Then I'm force to eat my words

& that's life.

Dare I hope?
Dare I want?

Went to sleep last night with suicidal thoughts, how it used to be. How I used to be. Woke up this morning not feeling much different, went online, check my emails, not expecting anything and there it was, a reply, and instead of something small, something fast, something like "k" and being brushed off and forgotten, it was longer and I just realized that I can't give up, can't shut myself in like I used to. & not only that, my friends too, They care, and I dare to think that there might be hope beyond it :)

I'm going to look forward to this new year, this new decade, just like I always have, with hope, and wishes for the better, like everyone else, and I'm going to try, give it my best because if I don't, then it's not worth it. This year, this decade, I'm going to be who I want to be to the best of my efforts. Read more, write more, hug more, kiss more, love my friends, my family, travel more, discover life, and maybe a romance, an actual romance, not just a game. There's always hope with each day, and like the song, I can't stop believing.

Not like it would happen anyway.

It happened. I broke down again. I was having such an awesome break too.

But i feel this ache that won't leave me alone creeping up on me.

It started simply enough, I got out of the shower, felt good about actually getting in a sensible workout and was ready to tackle on some work in my novel, (I'm mostly typing it up, editing, and adding a bit as I go along) and I sat down and I noticed that one of the Sim stories I read recently uploaded a new chapter.

the new chapter was beautiful and I was reading the part about the Christmas party being thrown, the family pulling together in new hopes aside from all of the tragedy and loss they faced over the years and halfway thought I started heaving because I still can't cry tears. I mist up plenty of times, tears on the verge of falling but they never do & it worries me because I know I won't be at peace till I'm able to cry. I didn't even cry at my grandma's funeral. I couldn't. I don't think I said anything the whole day, much beyond nodding and doing things on automatic. What I remember is I was carrying Emmy everywhere. My parents couldn't take care of her, everyone was busy, I had to look out for her & Sammie, & dahlia, no one was watching the kids and I just remember all I could think of was "the kids, the kids, the kids, where are the kids, have they ate? what are they doing, must kept them quiet during the service, the kids... I look back on it & realized I was just using them as a shield to keep from fully grieving, to face the situation.

I kept reading but I kept heaving, remembering. Hating. Wanting. needing, feeling lonely, feeling blue, feeling like it's no used.

So my friend has been pretty tore up about the holidays because her ex promised her forever and it's Christmas and new years and he's not here, and neither is mine. But I haven't let anyone know how in the few minutes of waking up Christmas eve day, before stirring, how my first thought is that there will be no present for me from my sweetheart because he's not here.

I tried so hard to forget. Even read that article why being single for the holidays is a blessing sometimes, tried to have a really good time this year, especially since my family visited and that helped. ALOT. told myself I've had a better Xmas and I did. I really did. But I also know that the reason I got drunk on Christmas was not because I am a light weight but because I was so keen on it. Determine and mission accomplished, I even tossed my cookies in the morning.

How can one year changed everything. A year ago, I would have laugh in someone's face if they told me I would be drunk, drinking on Xmas day, walking the strip @ 3 am. That wasn't me, I would never touch the alcohol, and ciggs? Forget it.

Now I have a pack hidden in my room to smoke them once in awhile. Ms. Social drinker, Ms. social smoker. I shunned it all, never touching it mostly because he didn't. Still doesn't to my knowledge.

Forget about him. I try to everyday, but it's harder in the holidays, just like my friend is going through. & I try to be strong, especially for her, and sometimes I think she's the happier one because she can cry about it and all I have are moments of melancholy and a shuddering heaving that leaves me in despair.

& i think what's the used, especially since this little lady is my right hand woman when it comes to gossip and guys and surprise surprise, since she changed my default, all of a sudden, by mere coincidence, I'm talking to three guys at once.

& I can't tell her, I can't ask her for advice and make stupid jokes and comparisons of their looks, and how good they might be, and whether any of them can wear a hawaiian shirt. I can't do that, not in the way she feels. & that just hurts me, because she's hurting, and I am too and we can't relate.

& these guys, one I've known since 4th grade. Quite a history of off and on again friendship which turn a bit weird last march or april when we both admitted that over the years at one point or another but never simultaneously together, we wonder what it would be like to kiss each other. We stopped talking and experience an off period in our friendship, i think we were both afraid of altering our too many years of friendship so we stopped talking/txting. Which may be weird to others, because we talk and then stopped cold and then pick up months later, like if nothing had happened, and we never fell out of touch. & yesterday we text all day, and today he called me, and the friendship is still there. he's the same person I've known for 13 years or so, but i sense it, and I know he senses it too, the underlying of curiosity to make it more, and our hesitation to do so. I hear it, and ignored it, and he does too even though towards the late night yesterday his texts got a bit flirty and i started flirting right back and stopped, because it was late, my excuse for my fear.

that & I've always wondered, and he's not cute to me. Not in the way some guys are, but I just have to see what tomorrow brings. We may stopped talking anytime for weeks, months, but then we'll just pick up again, but what will be different for both of us when we talk again?

The other guy is Asian. Aside from my gay best friend, i rarely find them Asians attractive. they remind me too much of Hispanics with their shortness and dark tone (not all of them)& we've been texting. & surprise his grandma passed away from cancer too, so we bonded on one level, and I know he'll be a fling because even now I'm not taking him seriously beyond being a friend or a possible distraction. You just know when you want to date someone and when you don't, and despite him being nice and all, I don't think I could date him if that was an option, & i get the feeling he has no plans to settled down anytime soon & neither do I.

The other guy, I was completely on impulse, seeing a suggestion for a friend you might know, and I was like "that's the guy I crush on in high school" (among 80 other so crushes xD) & i emailed him saying I had a crush on him in hs. & he replied it made me smile at the thought of a guy made me smile like I haven't smiled in awhile.

Being ms. snoppy, after replying I looked at his (public) profile & i see all these people I went to high school with, people who I admired for their freedom back then, their diversity, and aspirations in life, their hobbies, I wanted to be just like that. Wanted to be their friend but never said much beyond hi because I was too shy.

Nothing changed. I look at them and realized I don't belong. I can't. The girls are beautiful, small, independent powerhouses who drive. perfect. petite. The guys are handsome, big, strong, just dreamboats, just like back in high school.

I don't belong and if this guy by any chance will see anything he likes in me, I'll give it a chance, hoping, but I know.

I'm hoping but I'm afraid there's no used in hoping because it's dead already. He'll probably email me a few times and forget bout me. It feels like that with me. Hi there, you're a cool chick, bye! & i let myself get used, look forward to it, and then forgotten. I tell myself that CP hasn't forgotten but he's just a dream, a comfort to me in my fantasies.

So i'll be forgotten again, & i'll be okay. I just need to go back to my writing, which is where I will always belong. That much is true, I'll always have my books, and my writing, and my music.

It should have been a clue to how closed I am to breaking down, someone should noticed but they don't. They think it's just a cool song but listening to it for the past two weeks straight, it's personal.

Sometimes really, the only happiness is a warm gun. . & the beatles had it right, about needing the fix, that fix just to get through the day, and most think it's about addiction but it can also be about suicide.

bang bang shoot shoot

Sometimes

You get a phone call and you realized that it's not just about you you you. but that it's about the other person as well. That for all my crying, I'm lucky he didn't come back or else I would end up just like her.

I wish I could make her feel better and make her demon go away and let her be. I can't. All I can do is hear her cry to me over the phone and just listen. Not even put in my two cents because when she calls me like that, it's not what I'm saying, it's just the comfort to her to have me listen. She just wants someone to listen and tell her it's okay. Not someone to judge her. At least I'll always have that. I love her and I HOPE more than I hope for myself for her to be okay.

Dream number whatever.

What a strange dream.

I was leaning against a chipped white railing, and I was smoking a cigarette as casually as it is.

I woke up craving one.

I haven't shared a smoked since last January, almost a full year, with Nessarina in the park. She smoked most of it anyway but still.

I had the chance to smoke a few times after that, I didn't. I threw them away.

But now to dream of smoking one is weird, and to crave one is bad and I've been craving a smoke and a drink for awhile, a few weeks. I'm not going anywhere near them. I don't want to start a habit I can't stop. I think it had to do with kissing hookup #9. He was a smoker and even though I made sure I had gum with me, I could still taste it in his mouth. This might just be it.

I'm not going to dwell on that. I finished clockwork orange and took up Genius of the Sea again since I wasn't able to finish it during the semester. I'm still on page 18 of the WIP. I'm hoping to change that tonight.

The day has been upside down, with its goods and bads. I had a very good exercise romp, just purely driven. I'm going to sore tomorrow. But what fueled that was the hate of what I saw earlier. A mutual friend of mine with the ex posted a picture. they were in it. She was in it. He was in it. I hate myself for looking at it. It was taken three days ago. I realized just what he did to me. It's been a year and I'm still reel by it.

I wanted to break something, I wanted to destroy. I wanted to cut. I wanted to hurt. I exercised. Then took a shower. I came out and realized that my face was swollen.
I had a mild food allergy. Mild being define by breaking out in ugly red splotches and my face swelling up to where I'm unrecognizable. My parents wanted to take me to UMC care when I couldn't breathe through my nose because it was too swollen. I kept repeating to myself control control control. I told them to wait an hour and took two benadrylls and then went to blank out my mind on tv, hoping to relax my body enough to let the meds kick in and not panic. When the movie ended, most of the splotches were gone and I was breathing better through my nose so I told them there was no need. and there wasn't. My eyelids are still swollen but otherwise I'm 85 percent better on that. I'll be fine by tomorrow.

