8/30, no. 24

being one of about four students on my floor with an 8am class, the nights and mornings are rough. everyone is hanging out, being young and loud, watching movies, playing videogames, going out, bonding and visiting other dorms, all within the late hours of the night that descend into early hours of the a.m. how I want to hang out, be young and loud, watch movies, play videogames, go out, bond and visit other dorms with them, but alas I find myself being cautious and sleeping at 11pm so I won't be late to chemistry. I don't know how people do it. I think it's too early to start the year going without sleep and with a lot of coffee, though.

meh. at least there'll be stuff to do today that isn't during the night-time. I'm going to the farmer's market on 6th ave with some floormates and friends today, and then attending Lighthouse with Todd and Emily. maybe that'll compensate somewhat for my lack of a nightlife.

also, I've eaten too many s'mores poptarts...too many. but what I love about this place is that you eat what you buy (instead of eating all the secretly super unhealthy foods your mother buys) - next time I go to Safeway or Met Market, I'll opt for more greens instead.

8/29, no. 23

8/28, no. 22

classes begin tomorrow, and I feel nothing. I'm not particularly excited nor nervous, I'm just taking it in as it comes. wow that is definitely what she said. anyway, I've been trying to put a label on my feelings concerning classes, but maybe labeling it is hard because there's really nothing to label. I'm taking chemistry at eight in the morning, four days a week, and I'm a little worried about that, but the thing is, I'm the one who consciously picked, chose, and fought like hell to add that class and I didn't do it just to pick my nose. I was set on taking Art Theory as part of my scholarly and creative inquiry core, but my schedule changed a little for chemistry and thus I am taking History 129: Mao's China instead. additionally, I'm taking repeat high school courses like intro to psych and calculus. I'm feeling okay and apathetic and okay. I really like the people here with whom I see regularly: my roommate, Rachel, is very sweet and maintains her socially calm personality; my neighbors Todd the red head and Kevin the other Asian, they're great friends, resources, and online pictionary buddies, and a rare but solid friend with whom to attend church/youth group (thanks Todd!); my musically inclined floormate Angelica, with whom I partook in a small impromptu jam session on the first floor of our building, me on the piano and her on the classical guitar - a mix of Goo Goo Dolls, Chopin, Spanish/Italian interludes, and other improvisions; Hannah and her eclectic group of friends on the third floor, who I see around and visit and am visited by, all of which brighten my day; my RA Daniel, who lives in the room directly across from us, and often blasts incredibly great music (when he's not blasting the music, I am). it's so liberating to always have my door open and random music choices of mine playing very loudly for people to wander in and out, whether they're stopping by to say hi or introduce themselves or ask for food or help or any question about classes or where a certain professor's office might be, whatever the reason - the idea of an open door is so new to me, as I kept to myself and shut the door at home, a result of teenage angst.

doors, arms, mind and heart wide open - I'll learn to love it here soon enough.

8/26, no. 21

premise: as much as I loved backpacking, it's evidently not a huge part of my life (it was merely an incredibly significant three-day trip in my thousands of days in my life), and as such I do not necessarily gloat/dwell on every cherished memory of the experience all the time.

but there is one aspect in particular that was sort of neat: the vivid dreams. my leaders and my fellow backpackers attested to this; they all maintained that during every night of every camping/overnight hike of theirs, they've all had extremely vivid dreams. now I've awoken in cold sweats of fear and apparently I've laughed a few times in my sleep - but there was really nothing like this. maybe it was the heightened emotions surrounding my sleep - the fear of sitting around in the absolute dark with nothing but trees and logs and rocks and bushes to seemingly protect you, the spectacular view of the stars, so clear and close in the night-time sky, the constancy of the river, so full of life, which never slept, and waking up to fresh, cold air and drinking out of the lively river and a forest with light streaking through every small gap between all the forestry. I don't know what it is, but those dreams seemed so long, graphic, lifelike...I don't know if it's something I'll necessarily miss, but I do know that it's another interesting benefit of sorts to overnight backpacking.

