| Things you should know |
[May. 24th, 2008|10:46 pm] |
There are things I do not know. I was absent the day they passed out the information sheets. I was home in bed with a fever and an earache. I lay with the heating pad pressed to my head, burning my ear. I lay with the heating pad until my mother came in and said, "Don't keep it on high or you'll burn yourself." This was something I knew but chose to forget.
The information sheets had the words "Things You Should Know" typed across the top of the page. They were mimeographed pages, purple ink on white paper. The sheets were written by my fourth-grade teacher. They were written when she was young and thought about things. She though of a language for these things and wrote them down in red Magic Marker.
By the time she was my teacher, she'd been teaching for a very long time but had never gotten past fourth grade. She hadn't done anything since her Things You Should Know sheets, which didn't really count, since she'd written them when she was still a student.
***
After my ear got better, the infection cured, the red burn mark faded into a sort of a Florida tan, I went back to school. Right away I knew I'd missed something important. "Ask the other students to fill you in on what happened while you were ill," the principal said when I handed her the note from my mother. But none of the others would talk to me. Immediately I knew this was because they'd gotten the information sheets and we no longer spoke the same language.
***
I tried asking the teacher, "Is there anything I missed while I was out?" She handed me a stack of maps to color in and and some math problems. "You should put some Vaseline on your ear," she said. "It'll keep it from peeling."
"Is there anything else?" I asked. She shook her head.
I couldn't just come out and say it. I couldn't say, You know, those information sheets, the ones you passed out the other day wile I was home burning my ear. Do you have an extra copy? I couldn't ask because I'd already asked everyone. I asked so many people--my parents, their friends, random strangers--that in the end they sent me to a psychiatrist.
"What exactly do you think is written on this 'Things to Know' paper?" he asked me..
"Things You Should Know," I said. "It's not things to know, not things you will learn, but things you already should know but maybe are a little dumb, so you don't."
"Yes," he said, nodding. "And what are those things?"
"You're asking me?" I shouted. "I don't know. You're the one who should know. You tell me. I never saw the list."
***
Time passed. I grew up. I grew older. I grew deaf in one ear. In the newspaper I read that the teacher had died. She was eighty-fouor. In time I began to notice there was less to know. All the time, I kept looking for the list. Once, in an old bookstore, I thought I found page four. It was old, faded, folded into quarters and stuffed into an early volume of Henry Miller's essays. The top part of the page had been torn off. It began with number six: "Do what you will because you will anyway." Number twenty-eight was: "If you begin, and it is not the beginning, begin again." And so on. At the botton of the page it said, "Chin San Fortune Company lines 1 through 32."
***
Years later, when I was even older, when those younger than me seemed to know less than I ever head, I wrote a story. In a room full of people, full of people who knew the list and some who I was sure did not, I stood to read, "As a child, I burned my ear into a Florida tan."
"Stop," a man yelled, waving his hands at me.
"Why?"
"Don't you know?" he said. I shook my head. He was a man who knew the list, who probably had his own personal copy. He had based his life on it, on trying to explain it to others.
He spoke, he drew diagrams, splintering poles of chalk as he put pictures on a blackboard. He tried to tell of the things he knew. He tried to talk but did not have the language of the teacher.
I breathed deeply and thought of Chin San number twenty-eight. "If you begin and it is not the beginning, begin again."
"I will begin again," I announced. Because I had stated this and had not asked for a second chance, because I was standing and he was seated, because it was still early in the evening, the man who had stopped me nodded, all right.
"Things You Should Know," I said.
"Good title, good title," the man said. "Go on, go on."
"There is a list," I said, nearing the end. "It is a list you make yourself. And at the top of the page you write, 'Things You Should Know.'"
--A.M. Homes |
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| Alt+Ctrl+Del! |
[Mar. 6th, 2008|11:33 pm] |
I hate the office job that I have. I hate it with a passion. Every time I step into that office, I honestly think that this is god's way of cleverly punishing me for committing all the deadly sins and breaking a whole bunch of commandments.
Working 15 hours a week is really not a hard task. Working 15 hours a week when you're trying really hard not to strangle your co-workers and/or stab yourself in the eye from frustration is a little more challenging. I know the majority of the people in the working force believe that they know more than their boss or supervisor. But the difference between me and them is that I don't believe, I KNOW. There is no doubt in my mind that the little knowledge that I've acquired in the last two years that I've worked there has been more than they've acquired in the last 10 years.