I blank out through two movies I already saw that I liked alot, in between finishing a clockwork orange. I also saw another movie that I never got to finish. A chick flick that I knew wasn't even going to be remotely well done, and just done for the movie. So why did I see it? because sometimes I just need to concentrate on someone's petty dramas aside my own. I haven't seen this much TV in a looooooooong time. I was pretty sick.

Then we got the call about the house. they're not giving it to us. Stupid bank. the foreclosure effect has them running scared. If they weren't going to allow it, they should have told us in the first place instead of wasting all our damn time, and apparently we were preapproved already. Whatever. Let them rot in their fear.

Sounds like a shitty day right? I think it's mostly my anger that lets me get away without busting into the poor old' me's. The best thing of the day was that my dad made bomb ass mash potatoes which I enjoyed very much because I wasn't going anywhere any type of meat (they had crab legs for dinner >_>) in order to provoke even more allergies. That and one of my bestie's woke me up with a text saying Will & grace is back on their time slot. I got to talk to him for a few minutes, even though I was still sleeping.

tomorrow will be better. I will reach page 20. I will go to the library and pick up my books, this time with my library card because today when I went I didn't have it on me >_>

Off days make me yearn to be back in school. Pitiful, not even a week off and I want to go back already, mostly for my friends, but also to feel like I'm doing something.

I hope I go back in spring semester a smaller dress size (or two, but that's wishful thinking) and my WIP fully written and done, and a winter list of a lot of books read.

Hope hope hope.

Woot woot ^_^

WIP: Page 18.

And only a quarter more till I finish A clockwork orange

:D WOOT WOOT.

The only downside: I'm still thinking of that guy. Hookup's # 9 friend.

>_>

Hopefully tomorrow will fade it a bit more.

Some days are harder than others.

I hate my dreams. Truly hate them sometimes.

And I'm back where I was when I was in high school. Bitter with finger nails bitten raw.

Jesus as if I didn't have enough crap to deal with, I'm still waking up with idiot in my dreams >_>

And then I started reading and I was gone. I finished a book. So far so good: 3 days of vacation, 3 books already read. I'm trying to pick up the pace. I need to read alot more before classes resume. I started reading and when I finished that book, I felt that all was right in my world and I knew what I had to do. Just go back to that person I was again. Go back to being the reader and the writer. And not to forget where I'm going and what I'm going to do along the way.

3 books 3 days. and then last night. I made it to page 15, starting from page 12. Really good pace especially because I only spent maybe two hours on it. 3 pages in two hours. Awesome. I just have to remind myself of what really makes me happy. Words.

No more griping. No more bitching. No more emotional turnarounds. I'm saving that for the books.

Just pure focus because I'm going to get there. No matter who or what.

Winter Break reading list:

Glass by Ellen Hopkins

World War Z by Max Brooks

No Time to Wave Goodbye by Jacquelyn Mitchard

A Clorkwork Orange by Anthony Burgess (reading it)

Page count on WIP: 15.

<3 Got to go.

Running

Sometimes you just need one person to take you and give you a good kick in the ass. To remind you of what's important. Someone who knows what it's like

With that being said. I've been blogging way too much and not writing and reading enough.

I'm taking a vacation. Both emotionally and physically.

And what's this? how can one person have the ability to change my mood and flip me upside down.

She made me smile and now I'm procrastinating writing.

But she made me see that I need to let go. Just let go. And "chill" for a bit. Concentrate on what makes me happy and how I need to make her happy through my books. How's she waiting. And she reminded me that sometimes a crush is just a fantasy for the sake of being a fantasy and looking back at and nothing more.

Just breathe and be.

Funny

blogger has become my new facebook.

capturing moods.

Just goes to show you. I went away after my last post for a few hours, just spending time with my family, being the little organizer, reading away, and yet in the back of my mind the rules where there.

The rules and the point of them was to prevent what I fear the most.

Ruling out the dorks just because I could get attached to them. Ha. The problem with rules is that they're rules and who wants to be determine by them for the rest of their lives?

I had a dream, two nights ago. I was in a warm bed, being held by strong arms, intertwine so comfortably, breathing in his smell. It was my stupid ex and he was murmuring to me that he was still sleepy bunny. calling me bunny. I woke up and thought it was real for a splint second when I felt how enveloped I was, how my body just seemed to be held tight. I was in a spoon cocoon that I built out of those massive blankets I use for the winter. The heavy ones that they make in Mexico with the huge flowers on them. I was under two of them and my coverlet. The pillow leaning against my back . Ofcourse I would dream about being held by him because it's the happiest I was ever because I thought he loved me.

It's been a year and I still dream of him. How fuck up is that? I fear that that I will become my cousin. That the only love she had, she threw away and I let mine go. I know I could have had fuckface back. I could have brought him back to me, with enough pleading and grabbing his hair, he would be with me. But he would hate me and I will hate him and any trust gone.

Is this why I dream of Christopher so badly? Because I see him incapable of hurting me? Is this who I will be? A spinster who's greatest love left her bitter before she turned 25.

I'm bitter. jaded. People label me as too happy, ask me if I'm ever sad. They don't know about my blog. They don't know how sometimes I wake up with a bad taste in my mouth. How some songs I still can't sing because they hold too many memories, even though I miss them because they're by my favorite band/singer.

I still have trouble painting my nails. Just because it was a treat for him, how he would delight in my hands, in the color of my nails. How I would call him and ask him, what color bunny? what color? and damn me if he wasn't excited by the time he came to pick me up, asking to see my short stubby little nail bitten hands before even a kiss on the mouth, rather kissing my hand and calling me his amore.

I'm afraid of that. And yet it's what I want.

So much of myself and him went into our relationship. We forgot to be ourselves and in a way it was beautiful. Unhealthy for damn sure, no space between us, but it held an intensity that both us brought along to burn with no limits. Within 3 years, we knew everything about each other, he even had my cycles better calculated than I did. He knew my body and I knew his. What I didn't count on was his mind to burn through me and away. There was no reason but I should have known, with his background, with his present, and no hope for a future, all he had was a thrilling present as much as an adventure as he could make it. Should have known as his first anything and everything that he was going to want others. I allowed him to play, but to always let me know and he still did it behind my back. Had to say goodbye because of that but the truth is he dumped me. He left me. And as the lover spurned, I was left dying, just dying for him to come back. I still don't trust myself like I did before. I still know that if he wanted to come back, I would let him. I'm too weak and it makes me sick. makes me seek out power in any form I can get. Letting me sleep through guys without any attachement because to get attached was to be the ultimate weakling. I'm afraid I will never be able to put him behind me. It's a been a year and why am I still dreaming of him?

I should just call it all quits. The game. everything. Just become a nun, funny, just like in high school. Me and my books and that was fine for me. Only this time I have memories and memories of the guys who wanted to be with me and I said no.

And then this stupid crush on #9's friend. forget about it. I'm going back to my writing and my books. And the best I can hope for is a dream where he isn't in it.

Just play it how it is.

If I just follow my own rules. I should be fine.

The more I talk to guys the more I'm reminded of the reasons why I should play and not become involved.

Seriously, married men. Like what the hell, you have your wife at home, and she's beautiful. You said I do to her, back it up! Idiots!

Older, much older divorce men. Yes, we know you went through a painful divorce. yes, you are single and available and are ready to play because your divorce left you scared. BUT, must you go after girls young enough to be your daughters? Seriously? You're how old? And you're looking for girls in what age? I know, I know, you don't want to discriminate in age but really, now you're just being perverted.I know they joke about me and going after youngsters, but I don't go for guys a decade younger than me at least. Perverts!

And then there are the "single" men. How the hell do you think you're kidding? And are you that dumb? Or do I play being the dumb blond too well? Do you really think I'm that stupid. *roll eyes*. It's obvious you have a girlfriend. If not here in the city, that you're attached to someone, but long distance or not, she's still your girlfriend. You're just losers for being scared of your own relationship. Either play the field right or have enough balls to break up with her before you get caught. Because you will get caught. the game will only come back to hunt you. Cowards!

Then there are actually single guys. Le sigh. I understand that at this point, you're all have been attached at one point with someone pretty serious. But just because you had bad experiences means that shouldn't try again. Grow some balls guys, there are plenty of single girls who would love to have you.

Me included eventually. As soon as I find that the hand that mine fits into. That and when I stop thinking of that guy I met through my hookup. That'll fade out, I hope.

Rules:

1.No playing with guys who are married/engaged/are boyfriends (attached)

2. No one older than 6 years or younger than 4.

3. No one shorter than me. No one of a smaller body frame (to an extent)

4. No latinos. Sorry, don't do my own race, I know them too well.

5. No one into drugs. (smokers okay. drinkers not so much.)

6. No fucktards. No creeps. If you give me the weirdo vibe, bye.

7. No one too good looking because they know how well they look and I don't need to feel that you're thinking you're having sympathy sex with me. Um-no. Also because you're so good looking, I know you're taking advantage of that and your numbers tend to run double digits. No thank you on the STD's either. Average guys are better anyway.

8. No dorks. Just because I tend to get attached to you. (case in point: hookup's best friend >_> goodlord why do I keep thinking of him?! -_- Boo. Just thumbs down. Is it bad that I'm hoping to bump into him when Spring semester starts? I've never blogged this much about a guy. Why him? he probably has a girlfriends. Dorks like him always do. And besides I played with his friend. -_-

The retracted rule that was formerly rule #9: No hooking up with friends of hook ups.

It gets weird fast. But only if your original hook up is a douchebag. I'm better playing this by ear and see how it develops because sometimes this opens up alot of guys :P But a must is keeping it to yourself unless you want drama by comparison. Sometimes it's nice to be known as easy and sometimes it's not.

Just see how it goes.

Just don't.

