High School Writing.

I was transferring files from my hard drive to my computer, I stumbled upon old pieces of writing, surprised to find this. I laugh at the corniness but remembered the genuine feelings and the person who inspired it. Yeah, I wonder what he's doing now. lol.

I wrote it around 9-10th grade? haha i dont remember.

“Next stop, Broadway Junction” the loud speaker said. Anxiously I waited, tapping my feet on the train floor. My heart was starting to race and my palms felt sweaty but nothing could describe the feeling in my stomach. “Broadway Junction” the loud speaker finally said. I got up, took a deep breath, checked my hair, and took a look back to where I was sitting, just to make sure I didn’t leave anything behind. I waited for the doors to open. The doors opened and immediately I felt the burst of warm air softly blow against my cheeks. I looked around trying to spot him from a crowd. I turned to my left and then to my right. I started to get worried, I hate to wait because then I just get paranoid. What if something happened to him on the way here? What if he forgot? Than right at that moment I felt his arms wrapped around me and I knew everything would be okay.

I remember everything that day so clearly. Every moment captured so I can replay it over and over in my mind. I remember the smell of the fall air, cool and crisp. The sound of the leaves crackling beneath my feet was the only sound I could hear. I could feel the chill of the air that seeped through the pores of my jean jacket. I got goose bumps but it wasn’t because I was cold, it was because of his smile. His smile was all I could see. Everything else was just a blur of insignificant matter.

This would be the first time I fall in love. Everything about that day was so picturesque, like straight out of romance novel or movie. Everything was perfect. Perfect was the way he looked into my eyes. Perfect was the way he tried to hold my hand and how by reflex I pulled away and yet for his second attempt he succeeded. Perfect was how the train would be crowded so that instead of the pole to hold on to, I’d hold onto him. Perfect was how he made himself look foolish in public just to see me smile. Perfect was the weather that made it just right to be able to warm each other up. Perfect was how standing in the middle of Times Square and amidst all the lights, the only lights I saw were the reflection in his eyes. Perfect was how he hugged me good-bye. Strong and tightly, as if he was saying I don’t know when I’ll see you again but I hope I’ll see you soon. Perfect was the split-second in time where I turned around called out his name, ran towards the turnstile, closed my eyes and kissed him. Perfect was when he finally did let go, without any words at all his eyes said, I’ve fallen in love you.

there's nothing I want more than to run away right now,

leave this country and forget this place.

but I think there's a greater satisfaction

in looking you in the eye and saying:

fuck you,

and get out of my face.

Heartache.

* Just a quick one, before I get started on my last paper ever for summer session.

On the train on the way home I bumped into a friend I havent seen since the spring semester ended. She was standing by herself and she didnt have to say much with the expression on her face. She might have said to be tired but there was more than fatigue and lack of sleep in her appearance. I always believed the body can say so much more than what is spoken. We got into conversation about how we've both been MIA. Ultimately, it led up to the topic of her new found relationship and her recently ended relationship. In a world where it's okay for all of us to be stalkers and know every open detail to a person's life via Facebook. I knew of these events but not the details and thats what she told me. I saw her face light up as she talked about her new boyfriend who so happened to help her pick up the pieces. Then when she talked about her ex-boyfriend her heartache exuded through the forced smile that was both meant to convince not only me but herself that she was okay.

Seeing her pain cut my own wound fresh open. The very same wound I tried for more than a year to intricately heal with productive and sometimes what other people may consider self destructive behavior. The pain in her eyes became a mirror seeing myself a year and half ago. Her story was like salt to my wound and every tear was like a blow to the wound that would both ease and burn. I knew it would be hard for her to talk about it so I didnt ask but I guess talking about it serves the same medium as one getting a tattoo, you know its going to hurt but at the same time the pain makes you feel good. That's exactly what my friend did, telling me about it of course hurt her but it made her feel better to talk it out.

Naturally I'd offer advice but I know there are some situations where you know no matter what you say and no matter how true the heart will continue to break when it feels like it.

But there is one thing I wished I could have told her, Mother Theresa said:

"I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love."

Home Sweet Home.

I think for the first time in a long time I am finally truly happy again. And when I say long time I estimate probably a period of 3-4 months. I was scared because I thought I was slipping under again. Not saying I was depressed or anything but like a couple entries before I was feeling uninspired but all it took was a little inspiration :)

I'm all moved back home now. Despite the three hour commute everyday since I'm taking summer class being at home brings about a certain ease that you can only get at home. I am finally taking naps again, at least I try too. I'm finally sleeping close to normal sleeping hours. I can come home and smell the aroma of my Moms delicious homecooking. Everytime I come home I am ambushed by the love of my life, Benjie.

