Thursday, April 30, 2009

"She'll make you sweat in the water"

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

We haven't had a home-cooked dinner all week.

We had been buying out and going out, and lazying up the house like we are short on time. We really are just lazy. But this is fun too.

I arrived home rather early today. I didn't have anything else to do. The Durango kids had no plans to eat out, and I just felt like being home. I came home to an empty house though, but once everyone got home, we headed to Walters for Open House.

When we got there, I had all these weird familiar feelings that I had never before recollected. I'm not sure why, but I the more I try to think of it, the more I realize that Walters is now a complete blur to me.

Ready for some good news? RV won first prize in the science fair. Her science teacher was up to his ears talking to our parents about her tremendous work and how all the judges agreed hers best. My parents as well were on their toes listening to the teacher's praises. "Yeah, Rikki rocks!" he says. It was strange to hear, but we all chuckled anyway. RV too wanted to throw her arms in the air with complete satisfaction that she had excelled.

And so because of that, the family decided to eat out..again. But this time instead of King Noodle or Pho Noodles, we went to Olive Garden. I swear every time I'm there it always feels like I was JUST there. Her excellence, though, deserved a "celebration" and it was nice getting out with the family. Blithe on the other hand is lashing out his attitude and could've potentionally ruin the night. But Mom salvaged it with an "Okay, we'll mind our own business. ANYWAY!" While I murmured, "Everyone just ignore him." Then I rolled my eyes! The conversations went on smoothly from there.

Today in advisory, I noticed this kid that I always noticed but never acknowledged. He's quiet, but I couldn't tell whether he was shy, or just neglected the nothingness that advisory had to offer. I had to biggest urge to ask him for permission to look through his ipod. I thought that maybe that way, I could know something about him. And not always, but usually, Ipods could really say something about someone. But once my mind began running through scenes, he engaged in a conversation with these group of people. They were talking about ghosts and railroad tracks. I pretended to be a part of it. I smiled and laughed at the right times, but really, I had no idea of the things they were saying. And I suppose it didn't really matter. I just felt like mentioning this.

We've been at it for 3 days, and I don't want it to end. It's a haven building a world of our own on that bed sheet. I could tangle with you and just lay for hours with the sun testing our eyes. But what a shame, lunch only lasts 30 minutes.
The best 30 minutes of my day.

PS. I keep getting these terrible pop-ups that are rather inappropriate. It makes me wants to turn off this thing and just go to sleep.

Good night, World.

PPS. Another long blog. Cool, huh?

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Good evening.

My lips are getting dry and chapped from the blistering cold. It's rather sunny, sometimes. But the cold will be the cold.

Guess what? Fernan got his license today and I got shot gun! We ate fast food, and I felt fat and ugly once we were done. I hate eating fast food... But I was so bloody hungry.

Guess what? I have over 5 rolls of film that I neeeed to develop. But I don't seem to be finding the time. I promise that by the end of this week, I'll have them pretty and developed.

Guess what? I had one of my best games of the season today. I like being paired with Tyler. I hadn't known that we could play together. We laughed too much the first match. I couldn't even take the game seriously. Good game..

Guess what? Imaginary numbers... Whaaaat...

Guess what. Nevermind. I don't want to say.

Guess what! No no, I shouldn't.




She points at him, "You're lucky!"
"Thank you," he responds.

I was gleaming.

Monday, April 27, 2009

"Remembering you running soft through the night
You were bigger, brighter, and whiter than snow
Screamed at the make believe, screamed at the sky
And you finally found all your courage to let it all go..."

I don't know who I could be sometimes. But The Cure found me tonight.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Being with Taylor, or Makayla, reminds me of when Kim and I had just began spending time together. She was so sincere with her invitations and the bonding time that we were to share. And it was clear that she really wanted to be in my life. After the momentary awkwardness and a little bit of the quietness, the laughter began kicking in and soon, we'd built a sense of humor that only the two of us understood. That's how Tay and Makay are coming to be. And I'm ecstatic to know that they really mean to be in my life. But I can feel myself building a wall while welcoming them in at the same time. Like I've already set a limit as to how far we could become friends. Is that odd? Because I feel odd. I feel like I'd forgotten how to make friends. Or I'm afraid. Or I'm just strange. Or I'm using this too much as a thought-distraction and I'm getting carried away.