I'm acting out against my own stupidity. About to make another mistake, one I will regret. Breaking another rule just because I developed a crush on the friend of my hookup and hating myself for it does not mean that I have to act out against it and find myself some even more extreme action to get my mind off it.

The extreme action: a married man. and he keeps talking to me.

I keep thinking of who am I becoming. Flirting with a married man. How stupid have I become and I just hate my ex for making me into this person. By making me feel so insecure about myself that I need to feel that I have to prove to myself that I can do this, can do that, prove that I can be anyone I want to be and have anyone I want, including married men and women.

Just because he left me for her. Just like the song, nothing can save me now.

and the only hope I had to redeem myself, I only fuck it up by hooking up with his friend. FML. the girlfriend was right, just like always. And I hate it.

I just hope that after I come out of this, by myself, that the people important to me will still be here, no matter how much I fuck up, or more precisecly who I fuck.

I don't need to be judged. I judge myself. i admit to my mistakes, harder on myself than the words of anyone else because it hurts. hurts knowing I might have blown my chance at something by burning through the game. The point of the game is no attachment, so how did I end up liking his friend. -_-

I'm just going to fade out into my books. Fini.

Then I remember

That my girlfriends are my girlfriends for a reason. They totally redeem themselves with one word. With an action and I'm back like a dog to its master. Le sigh. It's all a matter of balance.

...Still thinking about him. Not as much but he lingers. Tomorrow.

Fact!

I called them my friends. They shouldn't be jealous for me whenever I do anything involving men. They shouldn't take out their pettiness just because I get ass sometimes, not that often, more than they can get and when I want to be a girlfriend and share the juicy gossip sex stories that we're supposed to have, the slumber girl, talk on the phone forever because they're my girlfriends and these bitches, they get bitchy because they think I don't know what the fuck am I doing!

I admit that fucktard! I don't know what I'm doing! And I'm fine with it. I'm the first to admit I don't know what I'm doing or what I really want. Whatever, let them get bitchy, which is probably coming from their inability to be happy for me, which stems from their jealousy because I have balls enough to lower my standards and go after guys physically. And just because i play the game, doesn't mean I rule myself out for the ability to settle down either. Doesn't mean I rule out crushing on someone for who they are, not what they;re like.

SO what if I like him? What if I slept with friend? So! What if I'm delusional enough to want to get to know him. What if I have the balls enough to ask hookup#9 about his friend. I'm going to look forward to this, whatever it develops into, if at all.

Sometimes only fellow lovers, (which I have ONE, pitifully just ONE friend of) can understand what a lover feels.

Omigod you guys!

I just finished watching the musical production of Legally Blonde. Marvelous is too short a word for it. I really like it and hope to get the chance soon, like really soon to be able to have a chance to read that book as well. After seeing the movie and the musical, I'm only more convince of the power of the protagonist Elle Woods. I love her for a few reasons. Unlike the controversy that surrounds Ms. Bella Swan of Twilight who is rumored to be a real traditionalist, ms. no interests beyond her vampire boyfriend at all. Elle was like that too. Her goal in life was to get engaged to Warner and then they broke up, and you know the story, she followed him to law school and omigod you guys she found herself. She found the strength to be herself and her passion and suddenly it wasn't all about Warner (prick!) but about what she wanted to do with her life and the realization that she's not just a blonde like everyone labeled her. And she didn't have to turn into a total prude in order to do it. She does it with the pride of every woman who ever felt pretty, but using the best trick to feel beautiful: her confidence. For the longest time, I felt like doing my hair and spending more than 10 minutes on my morning routine was the dumbest thing ever. I misjudged, because I had no clue about the power of appearance with my wanna-be goth attire and hair in a bun. Let's just say I blossom into my looks and I'm making every effort for both my inner and outer beauty to match themselves. Elle brings all this, making sexy smart, because really in order to rule the world, there has to be something more than either just boobs or just books. or just a vampire boyfriend.

countdown.

I made up my mind. Mostly because I woke up and I was still infatuated, not with an inkling of fading. So Sunday, if I'm still thinking about him, and this isn't just the void speaking up, that he is just a void filler, that hookup guy has a girl, and hooking up with his friend is better, but the thing that makes no sense is that while I couldn't think of hookup guy as anything but sexual, I only want to talk to his friend. Like talk=talk. SO I'm waiting till Sunday Morning comes along, to make sure it's not the pesky void filler whispering.

"hey what's your friend's name and number, he was cool."

Hmm. I'll work on it.

Have you no shame, unfaithful heart?

Why him? Is he another one of those bajillion crushes I had on campus this semester? How many guys, just how many did I check out and developed a physical crush for? And then not counting them, I also crushed on many of my classmates, girls and guys.

And then this week comes along. At one point or another I have been smitten, became fascinated with four guys, (guy)Number 9, guy in class, librarian, and now him. Am I just going to think about him and forget all about him tomorrow? Just anothe bypassing interest.

He's a bit different. I talked to him for awhile, we connected in that sort of connection you have once in awhile with a stranger. He spoke to me in Spanish at one point, completely took me by surprise. I like him better than Number 9 because he didn't have that edge that Number 9 does. The edge of a player, of a too selfish guy. Maybe because aside from classmates who treats me like a girl and not a lovegamer. Maybe I just like the idea of him.

But guys like him always have girls, pretty petite indie girls with braids in their hair and quirky music taste.


But I'm distracted and I'm thinking tomorrow or something Sunday if I'm still thinking about him I will resolved this. I will text Number 9 & either ask him whether friends are offlimits or ? at least his name.

Last day of the semester

I just came back from school.

I had a lovely time just doing nothing and having lunch with Mikko and Joey. Then talking in the SU while we randomly listen to snatches of music as we tested Lady Gaga's Heartbeats, with me checking out all the cute guys of this semester, with plenty of perverted jokes, and randomly singing Beatles songs. Just a perfect way to end the semester.

I only hope that I can make next semester will be even better :D

Nothing crazily extraordinary happened today

so why am I blogging again? especially since I have an essay due in t-minus 24 hours. I don't know, whatever. I got it.

I had a nice day, one of those days I wished I had more of. Not exciting but still pretty good. Had a scrumptious breakfast of a shrimp omelette with a side of plaintains and banana with hot chocolate, talk about mixing up a culture.

Got ready for school, felt pretty good about how I looked, went to school.
Saw two of my best buddies, talk, gossip, ate with one of them, Dana, walked the other, Mikko to his bus but not in that order. Went to the library, finish my presentation, gave my presentation (I taught the class, woot woot), established the start of a new friendship, her name is Christina and I am so looking forward to getting to know her.

I could feel her loneliness for friends. Just like I felt Brandon's long ago in high school, and maybe Mikko's too, which is why I walked by every morning, because the mexican clique was a clique but there were other places I could have gone so easily. But I still went to sit down next to the panda every single time.

When I saw Christina, working the desk, and was like Hi :) and started talking to her, and this is only my third time talking to her but I just knew that I had to do something. So I did. I gave her my number. My email, and she got this HUGE grin on her face. The type you get when your friend calls you up to meet you at school, and when you do, surprise they brought you homemade italian sausage, just for you. (Still want pumpkin pie though xD)

I don't think she makes many friends, or easily but I see no biggie in it. And guess what, rigth after I left to walk Dana to her appointment and headed back to the library to finish my presentation, I open my email and there was Christina, already emailing me. Saying hello, how are you, and whether I lived here (in state), and how were my finals, and yeah totally new friend there.

So I answered and started doing my presentation, finish it, went to class, taught class. Everyone is real encouraging in that class, I love it, the only thing I would change is him. He looked wonderful today. Wearing a dressy shirt, freshly shaven, just looking real spiffy, and I guess I look better than I thoguht I did. I kept catching him staring at me. BAD. BAD.BAD. Just NO. As much as I want to, N-O. he has a girlfriend, and their serious, and he talks about her all the damn time, and it's probably just the fact that's he's a reader, and that he's Italian, and that he's a writer, and the way he writes, I just want to. But I won't. And he reminds me of Christopher in a very male reader, dork manner, and NO. Maybe. No. How many times did I catch him looking at me? And every time, I pretended disinterest beyond academic wise. And I don't know why this is bothering me so damn much. I thoguht I put him out of my head because he's OFFLIMITS. I know that. It's not even physical attraction, it's mental. And I was nervous presenting, because of him. Sure Stephanie, be nervous around him, but not around any other guy who you can just fuck and leave within a day, withing an hour, withing less of knowing them. You can play the game real well, but love, forget it. And I have to forget him. I think i will after I'm done purging. He's a reader, I'm reader, he's a writer, I'm a writer, and it will never happen.

That! That is what's bothering me. >_> >_______________< Blah, hate stupid no-sense at all crushes. I'll forget. I have to.

it's just a stupid longing for that person just for me.


Yesterday I held hands with the guy I hookup with on campus. Our hands didn't fit. His too short and thick, mine too long and thin. Emotionally our hands won't fit either, anything more than a hookup/friend, and I know that after a few months, I will get tired of his bullshit and bolt. That and add the fact that before I met hookup guy I met his best friend who I talk to easily, too easily. I hope I'll bump into him on campus in the spring or that my hookup guy will text me to bullshit around so I can ask him if friends are off limits. Even if his friend is just another hookup, it's just some people you just have to try out (when single ONLY ofcourse!)

And that what brings me to another thought that nags at me. I was reading Glass by Ellen Hopkins (finished it) don't ask me why I'm reading and writing when I have an essay due like a huge academic essay with citations due on Friday -_- ugh whatever. I'll do what I want. I got it. But I was reading Glass when I came across:

I want to ask if he's been with other girls.
[Don't] Need to ask.
[No.]
I have to know. [No, you don't]

And when I was in the middle of hooking up, I started biting his neck. He told me now. it's alright. I back off, there's only two reasons why guys don't want hickeys.

