We all want to fall in love.

We are human, and because we are, their is a slight yearning within us; we all want to fall in love. What that exactly entails however, it completely ambiguous (or to me at least). What is it about human companionship that makes it so attractive? Is it sharing those little but precious moments in life? Having someone understand you in some way that everyone else can't? Or is it simply the feeling of being loved and being in love, an emotion greater than all the rest, that draws us into a different realm from reality. That realm being better than reality itself, making me wonder if it is all an allusion.

Allusion or not, I have it. That slight yearning to fall in love. A love so great that it changes me and my perception of the world. But in my case, it's not romantic love I'm talking about (although, that would be nice too). I'm writing along the lines of falling in love with words. Words made into sentences, sentences into paragraphs, paragraphs into chapters, and chapters into a novel. I want to fall in love with a novel. I want to read something that leaves me breathless. I want to read something that completely changes me. I want something that shares a precious moment with me, or understands me in some way that I didn't even know of about myself. Something that gives me a feeling that can't be described. Whether it is an allusion or not, I don't care. I just want it.

I've read three novels this week. They seemed so promising at first, but just didn't satisfy me in the end. They just fell flat. Now I'm left disappointed, almost like all of my past relationships. Now I'm left waiting and wondering if their will be a book that sweeps me off my feet.

And as an after thought it all just makes me completely frightened. What if one day I'm a writer and I disappoint my readers? Or what if none of my readers fall in love with my writing? What if I never sweep someone off their feet?

ephemeral love

The split second of a breeze exhales
pausing between forgotten seconds,
whiled harrowed hearts weep.
A fleeting thought
moved by a quick brush of the hand,
without consequence or reprimand.
But the ardors of love,
difficult to abate,
do not leave us as easily.

The Disappointment of the Superficial

In a sea of intoxicated people, I stand with a clear mind envisioning a place I would rather be: somewhere up high, between the earth and sky, where I am unreachable and untouchable, yet I'm able to see it all.

But at that point in time, I didn't need a bird's eye view; I saw it all before me on the ground.

And what I found is that I didn't want to be in that sea filled with all things superficial.
 I'm different. I'm me. That's who I want to be.

So I'm gonna jump off this pedestal that you've placed me on so that you can sit there instead; the place you've always coveted. May it feed your ego, your only happiness.

If only their was an anti-itch cream against you...

You're the itch I can't quite scratch.
so irksome beneath my skin.
Physically distant,
like the sun.
Yet I can feel your heat,
burning me from afar.

I wait for the tidal wave
to crush your scorching hold--

Life at Thirty-Seven

I can't remember the last time I spent the whole day reading and finishing a book of my own choosing for pure enjoyment. After switching my major to English, it seems like all I've been doing is required reading. Granted, some of the books I'm required to read I've liked, but it's not the same as choosing a book that I'm genuinely interested in and reading it for simply the sake of reading.

While in school, I have a tendency to buy books that I want to read, yet I leave them unread on my bedside bookshelf. Over time the books accumulate and now that it's summer, they stare at me accusingly.

Since I'll be heading to Paris in about a month and a half, I decided to start with Paris My Sweet by Amy Thomas. In this book, Amy Thomas, a complete francophile and chocolate addict, describes her life as she leaves New York for a job offer in Paris.

This book definitely made me hungry as I followed Amy on her quest for the best sweets in Paris and New York, but it also left me evaluating my own life. Yes, she has a successful writing career and lives in one of the best cities of the world, but she's also thirty-seven, single, and facing infertility.

Without a satisfying resolution at the end of the book, I couldn't help but wonder about my life at thirty-seven.

What would become of me then? Would I be alive? Would I think back on my thirty-seven years and say to myself, "Wow, I've really lived." Or would I regret the time that I wasted?

What's more important? A career or love? Why I think about this stuff at 12:04 a.m., I have no idea. I'm just so worried about the future, confused about the present, and at a loss of words about the past. I can't really make up my mind about what I want out of life. My adventurous side just wants to travel, experience, meet people, write, and wander around in unfamiliar territories. On the other hand my romantic side wants to spend my life with someone, brave the world, and be in love. Are the two lives compatible? I'm not sure. Maybe. Who knows?

I have a feeling this will become my favorite movie...

The Words (Movie Trailer)

We love and we hurt; we learn and we grow. Only then will we start anew.

I woke up this morning and I noticed that I was breathing easily. No panic. No stress. No groggy or tired feeling. No nightmares or  crazy dreams. Just a peaceful sleep ended by my eyes opening.

No more ties to the past, only hope for each coming day. It's the feeling of falling in love, and I am in love with life, despite all the pain that comes with it... because with pain, comes beauty.

And with beauty comes strength.

My Endurance Mentality

I have a hate/love relationship with running.

When I was younger I hated running. It always seemed so boring to me, doing the same motion over and over. I preferred playing sports and I always joked with my coaches that if they wanted me to run they would need to give me a soccer or volleyball to motivate me to.