I dislike the mall. I dislike money. And money dislikes me. But I had a rather good today. It felt fresh. The beginning !
Me: Baby, what's better than kissing?
D: Looking into your eyes..
Me: Mm, fck. I was expecting a wrong answer. But you got me there...

I didn't even realize it was our 7 month until Makay mentioned that it was her 1 month. Heh heh[:

I love you, you know?

Saturday, April 25, 2009

It feels like I've been asleep for days. 15 hours could count for that.

I was in advisory the other day. These two were talking about their dogs. And the cute things that their dogs do. And the mean things that the people around them did to their dogs. And how their dogs gave them these injuries. And they spoke so quickly. They spoke twice the speed that the average person could tell a story. I put myself in the situation. I thought about my experiences with dogs. Then I quietly said to them, "You guys talk rather fast. I wish I was a good storyteller." And of course they said I was. I didn't understand why they said I was. But they said I was. And then, they urged me to tell a story. So I did.

The only story I can remember, (ignoring the fact that our family had failed to take care of at least 7 dogs) was when my mother became very angry with me after school, and refused to walk beside me as we headed home. She remained ahead of me. So of course I got to witness it. My mama was bitten by a dog. It was minor, but I felt like a dick anyway. She didn't turn back to me. She hardly expressed anything at all. She just tried to get away from the could-be rabid dog. We both got home, and she told the neighborhood what happened. I felt like an even bigger ass. She still wouldn't look at me. That was kindergarten. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how my mama could resent me so much. Maybe because I could never say much to her. Not even till now.

After I'd told them this story, I realized how little I really have to verbalize. I don't insist on verbalizing. I don't feel the need to open my mouth when I feel what I have to say doesn't matter. In fact, after telling my story, I wished I should've just kept my mouth shut and observed around me like I always do. Thinking about that story always reminded me of how much of an ass I could be.

On my mother's birthday, we were at Reno. My sister and I bought her two additions for her shot glass collection the day before (the irony of collecting such items when she's completely abstinent from alcohol). We even bought her a card from the gift shop. Well, we'd slept through that night with our parents down at the lobby gambling the night away. And around 5 or 6, they would get back to sleep. That morning, my mother slept next to me rather than my father. I was uncomfortable, to be honest. My mother and I hardly ever reached such close proximity. So through my sleep, I kept very still as to not disturb her. But then, she rested her head on my shoulder, and that is when my brain started steaming up with thoughts. My mother prefers my sister. She asks her what color to highlight her hair with. She asks her which outfit would suit better together. She goes to her for little favors involving the kitchen or anything most in the house. Usually, we just exchange a few words. I didn't know what to feel then. I didn't know how to respond. It was obvious that my body was not in a welcoming positiion that greeted "Good morning mama, happy birthday!" I set myself stone. I laid there as still as an ice sculpture melting by the ticking seconds. One thought came to mind anyway, "my mother loves me."

My sister awoke then. She whispered to me whether we should give her our present now. I affirmed, but then headed to the bathroom. I chose to miss out on my mother's reaction. I just listened from that distance, and murmured comments to myself. When I'd come back, present-time had already passed. My day ended in bed, asking myself why I couldn't even just say it.

Well, my mother is off today. She's in her room watching television, while I was in the living room watching television. I don't like to go out when she's home. But my sister does, all the time. I slept on the couch, and I dreamt the strangest dreams. And I remember that every time I have a dream, and a ghost sits on me, and I cannot move, I yell for her in my dream. And I wish that she would take me away from that psychological pain. But excluding the night when I'd called for her from the bathroom in 2003 (or 2004?) because I was bleeding and freaked out when I'd realized I'd gotten my first period, I'd never really called for her since. Not in that INEEDMYMAMA way atleast. I thought I could take care of myself.