1. They either are huge players and don't want their other game to see hickeys (Hookup guy is NOT a player. That I can read. he can play the game, but he's not the type to have a museum of lovers)

and 2. They have a girlfriend to go home to.

It's over. I hooked up.

Hello, let's meet, hello, let's play, you got yours? I got mine, allrighty bye.

I shouldn't care. But I do. I almost asked him right there and then, "do you have a girlfriend?" but I didn't. I don't want to know the answer. I might have hurt him because of what my ex did to me.

And when I read that today after having hookup yesterday with a guy who possibly has a girlfriend (more than willing to bet about it) waiting for him to go home for winter break. That question unnerves me. I want to ask [but I won't] because I really don't have to know. I don't want the guilt of knowing that once upon a time, I hooked up and he already had a girlfriend. Made that mistake already with a fake. liar. cheat. guy who gave me my first kiss years and years ago. He had a Long time girlfriend, they got married, they didn't have kids. they're now divorce. And I, me, I was the other woman. And she, I knew who she was but I believe him when he said it was over, but it wasn't and I dropped him and it only hurt me one day and I was done. And knew that he was nothing to cry over about and within 3 months of getting my first kiss, I started playing the game. No need for attachment. & I'm not attached to hook up guy (maybe just a bit his cutie friend who I like a bit too much) but BUT the suspicion of being the other woman, the guilt of it is there too.

And all I have echoing in my damn head is need to ask. {NO} Have to know [No, you don't] but like the song in the concert version.

But I should of have thought of that before we fucked! FUCK!

If he texts me, i promise that I will only make it right by asking about his friend (because I owe myself that, non-hookup or otherwise) and before I say yes to hooking up, I will ask if he has a girlfriend. IF we hookup again. He wasn't a spectacular lover. he ranks 3rd. it was rough, and I suspect the alcohol and cigs (maybe the nervousness about cheating? hope not) are taking a toll on his performance (I learn WAYYYYY too much in sex education and know way too much about sex and the body to not noticed. other girls might not but I did. I know)

He ranks 3rd. Out of um... UHhh. can't count. xD Mostly for durability and willing to the get-go. As well as being a gentleman hookup if there is such a thing. Hmm.

But is he really a gentlemen when he has a {possibly} girl (HOPE NOT) at home?

And all I wanted was a simple kind of life. I don't know how it got to this point.
When I envision myself as a lovegamer back in high school with loser self dreaming about it. i didn't realized how complicated, loving and leaving could be. sometimes.

The longer that I wait (for a special guy) the more selfish that I get (meaning I don't want one as much, will he (if I ever get there again, in a relationship) hurt me?)

Just another reason to keep writing, it's better that way, just going back to my writing now. And another reason to dream of him, the boy of my dreams, in all his unglamorous wardrobe, and geeky little square glasses, and eager "Oh boy!" lingo.

One day.

Rules

" Game?


Game.


Play.


The Game


Play It Well. "


Page 81 of Glass- by Ellen Hopkins. Truth.

Books Books Books!

100 Books

I found this list of 100 books on a random blog I came across. I stole it :P

I've emboldened the titles that I've read, and italicized the ones I hope to read someday. Feel free to do the same if you wish :)

1. Jane Austen – Pride & Prejudice

2. Harper Lee – To Kill A Mockingbird

3. JRR Tolkien – Lord Of The Rings

4. Jodi Picoult – My Sister’s Keeper

5. Stephanie Meyer – Twilight Saga

6. JK Rowling – Harry Potter & The Philosopher’s Stone>

7. Audrey Niffenegger – The Time Traveler’s Wife

8. Markus Zusak – The Book Thief

9. George Orwell – 1984

10. Raymond E. Feist – Magician

11. Khaled Hosseini – A Thousand Splendid Suns

12. Paullina Simons – Bronze Horsemen

13. Gregory David Roberts – Shantaram

14. Margaret Mitchell – Gone With The Wind

15. Bryce Courtenay – Power of One

16. Dan Brown – The Da Vinci Code

17. Dan Brown – Angels & Demons

18. Paulo Coelho – The Alchemist

19. Charlotte Bronte – Jane Eyre

20. Tim Winton – Cloud Street

21. Khaled Hosseini – The Kite Runner

22. Emily Bronte – Wuthering Heights

23. Arthur Golden – Memoirs of Geisha- Bookclub reading of last January/Feb :D

24. LM Montgomery – Anne Of Green Gables

25. Joseph Heller – Catch-22

26. Elizabeth Gilbert – Eat Pray Love

27. The White Tiger - Adiga Aravind

28. Brothers by Yu Hua

29. Yann Martel – Life of Pi

30. AB Facey – Fortunate Life

31. Douglas Adams – The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide To The Galaxy

32. Lewis Carroll – Alice In Wonderland & Through The Looking Glass

33. Sputnik Sweetheart -Haruki Murakami

34. Cane - Jane Toomer

35. David Pelzar – A Child Called It

36. Li Cunxin – Mao’s Last Dancer

37. John Marsden – Tomorrow, When The War Began

38. Frank McCourt – Angela’s Ashes

39. Frank Herbert – Dune

40. JD Salinger – A Catcher In The Rye

41. F. Scott Fitzgerald – The Great Gatsby

42. Gabriel Garcia Marquez – One Hundred Years Of Solitude

43. Bryce Courtenay – April Fool’s Day

44. The Good Earth - Pearl S. Buck

45. Patrick Suskind – Perfume: The Story Of A Murderer

46. Matthew Reilly – Ice Station

47. Carlos Ruiz Zafon – The Shadow Of The Wind

48. Stephen Hawking – A Brief History Of Time

49. Christopher Paolini – Eragon (Inheritance Cycle)

50. Louisa May Alcott – Little Women

51. Mitch Albom – Tuesdays With Morrie

52. Jane Austen – Persuasion

53. Alice Sebold – The Lovely Bones

54. Ian McEwan – Atonement

55. Leo Tolstory – Anna Karenina

56. George Orwell – Animal Farm

57.
Anthony Burgess – A Clockwork Orange


58. Antoine de Saint Exupéry – The Little Prince

59. Roald Dahl – Charlie & The Chocolate Factory

60. CS Lewis – The Lion, The Witch & The Wardrobe

61. Gabriel Garcia Marquez – Love In The Time Of Cholera

62. Bill Bryson – A Short History Of Nearly Everything

63. Fyodor Dostoevsky – Crime And Punishment

64. The Metamorphosis - Franz Kafka

65. Arundhati Roy – The God Of Small Things

66. Paullina Simons – Tully

67. John Grisham – A Time To Kill

68. John Grogan – Marley & Me

69. Vikram Seth – A Suitable Boy

70. Alexandre Dumas – Count Of Monte Cristo

71. Neil Gaiman – American Gods

72. Cormac McCarthy – The Road

73. Aldous Huxley – Brave New World

74. Brendan Shanahan – In Turkey I Am Beautiful: Between Chaos And Madness In A Strange Land

75. The Joy Luck Club - Amy Tan

76. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay - Michael Chabon

77. How The Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents - Julia Alverez
78. Donna Tartt – The Secret History

79. Mario Puzo – The Godfather

80. Anne Rice – Interview With The Vampire

81. Steig Larrson – The Girl With A Dragon Tattoo

82. Stephen King – Stand

83. Helen Fielding – Bridget Jones’ Diary

84. Eckhart Tolle – New Earth

85. Matthew Reilly – Seven Ancient Wonders

86. Jung Chang – Wild Swans

87. Nicholas Sparks – The Notebook

88. Bret Easton Ellis – American Psycho

89. David Eddings – Belgariad Vol. 1: Pawn Of Prophecy; Queen Of Sorcery; Magician’s Gambit

90. Louis De Bernieres – Captain Corelli’s Mandolin

91. Melina Marchetta – Looking For Alibrandi

92. Celia Ahern – PS I Love You

93. John Irving – A Prayer For Owen Meany

94. Colleen McCullough – The Thorn Birds

95. John Kennedy Toole – A Confederacy Of Dunces

96. Terry Pratchett – Good Omens

97. Hunter S. Thompson – Fear & Loathing In Las Vegas

98. Joanne Harris – Chocolat

99. William Goldman – Princess Bride

100. Charles Dickens – Great Expectations

This feeling has got to stay.

Today, I ruled the world. I rocked my world. I really lived, and lived happily. Today has been one of the best days of late. Aside from all the shit, the stress, the finals, the responsibilities, it was about damn time I had such a radtastic day.

I talked to a librarian. I know where I'm going to do with my life now for damn sure, and no one is going to stop me. Librarians rule the world

I went on date, and even if he doesn't call me for another or just to hang out, doesn't have to be a date, it's alright because for me at least the date was wonderful. He said he thought it was going to be awkward and now I know. I know that I can move on, that I am date-able. That if I have any other dates, him or not, it will be not awkward, I'll be great because I will make it sweet, that's up to me. Why didn't I see that before?

Then I saw my best friend and his boyfriend, a closed friend of mine now, and we hung out. I know it wasn't much. We just watched a movie on his laptop, together but, but that was more than I could ever dream of doing back in high school. Awesome movie, awesome time, and it was beautiful to me because all was right in the world.

And then the wonderfully unimaginable happened. I came home to a letter he sent me. And he sent me a picture of him, reading a book, smiling at me. A letter, an old bookmarker, all signed. And I dare not dream beyond the fan and author relationship but this, it gives me hopes. It makes me happy. Over the moon, across the field home run, favorite song playing, just blissfully happy. I know I will have to get over my attachment of him one day when and if I ever settled down with another but for now. I'm just falling into it. He makes me happy, and like the song, if it's makes me happy, then it can't be that bad.

