Sunday, January 23, 2011

Nails, flowers, and collages

"Ombre" nails I spontaneously decided to do, even though I'm not really a nail person...but they were so ugly before I had to cover them up with something.
Centerpiece flowers+vase from the cotillion. Now holds some of my jewelry.
And a thank you to my amazing friends.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

What am I going to do

with my life?

We've started the process of deciding our next year's schedules and classes. Counselors came into our English classes and discussed the far-too-many options we had for our senior year. They started talking about the SAT's, the timeline until college apps, your junior/senior year summer opportunities, and the end of the road and journey we call high school.

In the process of talking about our classes and college preferences, it occurred to me that everyone seemed to know exactly where they wanted to go and what they wanted to do. Berkeley for premed, engineering, foreign business, architecture...They all seemed to know where their lives were headed.

And I used to think I knew, too. Major in Psych and Premed, LMU for the easy grades, med school and  psychiatrist.

Now I have no idea. For one, I don't think I could manage the 4.0 in college I'd need for med school. I don't think I'd have the self control to take the MCATS, or the brains to manage premed, and I don't think I'd be satisfied at a school that's less than my full potential, or being around people I'm most likely going to feel uncomfortable around (private Catholic schools...ahem, ahem).

And what about my career? I'm the weepiest person I know--I don't think I could listen to people's depressions all day long without either growing a hide and heart of stone to counter the depression, or just becoming a depressed one myself. Who wants a psychiatrist that starts bawling before their patient does? They'd think I'm some emotionally unstable nutcase.

I think my ideal job would be a teacher, honestly. If I weren't so scared of ending up unemployed, and if only I weren't scared of living too much outside my means (spending more than I earn), and if only the relatives wouldn't gossip about my sister's high-powered career as a lawyer in comparison to my humble teaching profession, and oh what a pity that she didn't pursue bigger dreams, she could have done so much more, etc, I think I'd do it. It's one of those fantastical ideas I picture myself living, like going to school in Europe, or even across the country in New York.

But that's not gonna happen. And so I'm left with too many open doors, none of which look appealing, and advice swarming in and out of my ears, and a heart and mind too weak and indecisive to decide anything for myself.

Just another day

Today is my birthday. This comment is usually followed by some revelation of how old you feel, or how being age so and so feels so unreal, or what significance this new milestone of years has, etc, etc. But despite the usual onslaught of  cheerful celebratory remarks and well wishes, the annual expectation and anticipation of a singularly special day in all the 365 days, to me, it’s just another day. And like the majority of January-borns, we expect a rather dismal turnout of weather on our “special day.” I feel like my whole room’s being banged and rapped on by that creepy nighttime wind that whistles through the cracks in your windows and gives you that horror/mystery story feeling of “On a dark and stormy night…”

I remember last year’s birthday, getting my feet wet as I tried to handle a staticky and wet cluster of balloons through tight doorways and swinging doors that slammed you in the face if the person in front didn‘t hold them, possibly spending my time in the library because I had some test at the end of the day, trudging through puddles while trying to keep my cumbersome sets of books and things together, and discoloring my best friend’s large picture collage/birthday card with raindrops that left blotches on the photos of the us.

Now that I’ve just read over what I’ve written, it’s occurred to me that this post sounds depressingly depressing for a birthday post.

But it’s not even that it’s depressing--it’s just a far fall from the usual happy expectations of a birthday. There’s that annual disappointment of the parental units forgetting (birthdays really aren’t a big deal in our family. Really.). They’ll usually figure it out a bit after they see my birthday cards and ask me what I got them for, or my balloons, or something. And then there’s the look you get from people when it’s your birthday and you haven’t got anything to show for it-- “Oh, it’s your birthday? Where are your presents?” Like a gross pitiful consoling smile, them saying Oh it’s okay, it’s really not a big deal, when they’re just glad it’s not them. I can’t stand pity.

And there’s the issue of having a birthday party (To have, or not to have? That is the question. Har har har.). There’s the expectation of a great fiesta, and you’re worried everyone won’t get along, or that people won’t have fun, or there’ll be awkward moments of nothing to do, and then there’s the after party clean up. And the issue of if everyone can make it or not, and the trouble of planning it out, and what food will be suitable, and what games would be best, and what in the world should we rent for a movie? I only wish I had the self assurance to just do it without worrying about how everything’s going to turn out in the end. Who cares?

I think my problems with birthday are really all just rooted in expectations. Society’s expectations, and yes that does sound like a cliché English essay topic. But it’s that expectation from everyone that you’re supposed to have a great birthday, and the ensuing pity that comes when you’re not.

