June 15, 2010

There might be something I love more than the beach.

This past weekend was my first ultimate tournament of the summer - and it was a fucking blast. As if anybody couldn’t distinguish the sheer joy from the pictures! I met a whole bunch of incredible people this weekend, and gotten another slice of life through frisbee. It’s times like these that I actually feel like I got something out of college.

Beach frisbee is the funnest thing ever because when you dive and fall, nothing hurts. And yeah, I totally wore my victoria’s secret one piece.

After a day of tanning and diving into the sand for the disc, the adventures continued in the two cramped motel rooms for twenty people. The first night on the floor I knocked out after laughing for hours with my teammates about the long drive to southern california. The next night? Even more ridiculous. Beer, king’s cup, movies, and the porno-parody game. What could be better. Of course. Sleeping with one of my girls for the night! The hilarious part was that, on the other side of Mombika, we managed to fit another three people. Five people spooning on a full size, definitely an experience.

I’m sunburnt, brown, and tan-lined. But I left socal with a smile plastered on my face.

I love the beach, but I love my team more.

As stupid as it looks, I will probably get something like this.
I love things that contradict each other, but still hold a happy union. Love & Hate. Night & Day. Sunshine & Rain. Like this tattoo. Other than the awesome fact that it glow… — *As stupid as it looks, I will probably get something like this.*

I love things that contradict each other, but still hold a happy union. Love & Hate. Night & Day. Sunshine & Rain. Like this tattoo. Other than the awesome fact that it glows under black light and has two halves, I feel like the little scraggly cartoon represents me in a way. It’s not a very reasonable ink and it’s super goofy.

A lot of people say I’m happy. Bubbly. Funny. Friendly. I’m an extrovert that society welcomes. That society adores. That society accepts. But I’m not very normal. I’m not who you see. I rarely have logical explanations and I’m pretty sure my rash actions are ridiculous. The cliche that, “nobody understands me” is an incredible understatement. Out of the billions of people in the world, there is only one that has ever gotten close - and still, there are times when she struggles to understand me.

Because I don’t understand myself. I usually don’t make sense because I think opposite thoughts. I contradict my decisions and my actions. I don’t even know if that is true. I don’t have much common sense and I am semi-awkward to say the least. I say things I mean that are mean. And I say things that I don’t mean, while screaming at myself all the same. I think things I don’t want to think. I don’t dream about things I want to hope for. I don’t know what I’m thinking most of the time, but my mind wanders on and on and on. People usually don’t know what I’m saying and most take me the wrong way. But do I even have a right way? I forget what is required of me. I forget that the world needs me to have a filter.

Sometimes, I feel like I am broken. Like a defected iPhone or a glitchy game, nobody who tries to figure me out can really get what’s going on. My coding is off, my programming haywire. I become unacceptable. Useless. Confusing. Garbage.

There are some that believe only the introverted are misunderstood. I don’t think I believe that. Because in this messed up world of mine, I feel alone. Quiet. Scared. I may be labeled as an extrovert, but that is not who I am. I don’t even know who I am. In this little space inside my head, I hide part of myself that nobody else can see. The part that doesn’t understand. The part that doesn’t make sense. The part that makes me insane.

I’m not very normal.

fuckyeahtattoos:

Submitted by: jennybaby

June 14, 2010

Happy birthday, choo choo.
You’re five years old.
I love you.

EDIT.
I’m going to add a bit since it made my heart drop, then rise above the clouds.
My mother called me Friday, but I missed four of her calls. She left a message that I didn&rsq… — *Happy birthday, choo choo.*

You’re five years old.

I love you.

EDIT.

I’m going to add a bit since it made my heart drop, then rise above the clouds.

My mother called me Friday, but I missed four of her calls. She left a message that I didn’t see until after my second ultimate game. As I played the message, my blood turned cold. My mother’s frantic voice screaming that she had lost my dog - and on her fifth birthday, nonetheless. I bit my lip and everything around me went silent as I listened to the play back of the message.