8/25, no. 20

about an hour ago, I returned from one of the best experiences of my life: a three-day backpacking trip in the Olympic Mountains of Washington with ten other UPS students. we hiked up the mountain to Duckabush River, where we made our camp site - on a small clearing with a few logs and rocks, next to the river. it was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen - it was like seeing Yosemite, but being able to touch and smell and taste everything, rendering the entire scene so much more believable. these fellow students are amazing and incredibly down to earth - they're from all over the map, from places like Minnesota, South Africa, Colorado, etc. I really can't write about every specific thing, as I feel it's best to save the specific aspects of beauty for my "privacy" I guess. but I'll just grammatically incorrectly ramble about random things I loved about the trip, including the completely clear sky, making the nights seem scary at first with all the trees but upon looking up at the stars (there are so many!!!!), everything seems closer and you don't feel too far away. drinking water straight up from the freezing cold crystal clear river that would always run fast with so much life. playing sardines throughout the mountain, allowing us to affirmatively dub the area the perfect sardine/hide and seek spot, undoubtedly. learning about people, their lives, their stories, and never stop realizing how beautiful they are. talking one on one with one of the seniors, Peter, and feeling a little more at home just by some solid conversation. sleeping in small tents, bundled up in warm REI sleeping bags with three others, making for some really warm atmosphere. discovering what little is needed to survive, and how organic, complete, utter bare naked nature is just the perfect introduction to a few years in a new area.

side note: this picture does not do Duckabush River Trail any justice.

8/20, no. 19

it's sort of unfortunate, really: I spent three years dreaming of a better life elsewhere, and by the time I finally get that better life at home, I've already sold my soul to the devil (metaphorically, that is; I already commit to an out-of-state school).

I hate being so conflicting - outside, I display optimism: "Puget Sound was my first choice, too!" "I love the area so much, and I'm so excited for this year!" but inside, I am cynical, and it seems as though I can only see what could be better - grammatical errors in the president's speech, flaws in organization of the orientation schedule, etc.

I have declared not only my major, but my plan: I did not come here to have fun; I merely attended this school because it was the most practical and financially efficient option, and I will use this option as a stepping stone for a better place, a better education.

I'm in the initial week of awkwardness, of meeting people, and it's a little excruciating to go through. I keep telling myself, "This, too, shall pass" but I'm not excited for the aftermath of settling in and meeting people either.

thankfully, my roommate, Rachel, isn't a huge social butterfly. she's socially calm and quieter, like me. we spend what little free time we have reading or going on the computer to finish some academic business (transcripts, etc). but she isn't antisocial, either - we both go out together for all the activities available for us. my other friend, Hannah, lives a few floors up and we spent the majority of our first day together. her roommate Madeline also seems very cool, so I'm completely satisfied with the people with whom I am associating myself so far.

8/17, no. 18

I love cheesy little similarities in life, like a date that coincides with a blog post number, or talking to a friend about something you know you talked about the year before on the date, it reminds me that some things are still organized, parallel, and/or constant despite worldly chaos.

but I am by no means organized/neat myself. my room is almost always an utter mess, my notebooks are always scattered (as are my thoughts), and there's a good chance that my future office will look similar to Jenna Lyon's J.Crew office (pictured). now this would be a good thing, a promising sign, an aesthetically smart idea for an office...had I graduated with a concentration in art history or fashion journalism. alas, I am interested in studying neuroscience (disclaimer: not for the money, as I'll probably make nothing and if I do make money, most of it will be given to my parents to constantly thank them and reimburse them for my younger years...either that or I'll donate to some charitable NPO. I highly doubt that I would ever make much money, but in the case that I shape up and end up making a decent salary, I'd donate or give it away somewhere because I would freak out if too much were in my account, out of fear of irresponsibility).

why neuroscience? as you may or may not know, I was originally interested in studying English and obtaining my Bachelor of Arts in the said subject. however, the career field is awfully limited, especially the "realistic" career field (teaching is not in any of my interests). that said, I researched other options - but to no avail.

this year, I took an advanced psychology and a higher level biology class. the units regarding neurology were extremely appealing to me, which gave me a sort of heads-up. if I could, I would major in psychology, but even that has limited/competitive career fields, plus my family would look down on that.

moreover, close friends in the present and past have dealt with or had family experience with neural injuries or disorders, many without a cure (such as Alzheimer's or schizophrenia) - I'm not the brightest of the bunch, but the stories I've been told and the pain I've seen has propelled me to do as much research as I can. if a Ph.D doesn't work out, I'll just study my brains out and attend med school and eventually hope for a research career...although I don't think I could ever handle med school.

8/15, no. 17

"everybody's gotta love someone

but i just wanna love you dear
everybody's gotta feel something

I just wanna feel you my dear
I know it's hard, I know its hard,

I know its hard to be in this position
if they stop loving you, I won't stop loving you
if they stop needing you, I'll still need you my dear"

I've made it to where I am - but, mind the cliche, and in all seriousness, I would not nor could not be where I am today if it weren't for those I've met and loved and spent time with along the way.

it's the journey that I will miss more than anything.

