soothing

I am strong because I am weak.
I am beautiful because I know my flaws.
I am a lover because I am a fighter.
I am fearless because I have been afraid.
I am wise because I have been foolish.
…and I can laugh because I’ve known sadness.

~ unknown

time time time time

hurry up the healing already

'cause it's you and me and everyone we know

as a design/semi-art student, expression of emotions places pretty high on the list of Things I Believe In - Forrealzies. when overjoyed, i want to document it through a drawing or written journal entries. when disappointed, i have an even greater urge to write... but strangely enough, an even greater greater urge to fight against it.

i am hesitant to ever write publicly about anything that breaks my heart. to write from a broken heart means to want to send a negative message out about someone who'd done did u dirty. as big of a fan i am of people who embrace their vulnerability through expression, i am an even bigger fan of reminding yourself that you still love these people (no matter how much they may disappoint), and tarnishing their image isn't exactly the best way to show that.

i may look back on these moments and kick myself for not working with this "artistic gold", but i'd much rather just have a few less journal pages to be regretful for than the guilt and much burdening pain of hurting someone's feelings.

yesterday's m-day

my mom often makes me cry


not so much from anything bad she did or said,

but because i am so thankful that she will have me as her daughter :)

smile

i don't get distracted very easily when reading at the park, but i will sometimes take a break from my book just to look up for a bit. i'm thankful for this little habit because then i would not have noticed the old man swing swing swinging away on the swing set so early on a sunday morning before any noisy children can disrupt what i imagine to be his idea of a happy place.

a tearful tuesday

after the festivities this morning i just haaaad to go and catch up on grey's anatomy and private practice and omg. wasn't that first dance just too friggin' beautiful??


i'm wondering if you're up there thinking that you chose a great date to hold an anniversary on :)


hm. also wondering how my instructor from the u.s. history class i took last semester is doing. my dirty laundry pile wouldn't be so soaked in snot if he hadn't help prepare me to appreciate this amazing amazing amazing day. soo many moments during those 4 months of school were spent feeling ashamed and wondering if the good really did balance out the bad in our country's history. BUT NO MORE! i have that teacher to thank just as much as i do to obama for restoring my faith in this country... maybe even human kind too. I DONT KNOW! i'm just so fcking proud to be an american for the first time in my life that there's no room to be articulate right now!

at dinner tonight

my dad informed me that father mccarren passed away this morning.

i think he's the only father that ever made me even want to believe.

i remember a few years ago when my parents used to have us come with them to visit him after he was transferred to a church in palo alto. he was one of those people that had so much faith that he never felt the need to lecture anybody about anything, ever. the dread associated with these visits didn't come from fear of sitting in a room with a priest suffocating you with guilt (no, not at all!), but from fear and sadness that comes with watching a truly wonderful man’s health deteriorating right in front of your eyes. i would just sit there, while he would tell us how he’s been. he loved using hand gestures while he spoke. never let the unstoppable shaking in his hands stop him. and i would just continue to sit there. smiling. smiling and fighting back tears and the giant lump in my throat because all i could think was that this man, this amazing human being, won’t be here some day soon. how many people’s lives has he touched with his gentle blue eyes and comforting smile with every genuine greeting? how amazing of a life did he lead up to this point? how hard is it gonna hit me when the day finally comes? those were questions i could never stop asking myself during each visit.


well,


the day is here. the funeral is on friday. and i’m okay. maybe being a little overly sentimental, but that’s okay. i hate having to say good bye to good people, but i’m thankful for at least having had the chance to know them enough to give a final farewell.

if that gentle old man can't rest in peace, then i don’t know who can.

mm

-----

on an unrelated note

i think i'm going through one of those phases again...

often times,

it's just this.

this makes sense

Let me tell you this: if you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it’s not because they enjoy solitude. It’s because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.

nervously breaking down

stress leads to self doubt.

self doubt leads to so

so

so

so many regrets.

and regrets lead back to stress.

the vicious cycle breaks only when the homework finally gets done.

but starts right up again when the new work gets assigned...

that's normal though....

...

...

... right?

college and me

never again will i want to go to school to study what i "love" because i only learn to HATE IT.


ok not exactly but ugh. unpleasant homework in any shape or form is no friendly friend of mine.

personal problems are called personal for a reason

the windshield wipers weren't enough to keep my vision from blurring on the drive home last night.


it will get better. it has to. i know it.

peacoats are my weakness too.... ~swoon~

i dont know about you but when i read books or wiki articles about events of the past, i always find myself asking what would it have been like to live in a moment that made it into the history books.

would i have been okay with watching Buddy Holly on a black and white tv rocking out his devil’s music on American Bandstand?

how many times would i have seen Roman Holiday in theaters?

where would i have been when JFK was shot? and Lennon?

and WWII? or more importantly (to my family) the Vietnam War? I’ve always wanted to ask my grandparents, but i never know how. (enough panic attacks already ensue when trying to construct a sentence sans-English asking my mom where the butter is.)

What was it like to be a part of it all?????


i dont know.


what i do know though is that years from now when I have my own grandchildren to pester me with what if questions, i’ll be able to read about this in their history books and recall every feeling felt, how I spent every anxious hour counting down to the result, the amazing Gilmore Girls rerun on tv, and the extremely cute guy at the polling place with the adorrrrableeeee pea coat.

it was more than okay. that's what i'd tell them.

this is very true

"The more familiar two people become, the more the language they speak together departs from that of the ordinary, dictionary-defined discourse. Familiarity creates a new language, an in-house language of intimacy that carries reference to the story [they] are weaving together and that cannot be readily understood by others."

—Alain De Botton

:)


------

"you're voting, right? i need u kids to vote tomorrow. i dont care what you vote for just as long as it's mccain and yes on 8. everything else you can vote however u like"

ohh father

“I don't want to be alone, I want to be left alone.”

A.H. and i share the same secret.

and it's not what you think ~

how fine is the line between honesty and just plain conceit?

sometimes even i have to ask myself what my real motives behind my actions are. do i do it because it's the right thing and i really am that altruistic? or do i do it because i just want people to like me for being able to do the right thing(s)..... therefore turning it into a selfish deed???


quandary.

at the beginning of class a few months ago, the instructor tried something new.

instead of writing a paragraph introducing ourselves to the rest of the class, we were required to post our absolute favorite photo of anything (other than our actual selves) that we felt best represented our personalities.

here's mine:

afterwards, everyone was required to guess what each person was trying to say with their photos.


good luck ;)

postsecret.com

i wish i could drop out of school and spend the rest of my life being the mail man that delivers letters to frank's mail box.