She was walking Choo Choo like usual, through the middle school across the street from her boyfriend’s house in Tacoma, Seattle. And, like usual, she let Choo Choo off her leash to chase whatever she pleased in the fields knowing she would come back. As a bird flew by, like usual, Choo Choo sped off to chase it down. My mother, like usual, watched my little fluff ball flying around in the bushes and trees.

Unlike usual, the fluff ball disappeared while she watched it.

For half an hour my mother panicked and called endlessly for Choo Choo to come. Another hour rolled by and she called the microchip company that unfortunately told her Choo Choo wouldn’t be found until she was scanned at a veterinarian’s hospital. My mother walked home, defeated.

Choo Choo was waiting at the doorstep.

June 10, 2010

Yesterday was a good day.
Mack and I met halfway in San Francisco after I got off work. We shopped (Mack looks lame in shorts because of his midget legs) and walked around a lot before waiting forever to try this new ramen place, Katana-ya. It was p… — *Yesterday was a good day.*

Mack and I met halfway in San Francisco after I got off work. We shopped (Mack looks lame in shorts because of his midget legs) and walked around a lot before waiting forever to try this new ramen place, Katana-ya. It was pretty legit, I have to admit. Even though I was a little turned off by the mandarin speaking chefs at the bar, I enjoyed my butter corn ramen. Mack’s spicy tofu was even better. These Taiwanese chefs weren’t so bad, but they spoke Japanese also! So I am very confuzzled. We tried to catch the movie, Get Him to the Greek, but BART times don’t run late so we walked back to my coop and watched miyazaki movies instead.

I’m in class right now, but I feel excited and content. I have a boy waiting for me at home after I get off work and another new Berkeley delicious restaurant to try for dinner: Gregoire. I can’t really describe the kind of feeling you get knowing someone is waiting for you, happy to see you.

It’s like a feeling you know you exist in this world.

June 10, 2010

My cousin graduated yesterday.

Honestly, I felt so extremely old, although we’re the same age. Exactly the same age, that year of college really changes things. She still has her cliques and her scattered friends. Her groups and lunch lines a… — My cousin graduated yesterday.

Honestly, I felt so extremely old, although we’re the same age. Exactly the same age, that year of college really changes things. She still has her cliques and her scattered friends. Her groups and lunch lines and afterschool nothingness. Her best friends and boyfriends, her AP books and SAT scores. Her fake smiles and friend she doesn’t actually really like.

I didn’t realize how much you learn being away from home. There are no more groups and high school power struggles. You don’t really come back to the same people, even if you do - it’s not the same closeness you had before. If anybody thinks that college would be the same as high school, I think they make it that way.

For me, my life is definitely far from what it was in high school.

June 05, 2010

I think it’s funny how people see you.
I think it’s even funnier how wrong they are about you. Your defiance is seen as courage, your rebellion is taken as strength. Your kindness is your righteousness and your calm nature is your maturi… — *I think it’s funny how people see you.*

I think it’s even funnier how wrong they are about you. Your defiance is seen as courage, your rebellion is taken as strength. Your kindness is your righteousness and your calm nature is your maturity. Your confidence is your security.

But that is not how I see you. That is not how I know you. You are a little child, scared and defensive. Insecurities and worries plague your mind. You are quiet in fear of saying stupid things. You are blunt to anyone but yourself. You can always dish out criticism, but you can never take it. Despite what you say, you do care a lot about what people think - you guard your reputation because it is your life. You are a scared, little child. A child that only I can see - only I can care for.

People believe you to be logical, but I know otherwise.

I also know that you have a beautiful heart. You care much more than you show. You’re sweet and funny, kind of cheesy too. You’re immature, childish and a perfect match to my baby-ish personality. You work a lot harder than you let people know. Your dreams and goals are inspiring. Your potential is limitless.

So while I know that the world believes your lies and eats your fake smiles, I want to keep your little secret.

So that I alone will know how wonderful you really are.

So that I alone will make the real you mine.