I want to gather around a table with my friends and look at every memory as if each active moment was a tangible piece of evidence for us to revel about. I want to say to each and every one of my close friends, "Come and see - look how far we've come." how far, and how much further we can go, the two of us or all of us or some of us - take your pick, we'll do it all, everything and nothing, just as long as we do it together.

alas, I cannot.

8/15, no. 16

How To Pack a Life In Four Days: A Tragedy

there are certain things I simply can't imagine. among these unfathomable notions include the idea of not seeing certain people for three months, not talking to these people on a regular basis, and literally living two states north. I feel like it's just going to feel like I'm at some sort of camp for a while, and I'll soon be accustomed to that camp, but it'll be long before I actually feel as though I am truly living in Tacoma. it's weird to think that the rest of my life could potentially be in Seattle, Washington - I know plenty of people who become so used to their college town and end up working and living in the same town/area. right now, I don't want that. I mean I'll be more than happy to land any sort of job, but it's just hard to imagine not coming back to those I love.

by "coming back" I don't necessarily mean coming back to San Clemente, though. soon after my youngest brother graduates high school, my parents will probably travel abroad for missionary work as a large part of their retirement. I'm sort of grateful for that - when I'm in my twenties, I won't have to be sucked in to this fishbowl. if my friends still live here (I hope not!), I'll of course gladly come to visit...but it's nice to know that I won't be landing here permanently.

my idea of "home" is being wherever I feel loved (The Head and the Heart reference!), not where my parents decided to move for a few years.

8/13, no. 15

a scattered mind.

i hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited,

but i couldn't stay away, i couldn't fight it;

i had hoped you'd see my face

and that you'd be reminded that for me,

it isn't over.

you know how the time flies

only yesterday was the time of our lives

we were born and raised in a summer haze

bound by the surprise of our glory days

nothing compares,

no worries or cares

regrets and mistakes, they're memories made

who would have known how bittersweet this would taste?

don't forget me, i beg

i remember you say

'sometimes it lasts in love,

but sometimes it hurts instead'

(but i don't think i'll ever find somebody like you.)

8/12, no. 14

so long, my honey

goodbye, my dear

there is seldom I love more than the chance to leave the fishbowl, bubble, and suburban wasteland of San Clemente, so you can imagine my excitement upon finalizing all the costs, reservations, modes of transporation, and hypothetical itinerary for a roadtrip up the Californian coast to San Francisco. to put it in perspective, an extreme but relatively accurate analogy would be to say that in San Clemente, I'm holding my breath - and I get fatigued from dehydration, stress, and just the monotony and boredom of so many limits all around me. when I leave San Clemente, I take huge breaths - I inhale the air to stay alive. and San Francisco is no different - the city really knows how to show you what it feels like to truly live. I'm in love with urban areas, and a popular rap song reflects a city's feeling with the words "these streets will make you feel brand new, these lights will inspire you."

and there's nothing like traveling with close friends to become closer with one another and closer with the city itself. the to and from routes feel shorter, and you are not limited to social restrictions. you can act like a fool while not feeling like a fool at all - it's something that makes you feel really free. it's a sweet whiff of independence, which gives you hope for the future.

but what goes up must come down - the drive home from San Francisco made me think of how reluctant I was to leave a city I'm relatively unfamiliar with. if I'm so reluctant to leave the bay area, I don't know how I'm going to deal with leaving those I love. the goodbyes have just begun, as have the fluctuating emotions I am left with. it doesn't make me want to stay in San Clemente - it makes me want to live with those I love and stay with them as long as possible. and that very notion has given me a closer understanding to the long-heard lyrics "home is whenever I'm with you."