Mondays are my favorite days and always will be :) And today just took my breath away and let me lived. I didn't expect such a gift for a day when I woke up this morning. On Monday Morning <3

Now the only thing that'll complete it is to finish my homework with time to spare (HA!)

Hate hate hate this.

I hate it when emotions sneak up on me. I would absolutely be horrified if this happened anywhere when I was with someone/in public.

I was emailing a friend about Burned by Ellen Hopkins (Just a stunning book). As I was telling her, I remembered that I was reading that when he left me for her. And before I could even blink I was heaving sadness into my hands, cupping my face, my mouth so that no one could hear me.

hate hate hate. I was perfectly fine, happy that she emailed me and then bam, I'm trying to muffle my brief sobs. Why must I remember that? Why. I loved the book and looking back on it, I can remembered how I cling to it. to anything. I remembered how I cling because I couldn't get up. I couldn't do anything. I spent a week lying in bed, sleeping 16 hours a day, only getting up to eat food I didn't find taste. and when I went to the bathroom, it was only to dry heave over the toilet and vomit nothing but a clear white looking like water liquid, trying to vomit the distaste of the whole affair. It was ugly. very ugly. I worried everyone. I lost a lot of weight. I went down from a size 16 to a size 14 in two weeks because I didn't realized I was starving myself. I couldn't eat. I couldn't swallow, I would get nauseous if I ate anything heavier than a yogurt or a banana a day. Yeah that's what I was eating. One banana or one yogurt a day and some water. It was all I could stomach.

Stupid how one thing can bring you down. I clung to that book. I read burned and it took me the whole week, not because it's difficult. it's actually a very fast, very short read. But I've read Burned because I would be reading it and just glazed over whatever I read, I had to go back and concentrate on what I actually read because I didn't know what I read. Or then i would read something and I would have to put the book down because I couldn't go on.

I know if I read it again and I want to. I love Hopkins, it's only going to make me cry.

And I'm sick for still wanting him sometimes. He broke me and I want him back. So strong. so weak. too much. too little.

All I can do is write and wait. wait. wait. for the day that I might be okay, and find a man who will treat me like I am a flower and he is a bee and his world is me.

Where are you, I think I know who you are, prince charming with glasses, and always a good book in sack, prince charming with outdated slang, prince charming, king of the geeks. When are you? because you're not here on my time, with me, when you should be. But you still make me smile. he still holds the ability to make me laugh with his bad jokes and his geek boy manner and maybe that's why I cling to him, when I should just cut my losses and go. live. forget about relationships and just concentrate on reading and writing for the rest of my life. Sounds like a good enough plan to me.

Never fails.

There has never been a slump, a deep dark hole where I put myself into that the thought of books, of writing, of him can't get me out of it.

Tonight he wasn't much a part of it but my WIP was and I dove right into it and I forgot all about me, my stupid feelings, forgot who I was, forgot what my heart was breaking about, and my words, my plots, my characters just yelled for attention. Said get out of whatever stupid funk you're in, I need you. My book needs me, because there is no one else who can write it.

"And I don't mind waiting, if it takes a real long long time. And I don't mind wasting the best years of our lives."

Hiccup.

Hope hope hope hope hope HOPE H O P E hope hope hope HOPE HOPE HOPE hope hope hope H o P e hope hope hope hope hope hOpE hope hope hope faith. HOPE hope hope hope hope. Love.

Just the price I pay.

Love. I find it everywhere in my novels. Not one of my books has been outlined without it. And except for my work in progress, every book of mine has a happy ending planned. Hell, the WIP has a well off ending, but not a happy ending.

I keep thinking I will end up like Lautrec as he was portrayed in Moulin Rouge, saying that he only knows because he strives for it with his entire being. I keep seeing myself alone. I hate it that right now I'm not okay with that. Most of the time I am and look forward to a life lived selfishly. But other times I hate it, and I didn't realized how much I liked him till today. I walked away, and the hardest part is knowing that he isn't going to notice that I did, that I'm gone. I'm gone baby, and no one notices. I broke down for all of a minute, heaving, crying, wanting someone who just wants to hold me more than a minute, and for that entire minute my heart broke because I know who that someone could be and it looks so perfect and it will never be because he's not for me.

I'm afraid that the person who I delusion myself to be with is just a dream and I gave him my life without him knowing it and never will. Just blah blah blech.

I need to get rid of these feelings so I can be happy again. Is it bad that I still dream of the dreaded eX? I hate waking up with him on my mind because I know he can't be mind and i can't be his and just no. never ever again.

So many songs that just play over and over and over in my mind. the soundtracks of my life, lyrics just echoing the truth back at me. Who knew, cellophane boy, Mr. brightside, please play another love song, capturing moods, portions for foxes, why can't I.

I need sweet sweet alcohol. A cigarette. A self destructive outlet. Just something I can take so I can black out till my mood is better.

I need to write.

Falling...yes falling <3 di di di di.

I had an inspiration for a new idea for a book. & now I am falling in love with my own books again. I've been working on this outline since late last night. It's 6 pages long now and I'm working out the middle part of it. <3 Falling yes I am falling, and I keep dreaming about my books. Not that they will get publish, but about writing them. editing them. Just thinking about my characters. Choosing the right names, the right backgrounds, the right genres. I am passionate. I love my writing and ideas, and there is nothing more selfish than that. But there is nothing that gives me a sense of dreaming than this does.
I just want to write my character's names over and over, and I want all the world to see how I just am falling. Adding up, I have so much to do
1. Start Editing 1st book after finishing editing 2nd book.
2. Keep writing 3rd book, edit that too.
3. write 2nd installment to 1st book's trilogy.
4. developed outline for 4th book and edit second installment once it is written.
5. developed outline for 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th book.
6. O_O I should stop there before everything gets entangle. 8! whoa. I didn't realized I had that many books within me. O_O

Back to writing O_O.

Prophecy of the Sisters Contest!

Swag Bag! Book N' More Goodies! Woohoo!

Enter it here!

http://michellezinkbooks.wordpress.com/2009/11/14/happy-holiday-swag

:)

Can't believe I did that.

I saw a Matt Damon/Ethan Hawke lookalike Blond at school.

He was sitting not too far away from me in the student union.

I was writing and when he left. I did too. But not before writing a note. With my number in it.

Yes. I did it. I gave it to him. At first I wasn't going to do it and wrote it just to prove to myself that I can do it. I was going to toss my note. So to make this more coherent for whoever really reads this, which is probably no one, seeing as the end of the semester tends to make us a bit crazy with all the homework and upcoming holidays.

But I'll give you the story straight now, just so I can come down off my rush.

I walked into the union. I need a place to sit and to put down my stuff. I go to the 2nd floor bathroom first and scout out the first floor for the best spot to sit at. (meaning where I would get most noticed...Yes I admit that because today I feel wonderfully confident. Beautiful even, and I want everyone to see me. & If I don't enjoy these days, then when I get old. I will regret not being like this.

SO anyhow, I scouted out the first floor, got out of the bathroom, went downstairs, walk, sat down from the cutie. I took out my writing and wrote while I glanced over occasionally to see him. Creepy, stalkerish much? yes, but it's only because I was so shy of myself, so self conscious in high school that to talk to a boy who I liked was impossible, among other things impossible were wearing anything that was below my collarbone,and I hid behind my books, baggy clothes, and more books.

So I am making up by missing all those years of never going out. Never having anyone to talk with. never having friends. I am determine to take over the world now and make it mine. One cutie at a time.

So He left and I packed up my stuff and I lost him. I didn't know where he went. So I continue walking around went outside, saw the night rolling on by. Then realized it was too early for me to leave still so I made a U-turn back to the union. I was walking in the walkway when I see him. Coming at me, going the opposite direction. It was now or never. Now or forget about it. Now or spend the whole semester to keeping an eye for him and going HE's CUTE! to Mikko and just whining about how no guys ever notice me and bitching about how I miss making out.

Not tonight. I said hey, he gave me a random look, and I gave him the note, and he reached out to take it. yahoo face. I smiled and said bye.
I left, walking walkign walking, ducking into the nearest building and that was that. And then I truly smiled at myself. I caught a reflection of myself on the doors, saw how I look, and thought, how far have I come, I have developed as a person. And I know that in a few years I will look back at myself now and think that I have developed myself more as person too.

No regrets. Not anymore.

I don't expect him to call. or text. It's okay. it's up to him. it's his call now, really it is, and whether he does or not won't affect me. because I know who I am now, and I have the confidence to be that person that I always wanted to be when I was a teen. I have the courage to be myself now, and I won't let myself lose that again.

If I see him around, I'll wink at him.

;)

Reptition

Again: I state, my writing is (academic) failing me.

Capturing Moods.

And I don’t mind waiting if it takes a long, long time.

And I don’t mind wasting the best years of our lives.

Movies

Movies I've been watching online.

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-2818582001271029300&ei=JQD2SrrsI4-SqAPWt-meBg&q=lilja+#

Lilja 4ever.


http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=1225842003597524246&ei=rv_1StKTFaaIqQOmrNzHDg&q=battle+royale#

Battle Royale.

I'm going to keep these links here for storage/use. Adding more as I go along. I hope I find Goodbye Lenin!