May 31, 2010

It feels incredibly nostalgic in Texas.
I used to visit the lone star state every summer to visit my dark cousin and the rest of my dad’s family. I miss the swimming lessons, the trips to the museum, the ice skating rink in the mall. Although … — *It feels incredibly nostalgic in Texas.*

I used to visit the lone star state every summer to visit my dark cousin and the rest of my dad’s family. I miss the swimming lessons, the trips to the museum, the ice skating rink in the mall. Although I didn’t like shopping so much before, I’m glad we did all the things we did when I went this time.

I got to BBQ with my godbrother and his hilarious family. I had a home cooked meal and a long conversation about photography with my obsessed, talented uncle. I ate my aunt’s famous wontons and watched the CAKE BOSS marathon with my older cousin. I three-wheeled with said cousin and her Hollister Co. boyfriend to take their adorable dog to the vet. I had another BBQ with my photographer uncle and my second cousin Kin, from London. God, I loved that chap. Cheers!

In Texas, I have a family.

May 31, 2010

I baked cookies with some team mates today.
I think I have a little problem with teammates. To be honest, I am not very good at having different types of relationships like professional, academic, or what not. I don’t those many fronts I need … — *I baked cookies with some team mates today.*

I think I have a little problem with teammates. To be honest, I am not very good at having different types of relationships like professional, academic, or what not. I don’t those many fronts I need to put up in different situations. But sometimes, I feel like I separate my team from my friends.

I know a lot of girls on my team that hang out with each other - only each other. I’m not really part of that whole loop, I hang out with a couple people outside of ultimate. So I guess I feel a little left out. But, to be honest, the relationship I have with the pies and the mo’s is very similar to the teammate relationship I had in high school track and xcountry. Other than the best friend that inspired me to run farther and faster, I wasn’t going to sacrifice myself for anyone else. I don’t know what it is, maybe it’s just my attitude on things? Running was very independent - you were always on your own, fighting for your spot on the podium no matter what your teammates got.

I guess it’s not the same for ultimate; you have to depend on each other. I should really start taking the initiative to get to know people outside of practice and those ridiculously fun tournaments. I like my team, I just don’t know if I consider them friends too. I’m sure I will get to like them more, while all the time competing with them. Even if it’s a different sport, I still want to be the fastest.

Maybe that’s the problem. My competitive nature? Or is it because it’s frisbee? Or maybe my track team just wasn’t part of my inner circle. The track may have been a huge part of my life, but I can’t say the same for my entire team itself. I know some people definitely weren’t on my A-list, but I was neutral for the sake of our mutual friends.

You definitely were not on my good side. I loved competition, but I still made room to allow Brenna, Sammy, Justine, and so many others into my good light. But, there’s something you did that made me disrespect you. That made me mark you onto my death list. Honestly, if I could ever just say it to your face without being hurtful to the friends I do care for, I would tell you that:

**I’m glad you ate my dust. I wouldn’t have it any other way if I didn’t beat someone who joined this passionate sport to look for a boyfriend.**

You can suck it.

May 31, 2010

I have this childhood friend.
We don’t talk often, but we when we do it’s natural.
We go on trips and it feels like old times.
I miss her.
She is a part of me.
I love you, Ying. — I have this childhood friend.

We don’t talk often, but we when we do it’s natural.

We go on trips and it feels like old times.

I miss her.

She is a part of me.

I love you, Ying.

May 31, 2010

I think this will be my last summer.
This is a blurry picture, but I hope the endearment got across. I can’t really explain how much I love sleeping with Mack in his bed on a rainy afternoon. We nap together a lot, but every time I feel like t… — *I think this will be my last summer.*

This is a blurry picture, but I hope the endearment got across. I can’t really explain how much I love sleeping with Mack in his bed on a rainy afternoon. We nap together a lot, but every time I feel like the whole world could stop and we would never have to leave the comfort of the mattress.

He goes off to socal next year and for once in our relationship, we will be five hundred miles apart. And the following year? Five thousand miles. No more late night diners. No more opening nights for movies. No more sporadic secret sleepovers. From here on out, it’s going to be just us and our true feelings - with none of that physical stuff to get in the way.