But I'm waking up by the day, and realizing more and more that I need my mother...more and more. I don't know why, and I don't know how. I just feel that I do. Because I'm losing myself in the messes that I create. And I'm running out of shoulders to turn to. And I'm just trying to understand the things that are happening. And sometimes, you just need your mother. And you just need her to look at you with concern, and know that she cares even when you convince yourself that she doesn't. Like when you come home with flowers, and she doesn't say anything. You just want her to say something. Anything. Things are happening to me. Just say something. But like this two way street that always seem to be congested by traffic, I don't say anything either. And my mother and I are just very alike. We are not materialistic. We are stubborn and short-tempered. We do not express everything we need to express. My mother and I just are. And that's why it's so difficult. One of us has to crack.

To end this long blog, I just want to say that I'd woken up from a dream where I'd been urged to watch porn online. It was so fucking strange that I woke up and almost did so. Just kidding. But I did wake up and realized it was 3 something in the afternoon. The sky is blue. And I'm home again with my brother and my mother. But none of us are interacting. And we are not doing anything. It makes me regret staying home. I just want to do something in this house besides getting lost in my thoughts. Fuck, I've said a lot on this entry. I should stop.

I'll stop.

I'm going to go back on the couch and try to play nice with Blithe. I'm working on this not-being-an-ass thing. And if anything, I'm going to start with him because he gets the worst end of the stick out of anyone in my life.

PS. I think the portion about dogs started because I fell asleep watching The Butterfly Effect. The dog in the bag, and my sins. And that just triggered this beefy entry.
The Butterfly Effect and its great ending. I love a good, not-happy ending.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

I love...

singing my lungs out with someone that knows and slurs the lyrics just as much as I do. It makes me feel like I could never be lonely again even for just a second. It makes me feel like the world could think that I'm amazing. Maybe one day I will be..

The Used, stitched on my band tee, and the was the first thing he had ever said to me. "You like The Used?! COOL! Me too!" That's how it began, and that's how we sang. Fuck it all!

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

"A change in the key feels like a change in the season..."

The guards are up and diligent. They're soldiers, and they cannot falter. Their faces are unreadable and blank, like the white canvas of an artist with out a muse, with out a soul, with out a paint brush. The guards do not smile, they do not play, they do not cry. They are the pillars of the mansion. The steel gates of these acres. And the waters secluding these islands. They do not rest nor close their eyes. A simple, single breath from the outside is a threat and the signal for their fingers to let kept. Sharp glances at the corners, at the shadows, and even at the face of their backs. The guards are ruthless and in tact. They hunt for every faults on the pavements, in fact.

But these guards, you see, are those that receive the lost cause set of cards but victor with the faces that they do not have. They are those that receive the royal flush and do not rush to breathe or let the bloods flow gloating. They are concrete and pale. And if you hadn't known, they have swallowed their fears and left them to boil in the pits of their stomachs and the silent pulsating of their temples. Guards cannot exert fear. Therefore they cannot release anything at all or apparently feel anything else. These guards can picture their knees trembling and their palms sweating. They can picture their lips move afraid and their hearts race astray. But guards are at fear. They are always at fear.

A wait for the intruders is the walk you could take down the dark alley with two shadowed figures in front of the light ahead in the end. And goosebumps crawl and linger. And you're nearly jumping out of your clothes and out of your skin and into your eyes where you'd rather be trapped inside your head.

My guards...are so exhausted. I am so exhausted. But I have to know that I'll survive the next time that I get shot. I have to forget that fear and risk it all again. I have to learn how.

One day. One day I will feel this song sink into my bones and flow through my veins where it lets my heart be again. I will feel this infinite again.

"I see you lying next to me.
With words I thought I'd never speak.
Awake and unafraid
Asleep or dead..."

PS. I had a very good day today. I really like staying at Ryan's place with The Regulars. It feels like a different home. Like how Ty's house felt back in September 07, my salvaging sanctuary. It feels wonderful laying on a leather couch on a warm day with the murmurs of the sweetest things in my ear.