My twitfacespacebloggertube:

My twitfacespacebloggertube.
Current mood: happy
Category: Life


I'm done. I don't watch TV because I don't want to spend hours of watching sitcoms, news, cartoons. But then I realized that while I'm not doing that, instead what I am doing is being on the computer. I'm doing the exact same thing, but only with a keyboard in front of me instead of a remote. My facebook has become my sitcom. Myspace my news. My twitter, my cartoons on TV. My yahoo messenger has become the white noise that has become my life.
I was sitting here, thinking about Nanowrimo, because it is November, the month for words. Nanowrimo being the challenge to self to write 50000 words in one month. I was wondering at myself, how did I write a 379 page novel back in high school in a few months out of my junior year, when now I don't even have the time to type out my work in progress which is mostly handwritten. It wasn't that I had more time back then, I still had responsibilities. It was because I didn't have networks. I only had me, my novel, and whatever I was reading at the time.
I see the irony in blogging about this but that's okay. I'm done, at least for now. I don't know how long this period of shunning the need to be available 24/7 will last. The need to network, and to expand the connections, it's there, and I choose not to be. I've seen drama, have been a victim of pettiness on social pages, and even the majority of the time everyone plays nice. Mostly everyone posts funny quirks about their day, links, cute pictures, hilarious videos, and I laugh too, but have the bonds of friendships and connecting really tie into the fact that we got the same result on that user generated quiz? Or is the flow of the status and mood updates? What about texting? Is it necessary to text every location, every activity? Whatever happen to the value of privacy? To be a mimetic (imitation, mimcry) of Palahniuk: 'I am not my social network page. I am not my internet. I am not my cell phone.'
My schoolwork needs me. There are novels I need to read and find out what they are about. They are movies that I need to watch with my family and friends. Jewelry to be modified and shower caps to be crochet. There is life waiting for me outside this chair. If you want to reach me still, my cell phone is that. I can't delete that so easily.
But give your fingers a break and surprise me by calling me. Say hello, it's me. Got a minute to talk? Call your people instead of just texting. I'm sure most would be delighted to hear a voice, and the tone, the emotions behind that, and find not just another emotioncon on their phone. So call me. Leave me a voice mail if I don't answer because I do turn off my phone sometimes, (during class for example, have some respect people! It annoys me to see you facebooking via phone during class!). And maybe you should too.
If you need my phone number; message me, I'll get back to you, just because I'll be gone doesn't mean I won't check if someone reaches out. I know I will be eating my words because I always come back to my webs eventually due to one update or another. Which is why despite the urge to just delete all traces of myself online, I don't.
But for now: My book needs me. I'm gone. Bye.

Americanized

Just because something is Americanized, doesn't mean it loses it's value? Isn't it supposed to add to that worth?

Why does my professor look down upon the "Americanized" story of an Indian family? He was born here. He lived other places, he more than anyone should know that the Indian family are not Americanized, but are Americans. Their parents weren't born here, but their children were. Much as I am to my family, to my culture. Hispanics see me as Americanized. I am not Americanized. I am American with a Hispanic background. Americans are defined by the fact that they have Blue eyes, and that blond hair. But they forget, everyone forgets when it comes to the caucausians, that Americans aren't that. Americans are undefinable. Because I am American, anyone born here or raise here, are Americans. No matter what the cultural background is.

She writes the way you only wish you could.

My writing is failing me.

My professors tell me I need to meet with them.

Why? Because I don't know how to write. My writing fails me.

& guess what Month it is? It's November. November where Nanowriting comes into play. That crazy idea of writing that everyone should try to write a novel in a month.

I'm trying again this year. I know I'm going to fail. But that's okay. It's just a motivator.

I'm just trying to be a librarian. A writer. I'm afraid that I won't get to do either one because I'm going to keep failing both. Failing at achieving my degree because I can't do enough of good quality academic writing in order to pass. Hell I don't care if I get "C's in every single class. I don't care, as long as I get that degree and it's enough to get me into grad school.

As for my writing, I don't care if I get a small agent, who gets me a small publishing deal, with a limited print run. I just want to be in print. To hold it in my hands. I don't care anymore about being famous. About being bestselling. Those are pipe dreams. Sometimes I don't care about even getting published. Why, because before anything, before anyone. My writing is for me.

When in those moments of solitude that I have during the day, washing the dishes, walking from class, watering the plants, I don't think of my future. I don't dream of a husband, or a boyfriend. I don't think of getting married. What I think about are my characters, and their thoughts. How their life is treating them, and where should the book go, and why do they act the way they act, and who broke their hearts to turn them into the people they are in my novels. The people they are for the decisions they make and don't make.

This is what I dream, and this is where I fail. And I fail, just my characters do because of where I come from. I wasn't meant to get this far. According to statistics, the highest education I was supposed to get due to the fact of me being a first generation to Immigrant born parents both drop outs, one from high school, one from seventh grade, I'm supposed to have 2 years past high school education, and then work for the rest of my life, and that's it.

What's not so funny is that the majority of my cousins who come from the same immigrant born background as I do, did get that. High school graduation, some college, and a job. No degree, no career, no chance to move up much more in the class system beyond their parents.

What no one counted on were my words, my ambitions, my bibliophile aspects, my ability. So I made it past that dreaded stastistic mark, good for me, woohoo, now welcome to the world of failure. Gone are the praises that I had a unique voice in which I wrote the way that only other people wish they could. In this new world, this new education which is supposed to be good for me is a barrier that I can't get through.

Other kids grew up with advantages I never knew. Parents who had time to enrolled them in extracurricular activities, nourishment of piano, violin, art, technology, motors, and what did I have? I had parents who work too much for money that was never enough, and I was an only child.

After everything, after my childhood came to an end, all I had were an ineffectual school system, a friend who moved away and I missed so much, more than she could know. (Don't worry, there's a happy ending, she came back to me, and she's still with me today. Funny, how those who are truly you're best friends have a way of returning to you, no matter how many years of absence in between.) After that, all I had were books, and a librarian who took an interest in the girl who came early to school and hid out at the library to get away from the chilliness of the morning. That's when I started reading. She's still one of the few who I owe most to where I am today, and I never thank her, I can't remember saying goodbye.

So now that I'm failing. That my writings are failing me, that I'm failing my parents, my professors, my sisters, that I'm failing the life and responsibilities I made for myself in order to achieved my goals, all I have to comfort me are my books, and I will hold them as I meet with my professors who tell me that what I do, what I write is incorrect. That my writing is not up to par. I will hold my books, and I will remember that I, at least had the blessing of doing something that my elders could never and will never do, that I at least stepped into a university's professor office as a student, that I made it in one way or another to place where many others couldn't, even if I am failing as the writer I am.

But I fail as a writer, and really it was only a matter of time before I reach the point where I could only go so far. Even a failing writer is still a writer.

He's in my class

& I crush on him. I shouldn't be. He has a girlfriend. He talks about her all the time. So I ensure to watch myself around him. It's not a heavy crush. It could be, but I keep myself check. I know too well the pain cause by cheating. I will not allow myself to become the other woman. No matter how much he means to me. Even if it meant that it was the person I wanted the most.

I will not be her. I will not taint a relationship. I will not tantalize.

Yeah it does.

Writing keeps me sane.

There.

I want to cut. I want to drink. I want to fuck. I want to write. I want to read. I want to bleed my ears with music of self destruction, of addiction, of not being able to have clear vision. I want to feel. I want to live.

But I am dead.

Here we go.

I am dead. Of dead heart. Of Dead mind. Of dead soul. All that remains are the calluses on my hands.

After all this time. I'm back where I started. back to my old single swinging lifestyle. Back to not giving a flying fuck about relationships. About anything more meaningful than friends with benefits, about lust, just caring about what I read, about what I wrote, about keeping self happy with the daydreams and the beautiful words, images created by other writers to keep me happy. This words keeping me breathing. keeping me. keeping me like he couldn't. I feel my own calluses and think of him. think that after everything I'm back in the same place and all I'm left with are memories and calluses.He had calluses too. He had them when I met him. Overwork at age 18, already having too much done to him. I loved running my fingers over it when we held hands. I loved feeling those calluses, reassuring me that no matter what, he'll always work, always provide for me. I loved him. Loved him down to what should have been ugly, unwanted, and I took it as a sign of grace, a sign of beauty, a sign of his devotion to his survival, and a sign of our future together. It's gone now and I'm dead. The only spark of life I feel is when I'm pushing that line. Pushing it, not caring. Drinking, smoking, sex. Pick your vice. pick my life.

Beauty

I remember being short. I remember being in my school uniform, and always carrying a little white button up sweater with me because my grandma would send it with me to school, even in the spring, in case the teatro got too cold. I remember my teacher Ms. York, a sweet sweet young teacher leading us to our seats which were blue. I remember sitting down next to my best friend and just watching the stage brought to life. I remember the etiquette lessons always repeatedly taught before each performance. I remember alot. What I don't remember was how many we went to, or what I saw. I just remember the costumes, the scenery, the dancing on stage, the funny arguments they would have on stage. What I remember now is that I was too little to appreciate it. Who knows how many plays I saw? Who knows what I saw, and what was lost to me because of my age. I do know we saw the Nutcracker, and Alice in Wonderland because Alice was a kid's movie, anything else. Nope. :(

Truth

I lie well.

I lie for only you.

Only

Listening to: The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows by Brand New.

Dream count yeah.

There was this dark room, and sitting around a table was me, Christopher, and two other little boys I didn't know. On the table were... pokemon cards?! xD In between aimlessly shuffling the cards, we were talking, and then suddenly out of nowhere there was a microphone on the table. And the two little boys started interviewing us like they were reporters... Asking questions about writing, reading, and video games like if they were adults. They had deep voices too. Wtf? I started acting like a total cartoon character (aka Sailor Moon when she's eating) and being over the top in my gestures for my answers, somewhere in between I was cheering with no pompoms, and I made the wink move on one of the little kids who suddenly have a videocamera. Then Christopher was smoking a cigarette, and I believe that's when I woke up. No more SMA Sailormoon before I go to sleep.

