It’s Cold. In September.

I have been living in an opposite-the-country region for just over a month now, and I must say, it is turning out quite intriguing.

Here, the weather is never on a set pattern. Two days ago, the sun was shining brilliantly across the sky. Two days before that, it was cold and windy. Today, it’s cloudy and probably going to start raining in a few hours. This makes outings supremely difficult to plan. On the upside, scarf season is more than one month long. Hence my newfound obsession with wearing a scarf with absolutely everything conceivable.

At least two days out of every week is perfect baking weather: windy, cloudy, rainy, cold. Also, it’s kind of the perfect place to study because it’s no more beautiful outside than it is inside. Rather, it’s no less dreary outside than it is inside. Yay for nonstop studying.

Adaptations: rain boots. It’s such a strange concept to me that people wear them because they must, not because they are cute and there is a two percent chance of rain.

New Things: Fall weather. Apparently the temperatures that I associate with the word “Winter” now mean “Fall.”

I Miss: Nonstop sunlight until always. My tan (yeah, it’s already fading… this winter is going to be rough). My family. My friends. When everything in class made sense. The time that I did not feel like I was going into a competition when it was really just a test. The days when I could just use my own damn oven to bake, and when I had a lemon zester, and cookie sheets, and cookies warm from the oven… the smell of home. Floofy carpet. My piano. My music.

I Love: Being forced to think in class and for PSets. The people. Scarves. Knitting. Sleeping. This place.

But still. I mean, seriously? It’s getting cold.

And it’s only September.


They’re Taking Us Out Like Flies

Just as I have learned to love the things around me, to keep the important people closest, to let the people I love know that I love them… I have to leave and they have to leave.

The Catalina Mountains will forever undulate in the dancing patterns of shadow and light. They will always provide the best hiking at the nearest location. And I will never forget that “Fires Destroy Green Forests.”

North Campbell is beautiful whenever you go up there. Especially when you’re with a close friend, and a Starbuck’s in hand.

A friend means someone who will sit there and listen. Even if they have not had dinner yet and it’s past nine. Even if they have a mountain of homework that they have yet to begin to tackle. Even if they have to be home.

A friend means someone who will sit with you in complete silence save the whirr of the ceiling fan, one leaning against the other without a single word. And still will understand everything that was never spoken.

Always let people know how much they matter to you. Because there may come a day where doubts cloud judgement.

Love is a beautiful thing shared between closest of friends and family.

As my tears are beginning to drown my computer, I shall bring this to a close:

Yes, a new part of life is about to begin.

No, I will never forget.

[Insert Bad Word Here]

I have just realized, in its mind-boggling, soul-tearing, heart-breaking entirety, that in less than a month I will be leaving.

[Insert some soul-searching paragraphs about how terrible this will be, and how I came to this revelation]

The worst part of it: I did not get the chance to bid a proper farewell to some people I will not see until next summer. If even.

Phone calls and emails and fancy new-age things like Facebook and Google+ will only do so much to alleviate this.

[Insert an optimistic sentence or two about how time and miles will not separate the friendships]

Author’s Note: AP English has destroyed my ability to write in a rush, because all I can think about is how in Hell would I describe the tone of this post.

Author’s Note II: The “[Insert…]”s are just because I’m too lazy to even sound pretentious and preachy.

The End.

Grade school is over. All of thirteen years of my life will end in one ceremony in less than seven days. All the experiences I have had will wrap up when I walk across a stage. There are so many things I want to say about elementary, middle, and high school, yet there does not seem to be an intelligible way to say them. However, as always, I shall try my best.

To Elementary School: Innocence and mystique filled my six years there. I met people I am no longer friends with; I met people I cherish close to my heart. The years were so simple, no judgments and no pain. No worries besides what was for lunch or when recess was going to start.

To Middle School: I am glad these three years are over. I say this every time I mention middle school, and I mean it. I do not mean to say I wish it never happened, though. I would not be the person I am today if not for the experiences – both good and bad – that I had. Here, the biggest issue was suddenly that boy who sits across the room and has a cute smile. Here, I thought I was so much greater than I actually was. For some reason, I thought that being aloof was the way to go. Then again, aloofness to avoid betrayal is not a bad trade-off.