I'm not even kidding.
I get e-mails asking me where the bold button on Microsoft Word is. Even if you can't find the effin' short cut button on the toolbar, there are two other ways of making your font bold. Uhh, Ctrl+B anyone? And don't even get me started on the stupid printing questions I seem to get asked every 5 minutes.
But that's even the worse part. I get asked repeatedly to do jobs that are extremely confidential and totally not in my job description. I get asked to do jobs that I technically don't have the authority to do. And I have to constantly remind them that I don't have that authority, that it's kinda, oh I dunno, ILLEGAL for me to do it. "Oh that's right," they nod, like that fact would magically change overnight.
This is my life:
For a long time, I didn't know if I was stuck in a "Dilbert" cartoon or if I was stuck in a weird remake of "Office Space." I honestly don't know which is worse either. I kept wanting to hit Alt+Ctrl+Del so I could escape and quit this misery. And every week I told myself that I would quit, but every week I'd stick it out because, let's face it, I'm in college and I'm broke. At least now I know that the minimum that I'll get paid to be exploited is around $8.50 an hour. My sister kept telling me that I should just find another job. "Find a better job and fucking quit. Leave so fast you make their heads spin."
It was a great idea, but I honestly didn't think I could find a better job. I had already made up my mind: I was going to work in that office until the end of the semester and then it was sayounara, hasta la vista, auf wiedersehen, what have you. I was determined to get a job that was related to my major and that had absolutely nothing to do with information technology. And then all of a sudden... out of nowhere... I was rewarded for having spent 730 in that hell hole.
I got offered a research assistantship in the econ department.
10 flexible hours at $9.50 an hour.
Oh, did I mention that this research could get published?
Moral of the story?
Patience is a virtue.
But just pray you get out before you start losing it over your red stapler. |
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| I want drink Inca Kola in the North Shore with Jack Johnson and Hernando de Soto |
[Mar. 1st, 2008|01:42 am] |
There are some days when I just can't help it. I wake up and it feels as if my whole body aches and yearns to be in a place thousands of miles away. It's a sort of homesickness that I can't really explain. But I have to be honest with myself. Sometimes I wake up and I wish I were in Lima or even in Arequipa. Sometimes I wish I was anywhere but Honolulu, away from school and responsibilities, and back within the grasp of my extended family and culture.
It wasn't always this way. It wasn't like I grew up with them or in Peru. I didn't always miss it. This is a recent development that happened only four years ago. Brighteyes makes fun of me. Having known me in highschool, she can remember a time when not everything that came out of my mouth was "oh, in Peru..." but I can't help it. There was something that happened to me during that year that I lived there again, and it keeps happening every time I return during the summer.
It's hard to put my finger on it. It's a combination of things, actually. It's my family. It's the food. It's the smells. It's the noise. It's the color of the sky in Lima. It's the lights of the Cathedral in Arequipa. It's the smell of cigarettes and coffee in my aunt's house. It's the sound of my grandmother shuffling cards in her sitting room. It's how the night stings as I bundle up to go out. It's even the taste of fruit juice in the morning.
I found that the radio station that I listened to in Peru streamed its programs through the internet. The result is that now I am listening to it 24/7, and it's not so much the music that makes me sad or homesick, but rather the commercials and the radio programs. I can listen to "Caidos del Catre" at 1am my time and it makes it smile.
I love Hawaii. I really do. I love my friends and my life here. I just wish I could find a way to mesh everything up and have the best of both worlds. I realize that unless I can move continents and people this will never happen, but I still wish to wake up one day and have it be like that.
There's just so much I want... so much that I yearn for... that sometimes, it's kind of painful. |
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| Barack's Our Homeboy |
[Feb. 20th, 2008|10:46 pm] |
I hate to be turning into Jon Stewart, but the only thing that I really think and talk about right now is politics. Hawaii's democratic caucus was this Tuesday and over 37,000 people showed up to vote. This is record breaking considering that the last caucus only drew 4,000 people.
So what was all the hype about?