I like hugging people. I like kissing people. I just thrive on touching in general. So when I can’t get any of it, I’m hoping to any religious poster head that what’s left is raw emotion. That it wasn’t all for nothing, I didn’t waste my time. That I can still love someone without having to have them hold me close. As dumb as it sounds, I really want to invent a teleportation device - so saying goodbye wouldn’t have to hurt that much.

Then again, without pain there is no happiness.

Fuck, another obstacle in this road called life.

May 31, 2010

My hair is getting really long.
Although I hate to admit it, I have come a long way since a year ago. As I come to the end of my first year in college and it almost feels like my hair represents how much I have gone through since. Actually, if you t… — *My hair is getting really long.*

Although I hate to admit it, I have come a long way since a year ago. As I come to the end of my first year in college and it almost feels like my hair represents how much I have gone through since. Actually, if you think about it, hair is a predominating symbol for a lot of women. For some girls, their hair (hairs?) mean the whole world and for others, chopping it all off signifies a change.

For me, I have always gone back and forth between long, short, and every length in between. I’m not really sure what that says about me. Either I am too impatient for it to grow long and annoyingly stay that way or I just cut it when I feel like I’ve gotten over something of my past. I must have a lot of obstacles because I chop it often. And unlike many of my darling friends, it doesn’t phase me one bit. Although I have yet to get a pixie cut, I have gotten it only an inch away. But I’m sure I’ll be able to take that plunge a couple of months from now. After my hair gets long enough, that is.

I think that when you don’t or can’t want to cut your hair, it means that you are comfortable with where you are and who you are. You like how you life is, or was, and you want to keep it that way. There are a lot of girls I know that can’t stand to have any more than a trim. I wonder what it is about having long hair that makes it so hard to give up? Maybe it’s the way your hair adds femininity to your frame. The many hairstyles you create for each and every occasion. The way your hair swishes and sways as you jog down the beach. The way your hair makes you look. Or maybe your hair is who you are - it represents you.

But there are those girls that shred their long inches when they hit obstacles. They cut their hair to start anew, and leave behind strands of the past. In the face of a dilemma, they battle, get over it and realize they don’t need their hair anymore to be themselves. They don’t have to be the same person they were in the past - they aren’t symbolized by their hair.

Boys love long hair on girls. It really makes you ask, why? Is it because it’s a stereotype for girls to have long hair? Or does it symbolize submission and the weakness of the uncut? Then again, they just probably like to pull more hair in bed. Women are so degraded and they have been throughout history. I don’t want to seem like a feminist or anything, but like my friend who shaved her locks:

“I am not my hair.” -Indie Arie

May 31, 2010

“Get the fuck off your high horse.”

— Idiom

May 29, 2010

May 28, 2010

I am really starting to like this song.

I think it’s funny when little fan girls fawn over Korean and Japanese celebrities even when they don’t understand what they’re saying. Although I love them, I have to admit I have a lot of wannabe-Korean and wannabe-Japanese friends. It’s actually kind of funny how much some of them love a country they’ve never been to, a country that isn’t theirs. But I guess I can relate a little. Actually, maybe a lot. I’ve always wanted to be super unique. My dad was from China and my mom was from Taiwan - but I still consider myself Taiwanese. I’m not sure what it is about being Chinese that disappoints me, I just would rather be something else. Something more exotic. Besides, Taiwan is democratic, make the best laptops, and have pretty people. The strange part is, I can never really distinguish Taiwanese people from Japanese people. But I’m probably delirious because I also love Japan too much. (Of course, I love Taiwan too)

And as lame as I feel listening to a song I don’t understand like a little school girl, it still makes me smile. The subtitles really help me a lot, but I think the video itself is really the cutest part. Kim Jong Kook may not be that cute, but his ripped body is pretty ridiculous. Not to mention his crazy range of voice; he honestly has the vocals of a girl. I like him. I think it’s his smile that really gets me, I can’t say no to a wide, bright smile. Some girls look at the eyes first. Most others look at the body. I look for a good, genuine smile.