To High School: Easily the best four years of my life. There were a few bumps and bruises, but all the more worth it. These years were not simple, what with growing responsibility and temptation. Yet, there are so many things that went beautifully right. I know that in the years to come, I will look back and remember with a smile on my face how much every person has come to mean to me. I will look back and wonder how I managed to do it all, because I am already wondering that.

To my friends: Thank you for making my life more bearable and a hundred times more beautiful. Thank you for making the hardest of days easier. You have no idea how much I love you all, and how much I am going to miss being with you.

To my teachers: Every moment has been enchanting. Thank you for opening doors for me. Thank you for helping shape how I learn and who I am because of what I learn.

To the Class of 2011: We did it. Congratulations and good luck in all your endeavors.


[insert some philosophical thought about luck]

Yesterday, my computer died. It was making funny noises, and Google Chrome was acting strangely. I shut my computer off and let it sit for thirty minutes or so, then I tried to turn it on again. Now, I am greeted with a lovely light grey screen and a folder with a question mark in it. Wonderful. I do believe that the time has come to say farewell to my laptop.

I must say, though, that timing was perfect. I have no papers due at the end of Break; I am done with applications (finally, unless some random other scholarship application crops up somehow); and it died just after I had the hard drive replaced earlier this school year. All-in-all, there are very few things on the computer, other than photos. Which. Oh damn. I did not back up. Although, I do believe I still have the majority of those photos on my camera. And my dad has most of my photos on his computer.

For those of you wondering how I am getting this online, here’s how: I’m thinking the keystrokes and the cosmos are sending it to WordPress. Live. It’s incredible how much our brains and technology can do! First you have to download this software into your neurons from this super shady website that seems to have originated from… Mars? Then you have to sleep on it for a few days to let the file germinate. There may have been a time when I was in a Martian UFO; that would explain the strange dream from this morning (don’t ask; I’m embarrassed thinking about it). Now, it works just beautifully. Although, I’m not sure how the whole disconnection thingy is going to work.

And if you thought that was funny, I should tell you, I am composing this with a completely straight face. I’ve noticed that when I am funny in writing, I have never written it with a smile on my face or a laugh on my lips. But that’s besides the point.

I wish we still lived in a world where artists like Frank Sinatra still existed and made the big bucks. I’m feeling very scatter-brained today. Partially because of that stupid dream I had that was messed up on all levels. I guess I’ll journal it, so that I have it out of my brain, because it’s seriously like a parasite engulfing every synapse.

Break = YAY. That is all.

The Thing About Facebook Relationship Statuses

In the past four months that I have had a Facebook, the greatest thing that irks me is the Relationship Statuses. It is my understanding that friends know whether or not you are single or in a relationship (or one of the other options). For me, it does not follow that I would need to inform every one of my Facebook friends of this, because I try to keep my friends on Facebook limited to people who actually are my friends in real, non-virtual life.

I have never understood the compulsive habit of changing Relationship Statuses, unless it’s for fun. If you want to know someone’s “relationship status,” just ask. There really is no purpose in plundering through their Info page to find it. It’s another clever ruse to get us to spend more time on Facebook stalking people.

I was talking to a friend the other day about this. He claims that Facebook has changed relationships and how they progress. He and his girlfriend became official when she asked him if they could make it “Facebook official” and he said yes. While I do not disagree that Facebook has changed the way relationships progress, I do not believe that Facebook should be the way in which a relationship is formed. I would much rather the now “outdated” form of a simple question, “Will you be my girlfriend/boyfriend?” and the many variations thereof.

Also, there seems to be much hullaballoo about Facebook chat and all the other chats there are. Hullaballoo like, “Oh I like him, let me Facebook chat him, or write on his wall.” These things escape me. What is so difficult about just talking in person with him? If you like him, you’re gonna have to talk to him eventually. Unless he avoids you like the plague. In which case, just get yourself over him. I personally believe that if he doesn’t realize how incredible you are, then he isn’t worth a second of your time. (Same works for guys talking to girls. To guys and girls both: effing grow a pair already!)

All in all, I would like to proclaim that the advent of Facebook, though well conceived, is now taking too large a role in how we create and maintain friendships. If you would like to know something about me, do not hesitate to ask, because I’ll most likely answer you.

