Achilles, gggroan.

Here I am. Another sleepless night, another blank word document, and a mouthful of words that surface to the top with irrelevance to the task at hand.

I wanted to major in English to inspire. To ignite words, and lift the dust covered veils that turn people away from the boring pangs of old literature. However, I've been finding myself caught in the same boring pangs. Twiddling my thumbs, rolling in the fluffy comforter of my bed, staring out the wet window pane, aching to go outside for any given reason to take me away from these wretched books.

Okay, they aren't quite wretched. Christopher brought something to my attention, "You absolutely hate being ordered to do anything you're passionate about. Once you're forced to do it you just want to give up, that's it, and you're done." He couldn't have uttered truer words. What's the point of being passionate if you're forced to be passionate, enthusiastic? Last semester I was so thrilled by the freedom of my classes. I told myself "This is what I've been waiting for, this is the path that I have been waiting to take!" Yet, this path has proven to be much more difficult to trek than I had envisioned.

It could possibly be that I am beginning to doubt my passions, whether or not they can withstand ancient pieces of literature that tend to numb me dry with repetitive boasting. I don't know how to make this enjoyable. Group discussions tend to work against such developing enthusiasm as we normally tend to agree that the material is rather ridiculous and humorous in its dramatization.

Please, someone, enthuse me.

Remember how I used to say shit and not give a shit?



I miss that.

Pass.

I'm always telling myself that I don't have enough time to write. It's that moment that I tell myself that I want to write to actually setting myself down to write that is the most difficult task to accomplish. Once I've set onto it, its free-flowing.

I'd like to believe that there are minds alike to keep me from going completely insane. Sometimes I give people too much credit and believe that some only suffer from momentary stupidity rather than permanent. Turns out, there's both. Although, I've refrained from believing in the latter with hopes that humanity has a shot in reality. Days are passing by faster than ever. I find myself in between the push and pull of hope and nihilism. Sometimes things feel very chaotic, and well it is hard to deny that we are all quite small in the vast universe. There is some force, that I cannot hold onto, but greatly believe in. Haha, I know this sounds ridiculous particularly coming from a Star Wars fan. A force, not THE force. Something I can't explain, yet it helps me move onward and its ambiguity remains a constant mystery that I, unlike many other things, am completely comfortable with.

I want to explore the manifestation of the world and feel the tinges of human life and love and compassion that comes with it. I need a re-awakening that Yosemite shook me with, and unfortunately left me upon the moment I stepped into the airport back home. What is it that Nature has that man cannot grasp?

Pating!

New favorite Tagalog word:
Pating!

Yes, yes indeed. It means shark.

Step one of my newly established to do list:
Learn a new language, that including Tagalog.

Step one was: Purchase English-Tagalog Dictionary.

It was a pocket dictionary that consists of 3,000 of the most commonly used words in Tagalog. I was pleased to find Whore, and shit have found a place in there. Dumi!

So, if I haven't already mentioned almost a thousand times via some internet forum, I've started to develop this list, similar to a bucket list, but what I like to call a fucket list. You know, like "Fuck it, I'm still young!" Essentially things I want to accomplish prior to becoming old and brittle. While the air still tastes lovely and my lungs don't completely collapse on me. Sounds reasonable right?


Amongst the "Learn a new language" to do, I believe it's number 4, right below learn how to play a damn instrument. I've included both Spanish and Japanese. Languages that I've had some partial experience with.

For the most part I'm sticking with Tagalog so I can tune into all the gossip that goes around in my office. Should reinforce my learning methods nicely.

I'm counting down the days to Yosemite! 3 more days. I intend to take plenty of pictures and return looking like a nomad with a devilishly stunning tan. Which typically means I will probably sunburn. (Cross your fingers)

Overall, I'll start publishing my to do list soon. I may start posting it to Lola's Bakeshop considering that was apart of my many to do's. If only I had pursued my endeavors. Eventually I will pick it back up once I have my own spacious kitchen.