8/7, no. 13

yesterday I attended my cousin Chrissy's wedding. it was beautiful, and was by far one of the most memorable nights I've had the pleasure to experience.

emotions aside, the aesthetic of both the ceremony and reception were so distinctive, fresh, and included both antique and modern trends. the ceremony was held at the First Congregational Church in Downtown L.A., a very European-style old church built of stone and stained glass windows. part of the reason I loved it so much was because it was reminiscent - it reminded me of the churches in Prague. with a classy white dress and seven bridesmaids and groomsmen in pink and pink ties, respectively, the ceremony really emanated a clean and fresh modern take inside an archaic stone building.

it was so endearing to see my uncle walk Chrissy down the aisle. her dress was simple in color, but it well-played a modern take on a vintage idea: a stream of white flowers subtly cascading diagonally around her dress. in the age of shorter dresses in weddings, it was just really exquisite to see.

there were so many tears during the ceremony - especially when Chrissy and Paul gave both their parents hugs right before the conclusion. they both cried, as did their parents (and much of the audience), which spoke to me and reminded me of the significance of the moment. for the audience and witnesses, it was another day, another nice wedding to go to. for these two people, it was the first day together as a family.

afterwards, the reception was held at the Wilshire Grand Hotel nearby, also in downtown. it was a nice quick break between the two realms of emotion - driving around downtown might be a little daunting especially for a beginning driver like me, but it's so fun to take in all the views of the skyscrapers, shops, and people.

during the interim period as everyone waited for the bridesmaids, groomsmen, and bride and groom to appear, hors d'oeuvres and champagne was served - and in abundance, too! (it's always a bit of a letdown to stand in a line only to see empty plates and bowls on a table). this was definitely one of the plus sides of the wedding - not because I am so dedicated to having my appetizer before a meal, but because it shows how much thought and effort the planners put in the making of the wedding ceremony and reception.

when the doors to the ballroom opened, everybody found a small name card with a number indicating which table to sit at. naturally, I was sat at table fifteen - with my cousins. now two of my cousins - Stephanie and Jonathan (three including Chrissy, but that's a little self-explanatory) - were missing from the table because they were in the wedding, as they are Chrissy's younger siblings. I'm closest to these two (three) on my dad's side, so instead of talking with them I was able to reconnect with my older cousins, most of whom have their own kids (thanks for making me a cool aunt!).

the reception was a blast and seemed completely perfect and flawless. the MC was hilarious and there were tons of fun activities. of the 300+ guests, the majority was Chrissy's friends - singles and couples in their late 20's - so naturally the games, jokes, activities, and dancing followed suit. the DJ played really fun music. when we first entered the ballroom, it was almost magical (a word I rarely use) to see the huge room filled with white, fresh pink and green, clean real floral decorations, complete glassware and silverware, and a table stage for those in the wedding and the huge dance floor - while The Temper Trap's "Sweet Disposition" played as we all walked in.

there was a candy bar and photobooth in addition to the MC's dance contests going on. for almost the entire night, the DJ played great music - very modern top 40 pop songs for dancing, and tons of Michael Buble (Chrissy's favorite). the toasts (being that there were 14 bridesmaids and groomsmen, there was clearly going to be more than one toast) were also very endearing and heartfelt each. Chrissy's best friend Evelyn also announced the time that Chrissy sat next to Michael Buble, not knowing who he was yet, on a plane and talked to him about life, music, and his mother. my personal favorite toast of the four was Stephanie's (Chrissy's younger sister) - a toast and speech in the form of a song, well sung while she also played the guitar.

it was a beautiful night, and I will never forget it. I could not be happier to have been at the wedding, I could not be more content with Chrissy and Paul both, I could not be more grateful to be a part of this family.

another reason I loved everything so much, besides the fact that it was one of my closest cousin's marriage, was the perfection in creating a genuinely fun reception - something hard to do for younger people - while in tandem following Korean customs at the ceremony. it was incredible that they pulled everything off so well, and I only hope to have a wedding as breathtaking and as unforgettable as theirs.

8/5, no. 12

I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I am. I am. I am.

8/3, no. 11

Nobody in the lane, and nothing, nothing but blackberries,

Blackberries on either side, though on the right mainly,

A blackberry alley, going down in hooks, and a sea

Somewhere at the end of it, heaving. Blackberries

Big as the ball of my thumb, and dumb as eyes

Ebon in the hedges, fat

With blue-red juices. These they squander on my fingers.

I had not asked for such a blood sisterhood; they must love me.

They accommodate themselves to my milkbottle, flattening their sides.

Overhead go the choughs in black, cacophonous flocks

Bits of burnt paper wheeling in a blown sky.

Theirs is the only voice, protesting, protesting.

I do not think the sea will appear at all.

The high, green meadows are glowing, as if lit from within.

I come to one bush of berries so ripe it is a bush of flies,

Hanging their bluegreen bellies and their wing panes in a Chinese screen.

The honey-feast of the berries has stunned them; they believe in heaven.

One more hook, and the berries and bushes end.