Home sweet home.


Surprisingly, my parents have been so lenient. To the point where they ask me if I'm going out. It's a complete turn around from what was my life at home before a year and half ago or so. I love my relationship with my parents. My parents.. The two most important people in my life ... I am so grateful for them. Grateful for their uncondtional and devotional love. For the warm atmosphere they provide and loving environment they raise me in. For the endless support and understanding they give me. I would be so proud to even become a tenth of the kind of parents they are to me.

Of course, I have my days where I just want to storm out especially fighting with my brother or the attitude that my parents have somehow picked up. shrugs. i dont know where that came from. But I take a step back, cool my anger and let it go. I swear, I have to be the most patient person ever with an uncanning ability to manage my anger. Despite this, I do think I am in dire need of anger management. It is because of my virtuous (haha) patience I think I've acquired a short temper. I can't tolerate anything that's a waste of time. That includes stupid people and liars. [I wanted to put a "satisfied" smiley like they have on xanga... blogspot doesnt have it. boo.] :)

Busy Bee.

I don't really remember when I really gave myself a break. For so long, I've just been so busy. Project after next project. Goal after goal. Class after class. Meeting after meeting. Party after party.

I had four days of "vacation" after Spring '09 semester ended and before Summer '09 semester would start. I was busy cleaning up my stuff I had to move back in but other than that, I would have a couple hours of free time. It was the weirdest feeling. I felt so anxious, antsy and so on edge. It was like I didnt know how to just not do anything anymore. The fact that nothing had to be done made me anxious, like I was sure that I was forgetting something. I am not saying that I dont know how to relax because there is nothing I do best other than laying down on my bed. I just dont get to do often.

I asked myself why do I insist on keeping myself so busy even when half the time I am exhausted and probably killing the youth in me. Wait, scratch that. Killing is such a harsh word, an extreme exaggeration even. Okay so, I am exhausted. So why can't I be like many college students and actually stay home for the summer. For one, I can't sit still for one minute. I'd probably shoot myself being at home all day. I like that I am spending my time efficiently and productively. Secondly, I love what I do. No matter how tired I get. I love the work I put in for my sorority. I love to learn, and I love spending time with the people I love even it means having to journey an hour and half just to see them in the city. Whatever it is I am doing, I am doing it because I choose to and I want too. Thirdly, and to be completely honest, I am scared. I think I am most dangerous when I am left alone with my own thoughts. So unless I am bumming around the house, being idle is something I avoid.

I have about less than 3 weeks left of summer class and ten days after that I'll be feeling the rays of the Florida and Bahama sun warm every part of my body since lately New York has been feeling like Seattle and raining everyday leaving my bones cold. But yeah, ten days... i dont know what I am going to do with myself. I am saying this even though I have a list of things waiting for me to do already. smh.

Speaking of learning.

After such a draining semester with a courseload of nothing but chemistry and psychology, where I was nothing but the last four digits of my social security number that filled a lecture hall, it is so nice to come to an english class with only 18 students. It's nice to actually make sure I get to class on time because attendance counts. It's nice to hear my voice and I don't mean that in a narcissistic kind of way. I am taking multi-ethinic american literature, Eng 320. After all the the english class I've taken, I can minor in english. Which wasn't my intention at all. If there's one thing I've learned since being in college is that I have this secret love for literature and writing. I am my toughest critic so I keep all of my writings to myself. The art of expressing yourself through words is something that completely moves me.

However, right before this class, I took a class for Literary Theory. It was interesting and I came out of the class having post- modernism roll off my tongue. Except, it completely abated my enthusiam for literature. The papers were extremely hard, tedious even, and I vowed to myself I would never take an english class again.

Yet, here I am and I am in love with this class. My decision in taking another class, was partly because I missed having an english class. I'm a complete book worm, if there's one thing that can abolutely make me obvlious to everything around me is a really good book. I can get completely lost in it and that's what I love about literature. It's funny to think about because as my professor describes it, almost in mockery, we are a group of educated individuals talking about books. Oddly enough, I am more awake in this class than in my human sexuality class. Thats another story though, like my friend said, "it's like learning stuff I already know." haha.

I think I'll end it here. Haha. Sorry for the long post. It's been a while so it's nice to able to write all these thoughts down.

bittersweet; i just cant get you outta my system.

Inhale. Exhale. This the part where I forget to breathe.

Two years, four semesters. That was the time i was mentally prepared for. I was even anticipating a much longer stay. 3/4 semesters in, I made a drastic decision to have this be my last. It hit me real hard today after coming back from my four day stay in Brooklyn to the dorm that it would be my last week here. No, I wasnt prepared for this.