Some nights are longer than others.

I'm okay, I'm happy, I'm smiling. Cheerful most of the time, and I love my life. But even though I just had a very beautiful day, the night came. Night came and I am busy busy busy, with learning how to Lindy Hop, having a quick dinner with my best friend and his boyfriend, my friend. And it was beautiful. Then I came home, and I started working on my letter. Listening to the Beatles, writing, brainstorming, hoping to find the right words to make him go 'wow'. Then If I fell, the Across the Universe song came on. I was still typing, thinking, and then I was sad in two seconds flat. I held my face in my hands and I let out a sob, and I felt my heart break, even if for just a moment. There were no tears, just pain. Pain of knowing that I was left behind, pain that he loved her more than me. Just a brief moment, still wanting him, still thinking about him, still needing him. He made me afraid, he made me strong, he made me return back to who I was before him when he left me for her. He made me turn a full circle, back to the independent, happy go lucky, knowing myself girl, but stronger, much stronger, much more confident than who I was before. I am happy, most of the time. But sometimes I still can't stand the pain. Sometimes it still hurts, sometimes I still miss him, miss the memory of us. Sometimes I can't handle it. I can mostly, think about our memories that we have and go whatever, good times, I learn from that relationship to move on to my next, but sometimes I mourn. Sometimes I want him back. I need him back, even if just one last time, even if just for lust, sometimes I just want one night with him to discover what we never discover in our relationship, what was missing. I know I will never get my chance and I shouldn't. But I still wonder what would it have been like to spend the night with him, and wake up with him right there. Next to me. three years and it was over, too soon, yet it went on too long too. The relationship only survive so long, those last few months because I really gave it all, really clawed in there, and dragged the relationship on, even after it was dead. At least I know now that I have above all, confidence and determination.

With those two traits I will go on. I will write more and more, I will get publish. I will read. I will make my life as happy as can be for me. I owe it to myself. I loved him, but it's over. Now there is only hope. Hope in the form of a letter out to a young man who I never stopped caring about, after all these years.



LISTENING TO: Across The Universe - If I Fell

If I fell in love with you
Would you promise to be true
and help me understand?

'Cause I've been in love before
And I found that love was more
Than just holding hands

If I give my heart to you
I must be sure
From the very start that you
Would love me more than her

If I trust in you
Oh, please
Don't run and hide
If I love you too
Oh, please
Don't hurt my pride like her

'Cause I couldn't stand the pain
And I would be sad
If our new love was in vain

So I hope you see that
I would love to love you

If I fell in love with you

<3

Dreams, 2.

Last night I remember my dreams. I was in a fair with my immediate family, along with my grandma. Apparently it was a freebie fall fair. Basically everyone had a little bag and they fill it up with the goodies they were giving out at the booths. Goodies that included school supplies, toys, and somehow I found one that was giving out medicine. I was actually bragging to my mom, going look! I found Neosporin and thermometers for the girls!

Then I remember I had to guide my grandma to the port to potty that look like a trailer. She found it.

Then apparently my mom and I were leaving, with my grandma. I got in the backseat and she started driving, and I look out my window and I see a guy on a motorcycle. I smile at him, and my mom was like "Estefani! You have to be more chamring!" And so I wave at him. Astonishing enough he wave back at me, and up his visor. Then he got stuck at the stoplight and my mom kept going. (Seriously woman needs to learn how to drive better in my dreams) I was looking behind me to see if he was still at the stoplight. I noticed when it turn green and he was just a dot because we were so far ahead. Then I saw that he was approaching, his red suzuki coming up fast. Ofcourse I got happy and then my mom took a turn and I lost sight. >_> The last thing I remember was winding in a residential community. I was hoping he would find me, and then I woke up.

How could I forget?

How could I have been so stupid? After all these years, after my relationship with fuckface is over, three essentials never changed at all. My books waited for me patiently. I rediscover the hunger I had in wanting to read everything in the world. Now I want to write too, again, want to write with the same passion, the same zest. Want my writing to take over the world. How could I forget how much reading, writing, and him, meant so much to me. Still mean so much to me, after all these years.

Thinking this is how it's out to be.

I miss writing out in my journal. I miss writing it out with a pen, and not typing it in. I wasn't going to write about missing writing longhand in my journal. I was going to write about the very off-week I had, but somehow I forgot about that and remember my journal. How I use to tape things in it. How I use to draw in it. Make it mine, and I went looking for it today. The journal I last wrote it. A damask fabric bound diary with beautiful embroidery, a gift from a coworker long ago for secret santa.
I can't find it. I can't find it. I know I only had a few pages to write in before I ran out but it was still a few pages and now I can't find it. I can't find that. I can't find my little black book where I wrote down my book list of books I wanted to read.

While I was searching I found this other diary that I never wrote in. My uncle gave it to me long long ago, while I was still in high school. The year 2003 is clearly mark in it. I think I'll start writing there. I never wrote in it, well because at that time I had a different diary I was writing in. Better late than never, but I keep hope I'll find both the purple diary and the black book of lists.

These feelings

Of dislocation, of restlessness, of dissatisfaction with my life, they went away. For the whole of one day. But they come and go now. In my solitude they haunt me. The feeling that I'm not living life like I should. I was very very happy just last week, happy with everything and everyone and having really good days, really happy days. Somehow over the weekend, it started going to shit. Even though nothing change. I hope I'm just having an off week or something because I want to feel like I use to; happy.

Dislocation? Restlessness? What is this?

Why do I feel like this? Tonight, it slowly started sinking in, maybe I'm just tired? I just want to drop everything and leave. Travel. Do something, be someone else instead of who I am. I don't know what lead to this and it's freaking me out a bit. I have so much going on, and most days I'm happy, really happy, content to be with myself, but there are moments, rare like this when I can't seem to get my focus on anything. >_> WTF? I don't like feeling restless, feeling like I'm not doing anything with my life, I know I am, then why do I feel like this? Maybe I just need a day to myself? I'm going to try to give homework another shot, if not I'm going to sleep.

Maybe.

Years. It's been a long while since I saw him. Everyone indulges me in my fantasy of him. I can't help but smile, feel giddy, beam, really just glow at the thought of him. My friends joke and laugh because he's such a dork, that it's ridiculously funny, and to me ridiculously endearing. I've always felt that way about him, ever since I knew of him. Even before I fell hard for my ex, even when I was with him. I never gave up hope for my daydream. My ex knew this. And at first, when our relationship was getting serious, my ex could tell that I love the daydream more than him. Maybe that's why he's an ex? Maybe he felt that he could never live up to that fantasy. I didn't expect him to. I found this postsecrets online. Three of them, at separate times, and each time I saw them. I broke down. I was never the type to fully sob your heart out dramatics, always my cries were silent, a souvenir of the shy quiet girl I was.
The first one made me get angry and just broke my heart, knowing that there was someone else out there who felt just like I did.
"Why didn't he fight for me? I wanted him to fight for me. He was supposed to fight for me." In my mind I saw it as choosing me over her. He was supposed to chose me. A part of me will always love him. He was my first serious love, a part of me will always take him back. The next secret is "I cheated on my husband, only so he would let go." This is true, because I would have never let him go. Any dumping would have not been by me. He left me. He dump me. He said "It's over." He hurt me, brought me down to a new low, especially so soon after my grandma's passing, and my dog's passing. Some days and nights, despite the cheery smile I put up, all I could do was stare at his number on my phone. Some nights only get so dark. The other secret which made me heal is "Letting go of the woman I love, in hopes she will be happier with someone else is the worst, best, hardest thing I ever done." I knew him. I knew him better than anything, even after he left me for her, I still knew him. Told him so in a text, to stop hiding behind her, that to stop putting up the front, that I knew he was falling to pieces too, just hiding out behind his stone face. I called him out to his emotions in that text and he called me back. He asked me how did I know that it was a cover, a front. Like I said, I knew him. You never stop knowing a person, especially after that type of relationship. It still hurts me sometimes. I still want him to come home to me. Still want to feel his arms around me, singing to me, showing me how childish he could be in his goofy singing, he let his guard down with me. We thought we were forever. He let me go.

And after everything all I had to hold me, to believe in, when I had no hope, no faith, not even in myself, not even in my librarian, what did I have? A picture.
A picture of my daydream. The only picture we took together. I would stare at it, and fall asleep, never failing to make me feel at least okay and a bit peaceful thinking on those times. My friends call my daydream an emotional dependence, my security blanket. I've tried so many times to forget my daydream. Years. Almost did when I was in love with my ex.

I know no one will believe me if I say so now. I think I wrote it somewhere in my old journals. I was a freshman. 14 years old and writing my first novel, a young adult fantasy, that surprise, surprise, I finished when I was 15/16. But while I was writing it, more than any of the dozens of crushes I had at school. I felt happy, believing in this idea that there was a guy out there for me. A guy just like me, who love to read, and who at that very moment, was writing his novel too. Someone just as lost as I am in books, writings, mangas, movies, music. Someone who knows what it's like not to be able to relate to other people. I love him. Had too much heart, too much love, for this imaginary soulmate of mine. Funny how even though, I love the blond, blue eyes, I wanted my soulmate to have brown eyes just like mine, so I would know that he didn't think mine were ugly, common, just because their brown because he would have them too and know the beauty that can be found in the everyday. In a everyday person like me. I love him. I didn't know him. Didn't really care, as long as he was mine.
A year later is when I first heard of my daydream. I didn't know he was only a few years older than me. I just heard it was a good book. I was in Wal-Mart when I saw it on the shelves and pick it up to read the synopsis. When I turn to the author flap and saw him, I didn't drop the book, but I don't know how long I stared at his photo, thinking, he has brown eyes too. Everything that came after that; the obsessions, the letters, the photo, it just reaffirms my daydream. I love him, and it's stupid for me feeling so, real stupid. I love him. I Love the idea of him, and I won't give up hope, not till I get my chance, a real chance.

