5 things that made this morning better than any others (in no particular order):

1. it was sunny
2. realizing i did not have a khaki color belt, i could easily walk down the hall to grab christine's
3. i mixed my coffee just right
4. BA at least interested me a bit
5. waking up at 7:10 (an hour earlier than i should have) to see your roommate waltz through the door, arms full of mcdonalds bags and a cup holder full of orange juices announcing "breakfast!"

must be awful having to be at soda all night - by choice! (sorta). strength i would never have. diligence i can't seem to learn.

so i attempted, for the third freaking time to turn in my application for my mass comm major and once more, i was sent back with my entire package of papers and transcripts to get another verification for the mass comm class i took at mt. sac over the summer. i just want to be a mass comm-er! gosh, everyone laughs at us anyway, what the hell.

and i got to thinking. i have absolutely no idea what i want to do and when i think about it more and more, it gets me really sad, really angry, really cynical. because there are so many people out there, so many of my friends, that just know. i mean, they've had this magical incident, this happening that said to them, this is what you want to do. and they're inspired. and i want to be inspired. i want to know. yeah i'm a mass comm-er, psych hopeful - but what? what am i going to do with that? i don't want to be a psychologist. i don't exactly want to go into journalism. i just - love learning what i learn. and people call us humanities majors party kids trying to take the easy way out but the truth of the matter is, i love what i learn. because when am i ever going to learn this stuff - i'm not going to just waltz into the louvre on my free weekend and catch up on my renaissasnce art, pick up a weber essay and start reading about class struggle, sit in on a lecture at the nearest university to freshen up my history dates. but right now, i'm thrown head first into the vast array of knowledge that is right in front of me. so i'm just going to take it, enjoy the ride, and hopefully be thankful in the end that i did chose to abandon reason for speculation. call my major bullshit, tell me it's easy, sure, go ahead. but i love it. and you can't take that away.

god, but still, what am i going to do with my life? (and these are the two things i have at least a slight passion for)
1. my own magazine
2. nevermind, there was only one.

i'm lacking a drive. passion. inspiration. i just want to be inspired. because the last time i was, i remember being happy. knowing at least that i wanted something. okay, then it was someone, but that's a whole other story. that person did inspire me though - every piece of me, every fiber that constitutes my being, every aura within me. it felt right, like i deserved it even. and i probably took it for granted because now, three years later, i can't find any source of inspiration. and i need it badly.

it's actually not that cold in berkeley today! meanwhile, i'm wearing my fake diesel shirt that angela got me from taiwan and seriously, it doesn't look that fake. well, besides the fact that diesel is now known to make three quarter sleeved black polos, but as angela pointed out to me, "the diesel is even spelled correctly!"

there's just that something about the verve pipe's "the freshman" that makes me want to listen to it over and over. and it was actually my dad that told me about this song, screaming for me to come into the garage to listen so i could download it for him. and for those of you that don't really know me, my dad is cooler than me. a lot cooler. ask anyone, they agree. how pathetically embarrassing huh?

What type of artist are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

gee, that's reassuring. but i tend to have a soft spot for artists. i admire them since i suck at art, no matter how hard i patiently sit and try to sketch the lamp on my desk, for example. and i'm so intrigued by the knowledge that they know. carvaggio, he says, is the master of beginnings. and blake, said adoringly, was so misunderstood. the guggenheim, he continues, may perhaps be the best work of frank o. ghery, the best of all architects, the one timeless form of art to forever be imprinted in the vast world of struggling peniless artists striving to capture the soul of just one person.

the first sip of coffee on a cold morning rejuvenates the soul. (okay, that was totally cliched, but literally, it does)

i love fall. don't you? i realized in LA you really don't get to see much of the colors change on trees or feel the intense chill of the wind, so intense that it can turn your cheeks red in a matter of seconds. i was walking to bancroft from wurster the other day and i there's a certain spot, right before the fountain that when you look left onto boalt, you can see the oranges, reds, and yellow greens of the tree-lined path. i dare say, it's almost surreal.

i was so damn full last night. we had a potluck at our apartment! well, it was more like an all you can eat buffet. and to make matters even worse, after dinner, people just kept eating (not to name names, ahem, emi, bren, angela, julie, christine, richard) and of course, i stupidly ate along with them! it's okay, it's okay, once a week binging is just dandy! haha thanks guys, it was fun!

i suddenly remembered this - two years and i still knew the opening line. i think i really liked it. it's no becquer but close enough. for me.

puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.

escribir, por ejemplo: "la noche está estrellada,
y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos."

el viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta.

puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso.

en las noches como esta la tuve entre mis brazos.
la besé tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito.

ella me quiso, a veces yo también la quería.
cómo no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos.

puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche.
pensar que no la tengo. sentir que la he perdido.

oir la noche inmensa, más inmensa sin ella.
y el verso cae al alma como al pasto el rocío.

qué importa que mi amor no pudiera guardarla.
la noche esta estrellada y ella no está conmigo.

eso es todo. a lo lejos alguien canta. a lo lejos.
mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.

como para acercarla mi mirada la busca.
mi corazón la busca, y ella no está conmigo.

la misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos árboles.
nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos.

ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero cuánto la quise.
mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su oído.

de otro. será de otro. como antes de mis besos.
su voz, su cuerpo claro. sus ojos infinitos.

ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero.
es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido.

porque en noches como esta la tuve entre mis brazos,
mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido.

aunque este sea el ultimo dolor que ella me causa,
y estos sean los ultimos versos que yo le escribo.

-pablo neruda

(and of course, i need the english as well)

i could write the saddest verses tonight.

writing, for example "the night is sprinkled
with stars sparkling blue, far away".

the night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

i could write the very saddest verses tonight
i loved her and at times she also loved me.

on nights like this i had her in my arms.
i kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

she loved me, at times i also loved her
how could i not love her big staring eyes?

i could write the very saddest verses tonight.
to think i don't have her. to feel that i have lost her.

to hear the immense night, even more immense without her.
and the verses fall on the soul like dew on the pasture.

why does it matter that my love couldn't keep her?
the night is full of stars and she's not with me.

that's all. far off someone is singing. far off
my love is not used to having lost her.

how my glance looks for her to get close to her.
my heart looks for her and she's not with me.

the same night that turns the same trees white.
we aren't now the same way we were then.

i no longer love her, that's certain, but how much i loved her.
my voice searched on the wind to touch her ear.

someone else's, she's someone else's. like before i kissed her.
her voice, her bright body. her infinite eyes.

i no longer love her, that's certain, but perhaps i love her
love lasts so short and forgetting takes so long.

but on nights like this i had her in my arms
my heart is not used to having lost her.

although this may be the last pain that she causes me
and these may be the last verses that i write her.

(from 20 poems of love, and one of desperation)

i realized that i just took up an incredible amount of blog space with spacing and such. but i refuse to delete everything i just spent the past 20 minutes typing.

"there is no work of art which does not, in its very structure, evoke the words, the images, the music of another reality, of another order repelled by the existing one and yet alive in memory and anticipation, alive in what happens to men and women, and in their rebellion against it."

herbert marcuse | frankfurt school of writers

suddenly i was reminded of how much i really did like art history even though i complained all day about its banality. there's just something so hidden, so mysterious about the art that makes you want to examine its history. and when you do so, you realize just how much more confusing it becomes. but yet, for a moment, it all makes sense. and for that moment to exist is everything that's so great about art.

what a mellow sunday night. it's quiet up here in 505. i'm not quite sure if richard is awake or asleep (he got up from his 30 minute nap on my bed - again! and i haven't heard since) and christine is off to torture unit 1 kids pretending to give off knowledge. just kidding, she's an amazing writer and i'm sure the papers she edits end up getting high grades. but things have been floating through my head and i never get the time (or moment of inspiration) to write them down. so this will sound truly rambled and broken up but hell, i'll give it a shot. & i just don't feel like writing that damn BA paper - i could care less if firms should pay dividends to its shareholders because it's not like that affects me. i'm just a starving college student.

i think life is moving too fast for my own thoughts to catch up. in the rush of classes, leisure, and everything else, i find that there isn't even any time to just think. and at those moments you think are times to just think, you don't come up with anything. and it frustrates me, it really does. i just want answers sometimes and i just want to know. but hell, it's been awhile since i've had either and i'm getting pretty damn used to this confusing conundrum of a semi-charmed kind of life. haha, i wrote "semi" and i just had to write "charmed kind of life". that was useless. but anyhow. answers! now!

while i was walking back from the library (it looks the same, even after 8 months!) i passed by the tennis courts and when i saw the familar yellowish-green tennis ball being smacked i was suddenly hit with a pang of nostalgia. i miss tennis. i miss playing it, watching it, but most of all, being a part of it. seeing that tennis ball in the air immediately brought me back to this one sunny but chilly day when we were at st. mary's getting completely crushed by them - but for one moment, i was able to escape the feelings of disappointment. and hearing the wonderful pop of the tennis ball vibrating off the tightened strings of the racquet gave me that moment - down 1-5, love-30, i had hit a perfect down the line winner and snapped the purple strings off my racquet. needless to say, i went on to lose that match 2-6 but hell, i was divine for that one moment. i miss tennis; i didn't even bring my racquets up.

okay, i think it's time for me to seriously get work done before the practice starts. love that show!

richard has fallen asleep in my bed and i don't want to wake him up to tell him to climb his ladder to his bed just yet because it does take a hella lot of work getting onto that bunk bed. so i find things to do online.



hmm. i don't know how that happened.



now this is more correct!



i love that boy! he's a cutie! (the quiz asked for what character you are the most and i'm sure guys can end up as girls too)

all right, i'm waking richie up, i want to sleep.

my lovely roommates. aren't we a dandy threesome?

i have a confession to make.

today, in my american studies lecture, the professor began by warning us that a lot of people choose to skip this particular lecture because it focuses on farmsteads. we all laughed of course and looked around to see if the 100 person class did in fact, shrink.