My biggest pet peeve is a liar. I won’t stand for two-faced bitches and fake bullshit. So even when you lie through your teeth with an unwavering gaze, I will only look for your smile because I think that is where you can be the most honest. Have you ever had a time where you couldn’t stop from smiling even if you tried?

I like guys who can genuinely smile.

I need to make a deadline.
And I have been thinking a lot these past few days. Every month when this time rolls around, I feel the need to spill my heart out for the last half-year and spam my dashboard (sorry for everyone else’s). It is getti… — *I need to make a deadline.*

And I have been thinking a lot these past few days. Every month when this time rolls around, I feel the need to spill my heart out for the last half-year and spam my dashboard (sorry for everyone else’s). It is getting late, a couple of hours past my bedtime so I’ll be turning in soon. I just saw this adorable photograph and needed to write a little more for the night.

I like to dream, so of course I have a dream home. Suburbs are great for raising kids and owning a house, but I’ll probably live in a city like San Francisco, New York, Taipei, London, Tokyo. My ideal place would be high up in a building. I’m not a big fan of huge mansions or even houses. I have lived my life throughout townhouses and apartments and I would love to have a loft in my late twenties. With high ceilings, a balcony, and huge windows there is endless possibility.

There are three rooms and two and a half bathrooms. The kitchen would be laid out linearly facing the windows with a skinny, long island in front. The island could serve as a counter and our family would eat snacks and meals there casually. Of course, there is an open dining room right next to the kitchen that we can use for more formal parties and dinners. The living room and front door will be just beyond, with the two smaller bedrooms facing the west side of the house. The master bedroom rests on the east side of the loft on the other side of the kitchen and will have a door leading to a luxurious two door bath.

It would have hardwood floors throughout, with the exception of a carpet in the bed area of my room. My room to be shared with my hubby will have a semi-second story lofted to contain our bed, entertainment system, rug, side tables, and the walk-in closet. Of course, we can’t forget the staircase ladder leading up to the lofted area - it would be an L-shaped staircase made from bookcases and shelves. Under the loft on the left, there will be a miniature wooden stage to hold a stool, microphone, and three guitars. On the right will be our large office work space and I can’t forget my artist shelves and drafting desk. On the wall facing the window, there will be three wooden baskets for recycling duh!). A huge rug from India will cover most of the wooden floor. On the right when you walk in will be Choo Choo and Boo’s beds.

My beautiful daughter would have the smallest room with a round bed implanted into her carpetted floor. Her older twin brothers get the bigger room next to hers and will share a generous space of two lofted double beds. They, most definitely, will have specific spaces in their room for sports equipment and running shoes. Yes, running shoes.

I would sleep with my loved one in an extremely comfortable queen-size bed with white sheets and a fluffy, good-down comforter with our white dog and small black cat. And the sheets will feel like heaven.

Good night, love.

(via usausausagi)

May 28, 2010

Hey Soul Sister, I don’t want to miss a single thing you do, tonight.

I am really digging this mix-up that I found courtesy of Jason on google buzz. It makes me pretty happy to know that mainstream pop is not all terrible news. I’ve probably listened to this video about fifty times tonight and I still can’t believe how good Sam Tsui is. Especially with all the Glee and High School Musical hype, he will definitely rise to YouTube stardom, if he isn’t already there.

I have good news today.

Our financial aid packages finally came out for school, and I’m happy to say that I am practically paying nothing for school. The only good loan I took out probably adds up to less than community college for the entire academic year. Trust me, I was grinning from ear to ear when I checked my file at work. Paying for a university at a price of a junior college. That’s pretty financially lucky.

I guess I owe a little to the fact I got a grant specifically for science majors. Finally, a perk for suffering through difficult, painstaking classes. I honestly don’t think harder majors get enough credit. Sometimes I wish I could be good at humanities and be able to succeed in history classes or something - but I know it’s not something I want to do, I don’t even think it’s something I would ever like. It just sucks sometimes because even though these humanities people go to Berkeley, their courseload is nothing compared to the hard sciences, the engineering plans, and the business competition. I’m terrible at classes like that, but I’m kind of glad it’s not my forte. Humanities have it easier, but they don’t get the SMART grant (that’s literally what it’s called).