But in college sports just weren't the same anymore and I started getting into running last year. I starting signing up for 10K's and then a half-marathon, but I hated training for race day. I only loved the feeling of finishing the finish line. Somehow, this perspective seemed skewed. It was like I was just living for one moment. But that's not how life or running should be. Life isn't about one moment but all of the little moments. Each and every step. Life is about the journey you go through, and the accumulation of those moments and events create these finish lines along the way. Now I can finally see running as a metaphor for that.

But that wasn't my initial perspective.

During my first half-marathon, I was proud of myself that I finished, but I wasn't proud of my time. If anything I was ashamed of it. I would tell myself that the only reason I finished was because I had the ability to endure pain. Whether it's enduring emotional and physical stress, or a haunting past, I seemed to be a pro at enduring it all.

Yet, pain tolerance isn't something to be proud of...

Putting one foot in front of the other, I told myself to keep moving and push past it all. Keeping my dreams and goals in sight, I realized that I had to move on.

I learned to forgive others and forgive myself, accept and acknowledge the past as a reminder to myself who I am, and learning to let it go with each breath.

Soon enough I was running faster, breathing easier, and conquering every mile. With hard work and dedication, running felt like flying, and I finally felt free from all the things that I had endured. I may not be the fastest or the best runner, but I was becoming a happier person.

To cross those finish lines in life, you have to work hard and keep at it with each and every step.

On July 14th I will be proud of myself for finishing my second half-marathon and I will be proud of my time. But most of all, I will be proud of who I am and how far I've come to be the young lady that I am today.

Summer: Live Like It's Your Last Day

"Love in a Box" and "Waiting for You"-The Workday Release

 Heard these songs on Pandora during my run and just thought they were cute and catchy!

Click here to listen to "Love in a Box" via youtube!

Click here to listen to "Waiting for You" via youtube!

The Best Summer Ever 2 0 1 2!

I'm having a really difficult time studying for my last final. I haven't even started and I don't want to. I'm itching for summer especially with a taste of it yesterday night. I'm hoping if I just write it all out, I can get these distracting thoughts out of my head and focus on the upcoming exam.

I guess I should first explain why this summer is so important to me, but to get there I should explain last summer. Last year I was going through a really tough time and I didn't really know what to do to make things better or make myself better. When the quarter ended, I put on a smile and acted like everything was okay when I knew that there was something under the surface, waiting to erupt. I'm sad to say I tried to avoid it all by turning to partying and drinking for that temporary release from reality; or rather, I abused it.

So when the school year came to an end at a graduation party, a few friends and I went downtown. I wanted to forget everything and I knew a little alcohol could do just that. But a little turned out to be a lot,  making me completely reckless. But it seemed like alcohol and partying just couldn't do it for me any more. I completely blacked out and woke up in a friend's bed where the graduation party was still going.

I was ashamed at how I allowed myself to go this far. This night was different from the rest of the stupid parties where I made a fool out of myself. This time I was a mess inside and out, and this time everyone could see it. I couldn't smile it off anymore and I was too tired too. I cried all night and my friends tried to console me, but they didn't really know why I was crying. I gave them excuses, not wanting to admit the truth and let them believe what they wanted.

So once summer arrived, I knew I had to deal with my issues at hand. I isolated myself from my friends and family, trying to focus on myself and gave up drinking and partying. But with the twelve weeks of summer school I just kept putting off what was really bothering me until I created an almost limbo reality for myself. Summer flew by as I declined offers to hang out with friends. Soon enough, some friends were getting engaged and married. Others were leaving. And I found myself in a sad looking office, but finally seeking help.

Other events happened then, but this is all I really think of when I look back at my 2011 summer.

I refuse to let this summer go and slip by, because this is the summer of change. I've learned from my past mistakes and know better now than to make the same ones.

So when next year comes around and I look back at my 2012 summer, I hope to remember it as the best summer ever.

Make the world better, by making yourself better.

In life your dealt a hand of cards, but it's how you play that hand that matters. And how you play that hand depends on you.

There's this phrase that's been thrown around a lot lately. Maybe you've heard of it? "Yolo", short for you only live once. It's got me thinking that if I only live once then I should live for me. That's easier said than done with so many obligations and a society that has expectations I can only try to meet, that soon enough the world starts to weigh me down. The pressure becomes so immense that at times I have a hard time breathing. How can I live the life I want when I am so restricted by finances, morals, and societal rules? Who said the path in life was to go to school, work, get a higher education, to work even more, find a partner, get married, and reproduce? And why do we all continually label each other to the point that we become defined by others?

I find myself passing time laying in my bed and staring out the window about my life and asking how I got up to this moment. I've become such a different person then the girl I used to know. I've cried and smiled throughout the years and grew up along the way. Now entering adulthood, this question burns in my mind: is this who I want to be?

