lessthegoddess

I had an eventful weekend, and boy did I need it.

Simi came down from NYC Friday. Highlights include: going to Lima and getting drinks for free because the bartender used to work for my Dad, Georgetown shenanigans, and fireworks on the mall. Andy and our friend Nate came on Sunday. We saw Jay Reatard at the Black Cat later that night. All of his songs are super fast live, so it was hard to sing along to. The next day we swam, and then went to the Zoo in Adams Morgan. The best part was when we were watching the lions and this kid behind us was like "EHHH LION! HAAAY! LOOK OVA HERE LION".

Now I'm back at work, and back to reality. I've been playing Michael Jackson nonstop for the past few weeks, so that helps get me by. I really don't want to talk about this for too long, but I just want to say that it's been hard to shake off the shock I felt when I saw the news on TV. I'm not his biggest fan, nor do I own all of his albums, but nonetheless I enjoyed his music and have always regarded him as one of my favorite artists. Everything has been said and done... R.I.P. King of Pop <3

Syracuse is a month away. I went up at the end of June with Christina. We moved into our new apartment and picked out our rooms... which turned out to have the nastiest colored walls ever. The walls in my room were bright blue with neon green trimming, and it appeared that whoever lived there before decided to paint the place when they were on acid or something because there were drops all over the floor, it was terrible. I decided to repaint the walls a mustardy yellow color - the same color I painted my room last year. Handy Andy (lol) is finishing the job for me, since my stay there was so short. Plus, my landlord gave the OK to re-sand and put polyurethane on the floors.

I need to update this thing more.

 I'm making bank.  :D

I finally got around to going to the Pub in McLean with Celia. For years I've always walked or drove by this dark-lit place with a dingy neon "PUB" sign in the front. It turned out exactly what I thought it would be: a neighborhood dive bar, filled with older people, mainly old guys drinking scotch, smoking cigars, and talking. This is totally my new hangout because ever since I started doing the 40 work week, I've abandoned makeup, my flatiron, and just looking nice in general (thank god for the super casual dress code here). This place is down the street from my house, I don't have to look great, and the prices are pretty decent. 

I really want to go see the Hangover tonight with Fabio. I've heard nothing but good things, so we'll see what happens. 

Saturday, I'm going to Lima with my new Russian friend, Natasha. I met her last week when my father's friend brought her over. She took care of him after his surgery, and they met somewhere, I can't remember how. She's a year older than me, and is applying to grad school around here. She passed out in my basement after three glasses of pinot grigio, which I found surprising because I've always thought that Russians were born with a handle of vodka in their mouths. Oh well, we're going out this weekend, and it should be fun I guess. I haven't really gone out at all since I've been home. 

Next week, I'm going to G-town after work to finally make my appointment for my long-awaited bluebird tattoo. It's going to be on my left ankle, complimenting the cardinal I have on my right one already. Tim, the guy who did my first one did an amazing job, and I really hope he isn't overbooked for the next few weeks. 

 So after applying to probably 30 or so different jobs (receptionist at a feline veternary clinic, numerous retail stores in tyson's corner and georgetown, random offices downtown, design internships that rudely don't contact me back) I managed to land a job, thanks to my aunt. She's the director of an architecture/contracting place in Northeast. I'm helping out the estimator organize projects, go over blueprints, and whatnot. It's not graphic design and the commute is disaturous, but the lady who I work with is super awesome... and I make 12 bones an hour. I'm pretty stoked, honestly. 

'm so happy that I'm working 9-5. It blows because I wake up early, but it keeps me busy, and most importantly, I'm making the benjamins that I really fucking need. Tattoos, Japan, booze, and rent for my place in Brooklyn for next summer aren't for free. Plus work distracts me from time, in itself. Because I had been sitting around all the time with no one to see and nothing to do, I felt like I've been here for months when it's only been three weeks. 

Despite being stuck in my parents house like a child, I've managed to escape over the past few weekends to keep myself happy.  I went to NYC for Simi's birthday, and that ended up being awesome because I got to hang out and party with all my friends. I did not want to leave. I sat on the bus curled up in a fetal position trying to sleep so that I did not have to dwell about the summer I should be living. I began feeling sick and for the next few days, I had a terrible fever. I probably got the virus from the filth of the subway and the dingy bathrooms at the bars I went to, but it was so goddamn worth it. 

Last Saturday, Irma and I went to Starscape, an electronica music festival in Baltimore. It was the craziest mix of people ever... raver kids with their light-up toys and flourescent clothing, raver goths that showed up later in the evening with their plastic hair extensions and platform boots, random hippies smoking weed and awkwardly swaying to the music, hipsters who were just... there, and a bro here and there pumping their fists while wearing huge sunglasses. Chromeo was the highlight of the night. I danced my booty off. During this one DJ set, some dude came up behind me dance. Normally, I hate dancing with guys because I find the whole ass-to-groin style of dancing to be really stupid, awkward, and uncomfortable, but if I'm feeling nice and kinda drunk, I'll be polite and dance with the poor guy for a bit. This random dude, however, literally had my upper body in a death grip. He placed both of his hands over my rib cage and held me too tightly against his body. The pathetic fucker was probably like "OMG A GIRL! LET ME SWOOP IN FOR THE KILL SO I HAVE A GIRL -squeeze-". Unable to move and let alone breathe, I managed to break free, turn around and tell him to stop. I wasn't a complete bitch, but I was super nice about it either. I wish Andy was there because he probably would have punched out his teeth. 