That’s been my only good news for a while, so I’m going to absorb it’s glory. With my plummeting GPA (thank god I am still above a 3.0), I can’t help but feel down hearing other people’s grades. Granted, most of them with better grades than mine don’t go to the same school. But I am ridiculously, obsessively competitive. Meaning I don’t even care if you’re in high school - I want to kick your ass in anything I am good at. Key word? Want. I really need to step it up in school and get the grades I know I can get. Hopefully, I can easily get the A in my intensive Japanese class. An A in a ten unit class should be enough to get me back in the game. I talk big, but again, I believe that actions speak louder than words and I want my report card to speak for my work ethic. I want my achievements to speak for my confidence. I know I can do anything if I try. I know I can be on top. And I will.

I don’t like bullshit like: “I am smart, I’m just lazy and don’t try.”

To me that translates to how much of a failure you are in not achieving or even attempting to push yourself to your fullest potential. I don’t know if you know this, but without strive and work ethic, you won’t survive in this modern, competitive world. That’s not to say I love this system, in fact, I kind of hate it. Yes, I am competitive and ambitious. Yes, I have all the tools I need for me to succeed. But I am a huge advocate of freedom and choice.

I once wanted to live the life of an artist.

Now it just has to be on hold until I make a difference in this world and prove my worth. I can still be an artist while saving the world. That’s how confident I am in my abilities. Something I lost this first year at college…With a break from school and studying, I’ve slowly begun to find myself again. I feel like I am getting back into my own skin, the me who loved to talk and be spontaneous. The cocky, ambitious, passionate me.

Cece, where have you been?

Tsuru, Japan.
Recently, I’ve been very irritable. It is probably due to my period, so this post is probably unreasonable and ridiculous. Still, I can’t help but type. The reason for this post? Moochers.
So my boyfriend has this perk: he … — *Tsuru, Japan.*

Recently, I’ve been very irritable. It is probably due to my period, so this post is probably unreasonable and ridiculous. Still, I can’t help but type. The reason for this post? Moochers.

So my boyfriend has this perk: he gets these standby airline tickets for a fraction of the price of normal tickets. And every time I hear that someone is trying to take one of these tickets, I get a little annoyed. There’s only so much in a year that his family is allowed and still he decides to be nice, handing them away for nothing. He charges them nothing for getting a cheap-ass ticket, when his family is losing the number of vacations for themselves. I guess it would be okay if it were for friends - but acquaintances? It’s not place to decide, but I would rather go on more vacations with him than just hand them out for other people to enjoy. I mean, we’re on a mission to travel the world; it shouldn’t be hindered by anybody else’s desire to use him.

Then again, if it doesn’t have anything to do with nature, I’m pretty greedy. I don’t like it when my loved ones are taken advantaged of. I also don’t like it when people are inconsiderate. Personally, I would rather do it myself than ask for a favor. Maybe it was the way I grew up, but I hate borrowing money. If it’s something that is within my power to do or buy, I’d rather do that than rely on someone else. Then again, maybe it’s my adamant desire to be solely independent. I don’t want to owe anybody anything. I don’t want to do anything if I get nothing out of it.

So that ticket you wanted to get to go to Korea? Forget it, we’re going spring break instead. The ticket to Europe? Oops, sorry. Already bought our bikes for a ride through Italy. How about Los Angeles? It’s actually about the same if you bought a ticket with a guaranteed seat. Or maybe Hawaii? That’s the highlight of my summer -you should go somewhere local.

So back off. Pay for your ticket yourself. If anyone is getting a free ticket somewhere, I need one for Japan. Like I said, on my period. I’m illogical, so sue me.

I can’t fucking wait to go abroad.

theworldwelivein:

elegant! (by JennyHuang)

May 28, 2010

Freedom feels so sweet.
But I guess it is pretty late in the game to be saying that, considering I left for college exactly a year ago. Then again, it doesn’t feel like that big of a change for me. For having a mother who was never there an… — *Freedom feels so sweet.*

But I guess it is pretty late in the game to be saying that, considering I left for college exactly a year ago. Then again, it doesn’t feel like that big of a change for me. For having a mother who was never there and a workaholic father, I guess I do owe them thanks for my independence and my freedom.