Now if you’ll be so kind as to excuse me, I’m going to go stalk people on Facebook. ;-)

Just an Excerpt

Last semester in my English class, we wrote an “Exploratory Essay.” The prompt was open-ended, and I chose to write on two of the most important things in my life (piano and nature) in the context of the beauty that is hidden within. While I shall never force you to read my paper in its entirety because of the style it is written in, I would like to share this excerpt in the hopes that one day, you’ll perhaps be able to feel this way about something so intangible:

When my fingers meet the keys, the world dissolves. Nothing matters but the sound. Faces in the audience, once distinct, now blur and join in the collective darkness that envelops me. The black, gleaming envelope of over two hundred pounds begins to open. The once pearly surface of the keys is scratched and scarred with abuse, creating a mirage of memories and nightmares. Yet the golden strings gleam, free of dust and torment, as untouched as the stars. Vibrations of the strings begin at a minimum, quietly bouncing side-to-side. Distinct, individual motions of fingers blur together as casual, slow notes hasten and become tense, harried notes. Anger and despair drips from the strings as the vibrations become uncontrollable and violent.

White keys grey with shadows as my fingers glide across the keyboard. Thoughts in the form of phrases float into the still air. The windings on the strings disappear as white-tipped hammer bounces against trios of strings, sending ripples down several feet of wire and several columns of yellow. Dampers tap dance atop the strings like marionettes. The piano rocks slightly on its legs as plumes of desire spill from the strings vibrating in harmony.

My body sways in time with the lyricism as a tree in a faint breeze. An alto voice sings the melody, forcing soprano to step aside. My fingers tumble over each other, deliberately pressing keys. My eyes close and my body tilts back. The forte ends and what is left is a shimmering sea of relaxing strings swimming in the darkness.

Preemptive Strike-Back at the Worst Day of the Year

For those of you who:
1. Never go to an place that sells stuff;
2. Cannot see;
3. Do not attend high school,
I regret to inform you that Valentine’s Day is, in fact, around the corner. (Although for those of you who cannot see, I don’t really know how this would inform you of anything except affirmation that you cannot see.)

And so, here I am, to tell this day to back the hell off. It’s going to get ugly, because I’m in a rather foul mood right now.

A Brief History of Valentine’s Day: a day to show your intimate companion precisely how much you love them.

Problem #1: There is no way to show someone how much you love them via objects, especially not precisely.

Problem #2: This should be something private, not public. The fourteenth day of February should not make it acceptable for people to go sucking face in every corner of school. In fact, I claim that it does not make it acceptable.

It is perhaps the worst day of the year because it is nationally recognized as look-who’s-single day for the polarizing effect that it has on people in a relationship and people who aren’t. Also, the use of “relationship” has come to mean something altogether different from my definition (which is, actually, correct). A “relationship” is not necessarily between to people who are dating. A “relationship” is really between any two people.

To stick it to Facebook, I really want to put “In a relationship” because I am. I am in the midst of over one hundred relationships. Purely platonic relationships, yes, but relationships nonetheless.

When school ended, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. I don’t really know why… maybe it’s because a deadline is fast approaching, and I don’t want to see the other side of it unless that deadline is met. Or maybe it’s because Valentine’s Day has taken over every place that intends to make money, and the simple fact that hearts are cropping up everywhere, and the balloons have reached a dizzying circumference. Or maybe, just maybe, I know I should stop pretending that I can handle life without expecting things of others. Because obviously, that is so not true.

Worst yet, even TV shows are doing a Valentine’s Day special. I can’t even mope in my single state and watch TV.

Maybe I’ll watch Amelie again, and cry, again, because I feel lonely.

This was supposed to be something heartening for all my fellow single people out there. Instead, I turned into exactly what Valentine’s Day always does without fail: a single person pining for someone to say three little words.

I Got a Feeling

That I’m going to be made an even happier person sometime very, very soon. ^.^


Thanks to the Sierra Club, I have found six new hiking trails that I want to discover. Only problem is, two of the six will kick me in the butt, and another one I want to have a day hike for. When will there be time? On some random Sunday when I conveniently have nothing to do? Ha. Like those exist. There is hardly ever a Sunday where people are not busily finishing homework.

One of the coming Sundays, I will spend the better part of the day on a mountain in the kind company of loving friends who either share my ambition, or were bullied into joining me. Seriously though, to be able to experience a moderately large body of water just a few hours up a mountain in Tucson, AZ… Who could ever have thought of that?

Alas, tomorrow is dedicated to a mid-canyon wall, dry hike.

P.S. I promise to have a better post soon-ish.