Speaking of which... I'm missing Andy terribly. I just hope that I'll be able to flee to Syracuse at the end of the month for a weekend to paint my room in my new place and be with him. And I do hope that when he comes down to DC, he'll be able to stay in my house. We are obviously gong to sleep in separate beds, and I'm absolutely fine with that. I love falling asleep next to him, snuggling, and waking up to him, but I can't combine my adult life with my childhood... that being in the place I grew up in. Even if my parents were lax, I still wouldn't feel comfortable sleeping with him in my parents' house... that's just weird. I know people who still do fucky-fucky times with their parents literally sleeping 10 feet away from them in another room, but the whole thought of it just creeps me out. I could never be relaxed when I fooled around with boyfriends in my basement in high school. My mom seemed to conviniently clack around in her high heels in the marble hallway above and I'd immediately throw myself off the boy who I was macking it with and straighten out my shirt. Whatever... I mean, that's what those "scenic overlooks" on the GW Parkway are for, besides secretely boozing, littering the lot with beer bottles, and smoking weed, right? You all know damn well what I'm talking about, don't act like you don't know!

Off to bed I go... I'm shleeeepaaay. 

I'm back home in NOVA. I've never felt so defeated in my life.

After incessantly dealing with angry phone calls from my parents, I made the drive yesterday from Syracuse. I cried all the way to Scranton, PA. I was so relaxed and at ease back in my apartment. I stayed for an extra couple of weeks so that I could see my friends who went abroad this semester. And of course, my father tells my brother that I care more about my friends than my own family because he takes every choice that I make, personally.

Andy helped me pack up all my things and move them to my new place on Sumner Ave. Then we went to his house so that I could eat and pick up a few things. I started crying a lot before I left and he did his best to comfort me. There's something about his pretty blue eyes that brings me a sense of belonging (cheesey as fuck, I know). He kissed me, and led me out to I-81 S since he was taking that route to his friend's house anyway. And when my car merged into the left lane and passed his as he got off his exit, that's when I lost it.

I was so headstrong on being in Brooklyn this summer. Yet after two semesters of not being able to find a job to pay for an apartment, I slowly came to terms with the fact that I would spend yet again, another few months in my parent's house. I figured that as long as I had a job and an internship, I would always be out of the house and always busy, disallowing time for me to have my mother come in and out of my room at her leisure, telling me what to do all the time.

On Mother's Day, I found out furthermore what I was coming home to. In a nutshell, my mother screamed at me after I called her to wish her a Happy Mother's Day, and through several tearful phone calls with my father later did I realize that she's fucking losing her marbles. Her pre-menopausal state is causing her hormones to mess around with her brain, thus making her flip out on people and be more irrational than before. Although she's medicated, I still fear being close to her at all. My father after the incident would call me, pleading for me to come home because she needs me to be with her during this "difficult change" in her life. Honestly, I feel terrible for her, but where was anybody cutting me slack and comforting me a year ago during the worst summer of my life?

So here I am, still trying to find opportunity in a terrible economy and in a metropolitan area that is almost void of graphic design firms, in a household with an unstable mother and an overbearing father. This will be interesting.

 I hate having these come-and-go whims of uncertainty. One day, I'll be feeling great about my future, and the next, I feel nervous and anxious.

I just want this semester to end so I can see my friends who have been gone come back. At times, I really feel like it's my fate to not have anything to do this summer. This stupid piece of shit website, coroflot.com, is supposed to make it easier for design students to upload their portfolios for jobs and whatnot. However, it refuses to let me upload pretty much anything, even though it has worked for everyone I know. If I have to go home this summer, to save money by not paying $800 a month on an apartment in Brooklyn, fine. I've come to terms with the reality of the situation. But I refuse to go back with absolutely nothing planned out for me. However, I am finding more opportunity in NYC. It seems like I really have to dig around to find any internship in DC. DC is not a design friendly city.

Easter weekend was nice. Nothing great, nothing bad. Just lots of cooking. While I enjoyed being with my family, literally everything awesome happened this past weekend. The Video Now! show at the Everson, and the Sister Lovers reunion show at the Westcott. 

You know you're in trouble when the thought of being away from the person you love literally causing your chest to ache. I love him so much, and I really don't know what I'm going to do this summer without him. Just thinking about the miles between chokes me up. 

I'm in the art and humanities section of the library and I really want to use the scanner, but some douchebag is using the computer to type up a paper or something... despite the fact that there are 2 other computers that he could've used instead of the scanner one. I really want to tell him to leave, but I'm not bitchy enough to do so. I guess I have to go the next floor and argue with the desk lady to let me use the books for just an hour... argh. 

meeehhh.

I've been going through this pro-longed revelation this week. 
I know what I'm going to do now. 
I feel like I've always known, but now I'm finally facing it. 

I am staying here for another year, making my college career lasting 5 years. It's the norm for an Architect or an Industrial Design student, but it's something I'm having a hard time to digest. 
I love college, but I'm ready to move on. Ready mentally, but not ready academically. 

Academics...what makes the situation hilarious is that I'm going to have a ton of credits when I graduate. An excessive amount. I could easily enroll myself as a part-time student starting next semester, just taking my required core studios, but then I can't have health insurance and it messes up a myriad of other things.

I'm both terrified and excited. I just hope that things for once, will go my way and that I can be successful and happy. 

Where the hell did March go? April is here as of tomorrow, and I'm not really ready for it. I mean, warm weather, of course... but getting closer to the end of the semester? Not really. Too many things to do, so little time...

The weekend was great. It brought back memories of last semester, and in a small way, foreshadowed the epic day of celebration notoriously known as Mayfest, here at SU. On my street, a lot of people had beer pong tables out, red cups littering their lawns, and bad music blasting from their speakers. I really do love this atmosphere... minus listening to Dave Matthews Band and the screams of people. Andy and our friends countered the noise with Jay Reatard, and the various Syracuse hardcore bands him and his friends always play when they are together, to reminisce about the good ol' days, when they were straightedge teenagers. We tried grilling burgers on the charcoal grill that has been kicking around downstairs. We used really crappy lump charcoal from Wegman's that never really got the grill super hot. Oh well, the patties were still yummy, just not hot, lol. 