The only thing to come now is the sea.

From between two hills a sudden wind funnels at me,

Slapping its phantom laundry in my face.

These hills are too green and sweet to have tasted salt.

I follow the sheep path between them.

A last hook brings me

To the hills’ northern face, and the face is orange rock

That looks out on nothing, nothing but a great

Of white and pewter lights, and a din like silversmith

Beating and beating at an intractable metal.

I sometimes feel as though I haven't thought in a while. I used to be so incandescently filled with thoughts, analyses, and opinions on everything - a pen dropping to a floor, a dime left on the bookshelf, a fast burn to the hand by a hot oven. but since about March, I feel like most of my life has rapidly been filling up with more "do" than "think." it's a nice change. I actually really like it, but I know that I will soon be reacquainted with my old mental habits and internal ways. I will once again be envenomed by the processes which once comprised my life. rather than thinking only about loving the time with loved ones, I will resort to reading more, thinking more, and - my greatest fear but most common habit - doing less. it's inevitable, and I make it seem worse than it is (or maybe that's because I'm just so well-versed in this art). it'll be nostalgic when it hits me that my life has really changed and my mind has gone back to its former ways. a couple of quotes referenced and shared between me and my good friend and alarmingly alike pseudo-twin sum it up quite well:

“Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings — always darker, emptier, simpler.” -Nietzsche

‎"I wish I could throw off the thoughts which poison my happiness. And yet I take a kind of pleasure in indulging them." -Chopin

8/2, no. 10

"this is the first day of my life
I’m glad I didn’t die before I met you
But now I don’t care; I could go anywhere with you
And I’d probably be happy

Yours is the first face that I saw
I think I was blind before I met you
Now I don’t know where I am
I don’t know where I’ve been

But I know where I want to go"

this song encompasses so much of my hitherto short life. I first listened and loved this song in middle school, and it remained in my music library until the beginning of freshman year. during my sophomore year of high school, I found a mutual interest (though former for me) in Bright Eyes with a few friends in cross country, so I went back and listened to more Oberst. Sometime that year, my entire library was deleted - but I managed to get everything back by the end of junior year. I haven't heard this song in a while, and only a few days ago had this nostalgic tune run through my mind again. it's pretty cute how this works: first I loved the easily catchy sound of the music, and then I loved the song just cause it was something I finally had in common with someone at my school, and then now I love the song because I can finally say that it's a pretty damn accurate presentation of my current thoughts and feelings. although Conor Oberst's musical aesthetic might be fluctuating, this song - along with many other old Bright Eyes songs, will remain on the permanent playlist reflecting my existence.

8/1, no. 9

today is the first day of August.

it is the 213th day of the year. after today, there are 152 days remaining until the end of 2011. on this day in 1944, the Warsaw Uprising broke out against the Nazi occupation in Poland. it is today's date, in 1981, that the now immensely popular MTV began its first broadcast in the US with a music video by the Buggles. French fashion designer Yves Saint Laurent was born on this day in 1936. Roman politician Mark Antony died on today's date, 30 BC.
but, for all intents and purposes, the aforementioned facts are irrelevant to this day in the context of my life. I was not dreading this day because I have some strange vendetta against Y.S. Laurent or Mark Antony or MTV (...maybe MTV, but that's besides the point). A constant development of apprehension grew on me for a very long time because this day is the first day of a rapidly moving time frame between life at home with those I love and life up north with little knowledge of anything.

it's going to be life as the new kid again. granted, everyone will be the new kid, but there's a pretty prevalent bond already established amongst the majority of the UPS class of '15, evident by nonstop chatting on Facebook. I already feel left out. I've only recently felt completely at home and comfortable in my little nest, and now I have to leave. so many times have I criticized the town in which I live, harshly labeling it as a quintessential representation of stereotypical and superficial Orange County, condemning it for its fishbowl-like features, denouncing it for being nothing more but a suburban wasteland. but, like the corny Shark Tale protagonist Oscar says, "you don't know what you have till it's gone" - only now am I starting to realize the beauty of it. the beauty of the calm, of the acres and acres of nature and sand and ocean, the freedom of being young and alive, the carelessness and the oblivion that the world will soon enough rest on our shoulders, the ones closest to me - a country, a season, a harbor, a Hindi term for "blessing"...we've got it all right now, and it's fleeting. it's not something I'm complaining about, it's just another aspect of life everyone goes through. it's just ultimately nostalgic and admirable in the long run. I'll miss it.