Say what you want about Barack Obama, but nobody in Hawaii can disagree with the fact that the Illinois Senator is a prime example of the good that can come from these islands. Barack Obama was born in Hawaii; his parents actually met at the University of Hawaii campus. He is a Punahou graduate and pretty much this State's darling.
"He's culturally aware!"
"He understands the needs of all types of people!"
"He's got the aloha spirit!" (I love how people talk about the aloha spirit as if it was this contagious disease that you contract when you live in Hawaii).
So this Tuesday, Hawaii residents rushed to their caucus sites and voted. Some for Hillary, but definitely most for Obama. His victory was overwhelming: 76% to Hillary's 24%. Though it was almost like a given that Obama would win this State, campaign fever still overtook the State. It's a strange primary season, and as we've learned, every single delegate counts.
Which leads me to my main point: the campaigning strategies for both democratic parties.
Neither candidate was present in Hawaii, but that didn't stop them from sending someone in their place. Barack Obama lucked out; his sister Maya and brother-in-law live in the State and were more than happy to help campaign. To top it off, actress and former Miss Hawaii Kelly Hu flew out and helped organize rallies for Obama (Now, I wasn't too familiar with this Kelly Hu character, but lemme just say one thing: she is HOT. And she's FORTY. Yeah, and not like a hot 40 year old, more like HOT 20 year old. I don't know how she does it. Must have sold her soul to the devil). Hillary, in the mean time, was more than happy to send her daughter to the Aloha State to campaign.
 So on one hand, you had vixen Kelly Hu and Obama's sister putting on rallies at the University of Hawaii campus and at Ala Moana. Maya also had this huge barbeque at Kapiolani Park--totally open to the public. To top it off, Kelly Hu actually then went door-to-door at the University dorms to get people to caucus. Just imagine the faces of college boys when THIS chick showed up at the door and asked them if they were going to go to caucus the next day. It was so classic.
Meanwhile, on the Clinton front...
Chelsea Clinton flew in for President's Day weekend and spent a few minutes at the University campus on Saturday morning. Chelsea then boarded a trolley decorated with Clinton billboards that went along the city. Final destination: Zippy's.
Okay, I hate to rag on the Clintons but what the hell? Who was in charge of organizing this campaign effort? First of all, she spent a total of three seconds at the UH campus during the morning. Uh... ? Chelsea, do you remember what it was like to be in college? No one was up at 9am on a Saturday. Students who are Clinton supporters showed up to help, but if the point was to target undecided youth voters, she failed miserably.
I can kind of understand wanting to visit Zippy's and all... I can see that the point was to target "real" Hawaiians, but seriously? Chelsea Clinton at Zippy's just seemed so fake to me for some reason. She just seemed like such a... HAOLE there. She just can't pull off eating at Zippy's. Can you even see her ordering a loco moco? I don't think so. I guess it was supposed to be great photo opt. But something about all of it screamed "tourist!!", like she totally missed the point and didn't get what it was to live here.
After seeing both campaigns here, it's easy to see how Obama has began to erode Clinton's voter base. He knows how to appeal to people and how to snag the votes of the undecided. He GETS it. Clinton needs dire help in this area. Something tells me that Obama is closer and closer to snatching that nomination... as well as snatching the Presidency.
(Okay, I know this is off-subject, but doesn't this Kelly Hu look like she could kick your ass any day of the week? Hot. Why can't I kick like that while wearing hot stilettos like hers?)
Ahem!
Now in more important news, David Beckham arrived in Honolulu on Monday for the Pan-Pacific Tournament. Soccer Beckham Hawaii = too good to be true. |
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| Peruvian Food for the Soul |
[Feb. 12th, 2008|04:17 pm] |
| [ | place |
| | The Office | ] |
| [ | soundtrack |
| | Seems - Queen Sarah Saturday | ] |
I've had a rough couple of weeks. It was the worst combination of home sickness and loneliness and stress that one could ever imagine. I felt like I was spreading myself out to thin; no matter how hard I worked, the list of things that I needed to do just kept rising. I felt like it was finals week. Write one paper here, take one quiz there, write another paper in between, oh, and don't forget to do those 5 page case analyses! You have two due this week!
