OHMAHGEE!

somuchtodosomuchtodo!

Things I no longer ever want to do but will have to do anyways:

Revise my resume to so it can apply to the different jobs/internships

YO, THROWBACCCCK

Just angry, Imma post some cats.

Hey All, 

So I'm angry, don't ask why. There are a lot of reasons why-- but mostly refer to yesterdays post . My anger is being born out of invisible armies.

Anyways, I'm not good at channeling my anger in healthy ways (for example, it's never a good idea to call your mom when angry, believe me.) My poor coping tactics are probably lacking because I honestly can't remember the last time I was angry therefor am completely dumbfounded in how to get out of this mess. I'm being serious.
 So I guess I'll just post some pictures of some serious angry looking ugly cats.

Ah, that feels better.

Change

Readers I am thrilled to inform you of some very exciting news. I officially have an arch nemesis. I would like to say I have waited all my life for this moment... In some ways (mostly contained in my daydreams of being Catwoman or Lavagirl) I have always wished for a nemesis, but in reality, this is a lie. I am utterly afraid of conflict and have avoided any run-ins with potential enemies for the majority of my life, it's as if they had anthrax lasers that shot from their eyes or something.

But regardless, I am here to proudly announce I indeed finally have an arch nemesis that thoroughly hates my guts and I in return thoroughly hate theirs.

The key word in this is "theirs".

Yes, I am one of the pour souls who has a plural enemy, and because of this, they have an infinite advantage over me. Their army not only breaches the millions in number, but they have these other black magic qualities that make them impossible opponents to defeat. They make me look like just another charlie sheen in this world...

I will hit three main attributes they have:

1. They are invisible.
2. EVERYWHERE
3. Only can be killed with boiling water or cancer causing agents

You are probably thinking right now, what the hell are these things? The Wicked Witch of the West and her entire extended family? I wish. She's even prettier than this guy....

Dust mites. YES, Dust mites have officially been deemed as my enemy. My Voldemort, if you will.

Anyways, a few months ago I found out I had a severe allergy to dustmites/dust etc etc... And when I say allergies I am not saying the occasional sneezing episode or itchy eyes. Not even the all day sneezing episode or the week long. I'm taking full fledged mucus coming out of my eye balls (I'm def being real right. mahlifebeelyke!), exhaustion from unsually high histamine levels from my immune system being "revved on over drive" (this means lots of sleepin' or just nonthinking going on... really inconvienient when you are trying to get stuff done), hives (gotz chickenpox e'ryday, all day), AND rashes (which makes my idea of being Catwoman fighting Poison Ivy have more personal motivation) for EIGHT MONTHS.

Yes, EIGHT MONTHS. And I swear to God I am never, ever going to browse WebMD next time I am sick or even for the next unknown bout of time that I am cursed with my symptoms. Because the symptom checker has made me think I've had the incurable diseases known to human, like brain tumors and Lupus.

NOT COOL, GUYS.

Anyways, this mudda-fers are screwing up my life right now, they have already given me a Staph infection (in my eyes...) and are causing me to move out of my house. I've seen 7 specialists, gotten my a new mattress, thrown away my rug and curtains, have been on 8 different eye drops, more than a half dozen perscription allergy pills, steroids, antibiotics, Lordknows how many creams. The list goes on, but I'm past my self-pity parties and moved on to my ranting rages of anger.

I hate these bugs more than Satan himself. And I swear, if I ever get my hands on a ray-gun, I would blow one of those suckers to life size and beat the shit out of them with my bare hands and a chain saw. 'Cause I mean business and I don't care if it gets messy.

I've tried to reason with them. I've told them to pick on someone their own size, I've told them I've done nothing ever to hurt them. I'm peaceful by nature to all critters, bugs included. I mean I've been a Vegetarian by birth and when ants used to invade my old house in CA, I would try to redirect their line to the outside with white sugar granules or maple syrup before whipping out the 409 and inflicting an Ant Genocide. You would think I deserve some Karma in this?

Guess not.

Sigh. The Saga continues, Unfortunately, this means I am moving out of this lovely house I have inhabited for almost a year in hopes that maybe I'm terribly wrong and it's not the dustmites. And maybe, I'm just super allergic to the paint on the walls.

Time will tell. On a serious note, I could use some heavy duty prayer. Chronic sickness of this fashion is absolutely miserable. When I'm triggered by some allergen I'm in bed within seconds with swollen eyes and an exhausted heart.

Watch this.

Let me take you somewhere! <<CLICK HERE>> watch the video, it's good I promise.