I'll learn poker better.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Good evening !

I want to express something. I want to express the fact that I can't express my feelings appropriately. Not to my parents, not to my friends, not on this blog. And sometimes, not even to myself. I find it so strange that I feel everything. I let myself feel every emotion that can possible be evoked by a certain situation, an idea, or by a person. But I cannot verbalize. No, rather I cannot even think of it with out losing myself in this abyss of emotional wreck. It just stays in my head, trapped and tapping to exhaust. And the worst part, I express a different emotion that does not suit the situation or of that I am truly feeling. At least, this is how it feels like.

I am an emotional wreck. At times, I want to remain stoic. I want to be able to deal with a situation with out letting my emotions make the decisions for me. Yesterday, I found myself laying in bed thinking so crucially about something. And through that thinking session, I had changed my mind with every different word that I added on the situation. One little letter or phrase, and the situation alternates into something completely different and I change the way I feel about it, which therefore makes me change my decision. This went on for more than 6 cycles of decision-making. And now that the thought is back, I still do not have a stable choice to follow.

Sometimes I am so stubborn, and so difficult, and so set on what exactly it is that I intend, or that I want. But other times, I am so malleable. I can shape and reshape, write and rewrite, and erase, then clutter. These inconsistencies make me lose the hold I have of myself. And then WHAM, there goes the wreckage of my emotions. You know? I am absolutely difficult to deal with. And as time passes and I age, instead of expressing the wrong emotions, I'm beginning to not express at all. I just let myself feel, and then force with absolute force to forget. I nip it in the bud. And I just proceed on with what ever is at hand.

I think I have always been like this. And I can see those that love me and had loved me have a miserable time dealing with me. I am not about logic. Logical doesn't make any sense to me. I have always been a strong believer in what those that matter personally to you. Yes, you do you, and I do me. But the world does not take that way. In fact, I want to say that the world is more stubborn than I am. I suppose I only say this because I am stubborn. But I KNOW that I must remember to compromise. I could, and I do...gradually. But I think that for me, that's called acceptance.

Monday, April 20, 2009


The warm smoothness of wood floors and bare skin.
Sweaty palms and bright pink lips. Legs long legs, I swear I swear something goes off inside me. It's wild, it is so wild. I just want to stutter and shutter up my lids until I'm just where I need to be. Right where I'm turned on and laid down in ecstasy. I want to writhe in sin and slither so wrongly and ungodly that I'm bound to never see the pearly, white gates.

I want to smolder...

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Fremont has never felt so good.

I sat through after a 6-hour drive, rolled the windows down, and stuck my tongue out like a puppy. Nearing twilight, and I had rhino-sized, anxiety-injected butterflies in my stomach. I ran in the house like I was ten years old again, grabbed my new friend Charlie, and headed to sit on the porch to breathe some living air. Fremont, you feel so good.

While I was away, I'd done an immense amount of thinking and dreamt about such things that rip me apart. There are some things that can't be left behind, no matter how many miles you drive away. It goes 10%, 40%, and 50%. I like being away. I like tearing myself apart from my roots sometimes, even when the remains follow me like a blood hound.
One week together and the three of us nearly killed each other...

10 bloody days has been so long and so short all at the same time. I wrote a letter on hotel paper because it felt so intimate thinking of you while tangled in hotel sheets with hotel food crumbs crawling to me. I like to lie around thinking of when I'd fallen in love with you. It's still so strange. I didn't think you could do it. I love you, you know? I'm excited for sleep tonight because tomorrow is the day. The day after 10 days.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

The Andrade's went out for a haircut!

Well that was fun. We should do it again. But Dad says we need to be nicer to each other. He says TV is rotting our minds and making us wicked. The television is evil apparently, but he continuously fraternizes with it all the while informing us of its horrid side-effects. Dad is silly, and Mom. I never understand Mom. She's definitely female. Because she says things and complains about one thing when really she's complaining about something else. Mom is the best mom ever. But sometimes she just needs to...SHUT UP. She's silly too.