Here is my hand of cards, it's my move. What am I going to do? One life. One game. How do you win? How do you lose?

Well, I want to win. I want happiness.

Yet, happiness comes from within. So I know I need to work on myself, to better myself; because that is the only thing in this grand universe that I have control over. And come to think of it, if everyone bettered themselves and became a little bit happier, the world wouldn't be such a bad place to live in.

But what do I mean by work? I mean working my own mentality (how I think and perceive the world), spirituality (health and fitness), and style (how I choose to live my life). These will be the seeds to happiness that enable me to grow.

If I'm happy, those around me will be too. It'll be infectious in a good way.

This is what YOLO means to me.

As for my hand of cards? Love. Live. Laugh. I think that's a winning hand ;]

Cyclic Addictions

It's strange to see how fast the years go. Things seem to have changed so much, and at the same time not at all. Like the seasons, we see the familiar temperatures that come and go year after year. The hot, the cold, the warmth, and the cool. The storms, the blazing heat, the whispering winds, and the crying rain.

On that note, there's this memory game I like to play in my head. On a random day I'll sit and think to myself, "What did I do at this time exactly one year ago? Two years ago?" And so on. Sometimes journals jog my memory when I fail to remember, but I notice that I'm always changing, but the same at heart. A romantic, dreamer, and always too trusting. However, my perceptions of the world around me is constantly changing and I've begun to question who I am and who I want to be. I don't want to be chained by other people's perceptions of me nor do I want to be a product of society's conditioning. I don't want to be used or taken for granted, and I will not live in order to please others. It's hard to stick up for yourself, and it's difficult to break old habits.

These habits, or addictions that haunt me, come like the seasons it seems.

But it's time to break free from it all and let it all go. We won't be able to know the day our light goes out, but I rather go with a lighter load. I will not be weighed down, even during eternal sleep.

Defilement

-->

You chip away at me,

hoping to sculpt a masterpiece,

you scrape away my dreams

filling my cracks and seams,

with your artistic vision.

You mold me until it hurts.

Pushing and pulling,

bending and breaking,

twisting and tearing,

Rubbing raw my skin

with your ruthless words

Til I am polished to your liking.

Alcohol-

Removes-

my shellac skirt.

Your white paint-

Forced-

on a collectible piece.

After.

The fragments of your

scrap pile.

The Lillies

You plucked each petal,

and bruised each stem.

You wanted each and every one of them.

The sepals were torn off,

and thrown in disarray.

Their blooms misshaped,

and scattered away.

Five pink lilies, sisters of spring.

The flowers left wilted,

No joy could they bring.

Oh, the horror on everyone’s face!

Found near their mother, the shattered vase.

Dripping onto their carpet,

their perfume left a stain.

Life without the Lillies—

Which culprit to blame?

Hush

My blood cascades beneath

my skin—hush, as the candles flicker.

Oh, it draws you in.

Shadows on our bare—

But your blood replies, shallow breath,

touching—

my velvety, skin—it whispers, hush.

The flame licks the cherry blossom lips.

Its taste and fragrance—a head rush.

Hush.

Pleasure with your eyes, painting

slow, long, and deep—

The wave, upon wave,

my cries.

You tell me teasingly,

hush.

Consuming our shared blood

a fire breathes.

Burning the roots of the family tree.

Imagination

The six string guitar swims in a sea

between the earth and sky. Horizon beams

projected out of my head.

A layer upon another. The paint still,

in the light’s movement.

The abstract concrete takes over

the uncontrolled. Falling in an abyss

of tantalizing emblems, that marks

infinitesimal particles

surrounding, swelling.

Drowning in uncertainty.

(Three times a day for five days assignment)

The thrum of the world’s outside my window, shades the sweet melody of the bird’s narratives.

But one mile into my thoughts, and my knees go weak.

Exhausted by the categorical nature.

Losing out to make a record,

Chimes the aggravation.

Red, red, red.

Wisps of air

Itching and burning—stings

like a film strip.

One foot in front of the other.

Free.

Eleven hours of grey,

And the class crosses over.

A square of us, talk of trips.

Cold and distorted.

The Kiss (Poetic Line Assignment)

The brush of the wind, a sweet ecstasy.

A sunrise’s caress, soft and warm.

It hums beneath my skin,

waiting to blossom and fly in the breeze.

Yearning for time and this endless moment.

A song of white fire, that tastes like rain;

the symphony of a spectrum of colors

becomes a whirlwind of uncontrollable desire.

Fantastical dreams that should not exist;

the colliding of midnight stars, along the twilight’s horizon.

Eli's Words (Conversation Assignment)

Wait.

You don’t really care about me.

Nothing.

Super bright light.

Blanking out.

You’ll be fine.

Drowsy.

Let it flow,

free as a bird.

Thanks.

Sweet enough.

Self-conscious,

Shy and soft spoken.

No, too sweet.