I need to be on campus more. My classes this semester are in the most outer buildings on campus, making them convenient to walk to from my place. However, instead of usually grabbing food in a cafe or bumming around in the library during my time in between classes, I tend to walk home to cook for myself, or to nap. Today, instead, I ate a nice sushi meal for only eight bucks, went tanning, read, and bumped into two awesome people. One being an acquatance who I admire, but just never get around to really hang out with, and the second being a super sweet person who I only started talking to very recently. These two people made me realize that I should've hung out with people who I don't know super well all semester long, because my friends are away. It's not like I mope around and only cling on to Andy, but I should've branched out a bit. 

I don't know if it's just me, but there was something slightly ironic about being in a lecture yesterday about "queer negativity", and lesbian feminism, while sitting behind a group of obnoxious girls, clicking away on their blackberries while talking about the boys they fucked in Cabo. I was trying to listen to the interesting things the guest speaker had to say, but instead I heard a conversation about BBMing (that's blackberry-to-blackberry messaging, right?), how a philanthropy conflicts with a hot date with a boy, party plans, etc. Frustrated, I decided to move further down the row and in response, they gave me dirty looks. I'm sorry. You see, my parents pay a buttload for me to go here, and I'm trying to get their money's worth by learning. I"m so sorry. How rude of me. I should've just sat their listening to your "likes" and "omgs" and stupid giggling. How stupid of me for wanting to learn about a topic that interests me. I guess I'm the bitch in this situation. What I find slightly bothersome is that a good friend of mine is in the sorority as these girls. She is nothing like them, and is in fact a responsible, intelligent, sweet, and caring person. It makes me upset that because of letters on a stupid totebag or sweatshirt, she's probably lumped in with all of these airheads. I mean, what a way to perpetuate the negative sorority girl stereotype, people. It seems like these groups or duos of girls who sit in lecture halls disrupting others with their bullshit social talk completely undermine the ones who are participate, pay attention, and have really intelligent things to say in class. 

My hair... you knew this was coming. I really love the black and blonde contrast thing I have going on now, but I think I might want to go back to normalcy. Weird, I know, right? As much as I like having crazy hair, I don't know if I enjoy being stared at when I walk into a room. Maybe it's just me being neurotic, but I just don't like being gawked at after awhile. People definitely did when I had blue hair last year. I don't know... I guess it all really relates to my contradictory desires of wanting to fit in and stand out at the same time. I guess that's how I've always been, really. I like being me, not apologizing for the way I am, and being independent. But then I always find myself trying to be part of a whole. 


To do list... get work done, find jobs + internships, and most importantly, stay sane and happy. 

 Midterms week is expected be be shitty, and stressful for everyone. And it's expected. Everyone anticipates the stress, lack of adequate sleep, wearing crappy clothes while looking likes shit, and everything in between. Seriously, every other person on campus this week was wearing some type of slouchy sweatpants. I somehow managed to sweep up whatever pair of jeans I had on the floor instead, refusing to go the comfy route. It didn't really work though, I still looked like hot garbage. 

So yeah, feeling shitty and crappy during midterms is expected. However, I did not expect to see a 1975 Italian movie that would emotionally scar me and fuck me over. After pulling an all-nighter Monday night finishing up two papers, I walked into my Sex in Cinema class thinking, "I'l watch as much of this movie as I can, and then snooze. I don't know anything about this movie, whatever". 

Oh man, was I wrong, I could have overdosed on sleeping pills and there would be no way I could sleep through the horror, known as Salo. Set in fascist, 1930s Italy, a group of officials and rich men kidnap a group of really young teenagers, and take them away to a remote villa in Salo. At this villa, these kids are tortured, raped, and dehumanized, all for the delight of these sick fucks. I'm not going to get into the details here (click on the link if you dare), but let me say that nothing ever really offends me. Make me watch a filthy, hardcore porno. Make me watch a gory, blood soaked horror movie. But make me watch a group of innocent kids get completely degraded to nothing, I break down. I was so upset by this movie, I began to cry, and left class. I don't know if I was overly sensitive and delusional due to the combination of PMS and sleep-deprivation, but goddamn, I have never seen such fucked up shit in my life.

Though I will never watch this movie ever again, I'm glad that I watched it, and it was a well-planned out film. Unfortunately, I think movies like this need to be made so people can be aware of issues such as these, and take a stance. Shit like this still happens in the world, and to say that it's "fiction" and that it doesn't is truly ignorant. Human trafficking still goes on in Africa, parts of Asia, and even in the U.S. I learned a lot of this film, and I think I need to see this to really understand humiliation. Maybe not during a terrible strenuous week though. I wish we watched this movie later. 

My focus has been shot, and I don't know what's wrong with me. And I don't mean the "concentrating" type of focus. Ever since the all-nighter, I have been having a hard time going through everyday motions. I take really long showers, and it takes me forever to pour a goddamn bowl of cereal in the mornings. I feel like I'm constantly in a dream, and that nothing is real. I feel like a zombie. I don't even know how to describe this. My ability to perceive my surroundings is shallow. I don't understand how the hell I was able to drive here, I shouldn't be driving. My dreams are reality, and reality is a dream. Yes, yes, yes, I know whatever I'm saying sounds exactly like the plot of a sci-fi/fantasty movie *cough*thematrix*cough, but goddammit, I really do feel like everything is irrelevant right now. 

