2012

It is the end of a year. This year was really wonderful. I made new friends, studied abroad, learned Italian, partied, worked, moved into an apartment, added two minors, and of all the things I did I think the most important thing was that I fell in love. You were my first love, longest relationship, and my best friend. And whether you and I end up together in a year, in 10 years or never, in the year 2012 you were my everything. And that alone makes 2012 a triumph. I don't know if you feel the same but then I realize that's not really the point now is it? The point is I loved you wholly then. Now on the brink on 2013 we are not together. And I am learning that one year at a time, one day at a time, is enough for me. I will only remember 2012 fondly because you were in it. I will not blame 2012 on the follies of an imperfect world nor on the inadequacies of two imperfect souls.

I'm not perfect. But I am perfect for someone. 2012 taught me that. I can only open myself and hope someone will fall into place beside me.

As for 2013, I think I'm ready. Please be gentle, I have a cold but fragile heart. I need warm hands with kid gloves.

Cowboy Sunrise

You rode off into the sunrise before the adventure had begun. You aren't much of a cowboy are you?

Leather boots pulled over jean cuffs as the morning dew nestled between the folds of leaves.

From the bed frame the tsth tsth tsth of spurs against worn wood floor boards faded away with the night.

You were gone with the pale moon and me at your back and the glaring sun reflected in your wrinkled eyes.

I want to throw up on my future...

I don't want to study.

It has come to the point where I would rather do research for grad programs than study. So at least I'm being productive...

Only after reading, texting, tweeting, watching tv, eating, and doing all other manners of procrastination.

I must now answer the sickening question of whether I follow my head or whether I follow my heart as I have narrowed down my options to two radically different fields of study: Business or English.

As I hone in on my two different options one thought pops into my head: "I'm going to throw up."

I was overwhelmed by college applications when I was in high school. Truth. But I also had my parents and my teachers and my friends and my high school adviser and my high school college adviser (yes we had both) and my SAT tutor and my neighbors and my mom's friends and my extended family and- and- and...

I basically just nodded my head and took notes and then did what they said. And then, look, now I'm in college. The only thing I really did by myself was pick which school I went to, and even that was highly influenced by other people and other variables.

I'm a junior and I don't even know what I'm doing in a year and a half. And I know I could look that shit up by myself, but there's no like do to list on google. I checked.

When I was a junior in high school I had this shit locked down.

Now I'm floating in this abyss of options and I know one thing:

I either want to do Business or English.

I don't know where, I don't know how, but at least I *almost* know what I'm studying.

I looked up schools. You know how many programs I have narrowed it down to so far? 26.

26 programs, 15 in Business and 11 in English.

I figure, first I have to decide what kind of program, and then I have to decide which school.

My head or my heart.

"I'm going to throw up."

My head or my heart may be misleading. Some of you may blink at me and say naively, "always follow your heart".

I have two dreams, essentially. Which isn't true because I have many, many dreams, one of which is to be a pirate, another of which is to be an archaeologist. Then we have president, princess, rancher, cowboy, actress, hair stylist, interior designer, event coordinator, explorer, chef, mariner, spy, rock and roll star...

But I have two dreams I think I could actually be feasible. And before you blink at me again and say "you can be anything you want", I don't actually think I could be a rock and roll star, I have tried learning to play instruments and I got bored.

I know I have strengths as well as weaknesses. And instead of vainly trying to become a princess or a pirate in this modern age, I will be wise about my dreaming.

My two dreams. The dreams that are lucid, that I can control.

1. I want to be a small business owner.
2. I want to be a novelist.

Both dreams are just dreams. And both dreams can be helped by grad programs. In either Business or English.

I know that an MBA is far more practical, and thus I have labeled it my head option. Because regardless of my dream, I know I can functionalize it.

And I know that I write everyday and want to for the rest of my life, so regardless of whether my dream of becoming a novelist comes true, I will be following my heart with an English program.

Thus, my head and my heart.

"I'm going to throw up."

Oh, and there is the added bonus that I have no undergrad experience in either. No extracurricular experience in either. No brilliant internships or work experiences. I will be applying to these programs as an underdog.

