I want it all.

I've got nothing to lose and everything to gain.

Time to stop being afraid and just go, go, go.

Make my dreams true. No holding back. I'm always telling people: Watch me now, you haven't seen nothing yet and it's because I know my potential and I haven't been living up to it. Haven't been living as much as I want to.

So there's nothing really for me to do but to live up to it because, really after the fact, I have nothing else to do but to grow older, so no turning back now. No growing younger. Going to ball up and do it, everything that I want to do.

It's time to let my potential go. Time to show the world what I've made of.

Watch me now.

Progress

I'm hoping. I'm really hoping that if I continue like this, that I might actually finish my book. Page 74. Yesterday I was at page 71. I have hope that if I keep writing and get back into that beautiful habit, I might be able to double my writing.

With less than 40 pages to go and a few weeks before school kicks in, the challenge is in.

<3 Hoping. I found a quote the day before yesterday of which I thought applied to me, because I am selfish like that and overestimate myself.

"There are two kinds of artists in this world: those who create to enrich their lives, and those who create to define their lives."

I know which one I am.

Books

Yes that's my third. yes, I'm quite proud of that. Yes, I realized that after everything, it's all I'll ever have. Just me and my books.

i'm sorry if I'm a little jaded but I just want to know why every guy I've ever loved, left me for her. Loved her more than me.

Oh well.

Back on track.

They can't stop me.

No matter what fate throws at me. I refused to be stopped.
I refused to be beaten down and waking up every morning, feeling hate, feeling self-pity, feeling anything but awesome at who I am. I have worked too damn hard at the person I am today in order to be reduced to being the person I was before, damnit. I refused to lead any life that I am not happy living. I don't care if I have work even more. I will do it. I will achieve my goals. I will let nothing stop me. A few bumps in the road, a few traces of the past coming along, a sense of security being shifted, will not stop me.

I will work my ass off and get my damn phone back, even if I have to pay full price. I will work my ass off and get my permit, and get my licence before the year is out. I will get the classes I need, opened or not. I will keep up exercising, including upper body workouts because this is what I need to start getting in shape, not only for myself, but for my goals of riding, both motorcycles and bicycles, and mastering how to do 4 inch heels, as well as having full confidence in myself when I aim for those guys and girls who are a league above myself with their peak physical bodies and chiseled faces out of a wet dream. I will go after them, even more than I do right now because of the fact that I deserve the best of the best, including hooksups. I will do this, damnit. I will finish my goddamn book, no matter how much it hurts me, reminds me, I am so close. 40 more odd pages and I am done with it. I will finish and I will start pitching, I will actually give my all to getting it published and if it doesn't happen, I will spend the rest of my life doing it till I am a writer. I will re-start planning for grad school. This summer is my summer now. Summer, I am reclaiming you and taking you back from fate! Fate can just watch me because she hasn't seen anything yet.

I am 23 years old, it's time for this to be my summer, no matter how much it burned and turn to ashes. I will rise up and make it my summer, whatever is left of it. Weeks left till school comes in, and I got to get ready.

I will become the person I already am, again, and even better. My summer. My life. Mine. I will do this because I know myself and I know my potential. My potential is endless. Summer better be ready, because I am going to rape these last days with my ambitions. Here I come.

Pages

Fuck you book for making me feel this.

fuck you for making taking up my mind and tearing out my heart and just splatter it all over the keyboard as I write into you.

Fuck you book for doing this to me.

I hate you book.

I love you book.

I hate you for the way you make me feel. For what you make me need and how I go out again and look for it in the empty online networks where I find lust and a glimmer of a hope for a girl and even slimmer hope for a guy.

Also fuck you to the guy walking around work who broke my heart a bit just by looking at him.

You were wearing blue jeans, a light white long sleeve dress shirt casually open and I didn't see you till you nearly passed me. What caught my eye was not your face but the fact that you were walking along. and carrying a book, an obvious norton anthology. I froze, realizing that my wet dream just walked past by me and I could do nothing about it.

My heart broke and harden a bit at work because as you left with your clean shaven jawline and neat dark brown hair, the thought that this was going to be my love life hurt me. That I will see him or her walk right past me and never notice, never take a look back, never realized that I was standing right there, less than two feet away with an equally thick book in front of me, reading at work, the only girl in the casino reading.

Will you always be my missed connection? Will I never read what words you are reading? Will you always be just a picture in my heart? Will I always seek out stumps and pretty faces to replace the hole you leave gaping because you will never look back and whenever I find you and your potential, you will just walk past me because you will never take a closer look or even care to look at me.

not much else to do but accept this reality that I am alone and only in my writing will I find happiness, along with the sound of a motorcycle because sometimes the high pitched rev of that engine gives my heart a jolt and wakes me up from the numb state that I fall into and suddenly I am alive and watching it...ride away from me.