So right now, I'm at the warehouse, taking a quit blogging break before I tackle some work. I'm in the student lounge while all of my former classmates are getting their work critiqued. There was no way I could've been here last semester... not being in the class I was supposed to be in. But now I'm way over whatever happened and I can work on what I need to without any bad feelings. However, I could work without the chick sitting across from me blasting a terrible cover of Cheap Trick's "I Want You to Want Me" by Lindsay Lohan. 

ok, back to more work. <i>Maybe</i> I can go to the midnight showing of <i>Watchmen</i> tonight. Maaaybe. 

How the eff did I not make an update during February? Probably because nothing super interesting has been happening, I suppose... just the usual cycle of work, little to no sleep, relaxing on the weekends, hanging out with Andy, and finding comfort in the few friends I have in Syracuse this semester. 

Anywho, it's already March, which proves that this semester is going by waaaay too fast for me to handle. Midterm week is dawning upon me... which means two papers due on Tuesday, along with a buttload of work. Oh joy. 

I made an AMAZING fish soup the other day. I got the recipe from here. Funny enough, my own dad makes a broth similar to this, and the title of this recipe is called "Dad's Fish Stew". I used tilapia instead of cod, since I was able to snag a 2 lb frozen bag of it from Wegman's the other day. Tomorrow night I'm going to make little fish cakes with bread crumbs with what's leftover. I love you, Wegman's. What am I going to do without you?

I'm currently writing a paper about straightedge (sXe) for my American Subcultures class. I know what you're thinking... some of you are probably rolling eyes, and thinking "ew, I fucking hate those pretentious scene fags". Well, it's the pretentious scene fags that gave the original movement a bad rep, because in reality, the sXe scene in the early 90s was probably the best. It's kinda weird how this all pretty much started in my hometown of D.C. and before this project I knew little to nothing about it. For my comm design class, I worked on a guide to D.C. hardcore punk, which ended up being more fun than I thought. 

Andy used to be sXe for many years, and always told me stories of the good people he used to hang with, and how fun the shows were. Back then, people were non-judgemental, friendly, and formed a community, where they took active, and non-violent approaches towards issues such as animal rights, and domestic violence. Now, the scene is riddled with kids who are sXe, yet are complete promiscuous, and hypocritical sluts who are arrogant and start violent shit with others. THAT is the sXe hardcore scene I guess most of us (us, meaning people born in the late 80s) tend to know because of these douchebags. A couple of these kids went to my school, and were the biggest assholes I know. Anywho, I interviewed this really chill dude who works at a local comic book store who at age 32, is still sXe. He had an incredible story to tell, and listening to him explain his philosophy was very inspiring. 

Back to food... I probably want to start a food blog sometime. I'm following in my father's foot steps, really. Here are some recipes that I have either cooked, or want to cook:

• Spaghetti a la Carbonara - A Roman classic, and my version of comfort food. This is the pasta dish I always associate my father with, since he usually cooks it for me when I go home. It's pasta cooked with onions, pancetta (Italian bacon), smothered with a beaten egg. I cooked this the other day, and was terrified doing so because i thought the egg would cook into an omelet (a big no-no). However, it came out perfect, to my surprise... although I didn't have any fresh parsley on hand.
• Fish Stew - This was SO easy to make, and SO tasty, I still can't believe it. It literally took me 20 mins to make, and had leftovers the next day. The clam juice and the white wine were definitely the key ingredients for flavor.
• Fettuccine with mushrooms and sun-dried tomatoes - A recipe I kinda "invented" on my own. I think I want to try using sun-dried tomatoes soaked in olive oil instead of the ones that come dry in a box... they kinda become dry. I recently started to crumble some goat cheese on top, and it came out fabuloussss.
• Chicken and Rice - I have tried out two American chicken and rice dishes, and neither of them were really good at all, which further proves my theory that only latinos know what they're doing (hence, arroz con pollo). I did one with chicken thighs which came out ooookaaay, and one with cream of mushroom soup which tasted awful.
• Onigiri (Japanese rice balls) - I'm probably going to fill these with smoked salmon
• Beef Stew with Navy Beans and Mushrooms
• Tuscan Meatloaf - with prosciutto, ground beef, with a porcini mushroom sauce. Mushroom sauce always sounds sexy and delicious, no?

Back to work.... meeeeh. I can't want for Toronto this Spring Break. I'm visiting my friend Sara who goes to Ryerson. I've never been to Canada, so I'm looking forward to this! Toronto is only a 4 hr bus ride from here, so it isn't too bad.

woot woot. 

The semester so far is alright. It's not as bad as I thought it would be. Although my classes are harder, and most of my friends are in Europe, I'm actually doing a lot better than I thought I would. I guess it might be too soon to say, but I think the gray Syracuse winter is going to bring me down. Not this time again. I really can't wait for spring. I want to be able to walk around in sandals and drink on my porch again.

I'll guess I'll put everything in bullets since it's been awhile. Plus I have class in eight hours, so sleep is necessary.