Everyone loves an underdog....

Precipice

I am on a precipice and you are watching me wobble.
You will watch me fall and walk away.

Bare feet stand on the razor's edge.
The blade cuts thin against steadying soles.

If I fall forward, unending abyss will envelope me.
Backward, and my body will slide into thick, hardening concrete.

To be free of it all or to be locked into fate.
Or to stand forever on the high peak of unsteady indecision.

You are on a precipice and I am watching you wobble.
I will watch you fall and walk away.

I could push you forward, but only you can fall back.

Heart Garden

Lay fallow thine heart, for it is safer amongst the weeds
Tucked under some packed dirt in an empty garden

Dig deep a hole so big and empty nothing will reach it
Plant it far within infertile soil so nothing grows

Let prickers and choking tendrils cling to the hollow heart
Let your soul go to seed

Soul Size

Here are some things I should do, in order of urgency:

Study for international studies final
Study for Italian final
Fill out application to language learning scholarship
Fill out application to study abroad program
Fill out application to honors program
Look up graduate school programs

What I have done today, chronologically:

Woke up (late)
Showered (quickly)
Went to Italian class (late)
Went to international studies lecture (didn't take notes)
Began reading Stardust (not homework)
Fell asleep (in public)
Went to scholarship meeting (meeting began early, thus, late)
Drank bubble tea (sugar high)
Stalked friend from bedroom window (creepy)
Watched Supernatural (not homework)
Read half an article on Israel (didn't finish)
Ate cookies (fat)
Ate fried rice (eh)
Looked up a bunch of info on the stuff I did have to (didn't actually do anything with that information)
Listened to music while blogging (not homework)

And let's not mention all the twitter, texting, and facebook I did today. I need to get rid of that shit. Really. It's stupid.

Is it sufficient to say that I have lost all motivation for this quarter?

I don't think finals should happen at the end of the quarter. We are all zombies. We should have all our finals and papers due like during the fourth week. Cuz after that, we loose all our steam.

Remember like a month ago when I gave a shit? Yeah, I'm just gunna do what I know will let me slide by.

In other news, it's December and I've resurrected this freaking blog. Huzzah! I know I keep saying that but it seems like it's actually happening. So let's cross our fingers the inspiration continues.

It'll be my pre-New Year's resolution.

Same with yoga. I'm going to go to yoga as often as I can until I go home. In a week. Haha.

The BAY AREA!! For three weeks.

I am expecting it to be both more dramatic and less eventful than I expect it, if that makes sense. We will see I suppose and I will try to keep you updated.

I'm a little hesitant. Mostly excited, but a little anxious. Home is where the heart is. That's what they say.

Oh God, am I heartless? Because I don't feel at home anywhere.

I love going back to my home town but it's not the same. I mean it is functionally the same, this is small town living, nothing changes much except maybe the kind of SUV popular amongst soccer moms.

But I feel differently from when I was in high school or middle school or elementary school. I know it's normal, but my parent's house is like a sanctuary that you run to when you need a break or miss your family. It's not a place you live normally.

At the same time, Seattle is getting more familiar as much as I resist. The weather still kills me but actually this year has been pretty mild. Now that I've said that... shit is gunna get vengeful.

This year has been more fun than last year, although nothing compares to my freshman year. I know the break up didn't do tons for my morale, but I've made new friends, grown closer to people, and even felt closer to the city itself.

I am starting to relax into life here. The apartment helps. Having a place, my place, that I get to myself and can staple as many posters as I want to the walls.

I have learned a lot about myself in the year that has passed. I have learned a lot about what love is and what it means, what I want in the future, what I want my life to be, who I want to be associated with and who I don't, among other things.

I have embraced my nerdiness in ways I hadn't only a year ago. I have recognized the importance of honesty, and how it drives me nuts when people aren't honest. I have learned about how I interact with other types of people, especially people I have to spend lots of time with. I have begun to understand what it means to love and be loved and re-prioritized my understanding of love only in the last couple of months. I have learned how to live with myself as well as with someone else, and realized that although I yearn for companionship, I am functional on my own.