I hope you're as happy as I am, World. I love my family dearly with all the little resentments included. And I love the house we live in and all the messes we create in it. It's a good time to be happy. I have everything. I have thought about this long and hard and I am living the life.

I hope you're as happy as I am, I really do. Promise.

I can't stop dreaming the same dreams. Waking with my arms wrapped around pillows and my face smashed between unconsciousness and reality.

Driven wild..

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

I can spend hours staring at guitars, making my heart grow fonder. I can spend hours listening to guitars and the right voices, keeping my soul set on fire. And I'm only halfway there.

Sometimes, I love so much that I wonder if anyone has ever loved or hated anyone or anything as much as I love. I love, and it feels as if I am always breaking. If I say the right words, a shudder would move through me and I suffer in the way worth suffering. If I say the wrong words, I can only fall at my knees and know that my only punishment is the shattering of a heart. My red, raw, and beating heart. Every little cell, every molecule, every spec in me is desperate with such desires. One step and I tremble at the knees. I feel the pinch at my heart and it lands in the pit of my stomach. If you have ever had your breath taken away...

Attain this feeling and you will die knowing you had been alive.

Monday, April 13, 2009


I want to tell you about my day but I can't because you're lacking in phones. I want to tell you that I miss you and that I wish I could have one day to see you before we go back to the dreariness of school, but I know you said you're not so lucky.

I want to tell you that I had a great time in SF today and that I probably nerved Makayla a bit with my bringing you up constantly. I couldn't help it. You were like word vomit. I kept wanting to mention you. But in balance, she brought up Kenny a few times too. I really enjoyed her company. I'm quite happy that she proposed to roam around with me. She is good company, and I'd like for her to stick around.

I want to tell you that I can't stop thinking about summer. I know you know that I always think about it, but I miss it so terribly and I can't imagine a better time than when it's warm. V-necks, slippers, and ice cream. And bikes and Crocs and hot car rides with the music's volume flailing and the windows rolled down. Sunglasses and flash. I am way ahead of my thoughts, it's frustrating.

I want to tell you I hate Rock Band. I know you know that too, but the thought even makes me unhappy. I can't. It's. I hate Rock Band. I just want to hear the real riffs of a guitar. The real, raw amazement of a bloody guitar.

And you know what? I want to tell you lastly that I am aching to see your face. Aching to smell your scent. Aching to kiss your shoulder. And aching to love you the way I do so viciously it should be illegal. I have one thousand different thoughts scattered and blendered in mind, but all I need is one. And that's you.


Sunday, April 12, 2009

"And our flares go unnoticed
Diminished, faded just as soon as they are fired."

Saturday, April 11, 2009

These are my Nicole's; my wingmen. Both of their mother's are crazy. They're always inside. And I love them very much. This Spring break, if I see both of them once, I'm a happy turtle. They are two of the few survivors in the list of females that remain to be my friends.

I hope you two read this and know that I think about you before I go to sleep at night and when I wake up. Yeah, I love it when you guys text me good night and good morning. I'm going to text you two now.

Friday, April 10, 2009

Sleep All Day

Good Friday.

I woke up to your scent on my pillows and the thought of 4 o'clock in the morning, my window popped open for you. I woke up knowing we laid for hours, fought for hours, and I love you, you know?

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Happy Birthday, Ryan.
I'd like to confess something. Tonight, I really don't feel like showering. I really don't feel like preparing for the next day. And I really don't feel like making my body move. I just want to stay, and lay and if I'm lucky, look into the softest brown eyes. I feel apologetic. I feel like I never have time to be with you anymore...

I'd like to confess something else. I do not know if this is just an inaccurate realization, but I'm starting to think that I might not love badminton the same anymore. Maybe ..I don't know. I really don't know about this one.

One more bloody day.

Monday, April 6, 2009

Bloody hell,

Monday has never been so good to me.

