!
Sleepy Head by Passion Pit

Random, right?
And with that dear readers, I bid you adieu.

Pattern Recognition

2008-10-06T08:17:00.003-05:00

I woke in the middle of the night to a phone call from a good friend. I forgot to turn off my phone before going to bed, but I'm glad I kept it on. She's going through some harsh realizations concerning the people closest to her, friends she has noticed are not really friends at all. "I'm not going to lose you," she said with conviction, "I need you." And I told her I needed her as well, which got me to thinking about friendships. Lately, it seems like all around me conflicts have been arising--with my friends and their friends and even myself and mine. These conflicts are the result of a continued lack of good judgment, miscommunication and perhaps even the stubbornness of not wanting to break out of a pattern. So at what point do we realize that we're better off without them?

Sitting with my legs tucked in on the floor of my bedroom, I grabbed a pen and my Moleskine. I wrote down my thoughts and confessions to try and create my own aphorisms regarding this issue. I looked up at my bookshelf and reached for Monica De La Torre's collection of poems, "Talk Shows." Its bright orange cover had caught my eye as it sat nestled between other books of black and gray bindings. I flipped open to a random page and read Pattern Recognition. All throughout the poem are single lines among full stanzas. The stanzas reveal (to me) a bitter disconnection of remembered images and the distraction of the lessons learned whereas the single lines insert declarative statements of her own perceived facts regarding relationships of any kind. One of these lines, on the page I had opened to (the poem is three pages long) read:

Some souvenirs pierce the space where daily thoughts fit organized. (45)

I'm not going to share my interpretation of that line but it really stopped me. With ten perfectly placed words De La Torre captures an honest truth that I think apply differently to each person who reads it. Everything about our daily lives is cyclical, from the routine executed in the morning, our jobs, our chores, and even the season's changing marked by dying leaves. Also in the mix of this cycle are the people we keep near, who color and perpetuate the cycle. Do we continue on and again convince ourselves that next time will be different or do we sever the ties that bind and choose a different color?

Miss Collins, can I go to the bathroom?

2008-10-05T14:15:00.005-05:00

Yesterday, I had coffee with Miss Collins. No need to be formal, she's still just my close friend, Jackie, from high school. Only now my beloved Jackie is a teacher. That's right, watch out world, she's molding the minds of our youth on a daily basis!

Jackie is one of the most reliable people in my life. And I don't depend on too many people. We've always had an easy friendship, balanced and effortless. We've been friends for roughly seven years now and nothing major has changed between us. Well, things have changed obviously, she has since graduated college and is now teaching third graders. And I can't even begin to explain how proud I am of her.

She sat across from me, balled into an over-sized, purple, velvet couch, venti latte in hand, pouring over her latest classroom news. I sat there, listening but somewhat distracted, in awe. She was talking about the arrangement of her classroom, the study lessons she has planned, and even some third grade gossip if you can believe it, and I watched her. I watched her mouth move and her hands gesture dramatically as she told me about her students. The Jackie I knew from high school had grown into a refined, responsible, and respectable Miss Collins. This is not to say that she was none of these things seven years ago, it's just in an entirely different sense.

I told her what was going on in my life and assured it was not as exciting as hers, even though she'd argue with me about this. Although I do not have a classroom full of kids to inspire, I do have my writing and who knows where that will take me.

But for right now, it's come to this dear reader, I will no longer post any new poetry on my blog. I'm still reworking my old poems and I might post those or maybe even a line or a stanza of my new work, but most likely not any completed and new poems. The reason? I've thought this through for quite some time and didn't really vocalize my intentions until last night to my dear Miss Collins, but I've decided to finally compile my poems and make a chapbook. There are different options as far as getting it published is concerned, but right now I'm just finalizing on a theme, which for the most part, is already selected. Titles, dedications, author bio...OH MY! I'm scared, excited, eager and overwhelmed but I wouldn't have it any other way.

For Laurence

2008-10-03T20:11:00.003-05:00

...poetry doesn't have to rhyme. I've been influenced a lot by W.C.W. lately and want to share this with you. A classic, but one of my all-time favorites.

This Is Just To Say by William Carlos Williams

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

You say that you have trouble grasping poetry, but it's not all that different from prose. And poetry is not something that you "grasp." Instead, let it grasp you. Surrender the control and see what happens. That's the vulnerability with poetry, you have to tap into your mind's inner workings to confront memories and realities that you've tried so hard to shut away. I'm not sure if you're at all familiar with Anaïs Nin, but she said, "The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say."

P.S. Thank you for that text message, it means a lot to me.