For five minutes, I just sat in my bed and realized that three semesters have come and passed me by while I tentively plan for the next four.

In an exactly a week, I'll be leaving what has become my "home". The place where I didnt realize until now, but where I think I've grown the most and in such a short period of time too.

These past three semesters have been such a whirlwind where I've completely enveloped myself in everything that I've ever wanted to do. For once, I told myself to be selfish, catering to every need/want that I ever thought to have. And boy, did I get everything I've ever wanted.

And thats what I am so proud for, that I can always walk away without any regrets cos everything that I've ever done is something that made/makes me happy and was/is something I want(ed) to do.

I am getting sad because I guess it means another chapter is about to unfold but I am not quite ready to leave this one. I am going to miss the convenience, the five-block walk to the train station, the view from my window overlooking the east river and also the view that conveniently frames VA Medical Center reminding me that, that was what I was working towards. I am going to miss my dinners with the girl down the hall, Sheila. Our movie midnight adventures. Doing laundry 3 in the morning and checking our mailboxes even though we knew there would be nothing there. I am going to miss her. I am going to miss getting ready for a night out, trying on outfit after outfit running from door to door, floor to floor.I am going to miss late nights..coming home from nights out that would be the memories I'd always come to laugh about. The memories that have become the glue that bonds me and the people I share them with forever. Countless sleepovers and friends crashing. I am going to miss the obscenities that what was written all over my wall. Ha. The one Monday night we all decided to that 855 would be the party room. Or that one night, where it seemed okay to drunk dial exes right after Speedball. Or not going to class, cos my bed was just so much more inviting. Or spending time with my line sis, having shrink sessions for the cost of a pinkberry medium with 3 toppings.

Although, I leave with the utmost satisfaction with my stay here, I am also looking forward to the next tentively planned four semesters. Finding both fear and excitement for what is uncertain but having the most faith that yes, everything's gonna be alright ;]

Brookdale, you've been so good to me. Thank you.

Simple, starving to be safe.

For a while now it seemed like I should feel like I am on top of the world. I am proud for what I've accomplished but I don't know ..the feeling of accomplishment is somewhat short lived. I don't know what it is and as I'm here trying to put into words what it is exactly that I am feeling, the best thing I could come up with is that well for a while I think I've just been so uninspired.

Before I continue, I dont want this post to come off as me complaining about my life. In fact, I am so thankful for everything that God has blessed me with and continue to bless me with. But yes, to continue with my previous thought and not to sound like I'm tootin my own horn or anything but I am sure there's someone out there who would love to be in my shoes. In fact, I love being in my shoes. Yet, there's this part of me that's somewhat ..bored with it all.

I think one thing that's really making me feel this way is school. I think a part of me is so miserable because I have no interest in the things I am learning. The classes I am taking this semester are all requirements for a major that is still unclear to me. I've compromised to taking Behaviorial Neuroscience because it one part psychology and one part biology which I hope gets me into medicial school. But at this rate, i dont see medical school being in my future...not because I think itll be extremely difficult but because simply put, i dont want to.

I sit in class while my professor goes on and on about pH levels, anions and cations, Ksp constants..blah blah blah. Science always fascinated me and it continues to be one of my favorite subjects but lets face it...i doubt i'll ever find a cure for cancer.

My classes has sucked all the fun in learning. It makes me sad. But im stuck...because like many college students out there, I don't know what to do with my life. And since the beginning of my academic career i've been steered in the path of medicine that well...i really dont know anything else.

Aside from school, I think I've lost that spark of excitment in the things I love. The three things i love most are the three things I've stayed away from. Singing, dancing and playing piano. I stay away from them cos somehow they hurt me.

So here I am, keeping myself busy with things I feel are important to me while I search for thrills but theyre cheap and not at all lasting hoping, waiting to be inspired again.

I <3 NY.

I look down and fear and adrenaline run through my veins. I am scared to look down but the fear thrills me. i breathe in the atlantic ocean breeze feeling refreshed as the salt of the water fills my lungs. I look up and city lights twinkle against the clear night sky. There is movement all around me, cars speeding by, people taking pictures, and people conversing, but all i hear are the waves ferociously crashing against the rocks. And as I sit there, I feel so small in comparison to the world staring right back at me. I am completely taken back by the beauty that is New York City.

Taken at Brooklyn Bridge Park 4.29.09

Blurry cos it was windy and I am not a photographer. Unfortunately.

A nice walk on the brooklyn bridge, strawberry shortcake ice cream, and brookly bridge park was exactly what I needed to destress. Thanks Carla, Ron, and Flo <3

Without you guys, I'd be this.