• Retaking CMD 282 isn't terrible, but it's definitely a bit more difficult. It's a good thing though. Rod actually critiques work, and really pushes us to take our ideas further. A teacher like him is exactly what I need. Someone who is honest, helpful. The sophomores, who I feared would be like "wtf who is this Junior?" are actually nice. I already knew a couple of kids, and one girl even came up to me at the end of class last week to introduce herself to me. Work for this week is kinda kicking my butt, but I think things will be better for me this time around. 
• I got a boot on my car last weekend. That was pretty embarrassing. 
• I bought a DV Sony Handycam. I had to return it the first time I got it because the AC adapter it came with was defected, but I got a new one, so I'm happy. 
• My Queer Sexuality and Politics class is super interesting. We watched a documentary about Harvey Milk (not the Sean Penn movie). I can't believe I've never heard of him until now. It's so strange how I didn't learn about him in my American history class before. Oh wait - I went to a Catholic school that was ridden with homophobia. Maybe that's why. 
• I really love Andy. Usually, I don't get mushy here on my blog, but I really can't help it now. He's so intelligent, and is gifted with this amazing sense of logic. His pragmatic way of thinking is what I love about him the most. But he's not just a smart, hard-ass. He's so caring, sweet, and affectionate. He's the rock I lean on, and the one I want to hold at night. We've been together for nine months, thus far. I want this to last for as long as it can. I really do. 
• On the other hand, something that isn't sweet is the shitty economy, and how it's preventing me from finding a part-time job. It seems like no one is hiring. And I really need to earn money for the summer. I guess I have to resort to walking around the streets of the south side of Syracuse selling ass... well, not really. Not yet, at least. 
• It's been pretty fucking cold so far. There have been days up here when the temperature was as low as -2, and I think we've had over 100 inches of snow. Driving in snow is not fun, I'll tell you that. I slide everywhere, and it's pretty terrifying. 

I don't want to be snoozing in Intermediate Art Video tomorrow, so off I go. 
Nightnight. 

I hope everyone had a good Christmas. I had a very quiet one with my family which was nice, I guess.

It's the last day of 2008, and I'm so excited. This was a terrible year from me, and just a bad year in general. I'm so glad that it will be over in 9 hours or so.

2008, you brought me nothing but self-doubt, uneasiness, and failure. While spring semester was the shittiest time in my life ever, and the summer was vacant of anything positive, fall semester rocked, and through all of this I have learned a great deal about myself, and what makes me happy. I have a better sense of direction, and I'm so excited for 2009.

Other than my trip to Acapulco, meeting Andy, and Obama being elected into office, 2008 was a craptacular year, and I'm so glad to see it go.

Plus, Heath Ledger, Bernie Mac, and Bettie Page passed away. BERNIE MAC people! Wtf, that was so random...

Anywho, I hope everyone rings in 2009 with a blast. And be safe!

Okay okay okay... I'm swear I'm not an angry person. It just happens that I like to type away on my MacBook in this lil' ol' blog of mine when something is really pissing me off. If I could blog about my love for food and things that are fluffy and cuddly I oh so would. But my best writing pours out of me when I'm in fury.

And what's pissing me off at the moment is a 15-year-old girl. Seriously.

Maybe I'm too much of a protective, overly-caring big sister. Yes. But godammit, I think if some high school chick was running around telling the world how much your brother "hurt" her after three months of practically serving you and obeying to your every whim, you'd be pretty upset too.

I think I'm a fair person. I'm not going to release this person's name, and I acknowledge the fact that I've never met her and everything I'm going to say is solely based on what my brother and parents have told me. And I know very well she's 15 and still very young because when I was 15... oh god, let's not go there.

But I would like to think that most people would say that it's always important to be nice and show common courtesy, no matter what age, what background, etc. I understand that your have divorced parents and you live with your step-father who has a pole up his ass and your mother. I understand that you've been conditioned to think that you're the center of the universe because you're an only child and your parents are treating you as such to make up for the fact that your real father and real siblings are M.I.A. in your life. I understand that because of this, you'd demand my brother's attention all the time, expect him to put his life on hold for you, snap at him if he didn't want to do the things you wanted him to do, or be your little servant. I understand that you couldn't reciprocate all the little favors he did for you, the little things he gave you, or the nice things he did because your "I'm the queen of everything" conditioning mommy and daddy gave to you disables you from doing such. I get it.

But NOTHING excuses you from running around and telling the world how he "hurt" you. My brother did ANYTHING but hurt you. All he did was talk about you to everyone, and how much he cared about you and how you weren't like the rest of the khaki skirt-rolling, loud-mouthed, hypocritical, Bush/Cheney loving twats at my dear, and oh so precious Catholic high school. So stop updating your facebook status every three hours with shit like "you've ended the best thing that's ever happened to you" (funny, you're the one who called it off) , and "i'm sorry won't cut it for the rest of your life". My poor brother was apologizing to you because you would get mad when he had to get off the phone to do his homework for fucks sake! You put him through so much guilt, you might as well rename yourself "Christianity" because you pretty much made him confess every thing he did wrong and try to prove that he loved you. I wouldn't be surprised if you made a confession booth and made him do Penance for every time he talked to a girl that wasn't you. Stop demonizing him, and telling the student body that he hurt you because he didn't. I wish you could've reserved your anguish and feelings exclusively to yourself, and your close girlfriends, or whatever, instead of exposing it. You might as well have someone announce it over the PA as part of the morning announcements after prayer in homeroom.

A relationship is TWO people serving each other and reciprocating love. Not forcing a boy to wake up at 3 in the morning to talk to you and tell him that he can't go back to sleep until you felt tired. You can't grasp the fact that other people have feelings, other friends of the same gender, dreams, goals, and aspirations. The sooner you take off the tiara and place down the royal scepter mommy and daddy had given you, life will be A LOT better for you, sweetie.

And for the record, my brother is the sweetest 15-year-old out there. He's intelligent, extremely mature for his age, and is a hell of a catch. Yeah, yeah, of course I'm going to defend my brother, because I'm his sister, so therefore I'm biased and everything I say is invalid, sure. But if people who are beyond their years say that they wish they could've been more like him when they were a teenager, I think I my points have truth.

Good luck, I wish you the best of it. Have fun dating other boys and discovering that unlike my brother, they want more than dinner dates and Homecoming dances. And if you don't get my point, I'm trying to say there are boys out there who won't mind satisfying all of your demands, but once they..."frost your cake", you mean nothing anymore, and all of your text messages and pouty faces don't mean shit anymore because they got what they wanted.