Fuck.

& it's a holiday for a hanging, yeah.

i wrote this a couple days ago.

I was supposed to post it on OKC because I haven't updated there in awhile.

But I think it's better suited to here. But I'm not sure it makes sense because this was one of those times that I was writing at like 3 am, bleary eyed, tired, and just being overcome by raw emotion that was killing me. But I'm still alive & here it is.

    I really should be studying, sleeping, reading, relaxing. Especially after my insanely busy day. But I find myself restless and any attempts at studying for a test tomorrow for the past hour or so have been futile. So I am doing the only thing I can do that can maybe quell my mind. I am writing and since I haven't updated this journal in To quote the ideology of one of my favorite writers (Palahniuk, anyone?) When did the future go from being such a promise to a threat?
This summer was supposed to be my summer of reading and writing and just living life day to day and enjoying my family and friends as much as I can because I am going to move out of state for grad school which will be the fall after this one. Some of you are like big effin' deal, you're moving. Well to me it is because I am actually loved (friends, family) by many and they don't love me just because they have big hearts, but because I loved them right back.
I was supposed to have the type of summer that is spoken about in the movie American Beauty when Lester was talking to his neighbor about how he spent all summer working at a low paying job only making enough to buy a few LP's. He didn't care because all he did was hang out with his best friends who worked with him, and party and just lived everyday as the adventure it was. I wanted that. I wanted to go out and have fun and be cool and complete personal goals in between of it, find perhaps a summer romance if I got a chance. Something light, something fun, something just for the summer. My summer, make a little money,
I got my wish. I found a retail job, enchanting every customer coming my way and then just standing around and joking with my coworkers, my partners in crime as we people watch the hours away at work. Having fun, everything going sweet. Having bookclub meetings in between taking on the city and family meals. Writing nightly, making real progress on my third book, while enjoying greatly the work of other authors.
June came along and he came along with it. My summer romance. I was thrilled, I was lust-eyed, I was ready and knew how to play this game too well. He was much more than what I wanted. Just a really beautiful person inside and out. With blue eyes, cinnamon skin, tall, and the part that made me squee with excitement is that he's a rider, writer, and a reader. That just made me play the full game on him because I was not stopping till he became my 'summerboy' (Lady Gaga song, give it a listen and try to understand). I got what I wanted. I got my summerboy, and more importantly, I finally got a lover with a motorcycle that just made me impatient to climb on behind him. So happy just to ride with him, going nowhere on his bike because I knew that it's going to be years before I even get a chance to touch one and call it my own if I was lucky enough to be in that position to learn to ride and afford that luxury of owning one.
I felt like I could breathe, like I could let go and fly going down that freeway, risking everything, going at a 140 MPH. I could close my eyes and be complete in those minutes where the world became a blurred as we both leaned forward to push it. Because only in pushing it, could we find out that we could actually breathe. That we are alive.

hellogoodbye

Whispers hello, I miss you quite suddenly.

Turn around.

Life likes to play games.

I wrote this blog before. Too many times I've thought it. But now it's for a different person that I have in mind when I feel this.

I miss him.

I do. And it just kills me because I know he misses me too.

Would it be better if he was an asshole to me so I could forget more easily? Severe that connection?

It hurts because I know what I can do when I miss him like this. My phone is right there. He'll pick up. No matter what the time. He'll talk to me till I'm smiling into the phone.

Fuck.

I'm going to read and try to forget.

But I still miss him.

Lock N' Load.

Why Hello hello hello.

What's this?

I'm single again.

Now it hits me that I am and it hurts.

But I remember what I do with the pain. I manipulate it. Take it and change it's form with words. drinks. cigarettes. hookah. and just go right back into playing the game.

As much as I have been turning off my phone and trying to seal myself away from my social life, I can't.

I can't afford to, as much as I want to stay here, hidden, in the comfort of my room and my words, sipping wine, playing it off as fruit punch. Right. Bumming off cigarettes when I get a chance.

Today's weather is a scattering of self-hate with anger in the morning, and showers of bullshitting fake calm in the afternoon till some weather controlling satellites know as crazy friends snap me out of it or more into it.

Taking comfort in my sexuality will only bring about that confidence I need to harden my heart.

Time to refuel.

Taking comfort in my sexuality.

But I want more.