So many things. So little time.
Wait, I've got time. Psch, time is a cinch.

You have time too. Look around, sucker.

Absurd is a synonym for silly? That's absurd!

1) I'm tired of seeing headlining articles about the proposterous hats that Europeans are concocting for special events.

2) I'm so over the irony in Rep. Weiner's wiener pictures.

Earlier tonight I finally treated myself to the ice cream that I had been using to reinforce my studying. It didn't taste as great as I had been working myself up for.

While I was in line I considered quitting drinking alcohol. Three customers ahead of me all consisted of alcohol. The first customer had Jack Daniels and some other fruity mixture, the second had Jack Daniels and cabbage (wtf, right?), and the third was this guy that paid in pennies and dimes for a Miller Lite. I looked at my collection of groceries: 1 french baguette, bacon, an avocado, a tub of mint chip ice cream, and cake cones. And for what it's worth, water.

Prior to recounting my items I thought of ditching alcohol, then I looked at my stuff and thought "really, is this any better?"

Track back even earlier into my day. During lunch time we had a birthday for one of the clients, I asked one of the accountants to spare some cash for some drinks. She said "Oh, I've already put sodas in the fridge!" I opened up the frige: 1 DIET Coke, 1 DIET Pepsi. I returned and said, "oh no no no, I'll fork for some real soda. "

I drove down the street to CVS Pharmacy and walked in to find only an empty shelf which was supposed to hold 79 cent Coca-cola. I started walking up and down the aisle, hoping that some restock boxes were laid out. Instead I turned the corner and found one of those fancy product placement towers that show off sale items. I snagged 2 liters and waited in line.

The woman in front of me said loudly, "What? What's this one dollar thing. I don't want donate a dollar, I don't even know what it's for?" - "It's for cancer."

Holding my 2 liters, whistling and gazing around the store, "It's for cancer," the words pierced my zoning out. At that moment I zoomed onto the wall behind the cashier which contained massive assortments of cigarettes, tobacco and those large cartons of cigarettes. I remember, I had a friend that could go through one in a week at the age of 18. Below the cigarettes were shelves and shelves of so many candies there had to be hundreds. You ever take the time to count how much fucking candy we have?

I don't know what brought these things to my attention more so than before and in this manner. I guess it was the word cancer. I thought, this is pretty depressing, a store with a pharmacy for the betterment of human health, and on opposing walls they serve entirely different purposes all which cater to the same person.

Huh?

Sleepless.

I'm not going to get any sleep.

That's a sure thing I can tell you as of this moment.

My heart feels like it's hanging by a thread, a mere blood vessel. I don't want to think about that vessel bursting at any point in time.

My mom took the job up North, which means for the next 6 months I get to spend mulling over what the fuck I'm going to do with myself until December. I convinced myself that I could stay in Southern California independently, but that fact of the matter is: I don't have that kind of luxury right now.

I'm trying not to spend so much time thinking "Why oh, why did I have to slack off my junior year?" Then it leads to this whole Butterfly Effect thought process of: 1) If only I had not ditched class 2) My grades would have been better 3)I would have stayed away from troublesome company 4) I would have got accepted into a good college - or taken community college more seriously 5) I would have graduated on track with the rest of my classmates with my BA...alright, I'm just going to stop myself there.

Even though I could probably go on forever with could of would of should ov's... I'm not a complete moron. I'm wasting valuable optimum motivational energy wheras it is clearly being wasted on illogical pessimism. We'll save those kinds of stories for upcoming younger siblings that might need something to horrify them back onto track. Luckily, my younger cousins have been doing remarkable. Instead, they've been lighting a flame beneath me more than I think I ever have. I'm not going to shit myself, being the bad example doesn't have any glory in it whatsoever. On the other hand, I'd at least like to redeem myself for the sake of my own honor.