Honestly, it’s just another day.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011


My best friend, my awkward boyfriend who can't dance, my awkward boyfriend's father who's a much better dancer, and our obnoxiously loud table. My point-and-shoot camera decided to give up on me a few days ago and is now useless, so all pictures were taken by friends.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Back to reality

And now it's actually an even worse reality, because I have a full schedule and I need to start getting back into shape for swimming and I need to start actually making a debate case and AP Econ is going to kick my butt and Social Justice actually has work and oh God how am I going to survive...

So today was the first day back to school. And by the end I had this pulsating pounding migraine and I still didn't get home until about 7. I literally walked into our downstairs closet door and was stumbling everywhere. If I'd been given the straight line test for alcohol I don't think I'd have passed.

I don't think my brain's used to thinking for this long. It still feels like mush.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Christmas Break

has made me fat and lazy. My brain is a mushy conglomeration of goop, and I just know that my handwriting will be illegible chickenscratch when school starts up again. I have done absolutely nothing productive all break--no homework, no studying, no SATs, no essays, no research, nothing. I didn't spend time with all the people I wanted to. I didn't get that warm fuzzy Christmas feeling. I didn't get that New Years kiss, or go to Christmas in the Park.

And yet, I still loved the last two and a half weeks of pure...gluttony and hibernation.  I ate what I wanted to eat. I had holiday chocolate from Ghirardelli and Godiva practically everyday--Peppermint Bark became a staple food. I ate Boiling Crab two, three times until I was stuffed like a PillowPet. My friends and I snacked on three bags of Hot Cheetos (Zingers, Lime, and Puffs), Pocky Sticks, coconut Juice, and mint chocolate packets while sitting on our asses for two hour road trips to and from El Dorado Hills. I had nothing to worry about, nothing to stress over, no deadlines or work to do. It was a break: from school, projects, stress, studying, finals, research, work. Fuck being productive.

Maybe I didn't do everything I wanted to do. But I did get to take a ski trip with two of my best friends. I did get to see Alcatraz for the first time, and even though I thought it would be a complete bore, I was so absorbed during the tour I was completely oblivious to everything else, and I was the last of my family exit. I went to Haight, volunteered at 5 am in the morning to feed the hungry, and learned how to play Ligretto. Which I think may be my new favorite game for its level of intensity. I got to see the beautiful campus of Stanford (or the outside, at least...when we got lost on the way to Standford Mall) and though it's supposed to have the second largest campus in the world, there was just a bunch of grass area next to the drive through that was used for...absolutely nothing. I got to try a free Sprinkles cupcake. I got to shop with a friend I hadn't seen in years. I revisited Brigadoon Park, and slid down 3 story cement slides on cardboard with oil. I tried old cheese in Monterey, and we bought an ice cream maker.

Monday, January 3, 2011

Movies I've seen lately

Wow. This movie blew me away. After being rejected for buying tickets because my cousin was only 18 (you have to be 21 to buy tickets for us underaged...just two more weeks until I won't even have to bother), awkwardly standing in front of the ticket line with our large group of cousins, conspicuously plotting how to sneak into a rated R film, and then going back and having everyone buy different movie tickets, we had nearly an hour to kill before the movie started.

We got back a bit too late and as a result, none of us sat next to each other. I had the great pleasure of sitting between two old men--and if you've seen this movie, the awkwardness of the situation is obvious.
I finished rewatching this movie literally an hour ago. One of my favorite movies. It has literally everything: action, mystery, romance, surprising twists, comedy. I hear the book is way, way better but like I said...who has time to read nowadays?
Awh. This movie didn't have me pouring buckets of tears like people said, but I think it was because people kept telling me it was cry-worthy. Raised expectations=disappointment. BUT, I did tear up in the beginning when they were talking about college. It was just kind of That's me. In less a year and a half. Shit.
THIS. This. Wow. We watched it on Christmas twenty-five year old sister's choice of movie. I loved pretending I was a dinosaur when I was little. In our backyard, we have a japanese-y tree with little leaves the shape of stars, and I would pretend to be a "long-neck" and chomp on the "star leaves" (like actually bite them with my mouth and chew them up). I remember one time I saw my mom looking at me through the window and I played it off all casually, spitting it out because I didn't want her to think I was weird, you know, or anything.
Jude Law has got to be the sexiest man alive. It's not the body, or even his killer looks. It's just this...aura of sexy. And that accent, I suppose. And that he's a dad in this movie makes him even more...attractive. Is that weird? Ahhh, but I really do like this movie. It's just so...happy.