Demo

This is what it felt like when I watched my camera fall to the floor last night, and subsequently break the obscure piece of plastic that keeps the battery in place/in the camera.... It wouldn't have been that bad except, you know, the battery is what gives my camera life AKA makes it turn on. Hence, No little piece of plastic = no battery life = no photos. #FML

So with that said, I am now open to donations of black electrical tape and/or a new camera. Let me know if you have it in your heart to help a girl out.

Deep into that darkness peering,

long I stood there,

wondering, fearing, doubting,

dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.

--Edgar Allan Poe

Late night boldness

Sometimes, I wonder about our world. It's kind of a crazy place.

Osama was murdered May 2, 2011. Finally, some say.

I'll be brief, I have little to say on this said topic, but I also feel the need to share my convictions. His death has catalyzed a myriad of complex debates in various subjects within my social circles, ranging from ethical, religious, political and even issues of celebration....

As for this post... I'd like to stay as broad, vague and general as possible, not trying to feed the flame here, guys/gals. Sorry if its an irritating post, but I'm not trying to narrow my thoughts and sincerely believe that sometimes you need to stay obtuse...

I was lying in bed when I heard my roommate, Blair, yell out,"Osama was killed," from her computer in the dining room. Initially I was overcome by that feeling when you finish reading a chapter in Harry Potter or what ever page turner you love--a clear sense of transition, a tickling of speculation, hints of anticipation for whats to come... It's in these moments you know nothing will ever be the same, yet everything is still the immediately the same. How do you react?

Me? I was ambivalent.

There is not doubt that Osama bin Laden was the face of terrorism for America, a poster boy, if you will for 9/11. The man was after all one of the main proprietors for Al Qaeda, a terrorist group who was ultimately responsible for the deaths of thousands of Americans. With this said, I also know very little about the political repercussions of his death nor his previous involvement with actual terrorist acts... whether the outcome will be be good or bad, I haven't the slightest idea, nor do I want to do the research to try to find out. I just hope to God, for the benefit of humanity, good things are to come of this.

Regardless of my inadequacy in this, I do feel like I have right to add to the on going dialogue of this event. Don't worry, I don't have anything complex to add to this because my response can be summed up, actually, by the lack of my response. I guess I didn't realize how much Osama had been pinned as Man of Terror by America, I thought this war on Terror was more of a metaphor for other things...

Now, don't take me as some apathetic person or some un-American. 'Cause I'm neither. I simply want to stand outside of America's current circle of celebration. In my head, I do not see Osama's death as an ending to Al Qaeda or terrorism in general, nor do I see it as bring about justice or vengeance. America's response just doesn't seem to make sense to me.

Forgive me, my point is trite, but I stand by it and I fully believe it. Murder doesn't undo murder.

I am ultimately against murder under every circumstance. But, I also am willing to ask the question: is terminating a societally-poisonous human sometimes the only answer?

Eh, possibly. Who's to know?

When your right arm is choking you, is it time to cut it off? Or is is time to tie behind your back? Or is it time to call in the professionals to re-train the thing to act like a normal right arm?

Who's to know?

I guess, I am trying to say is Who's to know if this was a good thing or not for America, I'm sure everyone is wondering what is going tohappen in the next chapter. I just don't think the death of Osama can take away any of the tears that have been cried, ease any of the pain that has been felt, or comfort any of the broken hearted that have been affected by this war. In other words, what has been done, has been done, and the real question is: What can we do restore peace? Murder does not undo murder. So why continue the circle?

Who's to know?

Although one could say, maybe, it has prevented and saved future tears, deaths and heartache. And I fully believe that may be true. So I guess, I correct my belief to this:

Murder doesn't undo murder, and although murder can prevent future murder... Someone is still murdered at the end of the day.

I'm all about justice. Really I am. I am also very sensitive to the victims, the fallen and the hurt. I want you to feel better. I want to bring back your loved ones. I do, I sincerely do... I can never imagine the amount of pain, hurt and heartache one must have gone and is still going through. It is a world of suffering.

All I am wondering is since when was the pre-requisite of a justice-giver becoming a murderer also? Maybe I'm a little naive, but I thought justice came in a different form. I don't understand where we got led astray.

So America, I let you do the celebrating, I'm gonna sit this round out. I don't support murder and I don't believe in your version of justice.

I never know when it's gonna happen... but its happening right now.

I want to write.

I want words.

I want the levy to break.

Not only that, I want those words, the words that miraculously appear in the middle of my mind that pour down to the back of my throat, and rush through my fingertips, to materialize on the screen in front of me--easily.