Stay true.

Sorry joy to yourself,

with interesting stories to tell.

I’m taking a while.

The Wanderer (Craft Assignment)

As the sun braves the world,

he smiles on.

With an effortless grace,

he roams the day

like a soft summer breeze

just sweeping through.

He is a mystery.

He is a wanderer.

His spoken words are rare-

a rare beauty.

The sun rises,

so he smiles.

Casually walking

throughout the day,

like a light summer breeze

that blows through.

He wanders around,

making him a mystery.

He barely talks;

But when he does,

it’s nice.

Dream Lake (Sound Poem)

Sweet dreams, while deep in sleep,

throughout the night through twinkling lights.

She made her way to see the lake,

to play the same games with her old school mate.

He had bright beautiful blue eyes,

Oh, how he loved to hide from her.

In green fields or in trash of peach peels,

in the treetops or the rooftops.

She could not find him, she could not see,

even though he buzzed and buzzed like a bee.

Under the Bed (Triggering Poem)

At the corner, sat a lavender box.

Photographs spilled over the rim.

A boy with freckles splattered across his cheeks

stared out of the picture with a wide grin.

The silver box springs under the bed,

all in all perfectly spaced,

were in the ready position

against the reddish rug they faced.

Strands of blonde and brown hair

were hung and danced in between.

The glittering dust seemed to sleep

sprinkling the realm as they dreamed.

The cream-colored sheet of spectators

surrounded and watched all around.

As the dime-sized long-legged spider,

descended gracefully to the carpeted ground,

Held only by a twinkling thread,

it commanded attention

by everything under the bed.

Someone I Will Meet

Music humming beneath my skin.
The sun's gentle push causes me to open my eyes,
as life blooms with fragrances of daytime dreams,
and pure love that lights up the night.
I wander with direction,
into the mind of someone I've never met,
so that one day we can learn to love with no regrets.
We'll fill each other's broken hearts,
turning us again into believers,
and you'll tell all your friends,
that you'll never leave her.

And I'll tell mine that your the one,
And so we'll kiss beneath the setting sun,
Til the melody of life and love is done.

A Sunday Morning.

Listening to "Too Close" by Alex Clare and drinking coffee at Starbuck's with my computer in front of me prompts me to update my blog instead of starting on my paper.

Yesterday, I finished writing in my sixteenth journal. Comparing this weekend to last weekend, I'm glad my mood is better. I think I was just having a moment of high stress. I just hate the fact that their are so many things in life that are out of our control that it makes me wonder if I have any free will at all. If it is my life, shouldn't I be the one controlling it and deciding what path I take? Yes, in life we do get some choices, but we can't necessarily choose the outcome. We are so restricted by things like money, the past, and society that it holds us back from actually living. Obviously, you can tell I have control issues (something I'm constantly working on). But sometimes when I'm going through the motions of the day, I catch myself and think, "Is this really something I want to be doing?". We always say live in the moment, but are we actually doing that? Each moment goes by and we dismiss it or we aren't aware of it; thus, if we aren't aware of it, are we really living? Maybe this is too abstract, but it's embedded into the back of my mind. Maybe, it's the "YOLO" craze lately that's infected my subconscious. I don't know. I just think too much.

And I should probably put my thinking to use for my paper (although it's certainly something I don't want to do).

Wishing you all a good Sunday!
-Miss M

Reason #9: Jars

This one may seem a bit weird, but I love jars. After using them for one day, they have made my life considerably easier; and it's those little things in life that we don't necessarily notice, but deserves some thanks (even if it is an inanimate object). Move over tupperware, jars have come to steal your thunder!

For breakfast I made overnight oats with strawberries and placed them in fridge along with a jar of coffee. When I woke up, I just quickly stuffed them in my backpack and went to class. Awesome for on the go. Now you're probably thinking, "Well, you can do that with tupperware." Yes, although that is true, I like the fact that I can make individual servings of liquids (such as coffee, tea, etc.) and grab them whenever I want them. Better yet, I can make them cold, and beat the heat. These 8oz on the go servings are perfect when I want them. Plus, drinking liquids from tupperware is silly, and my thermos is pretty clunky carrying it all day with Summer coming upon us; cold drinks are what I need.

And their are even more possibilities on the horizon, like yogurt parfaits, fruit salads, green smoothies, sweet/herbal teas, and etc!

You have to admit, eating/drinking out of a cute jar is just way better than tupperware :]

Trying to breathe.

It happened last night when I tried to fall asleep. The wave of stress fell upon me and sat on my chest, making it so hard to breathe. I tried tossing and turning, only to find that their is no escape, no matter which direction I turn.

Itching to tear this skin as it crushes me under the weight of all this pressure. Soon I will be a miniscule particle in the world that no one will ever miss.

What will my life amount to? How should it be measured? By these endless to-do lists? The breaths I take despite my emotional scars that deface me? By my incomplete thoughts, stories, and poems?