I'm pathetic you guys, really. I can't believe I'm letting some 15-year-old high schooler get under my skin.

Now, I go to bed.

Good fucking night.

Copied from EVERYONE.

Ten years ago:
1998: I was 10 years old, and in fifth grade at The Langley School (a.k.a. "little" Langley, not Langley High School). My teacher was a British guy, who just moved to the states that summer (Mr. Loach). I wore clothes from Limited Too, and I thought cargo pants were the coolest thing ever. Pokemon was pretty much an obsession for me and my brother. My friend Meg and I had a circle of guy friends who we would battle and trade cards with. However, some bitchy girls in my grade became jealous of me and decided to call me things like "slut" and "whore" -- words that I didn't understand at the time. It was an awkward year, really. The bullying became so bad my mother had to talk to Mr. Loach and the school head about it.

Five years ago:
2003: I was 15. I really hated high school thus far because I had a hard time making friends. Everyone seemed so clingy to all their friends who went to the same Catholic middle school they went to, and I was just the awkward one out, who went to a non-denominational private school. I just started growing out that ugly short haircut I had. Brian, my first boyfriend, broke up with me before freshman year ended, and thank fucking goodness. He was verbally abusive, manipulative, and just an overall asshole. Whatever. At this stage in my life, I began dying my hair black, wearing oversized pants from Hot Topic, and spiky jewelry. Oh, and I was infatuated with Marilyn Manson. Super gross, I know. Anna, Phil, Colleen, Topher, Corey, Christine, Aurora, Rick, Marcela, and a few others were my friends. If it weren't for them, I would have transferred to Holy Child, which I got accepted into in the Spring time. I totally made the right choice.

Three years ago:
2005: I was 17. The summer before senior year started was pretty stressful, with portfolio-making and college searching. I was really intent on going to Carnegie Mellon at this time, and made 2 or 3 trips to Pittsburgh. Also, it was hard knowing that before school started, Drew and I agreed to break off our relationship because he was going away to college. Senior came, and by this time I was really sick of high school. A Catholic high school. I hated most of my peers, who were uptight conservatives who crammed pro-life and anti-homosexual propaganda down my throat. I became depressed, and started alienating myself away from a lot of my friends. I didn't care about being late to school and having to serve lunch detention because I enjoyed being alone and doing homework. Plus I had a complete joke of a math class (Topics) and Mr. Cappo would let me hang out with the friends who I wanted to be during their lunch period. The latter half of high school sucked, and consisted of lots of schoolwork, boy problems, friend problems, and self-doubt.


One year ago:
2007: I was 19. Freshman year of college was amazing, and I was so glad that I chose SU. I made awesome friends, partied a lot, and got to learn more about myself, despite boozing and slutting it up. Second semester, I became closer to the best friends I have now, and began seeing a boy for three months who I don't want to talk about (ew ew ewwww). This summer, I went to Italy with my family for my grandparents' 60th anniversary bash. It would have been fun had there weren't been so much bullshit drama. Sophomore year started, and so did the much-awaited Comm Design classes. First semester was a clusterfuck of stress, lack of sleep, crying that yielded good results. I was tired, but so happy with the program.

This year:
2008: I'm 20. Second semester sophomore year was absolute shit. I don't think I have ever been in such a low point in my entire life. I was extremely depressed and unsatisfied with myself, which resulted in me doing poorly in my major. I decided that sorority life would make me happier and went through rush, to only end up with a house that I didn't want (nobody wants a blue-haired sophomore). I went to Acapulco, which was a crazy, shitshow of a vacation and that was nice, I guess. I met Andy at the end of the year, at a party, and we started going out shortly after Mayfest. I thought I wrapped up the end of the year nicely, for I was getting the help I needed, and improved my self-image and attitude. However, I come home and found out I failed Comm Design, and dealt with a pretty craptastic summer, littered with boredom, family issues, and the lack of friends to hang out with. While working retail and at a joke of a design internship, I often contemplated my future, and wondered if design was the right choice. I even began to doubt continuing college. I returned to school this year, with a better attitude and a new living situation. Instead of living in a dorm, I lived with Stephanie and Lauren in an apartment. They became my best friends and we had a lot of fun crazy times cooking, hosting an awesome Halloween party, and yelling at lacrosse boys from our roof. My relationship with Andy got stronger, and I can confidently say he's the best boyfriend I've ever had. School wise, I took a bunch of electives and ended up doing pretty well for myself, finally.


Yesterday:
I woke up early, and loaded my car. I said good by to Steph, which was super hard because I'm going to miss having her around. I drove back home, and went straight to bed. I woke up around 10 and watched TV with my Dad.


Today:
I woke up, ate, and picked up Fabio. And now I'm doing this survey. Eventful, I know.


Tomorrow:
I hope to go to Michael's to get some yarn and knitting needles. I might rent a movie. Or find out who's home and stop being such a lazy blob. Blah, who knows.


Next year:
I'm either declaring a Selected Studies major in Communications Design and Art Video, or an Art Video major with a Comm Design concentration. I'll two new roomies because Lauren and Steph will be in London. Hopefully I'll be in either Europe or Toronto for spring break. I hope to spend the summer in Brooklyn, working as an intern at some spiffy video/design place, and have a part-time job. After the summer comes senior year and moving in with Simi, Natalie, and Chrstina (woot woooot). I might be applying to go abroad to London in Spring '10.

3 people or so tagged me to do this survey thingie, soo...here I am doing it.