I never get to write like this. I spend so much time enthralled in my classes, and amazed by the minds surrounding me that I don't get to spend enough time with myself. I can't dissect my thought process as much as I used to. In my creative writing class I'm so easily amazed by the creativity, yet when I put myself into the position of being observed, I feel so mediocre. I still haven't been able to emcompass a conception of myself. I know who I am, but at the end of the day it feels almost as if that person wants a piece of solitude and I lose touch. Does that sound manic depressive? I know that I have always been split in between my heart and my mind. My mind asks for peace and my heart begs for relief. It's almost as if my heart knows it's never going to get cut a serious break, instead it wants some sort of tentative catharsis.

Upset, or downset?

I'm upset with myself...
...wait for it...
wait for it...

for not writing as much as I used to.
Actually, it's very common of me to become upset and stressed too easily. I asked my boyfriend the other night: "Why am I so terrible at everything?" - "You're not you're just flustered very easily." That is the nicest truth anyone has every told me. It is true nonetheless. I feel like one of my siblings when they were toddlers attempting to squeeze the circle block into the square puzzle. After attempting to force it with all humanly possible toddler strength, the kid ends up crying out of frustration and running to mommy. Yes, that's me. Except I'll be 23 this year, and my toddler days are well over with.

Math has never been my forte, nor has management, or any kind of hand-eye-coordinated sport. Yet, all these tasks I've been confronted with, or even pushed into by my own will. I want to pursue my English major, and I cannot allow Math to challenge and defeat me as it always has. Management, well, I have to make end's meet somehow. As for hand-eye-coordination, I have been forcing myself to play tennis because I'm like a puppy that has seen a ball for the first time and can't manage to exercise for the sake of my own well--being. Either way I hope to gracefully silence these challenges once and for all. I struggle on a day to day basis, but it feels empowering, knowing that I'm getting somewhere, that I've hit the incline of the tallest hill, chugging my engine that can.

Sometimes, at the end of the day I feel lonely. It's hard to remember all the valuable aspects of your life when someone or something is breaking at your every whim to knock you down and take everything your worth, even if it's your dignity. Most importantly, I must remember that I am not alone, I have a wonderful supporting mother that loves to ache me with her excessive love that can be unbearable sometimes (because too much love, in the form of disagreement can be an overdose for a straining day). Overall, I'm happy. I know that whenever you say the words or god forbid write them in text you're bound for a boxing match with that steroid infested German from Rocky. Yet, it's not the least bit discouraging, I'm not going to lie, I'm scared sometimes, and boy do I worry my head off, but this time it can't stop me from where I'm going. Even if it's straight to the floor, I gave it, and I'll never need to lose any sleep over "what if's?" if I didn't.

Good Morning.

Newbyear.

2011, well here we are.

Last night I woke up hearing some squirrel or raccoon in the attic. I ran downstairs and told Chris I was scared and ended up falling asleep on the couch. Then Chris started snoring strangely and I trekked my way back upstairs to stick it out.

I never know what satisfaction I get out of a new year. I have some sort of roll over plan with everything, I don't see any point in looking for a fresh new start. I don't understand why people are interested in starting over. My goals for 2010 are the same as 2011, except they've become more accelerated. My bills roll into the new year, my insurance policy covers the new year, when I return to work my stack pile of files to deal with remains the same with the new year. I'm almost another year older? That's not good. I don't mean to sound like a sourpuss, instead my point is, I don't need to start fresh. I have spent so much of my life convinced that I need a second chance, or that [this] time is really it...that it's finally hit me that...no it's been time, and you've been living on the same chance that your were born wailing into this world with. It's a matter of what you do with that chance, with that one life, and with the mistakes you make. There isn't any possibility to clear your record and do it over. This isn't the fucking DMV or Experian, when even then you're not cleared of a faulty record. You make the mistakes, and you learn how to step up from them.

"Never make the same mistake twice, otherwise you're just an idiot."
I've heard so many variations of this quote, and by far this is my favorite.

So here's to making mistakes, once if you're human, twice if you're maybe too human.
Here's to the struggle.
Here's to the prevailing victory from that struggle.
and...
Here's to 2011.