Ashamed by my behavior, yet unable to control it. A damaged complex.

I walk into a cafe, a place I have never been. French roast coffee for comfort as I sit with myself and tell her, "Breathe."

Happy Thursday!

Avoiding my hw, by playing with photobooth on my macbook pro. I'm sure I'm not the only one who does this... right?

Can't wait to be done with work tomorrow morning, I want the weekend! Five openings in a row was rough! But I gotta save up for VEGAS :] Five more weeks!

This will be the best summer everrrrrrr!

Reason #8: Teachers

It was my Honors English Teacher of my Junior year of high school, Ms. Davis, who said that I should major in English, and it was her class that made me fall in love with the subject.

My first fiction workshop I took at Davis was with Julia Jackson. This is her last quarter at Davis, soon she'll be receiving her MA in Creative Writing. She's such a wonderful person. I kinda wanna be like her in a few years.

This quarter, my poetry fiction professor is Greg Glazner. Yesterday, some classmates and I went to his reading for his new book he also performed some songs he wrote. I was seriously impressed.

I never wanted to be a teacher, but seeing how some teachers have made an impact on me, makes me think that I shouldn't rule it out completely.

A Drop in the Ocean-Ron Pope (Lyrics)

[Sometimes listening to a familiar song can bring back a waterfall of memories. The power of music strikes your heart like a chord. Here's a song that did that to me today. -Miss M]

A drop in the ocean,
A change in the weather,
I was praying that you and me might end up together.
It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert,
But I'm holding you closer than most,
'Cause you are my heaven.

I don't wanna waste the weekend,
If you don't love me, pretend
A few more hours, then it's time to go.
And as my train rolls down the East coast,
I wonder how you keep warm.
It's too late to cry, too broken to move on.

Still I can't let you be,
Most nights I hardly sleep.
Don't see what you don't need, from me.

Just a drop in the ocean,
A change in the weather,
I was praying that you and me might end up together.
It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert,
But I'm holding you closer than most,
'Cause you are my heaven.

Misplaced trust and old friends,
Never counting the regrets,
By the grace of God, I do not rest at all.
and New England as the leaves change;
The last excuse that I'll claim,
I was a boy who loved a woman like a little girl.

Still I can't let you be,
Most nights I hardly sleep,
Don't see what you don't need, from me.

Just a drop in the ocean,
A change in the weather,
I was praying that you and me might end up together.
It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert,
But I'm holding you closer than most,
'Cause you are my

Heaven doesn't seem far away anymore no, no
Heaven doesn't seem far away.
Heaven doesn't seem far away anymore no, no
Heaven doesn't seem far away.

nooo
nooo

A drop in the ocean,
A change in the weather,
I was praying that you and me might end up together.
It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert,
But I'm holding you closer than most,
'Cause you are my heaven.
You are my heaven

Reason #7: Mothers

One think to always be thankful for are Mothers. I cannot even put into words everything my mom is to me. My hero and my savior. If only she knew just how much I loved her. I just hate the fact our relationship isn't as close as I would like it to be.

The blame lies upon me.
I'm unable to communicate through our language and I'm not the daughter everyone hoped me to be.

I saw her for about five minutes today.

I decided not to go to the family dinner tonight. It may seem selfish not to go, but I think my presence there would just bring everything and everyone down. I don't want to ruin the holiday for her nor the rest of my family. Tonight, everything would be better if I did not exist, so I took myself out of the equation.

I hope my phone call and my unconditional love for her will suffice. Because that's all I have left of me.

Reason #6: The New and Old Relationships

Relationships must be reciprocated in order to form a long lasting bond. Therefore, those involved in the relationship both have to want it. That goes for all types of relationships: familial, friends, romantic, work, etc.

Growing up, you make a lot of different types of relationships, but you also lose some too. You learn to trust and at the same time you learn that people can betray you. Others can love you, while some break your heart. And the rest simply come and go. Nonetheless, all of the people that enter and exit your life make an impact on you.

"A Certain Lady" by Dorothy Parker

I'm currently working on a short paper about this poem. I decided to post it on my blog, because I'm sure everyone can relate.

A Certain Lady

Oh, I can smile for you, and tilt my head,
And drink your rushing words with eager lips,
And paint my mouth for you a fragrant red,
And trace your brows with tutored finger-tips.
When you rehearse your list of loves to me,
Oh, I can laugh and marvel, rapturous-eyed.
And you laugh back, nor can you ever see
The thousand little deaths my heart has died.
And you believe, so well I know my part,
That I am gay as morning, light as snow,
And all the straining things within my heart
You'll never know.

Oh, I can laugh and listen, when we meet,
And you bring tales of fresh adventurings, --
Of ladies delicately indiscreet,
Of lingering hands, and gently whispered things.
And you are pleased with me, and strive anew
To sing me sagas of your late delights.
Thus do you want me -- marveling, gay, and true,
Nor do you see my staring eyes of nights.
And when, in search of novelty, you stray,
Oh, I can kiss you blithely as you go ....
And what goes on, my love, while you're away,
You'll never know.