Tagging Meme Rules:
A . Each tagged person must post 8 things about themselves on their journal.
B. At the end, you have to choose and tag 8 people

1. Last night I felt very sick and puked. I think it was due to the fact I ate a salad, pasta, ice cream, and topped it off with an undercooked fish stick. I immediately went to bed early, hence why I'm up so early doing homework. Cook your food, kids. Or don't, if you want to feel hot saliva and blow multi-colored chunks in your toilet.

2. I bleached out yet another chunk of my hair. I kinda look like a cracked out skunk, and I love it.

3. I could really use a glass of red wine right about now. This week has hella sucked so far.

4. I just really want to snuggle with my BeeBoo. I'll have to wait until Thursday though. Ugh.

5.  Hopefully, I'll be getting another tattoo over winter break. And by winter break, I'm not referring to the typical way-too-fucking-long month between semesters. Even though I was unsuccessful at finding a job his semester, I'm hoping to find one super fast for next year so I have an excuse to peace out right after Christmas or New Years.

6. I think about cooking and eating way too much. I have no idea why I'm not chronically obese or overweight. 

7. I want to paint my nails electric blue.

8. I'm tempted to bake Christmas cookies this weekend, even though we're just approaching Thanksgiving. I saw these red and green chocolate chip swirly ones a Wegman's the other day. And for those of you who don't know. Wegman's is the staple grocery store up here, and I absolutely love it.  There's no Giant or Safeway in sight (P&C is another grocery chain). The first one opened up in Rochester and then in other places here in Central/Upstate NY. I remember how when the first one back home opened up in Ashburn and how there was so much hype in he newspapers, and how people would actually drive an hour out on I-66 to go there. 

I'm going to try and tagged people who haven't been tagged yet,...soooo I tag:
_x_sidhe_x_ , duckslikerain , karni_mata , guaiguai2 , o_r_they , link_worshiper , windystreets , knitting_pickle 


Woot woot....

it's the sound of the po-lease!

I think I have an idea of what I want to do with my life, school-wise. I spent a copious amount of time last week, pouring over the Syracuse University course selection guide and handbook, mapping out my credits, meeting with advisors, and whatnot. I might have to fight and bitch to get this done, but godammit, no administration is going to tell me "no". My parents pay way too much money for me to be here, and I should have the liberty to choose what I want to do.

We finally went grocery shopping today. I made bulgogi (Korean beef) with rice, seaweed, and drank some green tea on the side. Next, I plan on making:

-Thai green curry chicken with bamboo shoots, mushrooms, and peppers
-Thai peanut sauce stirfry
-Jasmine rice pudding (I bought a 25 lb. bag of rice, so why not?)
-Japanese curried chicken with potatoes and carrots
-Another awesome shepherd's pie

Maybe I should become a chef. And sometimes, I wonder, WHY wasn't I born asian?!?

I really don't want the semester to end. Not only am I enjoying myself and doing well, I'm dreading next year.
I don't want to go home for a freaking month. And on top of that, I'm coming back next semester to little to no friends (everyone is going abroad), my roomies are leaving meaning I'm living with two complete strangers who I know nothing about, I get depressed in the winter so I have to really really be careful, and finally, I'm most likely taking 18 credits (I'm really considering declaring an LGBT studies minor, so I need to hop on that ASAP).

On a side note, I don't understand why the people I love say things that make me cry.

I'm so happy, and so relieved.

I can't believe it's already mid-October. I could have sworn yesterday I was sitting on the roof in the 90-degree heat drinking orange juice, yelling at my laptop because I didn't know what classes to sign up for. And because it's late and I really can't type out anything remotely coherent and well thought out, I'm going to do this in my classic lessthegoddess note-style!

• I bought a pair of knee-length black patent leather black gladiator sandals from eBay about a week ago. I have always wanted a pair and am kicking myself for not buying them earlier in the summer. I'm taking advantage of the unusual warm weather and am wearing them practically everyday.


• This week sucks. Lots of work. Midterms, critiques, etc.


• Andy busted up his knee cap last Saturday at the Half Penny downtown while performing with his band. He's been zoning out on pain meds, being an immobilized cripple on his couch ever since. At least he's like Dr. House. I told him to use a cane instead of crutches. I mean, he's already adorable, blue-eyed, and sarcastic. The fucked up knee means he was just bound to become my favorite TV doctor.


• My hair is looking pretty good these days. Stephanie helped me strip and bleach the crap out of the black dye I used to have, in some chunks and it's shweeet. Some parts are still a little brownish, so that needs another round of stripping and bleaching. Seriously kids, when you go black, it's IMPOSSIBLE to go back.


• All this talk about going abroad is really getting me down. I can't go abroad because the exchange rate is terrible and my mother, being the ever-so stereotypical wife who is always freaking out about finances says she and my Dad can't afford to send me. I know the restaurants aren't doing so hot because everyone is throwing their money towards gas instead of a bottle of wine and a dish of pasta, but godammit...I know plenty of people who are on financial aid and on scholarships who are still making it somehow, someway. Another reason why I can't go is because of my academic situation (I'm an undecided Junior. AWESOME, I know). To top things off, a good chunk of my friends are peacing out next semester, which is Spring semester...the semester where my seasonal depression kicks in and makes Less want to literally jump off a cliff. I hate being selfish, I hate gritting my teeth when people talk about London or Florence around me and I can't stand how I can't be happy for my friends who are going to embark on a fantastic experience. I just hate knowing that I can't go, and that I won't have friends to keep me happy during the winter.


• I hate PMS. I really despise myself for ordering cookies last night and eating ice cream after dinner. I'll probably just eat celery for the rest of this week. Celery and water. Hah, I could NEVER keep up that diet.


• Speaking of food, I make the best shepard's pie EVER. I made it the other week and it was deliciously amazing in every way. I even mashed my own potatoes. I don't understand people who buy that processed, instant shit. Making it from scratch is pretty easy.