I was fine, laughing it out, laughing it off when Mikko is with me, talking to my friends, being happy, enjoying my books, loving my day and then night fell and I was reminded of how the clock tick away the hours so fast when I was on the phone with him and I missed our conversations.

I looked at your photos. I left you a comment and deleted it. I couldn't help myself. I told you a bit of what I wanted to say and then deleted my comment and I know you won't get it because you never check your notifications email, you just delete it like I do if you do check your email.

If letting go is what is good for us, then why do I put on the song that reminds me of us on repeat and sit here in front of my computer, writing, remembering, hoping to be carried away into my book and forget how my phone is silent these days like we both said it would be. If you knew me better, you would see how much pain this is giving me and how I'm trying to play it off. But you don't.

And tonight started out as being a very "So what" day, just having fun and going on being myself, same ol'Stephie, when in between texting others, I saw my phone light up out of the corner of my eye and was far enough to be able to make the familiar right number of characters on it that would have fitted your name and my heart jump. It just jump in happiness when for that one moment I thought it was you.

I thought it was you and when it was another friend of mine, my heart just drop. Just fucking stomp on it and finish the goddamn job because that false hope just hurt.

And I know if I'll call you'll answer. But seeing your facebook and how the girls that comment on their hurts too and it just finishes the job of an already broken heart because I know which ones are the ones who kissed you before and it just pushes me to leave you alone because as much as I try to think I held your heart, I wasn't the only one. Loyalty may hold no bonds with you even though you told me so many times that you're a one girl only type of guy and that you could NEVER even consider an open relationship.

And we've had our discussion about that, me going on about how it takes a special type of trust, a very insanely trust to form an open relationship but I would not considerate it, only if my partner wanted it. All our talks and how we held on as time raced by and now I'm just reminded and I want to so bad to say that 'I don't believe you...'

it looks like you've given up, you've had enough, but I want more...No I won't stop, because I just know you'll come around...right?

right?

no I don't believe you.

but it's happening. so I have to believe it.

Friends?

Sometimes I want to stop talking to you because I feel myself getting dumb down, numb down at the hopelessness of your situation.

I know that I am one of your few friends who actually care about you but must you burden me so, it's like constant 24/7 with you and I am tired. I asked you about your other friends since you have so many on facebook, knowing a 1000 people and who else were you going to invite and you invite only my social circle of friends, and only one on your part?

I fear you are leeching my friends because you can't make any of yours and I feel shitty for feeling this way because of the fact that you are a good person caught in a bad situation that has become your trap.

I was hoping the books that we read will help you and I do see progress but my patience has run out with you. I am sorry honey, but please cheer the fuck up, and start thinking positively and get up your ass for once and air out your place and you might not under the weather as you constantly are but jeez louise if I lived in your place and did not clean it like you did, I'm sure I would be constantly suffering from respiratory troubles as well.

I am angry. I am tired. I have little patience with you.

You have no idea how much you have with what little you have. I am jealous because of what little you do have, you do not take advantage of it.

If I were in your place, I would be living different lives all the time. You do not appreciate your life and I can hear you saying that there is nothing to appreciate to it but that's the problem. You are and the way you think about your life. Not your life itself.

You have no clue when was the last time I woke up and only had to take care of myself at home. I love vacations so much, traveling by myself because I wake up at the time I want to and I breathe when I realized that the only person I have to be responsible for, is myself. That is something rare for me and you have it everyday and could care less. How unfair. That is just one thing, there are so many elements to this life, to your life that you can't even appreciate even though it's right under your nose because you have not live my life or the life of someone who has to wake up every day and fight because we were born minorities, discrimination found in the face of neighbors, of entering a place like a scholarship review, a book discussion, a classroom, a gala, and knowing that the first thing people notice about you is not what you are there for, not your pretty face, not your acknowledgment as a person, but rather you are acknowledge by your race and the fact that you feel immediately that they think you do not belong there and are pity, yes fucking pitied like a lost dog because they think that you're trying, even though the majority of your race is working behind some stove or cleaning up someone else's toilets. That is labor, not the little job you so constantly bitch about which I don't get at all because seriously, you are not earning your money with the sweat off your brow. You haven't worked underneath the sun right at it's highest point. You have never worked a job that has given you calluses on your hands, you have to be constantly on your knees cleaning, and made you dog tired when you got home that you just collapse on the couch and NOT be able to get up because you are so damn sapped of everything and then you have to do it again the next day. So shut up already about it. I know what real work to bitch about is and that isn't it.