I wanted to shoot myself. I found myself doing homework on a Friday night, something I haven't done ever. Usually, Fridays are a breath of fresh air. I can go home after being at work or class all day and take a nap. But not this time. I went to class, went to work, went to the Student Government office, went to the bank, went to the grocery story, and then I went home to do MY HOMEWORK. It wasn't that I have a Saturday class or anything of that sort. No, it was that I just hadn't had the opportunity to do the online homework that was due the night before. I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open, but there I was typing away the importance of Boeing's e-Enabled aircrafts.
I finally cracked on Saturday. Though I had had half a day to recuperate, I still felt stressed and I could barely think straight. I found myself alone Saturday night because I had no where else to go and no energy to even walk out the door. So what did I do instead? I sobbed uncontrollably for hours on end. I was so hysterical and lonely and that I almost booked a flight to California to see my sister that coming Thursday. I just wanted to escape and go somewhere else that very moment. I didn't want to think about anything; I didn't want to have to deal with life in general. I was just over it.
I woke up on Sunday with swollen eyes. I told myself to pull myself together and dedicated myself to cooking a traditional Peruvian dish. The weird part is... that really helped. It was almost as if I needed homestyle cooking or something to make me feel better. I told myself that I would be cooking all that week then, because it was obvious that my body and soul demanded it.
It also helped that both my mom and sister sent me packages for Valentine's Day. I was so happy that I almost cried.
Hmm... it's funny how things that appear so inconsequential to others can affect your outlook so dramatically. |
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| The Curse of the Green Bay Packers |
[Feb. 3rd, 2008|07:05 pm] |
I was never really into American Football. Having not grown up in an actual State, it was hard to feel any sort of affinity towards the NHL. To me, it was just a bunch of men knocking each other over for a ball. Nothing great there.
My father went to school in Wisconsin, however. So to him Packer games were of utmost importance. And because I was young and impressionable, I slowly started to root for them. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not a huge Packers fan or anything, but that's the closest I've ever gotten to "having a team"--aside from my University football team, of course.
Exactly ten years ago, in 1998, the Packers went up against the Broncos in Super Bowl XXXII. And being a "Packers" fan, I was rooting for them to win. And then came the upset: Denver beat Green Bay 31-24. This made me lose interest in the NHL as I knew it. The only team I cared for had lost, so what was the point? But I nevertheless, I still tuned in every January for the Super Bowl.
And then I realized a strange pattern...
Every team that I rooted for after that Packers-Broncos game lost. Without fail. The Giants, the Rams, the Raiders, the Panthers... It didn't matter why I picked that team, either. If I picked them because they had a hot quarterback, they lost. If I picked them because I liked their uniform, they lost. If I picked them because they had been undefeated all season long, they still lost. It didn't matter. EVERY TIME THEY LOST.
And of course, I made the mistake of rooting for the New England Patriots today. And sure enough, the Giants came back to win it, 17-14. What is going on here? Will I be jinxed until the Packers make it back to the Super Bowl and win?
I am not sure, but in the mean time, I should definitely start betting on these Super Bowls! I could've banked today for sure. |
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| Economics through a dreamer's eyes |
[Jan. 27th, 2008|10:10 pm] |
I am not going to lie and say that I've always loved economics. I have had a love-hate relationship with the topic for as long as I can remember. It started in high school, when a simple introductory course to macroeconomics course sparked my interest. I figured it was interesting enough to declare it as my major when I entered college.
Then I took microeconomics 130 freshman year. It made me want to gouge my eyes out. I couldn't understand how this had happened--how I went from enjoying it to hating it so deeply. I figured the 130 class was a fluke accident and continued on with it as a major. The following spring semester only filled me with more disdain toward my major. Intermediate microeconomics, statistics, and tourism economics were hardly fun-filled courses. Tourism econ had some interesting aspects but I was so saturated with everything else that I was ready to switch majors.
 And then I almost did switch. I thought that perhaps economics wasn't my cup of tea, and if I wanted to get through college without wanting to commit suicide, I had to change majors. I considered international business as a viable option. I began taking business courses but I did not want to throw away all the time I had invested in econ, so I kept it as a minor.
And then I did the math. To continue as an international business major, I would have to do three more years of college. To finish with an econ degree, however, I only need three more semesters. Distraught, I realized that unless I wanted to pull a Van Wilder and stay 7 years in college, I would have to just be an economics major and settle with a business administration minor.