When it ends...

You finish reading a book and put it to the side, only to pick up another on your bedside table. Different names, but the same characters. Different titles, but the same stories. You run a mile, to simply run another. And another, until you've finished a half-marathon; but only to drive home to shower then sleep. When you wake up, you linger awhile longer in bed, wondering if this is the day.

The day everything changes. The day your career begins. The day you meet someone who understands what you're going through. The day you fall in love. The day where it all ends.

You throw your blankets to the side, get up, get dressed, and push away the thoughts in your mind that hang like a spider's forgotten web. The thoughts about your stagnant life, because that's all you've known. So why think of the day where it changes?

Stasis is better right?

Better than the nights you've spent hearing the screams down the hallway. Better than the days that were all lies. Better than the moments spent believing in broken promises.

You pick up another book, but you don't finish it. You place it in an empty box. The books unread accumulate. You tape the box, and grab another. And another, until you're in a room filled with boxes. You run without measuring the distance. You run until it's too hard to breathe. Then you walk home, gasping for air. You collapse into bed, too tired to shower, but eager to fall into another reality. When you wake up, you linger awhile in bed, and decide that this is the day.

The day everything changes. The day you start living again. The day where stasis ends.

You make your bed and fold your blankets, noticing what a difference it makes to the appearance of your room. You get dressed, make your favorite breakfast, and push away all of the yesterdays like they were all a distant memory. You're tired of the stagnant life, because that's all you've ever known. Might as well do something new.

Living is better right?

Better than the nights spent alone reading. Better than the days running to pass the time. Better than the moments spent thinking of the past.

You get into your car and drive. Drive towards your career. Drive towards someone. Drive towards love. Drive towards this changing day.

Reason #6: Education, Creative Writing, and James Franco

I am literally shaking right now. Maybe it’s from having four cups of coffee (when I usually just have one or two a day) or maybe I’m having an epiphany. My mind is racing, that I can’t keep track of all of my thoughts. I’m sure that it will show in this post, since this won’t have any logical order. It’ll just be pure thought. Stream of consciousness? Probably so. Virgina Woolf, it seems you have rubbed off on me. I can’t get out of my head it seems.

Another reason to live? Education. Doing something/majoring in something you love. I know I complain a lot about school. I want to be done with it like all of my friends who are just a year older than me (if I was only born one year sooner!!!!), but I’m not. I should take advantage of my last year and make the most of it. I had a midterm today about 20^th century writers and theory; after studying about all these dead writers, I realized I wanted to be one of them. Not dead, obviously. But a writer who matters. Who did something. Was a part of something. Anything. I always say I HOPE to be a writer, never having faith in myself or my abilities; but today I thought to myself, I WILL be a writer. I may not be the best, but damn I have a story to tell, and someone’s going to want to listen. I will be published, and if someone is moved by what I wrote, then that is success to me. That’s a life lived if I made someone’s life a little bit better by my words.

This week I’ve been constantly thinking about the future. Daydreaming and hoping. Well that’s enough of that, I’m gonna make it into a reality. Just you wait. For a while I wondered if I could really do it, write all my life… I thought of the long process of writing and editing, all the heartbreak that I would endure being rejected… but yes, I want it. All of that. The heartbreak, long hours of writes and rewrites. Words are eternal. I’m gonna get my words down.

I’ll have my own studio and library to create my books with big open windows… Yeah, I will.

So what brought this on? Well I’ve been obsessed with James Franco. Like seriously obsessed. My role models have always been my family: my mom and my sisters for all their strength and support; but now that I have committed myself wholeheartedly to writing, I had the urge to find a role model for my career. Which is…. JAMES FRANCO. He seriously does everything. I want to do that too. I won’t limit myself to just writing. I’ll do it all. Screen writing, directing, art. I admire his passion for education. It reminds me that I am lucky to learn. The grade doesn’t matter, only the knowledge that I get from the class. I don’t need a 4.0 GPA to write. I need to live life in order to write.  I want to and I am going to live life. I'll be the female version of James Franco (without the acting part).

One day James Franco, we’ll have coffee and discuss books, movies, music, literature, everything. We will be talked about when we die. We’ll make an impact. 

I love my major. Seriously. Writers are so cool and interesting, not to mention we’re just so weird in an awesome way.

I think of all the people I’ve met in class this past year and I realized… We are the next generation. Let’s fuck shit up (in a good way) and change the world. I may never see these people again, but knowing them for a little bit has changed my life. I want to remember everyone. Like Nich, one of the US bank protesters who gave me a hug right after we met (no one does that much anymore, I wish people did; and he totally looked like Will from Parachute), Olivia who I met this quarter in Telemark (having a good conversation, telling me about the senior thesis, and about herself), even the guy Orion who’s in all of my classes (who I find pretty intriguing), and everyone in my workshop class, like Summer, Ceaser, Ted, Lindsey, and Katie (to just name a few). Best of luck to all of us.