I know there are still things I need to improve upon. Being braver when I have to venture alone. Being more open to new people and new experiences. Being more understanding of people who operate differently from myself. Being more rational in stressful and emotional contexts, especially in interpersonal relations. Being more careful with myself and realizing that I am numero uno when it comes to my heart and my happiness.

Some of these things people will agree on, maybe even recognize that these are things they should work on too. Other things people may not agree with. That's okay.

The one thing I realized, stepping out of the shower a few weeks ago, was this:

You don't have to constantly be growing.

When this thought filtered through my morning thoughts I stood dumbstruck in a towel dripping water on the bathroom floor.

Wait what? My brain asked my... brain...

Yeah, you don't have to be constantly improving yourself. Just because you are technically a day older, doesn't mean you have to be a day better.

Yes I do.

Why? You were 20 yesterday. You're 20 today. If you fuck up today in the same ways you fucked up yesterday, no one's gunna think you are a failure. And furthermore, if you did really well yesterday, but fuck up today, it's not gunna be a tragedy. No one's gunna think you are going backwards.

I will be going backwards though.

No you will not be. You CAN'T go backwards.

When that thought hit me, it really changed my perspective. I need to relax a little. I'm a little too introspective. I'm a little too concerned with growing up.

I'm 20. What am I doing? I need to act my age, not my soul size.

Match

The lipstick smears from her mouth make her look like she's bleeding. Her mouth is closed and her jaw is tight, each molar clinging to its mate like they are puzzle pieces. She rubs her face and her chipped nail polish shines in the moonlight. Her mascara is running following the curvatures of her cheeks.

She is walking home in the rain and her high-heeled feet pound as she pounds the pavement. The bag on her arm is filled with an empty bottle, a cigarette stub, half a tube of lipstick, and the crumpled foil of a condom wrapper.

One hand holds an umbrella while the other fumbles around in the purse. She finds the bit of cigarette and lights it with the matchbook in her jacket pocket, juggling the umbrella ungracefully. She tosses the match, still lit, on the wet pavement.

For a moment it flickers, and then it goes out. She blinks and keeps walking.

Waking Up

Waking up in your arms she thought, I have never felt so comfortable.

It wasn't the blanket or the bed, but your body that made her feel at home.

Ten hours later she is in tears on the bed she woke up in, and you are holding her tight. The air doesn't fill her lungs all the way up, that is how tight you hold her.

Ten days later she is gone and you lie awake at night wondering what she's doing.

I know what she's doing. She is sleeping.

She has a dream and you are in it. The bed she lies in is not yours and she rolls from her back to her side, folding her body up against the nightmare.

You lie among red pillows and black sheets and she watches you break promises she wondered if you would keep when you made them.

There's no such thing as an honest man. And honest women are a dying breed.

She can feel herself dying as she lies in the bath. Drinks a beer. Smokes a cigarette. Bathes in the lies.

Her heart skips a beat while she's asleep. Pauses for one moment to catch her from falling.

She dreams of him. A new man with your eyes and your mouth and your promises.

He is lying on red pillows and black sheets and he is lying. She lies with him but the cigarette smoke in her lungs and the beer in her blood wake her unsteadily.

You are living and breathing without her and you are surprised by this.

She is living and breathing without you and she is not surprised.

I am living and breathing and I watch her body move. Her chest moves up and down while she sleeps.

I am living and breathing and choking as she cries.

She cries for weeks. And then she stops.

She stops breathing and her heart stops beating. And she falls.

You lie in your red and black bed and you dream of her. Her pale body is lying with you as you watch her sleeping. You try to wake her.

He comes and picks her up. You watch as he wakes her with a kiss.

She goes with him. He is holding her tight. So tight her lungs can't fill up all the way.

You wake up and you are lying in a different bed. A different woman by your side who thinks, I have never felt so comfortable.

It is not your bed but your body.

I watch you and the new woman living and breathing and I wonder if she believes the promises you make.

I wake up and you aren't there. But I'm there and he is there and he makes no promises. He breaks no promises. He lives and breathes and I watch him lie on my red pillows and black sheets.