So tell me when you are complaining of having nothing to do, of being bored, do you blame me for wanting to not talk to you because of the fact that I have to try at least 6 times harder, house responsibilities riding on me, filial duties constantly at my side, work, school, and grabbing each spare minute to work on myself and hope that one day I will accomplished what fuels me. I take the blame for my patience , but honey, please for once, try to be a little considerate.

Tick Tock...

In the midst of change and thinking about major changes that will be happening in my life (riding, driving, senior year at school, grad schools, library internship, work place change, little one starting school herself)I am going to let these changes become my life. but just because the changes are happening to me doesn't mean I'm going to let them over come me and overwhelm, not anymore. In the face of change, I will make some of them myself. Making my personal goals to go parallel with them and some of these new personal goals, developments are from my part and I hope that they will keep me here and present in my life and be able to focus on the days and not just the bigger picture.

Aside from starting to jog or at least thinking about taking it up again and SOON. Like tomorrow or this week soon (it's time) I'm also starting another bookclub.

That's right another one.

No, this one won't be with my friends.

This book club is with my sister. I wrote about her before and how sometimes it feels that I don't know her anymore because sometimes I really don't. This is my effort to communicate with her and build a better connection, a better relationship with her. I don't want to leave for grad school and have an okay relationship with her. She's my sister and I should have a bond with her that is unshakable even with distances between us.

So I started a book club with her. She'll read the book first and then I'll read it, and I'm thinking of creating a small group page somewhere, just for me and her so that we can put our thoughts on it or however. I'm hoping this will work. I know she likes to read, she just doesn't do it. I have hope. I'm hoping but I'm scare this won't work. I'm scared of failing this and losing her. These are really my last days to connect with her before she gets too old and starts to disconnect from me and connect more on her friends. She's 12 now. She'll be 13 when I leave. A teenager. I don't want her to be just another sullen teen, not like me. I don't want to leave her and have her be like me. I want her to be a well adjusted person just like Tessie is for being so young and I know I had a lot to do with that but will it work again?

Moving on.

Fuck this. I woke up this morning and took a good look at myself.

I am not going to feel sorry for myself.

So what? I am stressed but I'm only making myself sick stressing more about that stress and not doing anything about it but worrying myself.

No more. I am going to do what I have to do and I will do it and I will not be wallowing in self-pity anymore.

I can do this. I know my own potential. I know my strengths and my weaknesses and I will not let my weakness overcome me, not now. Not when I'm in a crucial state of my being.

I will do what I need to be done, not because it has to be done, but for me. Because in the end, all my stress about my issues, will they benefit me and I will do it right. I will reclaim my attitude of taking over my damn world because I live it, it is my world and right now I don't like it very much. And when I get a friend, a cousin, bitching and complaining about how depress, how sad, how stress, how much they dislike their lives, I tell them: there's only one thing you can do.

And that's change it. So here we go. I'm doing this. No more poor little me's. I know how strong I am and I know my strive and what I have, I am unlimited. The only person who limits myself from achieving anything is myself, and I did that for a long time. No more. I will not limit myself for I am infinite.

July, July...

First night of the month, of my month. My birthday month. One of the months that I've been waiting on all year because it means it is summer and I am supposed to be enjoying my summer. No school, no homework, no worries till late August, and I am supposed to be happily working on my novel, and being overall cad about town with going out and having fun, misadventures with friends and such. Summer with the summer lusting.

Not this July. A day into the new month and I am not the image of what I'm supposed to be, carefree summer girl. That summer girl is gone, baby. Just gone.

I'm dying inside.

I need to be able to breathe again.

If it's not the hurt ravaging my heart, breaking it further into pieces I can't, I won't even look at to pick up, I'm numb. Numb and faking how I am every day, feeling nothing. Just numb, automatic responses on cue, and I am lying. Faking it because I am in that place where I am shocked, just numb.

But breathing, to feel any semblance of anything beyond this hurt, to break through to that I have to do something stupid or find something that will define me, if only for a few moments.

The last time I felt alive, I felt real, felt happiness, felt myself become define. I remember that too well. I don't want to remember that because it only hurts me more. It reminds me and right now I don't need to be reminded. I need to forget.


"Let's not forget ourselves, good friend. You and I were almost dead,
and he's better off for leaving, yeah he's better off for leaving..."

I fear that in a few years I will not know myself and become the living embodiment of a favorite song of mine. It's sweet to aspire to become a song in life, but it's fuck up when the song that you see yourself becoming is fucked up because it means you think you yourself are fucked up.

Fuck.

Haha, what's ironic is that if I had just stuck to doing that, I would be just fine right now.

Would I?