I can't even believe my mind that tomorrow is going to rain a nice sheet of rain. I am still at the gripping hope that maybe, just maybe those meteorologists have made a terrible mistake about the forecast. It was so beautiful today.
I can't even believe how much badmouthing I have done today. She is a bitch. She is an absolute bitch. When I attempt to recall the moments when I'd loved her so all dissipates into a thick nothing that is now the pathetic remains of what we'd once called a friendship. How can someone be so bitter that she has poisoned the fucking well that we have all once drank out of? I still cringe at the thought of you so knotted by the drudgery you so tightly refuse to untangle. I just cringe.
I can't even believe our love. We fight about the stupidest things that become a momentary melodramatic broodfest. I am not afraid to hurt your feelings. I am not afraid to put on a skin so thick that you couldn't touch me. I am not afraid to fight my side of the battle for the sake of letting you know I mean business. Just because this is just the way we are. And this does not bother me because I know what matters, and you and I matter. I would rather fight with you everyday [which we do] than let myself even think with out you. Because I hate you. I hate you so much... I just want to tell the world, you make me want to be better. You do make me better. I love you, you know?
I can't even believe that I still have yet to develop any of the rolls of film that I have collected over the passed year. I finished a roll today before sunset. I was happy. I decided to come back to buying films and finally devolop those that are collecting dust in my drawer. I want albums of pictures of these people and the rest that matter. I was never much behind the camera, but I'm not much in front of it either. Sometimes, you just have to... BAGHHH!!

I can't even beleive that my window is open, the air smells so good, and the outside is hushed with sounds. I feel...SO bloody incredible.

Sunday, April 5, 2009

If you felt the sun today, good job.
I don't know why but I've had funny thoughts lately. Funny as in peculiar. Funny as in strange. It's always strange.

Would you ever open a joint account with your significant other? -I have this reliance problem and sometimes I don't differentiate it with being spineless. I LIKE the control I have for myself. I LIKE my sense of independence. I like this sole, strong, and sure thing radiating around me. The definite fact that I never need anyone else to survive through the drudgery. But that definite fact comes to its disadvantages. It gives me a rough time letting people in and letting myself go. And it's not just certain people. It's EVERYBODY. I do not and cannot completely welcome ANYBODY in anymore. There is a certain extent for everyone. Some come in deeper than others. But never far enough. This thought, I find comforting and saddening. Comforting because I know that I will not be that broken again. Saddening because as painful as it is to break, it was fuck great to know how it feels to really be alive.

I am so protective of myself.

Will break. Breaking. Broken. I like conjugating.

Friday, April 3, 2009

Hello World,

Do you know what I find undeniably attractive? Intensity. Intensity into anything, for anything, with anything. Intensity starts in the eyes. Then it coasts down to the mouth. Then your whole face follows along. The last part, your whole body is smothered by it. There is just something about these... movements... that drive me to the edge...

Do you know what I wasted my time on today? The Fast and The Furious. Why did I agree to watch that? I could've watched my girlfriend Kristen Stewart in Adventureland instead but no. I just had to miss Jawsh. But you know what made up for that wasted time? Sitting between Dean and Jawsh in the theaters and being able to yawn-stretch my arms around their necks, so slyly [:<

Do you know how windy it gets this time of year? I remember last year. It was so windy too! My orange sweater was always there to salvage some parts of my shivering dignity. And sometimes when I permit it, orange sweater is still there. But to think how much I've changed since the previous year.. If my last year self saw my this year self, I wonder if I would be proud of me. I always did wonder this.

Do you know how perverse I am? Ridiculously. I have always been so raw and provocative with the things I state and the things I thought. Sometimes, I just feel the need to hide, or even shy away from it to fit in the right environment. But on my good days, I can say every little detail of my shameless thoughts. If you knew what I was thinking... Mmmm..

Do you know how well I'm behaving? Very well. Just don't get inside my thoughts. It's fucking private in there. Sensory!