I continued taking economics courses and then realized, after taking intermediate macroeconomics, game theory, and financial markets & institutions, that perhaps I had been looking at the wrong aspect of economics. While I feel a blind hatred toward micro issues, I adore anything that has to do with macroeconomics. This semester I'm busying myself with trade, monetary theory, international macroeconomics and the like and I'm having a blast. I go into class and actual am intrigued by everything that is going on and being said.
I don't understand how I ever envisioned myself as a business major. The business classes I have taken to fulfill my minor are mind-numbingly boring and a waste of time. The instructors at the business school never seem as brilliant or accomplished in comparison to those in the economics department. It's funny that it only took me three years to realize all of this.
Today, as I sat and read for my trade class, I stumbled upon words that explained my love for economics. It summarized perfectly why I feel the way I do towards this topic and why I feel so compelled to study it:
"I was fascinated by social anthropology... but still wound up preferring economics for my vocation. What other choice could really have been made by a young student from a country afflicted by economic misery? Indeed, if reducing poverty by using economic analysis to accelerate growth and therewith pull people up into gainful employment and dignified sustenance is not a compelling moral imperative, what is?"
-Jagdish Bhagwati |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 24th, 2008|03:02 am] |
It's just one of those days where you feel infinitesimally small. I'm bombarded with class and work and vice-presidential duties. Yet, I can't seem to get things to come out the way I need them to. And I am overwhelmed by the feeling of absolute uselessness. Like I'm a little cog in a huge machine and nothing I'm doing really matters.
I hate thinking like that. I'm a dreamer. I want to believe that the things I do will make an impact in a larger scale. But seriously, will they? I'm not entirely sure anymore. Maybe I am destined to work at a dead-end job and amount to nothing spectacular, maybe Christina was wrong, maybe we are entry-level.
Some days, I flat-out refuse to believe something of that nature. "I am NOT entry-level, I'm a flippin' rockstar," I tell myself. But sometimes, it's easy to forget it. If I don't even have enough spine to go and just stick up for what I want (i.e.: get a better fucking job), what makes me so sure I really have what it takes to be someone of importance?
It's been raining hard for the last hour.
Thoughts always seem to mesh at this time of the night.
Loud raindrops.
Econ readings.
Music to drown it all out.
Heath Ledger dead.
Things like death always make me realize that nothing is sure, nothing is guaranteed, you just have to make the most of everything. What worries me the most is that I'm wasting space and time.
"Come hang out," a friend typed out on AIM. "Live a little."
I was midway through an econ paper and I wanted to scream, "Live a little? LIVE a little? I can't! I am 20-year old grandma while school is in session!"
What used to comfort me was the fact that all my hard work would pay off. But will it really? Or is all of this just destined to get me some boring job at a cubicle?
The rain stopped suddenly.
I guess that's how abruptly things in this life can change. |
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| Ice Cream at the State Legislature |
[Jan. 17th, 2008|01:30 am] |
You have to love a state that allows barefoot, half-naked Tahitian dancers to preform on the floor of the House of Representatives. With conch shells blowing and drums sounding (not to mention hips shaking), the scene was quite scandalous, enough to send any Republican into a frenzy. But alas, in the Hawaii House of Representatives it was more than welcomed!
And let's not forget the fact that this is the same state that allowed its university's band to perform the theme song to "Hawaii Five-O" so loud that it literally shook the whole State Capitol.
God, sometimes I really love Hawaii. |
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| Wanderlust |
[Jan. 7th, 2008|03:32 am] |
| [ | place |
| | The Rock | ] |
| [ | feeling |
| | Lusting | ] |
| [ | soundtrack |
| | Maps - Yeah Yeah Yeahs | ] |
"Then came a day when the clouds drifting along with the wind aroused a wanderlust in me, and I set off on a journey to roam along the seashores."
- Matsuo Basho, Japanese haiku poet
I had been stuck in the same island for almost a decade. Even at that early age, I remember feeling trapped. I needed to get out and my skin--every cell in my being--knew it. Even if the opportunity didn't present itself, I knew I'd bust out somehow. I remember a quiet sort of desperation that gnawed at me every time I even glanced at an airplane.
Four years have passed since I finally left that island. I thought that my thirst for travel would have been quenched and that my frequent escapades would keep me satisfied.
Ha.
Ha.
Ha.