Now the most important thing: I’ve finally found a story idea for my first book. Something that I will commit to (not like all my other stories where I write a few pages and quit). The whole story idea came to me today in bits and pieces as I was running during my workout and walking to the ARC for a work meeting. I need a story board STAT!!!!

Life is amazing. And no, I’m not on drugs right now. :]

#4 The Dancing Miracle (100 Word Short Story)

Jamie was a beautiful girl who loved to dance. She hoped to dance on stage one day to show her love for dance with her friends and family. She joined a dance troupe to make her dream into a reality. A month before her performance, she got into a car accident. She survived, but the doctors thought she would not be able to walk or dance again. Still, she hoped for that one day on stage despite what they told her. Two years later, she got onto that stage and danced. No one could take their eyes off of her.

*This 100 word short story was inspired by Jackie Garayar.

Reason #4: Drunken Nights With Good Company

Those nights when your inhibitions are gone and you feel completely free; granted you are a bit tipsy. I must say I still am, but I wanted to write this while I was under the influence. There's some type of magical appeal to it. Your floating. No, you're flying. Maybe things will go your way for once. Maybe you'll meet someone you can connect with. The world seems so peaceful that you just want to dance and celebrate. Surrounded by friends, good energy, and a good time...

A wonderful night. Simple as that. Just go with it.

Reason #3: Flowers

We see them so often we take them for granted, but flowers are used at all types of occasions. I am lucky enough to have amazing people that have gifted me with flowers the past two nights for my performance. I went to bed yesterday feeling a bit sad, beating myself up at all the mistakes I made during the dance. I woke up this morning and the first thing I saw were the flowers. They cheered me up instantly and I couldn't help but feel loved from the these flowers as I remembered the friends I received them from.

Tonight is my last performance. I'm happy that it is almost over. I get to go back to my normal routine. At the same time, knowing that something beautiful and amazing is ending, makes me quite sad.

But I won't think of sadness right now, as I lay in bed, enjoying this Saturday morning, looking at all of the flowers on top of my bookshelf.

Reason #2: I will remember this moment.

My nerves consume me. 1-2-3-4-5-6. Breathe. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8. My heart is trying to get out of my chest.

That moment on stage. The flood of lights. The music vibrating against your skin.

It means so much more, knowing you have people that care about you in the audience. A person's presence, by simply being there, swells my heart with joy.

I feel happiness.
I feel loved.
I feel as if I matter.

That's a good feeling.

----

 Between the earth and sky,
Oh, I wish to hide.
But love has bounded me
despite my intense desires.
To make the world I want;
set it all in beauty's fire.
Passion and rage,
til my last day.
No one can take this moment away.
Dance until I am free,
sleep until I can dream,
write until my story ends.
My own perspective,
my personal lens.

----

Cry. 45 dollar drive for an escape. Why don't you love me? Driving til the sunrises. Where is my father? Drive. Come back.

#3 Blaire (100 Word Short Story)

Blaire stared out the window, dying to break free from the confines of his home.  He glanced at his owner and wondered how she could possibly sit at her desk for hours, staring at her computer screen. He sauntered over to her seeking comfort. She scratched his chin lightly, that he could not help but purr. After a while she seemed to get tired and stopped. Blaire went back to the window and began pawing at it, even though he knew it would not budge. He glanced back at her, filled with sadness that she could not understand.

Reason #1: People

I'm writing this in a rush, but I've been contemplating this idea for the last two days so I want to make sure I write it down.

Life seems to be pulling me at different directions. My pessimistic views of the world and humanity are clashing with the exciting upcoming events that make me optimistic about life. In addition to that, I'm surrounded by change and many friends who are at a cross road in their lives. Contemplations of death and the life ahead have consumed us all as I see some of my friends completely stuck, at a standstill, with an unclear direction of what to do next.

To the point: Life sucks, but damn is it also beautiful. Therefore, I've created this segment, "Reasons to Live" as a reminder of the beautiful things that make life worth living despite the dark times that are inevitable.

So reason number 1? People. I think of each individual person as a book with their own interesting stories to tell. Listening to stories and sharing our own, I believe, creates the best friendships, relationships, and etc.

So to the interesting people in my life, thank you for sharing your stories with me. Confiding in me is one of the best gifts you can ever give me. And, if I shared my stories with you, then consider yourself special :]

You only get one life, so write the best damn story you can, and LIVE to the fullest.
 

Blaire's Butt

Tried to take a photo with my cat Blaire. At the last moment he turned around and stuck his butt in my face.