But it never comes easily. It's like one big game of telephone between my brain and fingers. How does it get soooo disjointed, you don't have that far to travel!

But some how, it is like traveling the Sahara and I look like I've been hammered in the face. I stare at my screen, I stare at my hands, I stare at the back wall, the window, my roommates and I rub my forehead so roughly that the skin stretched over my skull turns blotchy and inflamed. Words are either screaming at me, forcing their way out like a rowdy crowd forcing their way out of small plane--slow, log-jammed and extremely antsy. Or its like over looking a vast dessert of sand--no sound what-so-ever.

Most often, words act like wisps of wind on my finger tips that come and go, rather than volts of electricity that boldly proclaim themselves.

Have some sympathy. I'm frustrated with writing. And I have been all year. For example, let's take the last few paragraphs, they didn't make sense or at least it didn't until I wrung them of all its diseased grammar, cliche and wanderin' misspelled words. And they still stand their wobbling like newly, born giraffes and I'm standing with my hands tied, hoping to God they don't fall over.

I mean as you read this, everything--hopefully--makes sense. But that is only because I've already spent 25 minutes staring, sifting, writhing, and fingering through it. And you spent 2.5 seconds reading it.

That ratio alone could make me never write again. Now, I'm not about to become some ostentatious woman of a writer that shoos away readers that don't appreciate the blood, tears, and burning eyeball-time that I put into my craftsmanship--tempting--but I also recognize my writing ain't that good to begin with, and I actually am not crazy about being dissected by passerby-ers.

With that said, there is also something magical about writing--closer to black magic than Mary Poppins. Its a love-hate thing, it's trudging through mud, its the feeling of levies breaking through your finger tips, but then it's also the tickle of new words in your ears, the jittering of a final, completed sentence and the anticipation of a response.

Every true writer would agree (although I wouldn't consider myself a true writer, I do share this attribute of hating everything I write). Ultimately writing sucks, and if you enjoy it, you're doing it wrong (a la Wolfe).

But no matter how painful it may be to write it simultaneously feels amazing and its no doubt addicting. The only thing I don't understand about writing is why it has to feel like I'm pushing a fat elephant through a mouse hole?

Why cant it just be easy?

Sigh.

Anyways, this is my post. I've been bickered by some people that I haven't been posting enough and I also am behind on the 30 day thing. So I'll try and kill two birds with one stone. I started blogging long, long, long ago on something called LiveJournal. It was the precursor of Myspace and Facebook. It was a way to communicate with friends but more than that it was a way to indulge in my own narcissism.

I cant remember why I started this blog specifically, but I think it was a way for me to creatively outpour myself... I like posting pictures and internet findings that I don't want to forget. It's a way for me to exercise my sentimentality, nostalgia and writing skills combined. It's a fun thing for me and I love reading other peoples thoughts.

Anyways, I promise to post something more interesting soon. I finally finished EDVP training and have more time to for more recreational things.

11

Well, since I already uploaded basically all of my friends. This is a picture of my Salone granma.

10

You know... I don't really have go to songs for when I'm "happy, sad, mad or hyped..." So this is hard for me. I don't know whether to lie to you, give my guess best or just skip this post.

I guess I'll just a list a few songs that I have a tendency to just come back to over and over again. Songs that I just love to listen on repeat regardless of my mood--they are simply just... good.

"Already Yours" by Bahamas

"A Sunday Kind of Love" by Etta James

"Blood Bank" by Bon Iver

"Heart of Glass" by Blondie

"You and Your Eyes" by The Walling Jrs

"The Wind" by Cat Stevens

"Warm Love" by Van Morrison

"Airplanes" by Local Natives

"September" by Earth Wind Fire

"Love Lust" by King Charles

"I'm Going Down" by Vampire Weekend

"Between two lungs" by Florence and the Machine

"Off the Record" by My Morning Jacket

"Wrecking Ball" by Mother Mother

"Blackbird/Yesterday" by The Beatles

"Walking" The Dodos

"A Shot in the Arm" by Wilco

"I Cant Decide" by Scissor Sisters

Eh. This could become a long list. So I'll stop. All in all, I have a lot of music that is good for all sorts of moods... it's more intuitively based rather than giving myself a cure or high.

9

My pride and joy.

I bought this old desk from Good Will last quarter and never got around to sanding it down/painting it until last weekend. It was my first time doing something crafty in this nature, I honestly hadn't a clue what I was doing. Nonetheless, it turned out to be a really fun and fairly cathartic. I wish I had a before picture, the metamorphosis thoroughly exceeded my expectations.

And of course, finally getting a desk has made doing college so much easier.