That's hardly the case.
In 9th grade, I made a list of countries and even cities that I wanted to explore. I always add more places faster than I can cross them off. It seems like a never-ending list and like an infinite quest.
"I seemed to be possessed by the spirits of wanderlust, and they all deprived me of my senses."
I can't seem to shake off this obsession. It dwells deep inside me, at my core, and takes me hostage at its every whim. And it's not just about taking a few tourist snap shots, either. I want to seek, wander, and explore. It's about getting lost in the crowds, seeing different sunsets, and indulging in different pleasures.
"You need to come visit me in Beijing," Adrianne said this evening. Like that, like it was that easy. Jet-setting at the blink of an eye, to a foreign country. "It'll be fabulous, you'll have a house, a translator, and nothing to worry about. And hell, you'll be in China!"
And just like that, Beijing became another city on my list.
"Well, you need to come to with me to Peru, then," I replied. "You wouldn't have to worry about a house or a translator or anything else, either. Besides, have you ever even been to South America?"
And it was then that I saw, just by the twinkle in her eye, that I wasn't the only one inflicted with wanderlust. |
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| And for 2008... |
[Jan. 7th, 2008|03:02 am] |
| [ | place |
| | The Rock | ] |
| [ | feeling |
| |  determined | ] |
| [ | soundtrack |
| | Crash Into Me - Dave Matthews Band | ] |
I think I take myself too seriously sometimes. This blog is sheer and blatant proof that all I do with my little LJ is bitch and complain. Okay, well, maybe that's a bit harsh, but let's be honest here. The only time that I ever feel inspired to write is when I'm bitchy or something melodramatic happens. But no more of that! This is not to say that I won't update whenever I'm cranky, but I will try to do so too when I'm, well, happy. Or amused. Or whatever.
And it doesn't really have to be anything long. Or completely enlightening.
I guess what I'm trying to say is this: For 2008, I will try to update at least once a week. That's right, a total of 52 entries in 2008. Woohoo! Are you excited, noble readers (all two of you)?
'Cause you should be.
(Oh, and this entry doesn't count. I won't cheat like that)
Hey... maybe this'll get me more readers, too! Whoa whoa! Let's not get all carried away here, Laura. |
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| 4 in the Morning, End of November... |
[Nov. 27th, 2007|03:44 am] |
I don't even know why I'm up this late. It doesn't even make any sense. I know that I'm hurting myself in the long run, yet I don't care. It's almost as if I'm punishing myself on purpose. Finals are coming up so why continue the cycle of sleep-deprivation when it's unnecessary to? It's not like I'm up writing my thesis or anything of that sort. I'm up because I don't want to sleep.
I don't even know what I'm doing with myself anymore.
I honestly feel like my brain is short circuiting and I have absolutely no control over anything or anyone.
And even more random:
I don't like my writing style anymore. I feel like I can't even get eloquent coherent thoughts out. I feel as though every thought is chewed and spit back out in a manner that renders it completely incomprehensible. ADD, anyone? Ritalin has never looked more tempting.
Maybe it's things that like this, like my behavior, that are the underlying factor of all my failures. My "failures." What could those be? I don't know. Maybe it's just the mere fact that I'm not perfect. I'm always striving for this unattainable goal, even though I know that it's impossible to reach.
Maybe it's because I just can't function properly anymore that things are spinning out of control. For a while I thought that my behavior was a result of things never going quite that smoothly, but what if in reality it's BECAUSE of my behavior?
And what could that behavior be? Let's just say that I'm not perfect. I'm not even close. I'm neurotic and needy, dependent and selfish. And that's just the tip of the iceberg, because I could probably go on and on.
But maybe I'm only focusing on the negative; I never was a "glass half empty" type of person.
So then what the fuck is wrong with me and why can I not think of anything else?
It's eating away at me, corroding my very being.
I need to get out. |
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| Do the Colt! |
[Oct. 1st, 2007|09:11 pm] |
My sister and I went to rival colleges. In the Pacific, it's kind of hard for Universities to like each other, especially if we're at such a close proximity.
"Haha, your school spent $150,000 on a logo it never used," she said to me.
"Psht, whatever, your school isn't even in the WAC."
"What the hell is the WAC?"
"Um, sports? Western Athletics Conference? Does your university even HAVE a sports team?"