and when he began to show the slides of different farms, i found myself more interested in them than i have ever been in the class. even though the lecture still felt like five lifetimes, it was in fact, really quite interesting. perhaps i'm made to own a farm in the future or something like that.

in a nutshell: i had a blast at home, damn berkeley for making me come back to take a midterm in less than 12 hours, shit i'm not prepared, i want to crawl into a hole and hide, scream at the top of my lungs, swim in a cotton candy bath of luxury. i'm not even thinking straight.

playing around with the page design so i have to keep posting. it's too bad i have no idea what i'm doing!

i wrote this last february regarding rain and reading back on it, it made me think. do i sound the same now as i did before? has anything in my writing changed?

i'm not usually a rain person but today, as i was walking back to my dorm, i merely lifted my head and closed my eyes and for a moment i lost myself in the moment. it was like one of those old, exaggerated producer-productions in the late communistic 1950's era when a character stands in the rain and the audience feels his complete pathos and loses it in just this mere character's self-deprivation to awaken and see that indeed, it sometimes takes pain to progress. i think i like rain now.

i hear christine's alarm clock chirp in the other room. damn lucky girl. why do i always get the 8 am classes? and why oh why do i have to always attend lecture in order to get a decent grade in the class? it's not fair damn you christine, it's not fair you're so smart and i'm so...not. hah, oh well, perhaps we'll even out someday, just not on the intellectual level.

it's cold in berkeley now. weather seriously took a 360. but i kind of like it. wool coats, scarves, cashmere gloves. when do you ever get to wear this stuff in LA? granted i get cold way too easily and most the time i'm still freezing, but occassionally, the slight tremors of coldness remind me of my sanity.

and so i get to go home this weekend where things are probably not as cold. i miss my house, i learned that my backyard fence doesn't look the same anymore and my parents are installing a new shower in my bathroom. i miss the comforts of having parents around, the convenience of having a car, i actually even miss diamond bar suburbia! so i'm excited nevertheless, i get to go home!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANG!!!

yay you're finally 19! i know you're dreading it and all and it feels old, yes yes, but just think, i'm turning 20 soon. and then you will, and then 21, 22, all the way to the big 3-0. ain't life grand? anyhow, haha i'll see you over the weekend! yay for home!!!

in less than 12 hours i shall finally take my highly anticipated mass comm midterm. gosh i hope i know something. wish me luck!!!

i hear sinead o'connor's "jealous" while walking to school echoing out from somebody's car. and it made me want to replay the song over and over, the same exact way i did three years ago, two summers past, a thousand days ago when dawson's creek entertained me everyday.

remember that season finale when dawson's parents remarry and joey and pacey have been seeing each other without dawson knowing? and after the wedding, after dawson delievers that poignant best man speech, he and joey talk on the dock and he tells her that he has to let her go so she could spend the summer sailing down the atlantic with pacey so she could have that experience? and then, "jealous" plays while dawson is left alone, on his dock, by his creek, crying hysterically.

you're jealous
you just can't stand to see me get along without you
like i do, you told me to

now you're jealous
you don't know hard it was to be alone without you
wanting you like i do

i would have stayed if you had wanted
would have been willing
but you said i treat you so badly i can't be forgiven
you know i would have done anything
to make it through with you
but i don't deserve to be lonely
just cause you say i do

you're jealous
you don't know how hard it is to be a woman in love with you
when you're so cruel
and so jealous
you don't think about anyone's feelings but your own
are you coming home?

i would have stayed if you had wanted
would have been willing
but you said i treat you so badly i can't be forgiven
you know i would have done anything
to make it through with you
but i don't deserve to be lonely
just cause you say i do

so if you're gonna go you've gotta go and if you're staying stay
cause i can't take the pain you keep leaving when you go away
if you're gonna go you've gotta go and if you're staying stay
cause i can't take the pain you keep leaving when you go away

i don't deserve to be so lonely
i don't deserve to cry
i don't deserve to be so lonely

it's so hot today!!! and it's only 10:45 in the morning! so after BA this morning i go to buy the slides on bancroft and power walk to the bus stop only to realize i forgot my ID and of course, there's no way in hell i'm paying 1.50 to ride the bus five blocks down, so i walk. and it's freaking hot, the sun's burning on my back and i finally get to blockbuster to return dvd's, make a stop at barnes and noble for my beloved map of the world (no it's not dorky), savor the air conditioning, and walk back out in the scorching heat to the apartment. i thought berkeley was supposed to be cold this time of the year!

our apartment finally went out tonight somewhere other than the supermarket! yay red dragon! okay perhaps not because it scared the shit out of me but what do i know, i get scared at even the slightest door slam. but i will remember when we were at the junction of adeline and stanford streets and we could not figure out whether or not the road curved right so the three of us squinted and leaned our bodies forward as if we were on cue because the windshield of richard's car is so freaking dirty. i'm sure a passerby would have thought the three of us had mental issues, heads slighty bent and eyes blinking every half second staring blankly ahead.