So maybe now this prayer,
the last one of its kind.
Won't you please come get your baby?
Maybe.

Pumpkin Spice

Inspired by both Mikko & Joey; I am not writing a dream blog.

I've had other dreams last night but I can't remember any except the one I had this early morning. Mikko and I were at school (UNLV) and we headed up to the starbucks in there. Apparently we knew the cashier and there was this huge counter, not a glass display case. The cashier greeted us kindly "Good Morning, Mikko, Stephanie", and said "I've just made pumpkin pie for our customers. Help Yourselves."
She put a huge baking tray of a two tier square pumpkin pie. Mikko and I started tasting it (with our bare hands no less) and we got carried away. By the time we stopped, we ate almost the whole thing. O_o Then Mikko and I were staring at each other, saying maybe we should make a quick exit before anyone notices how much we ate.

That's it. Even in my dreams I'm eating -_-

And also in the 8th grade, I learned how to make Pumpkin Pie. Now I want some.

Her answer

Maybe I change my mind. FAIL. BIG FAIL. Ms. honesty no more denial changes her mind about having a boyfriend. I want someone, something, just so I won't feel so alone at times. Most of the times I'm not lonely, but the nights are long. I want that connection. I want that person that can make me feel beautiful, it doesn't matter whether it's for only a little while. It doesn't matter how long it last, whether it is serious or just for fun. I just want to feel appreciated.

There I changed my mind. That's what I want. I want to fill up whatever space is eating me up when my guard is down. I want to have fun. I want to feel. I want to dream. I want to live.

So there.

Listening to: In the Still of the Night by Five Saints

Ask her.

LISTENING TO: And I love her- Beatles

For the longest time I've been avoiding relationships. At first I was having fun with no strings attached, but like before, that got old, and fast! I still drool over any cute guy or girl that passes me by, but today Mikko, my best friend asked me what exactly it is that I want. I started describing that one night stands are nice, but I want a friends with benefits, but as always with friends with benefits, the friends part is quickly forgotten in favor of the benefits part (I know this from experience as well. So he asked me whether I wanted a boyfriend and at first I said no, because I don't want the commitment. I don't want to be grounded down so into a relationship. He asked me what I was scared of, why didn't I want to commit and I realized that I am not scared of commitment but I'm afraid of losing myself, my individuality, my personality to that relationship, like I did before. My ex became my whole world. He was my world. When it ended, I had to rebulid mine and in rebuilding it, I couldn't believe just how much of myself I lost because of my ex, because of that relationship. I was sacrificing myself for him. I had stopped writing, stopped alternating jewelry, stop any interests, like being a wannabe into the greaser culture, dancing, just stuff and clubs I wanted to be a part of, I stopped. I rarely saw my friends.
This is what has been stopping me, not wanting to lose what I have regain to another relationship. I don't have to lose it, I realized now. A relationship so center on itself, with the individuals losing their personality to it is just bound to go wrong. Another aspect of the fact that I was really in denial to what I wanted is because I know who I want, but to quote Love Hina (manga by ken Akamatsu "I haven't seen that person in years. He probably doesn't even remember what I look like". He's just a fantasy and the chance of him and being together are ultra slim to none. So even though I am up in the clouds, over the moon when I think of him, I keep my feet on the ground, and keep my options open. So Mikko, thank you for asking. I can answer your question: I do want a boyfriend, and this time I won't make the same mistakes. Who know where it will go?

Anecdote of a Jar

Anecdote of the Jar

I placed a jar in Tennessee,
And round it was, upon a hill.
It made the slovenly wilderness
Surround that hill.

The wilderness rose up to it,
And sprawled around, no longer wild.
The jar was round upon the ground
And tall and of a port in air.

It took dominion everywhere.
The jar was gray and bare.
It did not give of bird or bush,
Like nothing else in Tennessee.

Wallace Stevens.

I read this for class. I developed a rather different viewpoint from what my classmates and apparently the rest of the academic world has on the meaning of the poem. My Professor, who is not conceited in his teachings about the fact that poetry only have one interpretation, actually encouraged my viewpoint of it. I'm very grateful for that his interests in it, going so far as to call it ingenious. ^_^ Encouraged by this, I am spamming it in my journal to the world, my look at this poem.

Before I post what I feel when I read it, think about what you believe the author is saying in the poem & stand by your beliefs.

The Anecdote of the Jar, though only a poem composed of a brief 12 lines, has been much debated about its lyrical content and meaning. Each person has attached their own theory to what exactly is Stevens writing about. Among the much debated of its content arise two prominent theories of Stevens’ poem. Patricia Merivale, in her article ‘Wallace Stevens' "Jar": The Absurd Detritus of Romantic Myth’; states that there are mainly ‘two schools of thought on Stevens’ poem’ (Merivale, 527). A positive and a negative theory. The positive theory is that of ‘A modern Grecian urn…Bringing order out of the chaos of the ‘slovenly wilderness’. The negative connotation focuses on the final stanza of the poem: ‘on the clear suggestibility of sterility in “gray and bare” (Merivale, 527). My theory upon it is neither in agreement nor disagreement with both schools of thoughts. My concepts about the poem are in a distinct perspective.

For me, Stevens is writing about life, life in terms of pregnancy, maternal, and paternal attachments, as well as the impact of a child, especially if the child’s life did not reach fruition in the womb. The placing of a jar in Tennessee can refer to the conceiving of a child in a woman. Evidence of this can be seen in the line of where exactly the jar was placed: ‘And round it was, upon a hill’, referencing to the form of pregnancy and how the effect of being pregnant, curves out a woman. The “I” in the first line states who exactly placed that jar, in my case, it would be the father, and his act of inseminating his wife.

The wilderness that was tamed by the jar can be that of the personality changed to the potential mother/father because of that future child. The wilderness might not be related to nature, but more of a wildness, the freedom that couples have, the time that allows the couple to attend parties, dances and the like, before having their life altered by a child.

The appearance of said child never comes to being in the poem, becoming dark with the lines of “the jar was a round upon a ground. My interpretation of this line is that of the child being stillborn or a miscarriage. The line and act of ‘taking dominion everywhere’ can be a description to how the loss of a baby can devastate the parents. The miscarriage/stillborn can be interpretive to the line of the jar being gray and bare. The final two lines can be interpretive to the fact that the womb did not birth a plant, or animal, did not bring life at all. The final line can be seen as how this experience to the “I”, the father,has seen nothing like it before, explaining the uniqueness of losing a child is different to every set of parents.


Merivale, Patricia. 'Wallace Stevens' "Jar": The Absurd Detritus of Romantic Myth'.College English, Vol. 26, No. 7, pp. 527-532.National Council of Teachers of English. April 1965.


--- and that cool cats & kittens is my viewpoint of it. Any proper online etiquette following commentary is welcome.

-Stephanie.

LISTENING TO: My Funny Valentine by Chet Baker

Being a twit.

Listening to: Please Mr. Postman (cover) by the Beatles.

No shame left in me. I have joined twitter O_o www.twitter.com/phloxipi

Or like my best friend twitted: "I have joined twitter because I lost control of my life". I feel the exact same way. Always ranting about how having a twitter, a myspace, a facebook, and more pages was just ridiculous, excessive, and just too much. ranted and roll my eyes, and now I have to swallow my words ._. I am officially a twit.

Summer 09

Summer 09.

Kicking off summer; intellectually!

Books I've read for Summer 09'

31 days to go till the Fall semester starts, I need to kick it up a notch and read more.

*list will be updated until the summer is over*

Started May 7th

The Promise by Chaim Potok

Addicted by Zane

The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

The Metamorphosis by Kafka

Frankenstein by Mary Shelly

The Things They Carried By Tim O'Brien

The Jungle by Upton Sinclair

Misery by Stephen King

Il Postino by Antonio Skarmeta

Dry by Austen Burroughs

One Fifth Avenue by Cadence Bushwell

Family Trust by Amanda Brown

Misery Moo by ??

Magic and Misery by Peter Marino

The Jane Austen Book Club by Karen Joy Fowler

Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones

Dead and Gone by Charlaine Harris

Crank by Ellen Hopkins

I, Robot by Issac Asimov

Cut, by Patricia McCormick

Alice's Neck by Barbara Novak

The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula Leguin

The Host by Stephenie Meyer

Castle in the Air by Diana Wynne Jones

The Moon is a Harsh Mistress by Robert A. Heinlein

Where the River Ends by Charles Martin

As I Lay Dying by Faulkner

Project Princess by Meg Cabot

The Namesake by Jhumpu Lahiri

Princess in Waiting by Meg Cabot

The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga

Princess in Training by Meg Cabot

Giants & Ogres; Enchanted World Series.



-
I'm keeping track on this because of the fact that I can't find my little black book, which is where my reading list was/is kept, hopefully I'll find it among my trinkets and be able to mark them off। It's MY note, for MY benefit, not anyone's else, but if you want to look at it, it's all good xD-That's आईटी। Summer was over for me Aug 24th, since that is the day that the new semester started. I still haven't found my black book so I can mark these books off >_> But my total summer reading count was 33. Not bad. I should start a fall blog to keep track of what I read for class.

Tomorrow is the first day of fall officially. still feel the same as I did when I first fell in love with reading: I want to read everything! Despite the full schedule, I can't get enough of books.