"I don't know. I think a lot of people played tennis."
"A casual Sunday morning tennis match at the Hyatt doesn't count."
"Oh... then, I don't think so. I think our cheerleaders were kind of famous. But I don't know if they cheer anyone or just, you know, cheer. They were fuggggly girls those cheerleaders."
"Haha, ugly cheerleaders, it's okay, our school has them too. Whatever happened to the hot cheerleaders? But anyway, at least we have a good football team."
I didn't get a chance to get into the fact that we have a stadium and are in Division I sports because we got sidetracked by the topic of Colt Brennan, the star of my school's football team. Yes, the very one who was kicked out of the University of Colorado after having "trespassed on a female's privacy." That's a nice euphemism for: having drunkenly stumbled into her dorm room, pulled off his pants, and started masturbating.
"No fucking way, detaiiiiiiiils!!" My sister demanded.
"Turns out a friend of mine knows the roommate of said girl in question. Colt actually, like, came on her face."
"OMFG SHUT THE FUCK UP!!"
"Suh-wear. This guy is actually a pretty good football player, even has records and stuff. But it's kinda hard to get over the fact that he... has a little pants problem. Doesn't know when to not expose himself. I mean, okay, he's cute, but he's not THAT cute."
And with that, I leave you, my fair readers, with this:
Enjoy the bukkake-esque proportions of THAT mental image. :) |
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| Frick! |
[Sep. 27th, 2007|03:33 am] |
I can't explain it, but there are certain times when I just feel so goddamn mediocre. Looking back, I have come to the conclusion that this is the feeling that haunts me the most: feeling mediocre. I hate the creeping dread that comes with it, like I'm just a self-made failure because though I could do better and should've done better, I chose not to.
Failure then would come at my own hands, brought about by my own stupidity.
If you're mediocre, you can't blame your ability (or lack thereof) if you don't succeed.
It's funny how that happens.
I overslept this morning and didn't make it to my Game Theory midterm on time. The result? I messed up possibly the easiest question on the exam, which also happened to be worth 20 points. FUCK.
I also didn't encourage my Business Management team to rehearse more for a presentation that we gave today. It wasn't a bad presentation, but it could've have been so much better if we had just worked better. We had a good group, but I guess we just didn't have time to put shit together. Or didn't care enough to. I don't know which is worse. The result? A 6 minute presentation that should've been 10. DOUBLE FUCK.
Oh, and don't even get me STARTED on homecoming program planning, because that might just drive me straight into a crying fit.
And now, pillow time. |
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| Life, travels, and luck |
[Aug. 12th, 2007|12:50 am] |
| [ | place |
| | Lima, Peru | ] |
| [ | feeling |
| |  confused | ] |
| [ | soundtrack |
| | AKA M80 The Wolf - Portugal. The Man. | ] |
My head is a mess... as it always tends to be when I am about to leave this country. I don't know what I want. I know that I want something more than a typical life can offer me. I want to travel, I want to see everything, I want to live everything. I just want more. This country always makes me feel this way. I feel like I'm selling out whenever I leave, simply because it's the easiest thing to do and it's what will make me more successful (and thus more "content") in the long run.
I feel like everything in this life is about money. It's about tediously working day after day for cash that will supposedly make you happy. Because who doesn't want material possessions? The house, the car, the dog, the clothes, fuck, even the 2.1 children are like an accessory. I don't want any of that. Society tells me that YES!, that's exactly what you want because that's what everyone wants.
I don't know.
Whenever people talk to me and mention money, I can only think of how far I could travel with it.
"Yeah, I was looking into buying a truck."
"Oh really? Expensive?"
"Um, kind of. About 18 grand."
"18 GRAND?! FOR A TRUCK?!"
"Yeah..."
"You know you could travel comfortably through a whole continent with that?!"
"Huh?"
Maybe my deal isn't really about settling down. Or even traveling, per se. Maybe it's about being passionate about something. I long to do something I am passionate about. I am passionate about traveling, therefore I wish I could just put everything in a backpack and just take off. I love taking pictures and wish I had the talent to just be a photographer. I enjoy writing and I wish I had the guts needed to risk it all to become a photojournalist.
"Hey, you could always work for National Geographic!"
"Oh really, just like that, huh? 'Cause it's that easy?"