Do you know how Dean makes me feel like I'm pretty? It's strange. I never felt like that before. Not before him. I feel as if I am so sick in my own eyes that I am sick in everyone else's eyes. But I think he sees something else. I don't know how to react to this good feeling. It's so fucking strange. I think it might be bad. Why can't I make myself feel like I am pretty ..even if I am not? My self-esteem is so low that I can't think well of myself? I don't know. Loving oneself? It's even stranger to me.

I'm going to watch Shane. Cherish one another, folks.

Thursday, April 2, 2009


I'd like to say that I am very tired. There isn't enough hours in the day lately. There isn't enough hours in the night. I want to sleep and wake up wanting. I do not like waking up with the first words in my head being, "fuck it."

I'd like to say that the school is out to get me. The attendance clerks and/or the teachers continuously mark me absent through the day, though I have proof that I was completely at present in class. It is very frustrating coming home to a pissed off mother and father asking where I have been all day. Mom, Dad, I have been in class all day, the school is out to get me. It is very frustrating having the same conversations every week. It is very frustrating that I seem to be not at present in school, even when I am. I have not ditched all year. Er, not all term.

I'd like to say that I love seeing old friends. Seeing the face of Jennifer Lee brought back more memories than I thought. I can recall her being such a big influence on me. I always looked up to her. And now that I am miles taller than her, I still can't help but realize how...FREAKIN' COOL she is! She gives good hugs. Gooood hugs are very rare lately..

I'd like to say that sometimes, my heart is ready to burst. It's something different every time. Something amazing, something incredible, something breathtaking, something so ungodly tremendous that it makes me whisper to myself. I'm not sure exactly what I am talking about... But my heart is full of love.

I'd like to say that one of these days, I'll get my head back and I'll have something profound to say. Something I feel that could be profound. Until whenever, I will remain with these updating repetitions. There isn't much to say lately. There is a swarm of unidentified thoughts in my head, and I've yet to catch them.

Bonne nuit !

Wednesday, April 1, 2009


I had very recently just hurt my foot due to the clumsiness of my being naked. It has been over 20 minutes since I stepped out of the shower, and I am still naked. This is...the life.

I had very recently received the spot of being Girl's Singles Varsity 1. Unfortunately, I of course do not feel as if I deserve it or have earned it because it was just handed to me due to the fact that no one else will challenge the spot for Singles 1. I'll work my way to the best anyway.

I had very recently kept in touch with an old friend of mine. Inevitably, the subject of my boyfriend came up. She asked if he played badminton. I of course said no because he doesn't. And in the midst of answering that, I realized that my boyfriend does not do anything. He boyfriend. He spends his time away from me, thinking about me. He spends his time with me concerning all of the things I want and makes his way to give me those things. He is 100% my boyfriend. And of course a part of me believes that maybe this isn't so good for him. That he needs other things in his mind. And so I encourage a hobby, a sport, a job, anything to add on to his list of priorities. But at the same time, I can't help but love him even more for being so much for me. For being so good to me. I have it SO good in life.

My family and I had very recently finished (I think) finished renovating the kitchen. It smells of furnishing paint, but it shines now. It's granite now. And it's mosaic now. I realized that one day, I want the family that I might build cook together and have nightly dinners together like my family does. I love knowing that with everything, I can still come home and have my family and I together for even just a few minutes and settle at the dinner table together. No one has it as good as me, compadre.

I had very recently been missing spending time with a close girl friend. I have my Wingman, of course. But as my sister says, she is always inside due to the fact that her parents are...all fucked up in the head. And any other girl left, well who bother's to just chill anymore? They're either not allowed out, or they have no time, or I just don't have anyone else left. It's very frustrating wanting this company. And as much as I love my guy friends, it gets tiring being surrounded by testosterone. Sometimes, I don't mind the estrogen, even if it isn't as easy. Yes world, I am craving for some girly company D:

I'm not sure what else to cover, so I think I'll end this entry and resume speaking to TRy. To this day, they still bother to call me. I love that. You know what else I love? This amazing weather. It's warm. But I thought about the rain today...and I realized that I won't mind it so much. Maybe...

Have a good night.

ARCHIVE, FUCKERS (for Ace-like purposes)