• I don't have the slightest clue on what the fuck I want to do with my future, but lately video is making me happy. Really happy. I still love design, and am terrified that I'll regret not making a career out of it. But honestly, with the economy being in the shitter right now, no matter what you do, you still have to scratch and crawl for a job. You might as well do something that you love while your scratching and crawling. And living with your parents.


• Last year, I craved going home because Comm Design sucked the life out of me. But now that I am a bit (BIT is the keyword here, folks) more relaxed, I dread going home. Am I the only one who hates going home? Everyone always talks about going home and how they visit home, blah blah blah, but I hate it. I had to go home in September for a weekend because it was my cousin's wedding, and it sucked. I love my family and I love DC, but I'm so fucking depressed at home. This past summer was the most miserable yet and I don't intend on living there this summer. I don't want to go through the same motion of living at home, scrambling for a part-time job, getting a job, working, coming home, working, coming home, working. I only have a handful of friends to hang out with and I'd rather be somewhere else, away from home, working at an internship and learning about life hands-on. I'm going to be 21 next summer and coming home to Mom and Dad is hindering my personal growth than helping it. Basically, I want to live an adult life of earning my way, having the responsibility of maintaining an apartment (like I do now), and just living out life without my Mom breathing on my neck. I love the woman, I really do. The problem with her is that she loves me too fucking much for my own good and as a result hates everything that I do because it will never amount to the ideal princess that she sculpted in her head, of what I need to be. She probably prays rosaries in Spanish every night wishing I was a law student who abides to society's every whim, who wears perfect ensembles consisting of ultra feminine skirts and high-heels. But alas, I'm a failure of a daughter, who's majoring in some art bullshit, is too argumentative with too many opinions and radical ways, who changes her hair color too much, and has an ungodly infatuation with peircings and tattoos. I digress...


• I know I sound like an angry bitch. I usually blog to let off steam and just unload all the stuff that I don't feel like telling most people, otherwise. I'm content with life right now, honestly. There are some problems here and there, but if there weren't any than it wouldn't be life, now would it? I love my roomies, I love my friends, Andy is the sweetest boy ever, aaaand I'm throwing a bomb ass Halloween party for Day of the Dead! So there are good things too. Promise.
  

I just watched the original Night of the Living Dead for my film class. Now, I'm convinced that flesh-eating ghouls are going to kill me in my sleep. It was nice blogging here, Livejournal. See you in Hell.

This much-feared limbo of a semester is better than what I would have ever expected.

My apartment is awesome, my roomates are the sweetest girls ever, I see my boyfriend often, and I thoroughly enjoy my classes. Things have been brighter, and it's been about goddamn time.

And living in an apartment off campus has forced me to grow up and change a bit. Not only have I turned into a 50s housewife and am a I freak about cooking and cleaning, I have learned to be a bit smarter. I have gotten into a bit of legal trouble and I can't say that I'm very fond of the Syracuse city police instantly profiling me as a dumbass party slut from Long Island just because I'm 20 and am a college student. Those issues are long and gone but I feel as though big brother is watching me. I won't get into it up here online...whatevs.

I went to Brooklyn this past weekend and my eyes were opened to a whole different side of New York City. I met amazing people, hung out with chill friends, and am missing it a lot. I left my heart in San Francisco, but my soul is in Brooklyn. I see myself living there after college for a few years, and when the wear and tear of the city takes it's toll on me, I'll move out to the west coast. I feel like these are the only future plans I feel confident putting in writing at the moment..

My major -sigh-. I'm so split down the middle and want to do an array of different things. I will come to me, and I can't force my decision.

Expect more entries. Seriously.

I'm in another state, on the opposite coast, in a different time zone, and in a different climate. It's here in San Francisco, I decide to update my neglected Livejournal. There have been a billion times this summer, where I would open up a blank Word document, type a few words, and then close the window, giving up on writing my thoughts because I was uninspired and lazy. But here, and now, I have this bolt of blogging juice that's flowing through my veins. I guess a change inspires writing...

Anywho, I love it here. I love the cool, yet sunny weather, the fresh produce, friendly people... everything. While New York City is where practically every twenty-something migrates to upon graduating college and to start careers, I really don't know if I can follow that same route. I have never followed common routes. If I did, I would have gone to a Virginia state school. I grew up on the east coast, but I find myself loving it out here more and more.

Do you ever have the feeling that you're meant to be someone?

I have. All my life. I want to do something incredible. I know I can. I have a feeling that if I put my mind to it whatever it is that I want to do, I'm going to make a difference. I don't know what I'm good at or what I want to do, but I have this innate feeling that I'm extraordinary in some way. Whether it's big, or small, I think my life is going to be so much more. And I'm not talking about fame or money.

I just really can't wait until I can tread on those who have ever doubted me or put me down. I crave the day people who have ever pushed me around, or have said stupid shit about me will be like "oh damn...she's got it made". I remember how I used to try so hard to be friends with certain people. People who I liked and tried desperately to make them like me back but failed. I want those people to see me one day and think "why did I ever ignore her? why was I such a fucking dick? Why did I always ignore her when I saw her?".

I don't think I'm the greatest person who has ever lived. I don't think I'm the smartest, prettiest, funniest, or super talented. I have a lot of flaws and bad habits. But I accept myself for who I am wholeheartedly and speak what's on my mind, not what people want to hear.

School is approaching, and summer is ending. I don't know what the hell I'm doing next semester and I don't have the slightest clue what I'm going to do in the future. I don't even know when or how I'm going to figure this whole entire mess out. But I know that I'm going to do something that I love to do, and love whatever I do and fucking rock at it.