Bottomline is maybe that I'm too scared to do what I wanna do. And I am angry at myself for being scared. I am angry at myself for taking the easier road because I am too afraid to risk everything, even if it will make me the happiest in the long run. Why can't I take that chance?
Last week I stumbled into a casino at 4am with my friends. And even at my most drunk state, I couldn't bring myself to place a bet.
"No, no, what are the odds? Things could never go in my favor."
"C'mon, Laura, just five soles in the roulette. It's not that big a deal, and here, lemme teach you the probabilities--"
"No way. Not doing it. I'll lose. And why risk my five soles?"
"Because you could win?"
I should've listened to him. He ended up walking out with 50 soles, ten times what he bet.
But is it all worth it?
Is it worth risking it all when you have the chance of losing it all?
And what if it all is just luck? Is life just like a game of cards, where you have very little control of what hand you are dealt and have to make a play of what you get? Are we even in control of our own destiny, or is it just all luck?
Does this even make sense?
Why am I too scared to even analyze it?
God, I'm fucking retarded. |
|
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| Felipe on Religion |
[May. 24th, 2007|02:11 am] |
My 7 year old cousin has just started taking religion classes in his elementary school. And he, being quite the existential fellow that he is, has started to make his own assumptions and ask questions to fill in the blanks.
"Felipe, do you know where God lives?"
"Duh. He lives in the clouds. He doesn't live with us, you know."
"Why not?"
"'Cause God made heaven and earth but he forgot to make a ladder to come back down. Duh. He would've come down too, but since he knows everything, he knew that he was gonna die. So he just sent his son down in his place. You know, 'cause God didn't wanna die."
"Mom, do you believe in Jesus?"
"Yes, I do, Felipe. Do you?"
"Well, I thought I did. But then Jaime Richter in my class told me that he was the son of God. That we should worship him 'cause he's our Savior. So now I'm confused. But honestly, I just think Jaime's an idiot."
This kid is awesome. |
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| Fuck Nightmares! |
[Mar. 6th, 2007|12:51 am] |
| [ | Tags | | | wtf?! | ] |
| [ | place |
| | 'Rella, 808 Home Base | ] |
| [ | feeling |
| | Cranky and Sleep Deprived | ] |
| [ | soundtrack |
| | Your Heart Is An Empty Room - Death Cab For Cutie | ] |
This whole nightmare asunto really needs to stop. I can't stand it. I'm afraid to go to bed because I don't want to face these vividly scary dreams. As sleep is my favorite form of escapism, it's hitting me especially hard. I wake up every 15 minutes in a cold sweat, trying to figure out why there my dad's blood is all over the pavement, why my best friends won't save me from drowning, and why the hell I keep falling back asleep into the same horrible dreams.
I went to bed at 5am last night and I woke up every 25 minutes it seemed like until I got up to go to class at 9 that morning. This has got to stop. I don't think my professors appreciate me passing out in the middle of class just 'cause I don't get enough sleep at home.
[Cries] |
|
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| John Keynes and Professor Bonham and Frustration |
[Mar. 1st, 2007|11:35 pm] |
It's almost midnight on a Thursday and I'm struggling to study for my economics exam tomorrow. Frankly, I'm PETRIFIED of it. So goddamn scared. Don't ask me why. I mean, I'm good at this shit, but somehow I feel like I don't get it as well as I should. Like the professor expects way more of me than I am prepared to give at this moment.
I'm too distracted to completely master these things. I have too much going on. I have too many things that I want to do and computing Y as it equals C+I+G+NX is not really one of them. Sure, I do enjoy it to some extent. The interesting part of it, I mean. Small open economy, large open economy, changing fiscal policies in the United States to see what happens to the world real interest rate. True, it's fun. But seriously, you know what else is EVEN MORE fun? My boyfriend. My roommate. My novia. My sister. My Tuesday/Thursday lunch meetings.
I want to go to class and learn but I don't want or need this stress. I want something more carefree (Ha! Like that's gonna happen!).
Fuck.
Fuck.
Please, Bonham. Be gentle!! |
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| MySpace and Relationships |
[Jan. 21st, 2007|12:59 pm] |
"Jane, sorry for messing everything up."
"It's okay, you're still, like, on my top 25 on MySpace." |
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