I hope that made you guys smile:] 

& Have a good Birthday Airy!!! Deuce deuce!!! (Inside joke :P)

-Miss M

Messy Life

A friend of mine asked me today if I missed being in a relationship. I answered yes and no. I miss the good things like having someone be there, falling asleep to their heartbeat, and being loved by them; but I don't miss the bad: the fighting, jealousy, and the pressure. Sometimes I feel lonely, and at other times at ease without having to care for another, but at the end of the day I'm indecisive.

Have I felt love in any of my relationships? I've said "I love you" to three different guys, but I think I only meant it once. Yet, that one time I allowed myself to love someone led to my own destruction; and  at times I feel like I never recovered from it. Where do I go from there? The question burns in my mind, but I push it away.

It's the weekend.
4/20 and picnic day.
Just wanna live in the moment.

Hung out with friends I met last summer, smoked. It's been awhile. Go the party. Take a shot. Smile. Meet new people, good conversation. Take another shot. Talk some more. Hug people I haven't seen for awhile. Take another shot. I'm feeling the music. I want to dance, but no one's dancing. I dance anyway. Other people dance too. Shot. Feeling good. Time for BP. Win two games, and too tired to play another one. Drink water, and more water. Good conversation. Dance. Talk and catch up. Walk home around three a.m. Sleep.

Wake up. Dance practice. Off to picnic day. The bus is too crowded. The motion of the bus makes me lose my balance, so I hold on to him.Walk. Take a drink. Walk. Take a drink. Exhibits, dogs, people watching. Michelle is a common name. At least you didn't call me Jessica. Take a rest under the shade. Talk and laugh. Go to the pool and talk. Good conversations about the fallacies of marriage, love, and interesting people. I smile. Ice cream. Say goodbyes. Nap. Go back home.

Get a text message with sad news. Life is fragile. The mental state is fragile. I use to be there at one point, now I'm seeing someone else go down that wrong path, and I don't know what to do.

Now I'm sitting here, when I should go to bed. Dress shopping in SF tomorrow morning for the soon-to-be bride. But I'm awake, thinking how life is so messy. Thinking of people I do and do not know. Thinking how quickly the present becomes the past.

Do I miss being in a relationship? The answer doesn't really matter. Life is messy. If love come my way, so be it, and may it be a wonderful adventure. If it never comes, I'll be fine. Life is messy, but it's filled with the most interesting people. You guys make me smile, new and old friends. You guys make it all okay. Watching the stars together, talking about everything, walking without a direction. It's gonna be alright.

Life may be messy, but one should never throw it away.

100 word short stories!

I hope you guys have been enjoying my 100 word short stories! Although, I must give credit where credit is due! I got the idea from my Fiction Workshop teacher Miss J, who's pretty cool. I kinda hope that when I'm older, I'll turn out like her.

#2 Childish Love (100 Word Short Story)

When Allie was a little girl, she told her mother that one day she wanted to marry Alex. Her mother said it was not possible, since they were brother and sister. Growing up, Allie’s feelings never faded away, although she tried to repress them. Alex began to date, but Allie kept hoping that maybe one day he would see her differently. Time passed and she waited. The day of Alex’s wedding, Allie wore a bridesmaid dress. As he kissed his new wife, tears streamed down Allie’s face, realizing that her love for her brother was to be replaced by heartache.

#1 The Serial Dater (100 Word Short Story)

Jesse put the last of Amanda’s things in a box and set it outside of his apartment door for her to pick up. He thought of all of his ex girlfriends and couldn’t understand why he couldn’t commit to any of them.  Well, there was one girl, but he had messed it up. He was young and afraid of commitment then, but not now, he thought. He wanted to call her, just to hear her voice again, but his phone blinked with a voicemail. “Hey Jesse, it’s Elise’s mother. I wanted to let you know, that Elise has passed away…”

Spriiiiiiiiiiiiing

Spring quarter begins! My poetry workshop begins tomorrow. Hopefully this spring quarter blesses me with creativity. Be prepared for more poems to come! I shall set aside fiction for these eleven weeks. However, once summer begins I'll start working on my fiction manuscripts for my Grad applications!

Suggested reading: A Song Of Ice and Fire series by George R. R. Martin
I think this series will fill the gaping hole in my chest after Harry Potter ended for me.

Journals

This week has been crazy filled with ups and downs, and the best and worst moments of my life.

Funny enough, last weekend I went through all my old journals that documented my college years. I can't believe how much I've grown and learned and I can't believe I let myself get that far. That dark time of my life I can't quite remember because I choose not to. Reading all of the entries I remembered... and I must say I forgive, but I will never again forget. Never will I allow others to harm me or my mental state. I will not allow people to enter my life who do not genuinely care, because my life only has space for the people who matter, the people I love. And no one will take advantage of my love ever again.

So here's to my ongoing life of ups and downs, and the best and worst moments of my life, that will be shared with the amazing people in my life.

Edit your life. Cut the bad, and keep all the things that are good :]

-Miss M