It finally feels a little more like summer. I’ve just moved into the Stebbins Cooperative. Although it is pretty jank, I like the feeling of being on my own and meeting new people in the kitchen and lounge. I wake up in the morning and rush to grab a bagel on the way to work. After a full’s day of eight hours, I head back to room to change into gym gear. Jogging to the recreational building, I work out for an hour on my own and then I join a class. Then I come home, complete my cooperative work shift and sign off on it with Liz. I’ll maybe hang out with a couple of Stebbinites before retiring to my room to watch a movie for the night.

It’s sounds relaxing, but things are still tiring. Considering I stay up late and still need to rise early to make it on time for work. I guess it’s no wonder I keep falling asleep and end up napping for hours after I get back from work.

The positive? Again, I am free.

And I don’t mean just free from my parents - I have been for a while. I mean from my boyfriend, my friends at home, my usual crew (actually, I don’t really have one at school). I have probably said this a million times by now, but I will say it again: it really pains me to see independent women fall under the spell of their boyfriends and become bitches to their bullshit called love. You can still be yourself with a boyfriend - hell, if you aren’t yourself consider leaving him! Maybe it’s a little harsh to be calling dependent girls bitches, but what else do you call it? You sacrifice time, friends, hobbies, health, and your vagina. Yes, your fucking vagina. You whore.

So to all those girls out there who think they can’t be anything without their boyfriends need to step back and re-evaluate their self-esteem and their worth. Do you want to be forever known in society as “So-and-So’s girlfriend”? Make a fucking name for yourself! Take a stand, assert yourself and the justices you deserve. Or you can forever be in the shadow of your unsightly “other half”. Just a little advice: *love* doesn’t constitute bullshit, meaning cheating is cheating.

It might just be my philosophy and of course, nobody has to agree with me (people rarely do) but I believe that actions speak louder than words. Telling someone you love them doesn’t mean jack shit if you won’t sacrifice yourself. You can say you are the best in the world, the most powerful, the most admired - but it doesn’t mean anything if you can’t prove it. Things don’t exist because people say they could. If nature doesn’t hold that power - nobody fucking does, so get it into your head that you will not be great until you can back it up.

Then again, there are enough idiots in the world that will just believe what people say. There are some retards on this planet that believe the words, “I was drunk, so I didn’t know what I was doing”. There are probably even more that eat this kind of shit: “I thought she was you!”. Actions speak louder than words. PLEASE, have more dignity. Have more respect. Have more pride. And not for that faggot that went and tried to save his own ass, but for yourself.

Sometimes, people just don’t know just how much they are worth.

(via chumpsview)

May 28, 2010

I moved into my coop.
I think this post will be one that’s going to be all over the place. I haven’t blogged in a while - meaning a couple of days - but for some reason, I have a lot on my mind. It’s probably because of the couple … — *I moved into my coop.*

I think this post will be one that’s going to be all over the place. I haven’t blogged in a while - meaning a couple of days - but for some reason, I have a lot on my mind. It’s probably because of the couple of posts I’ve read just now or maybe I just have a lot of spare time after work to just sit in my new room and think about what I’m really doing with this life of mine…

I’m a little tired so I hope my messed up thoughts get across. I always seem to have a problem with getting people to understand me. Then again, that might be my own misconception - to constantly feel misunderstood and confused. I’m not a very good speaker and I am even worse at expressing myself through anything but art and action, and sometimes even my actions contradict each other. I’ve grown up to be a strange, wild child; I have a hard time understanding myself sometimes.

I’m pretty fucking ridiculous.

I tell people I don’t have expectations of them, that they don’t need to meet my standards - but I’m trying to force myself not to. In the end, I still hold those levels high. In the end, I still expect a bare minimum of meeting my standards. I lash out when my criteria aren’t met, so no matter how hard I try to limit myself from overriding people’s lives I still end up trying to shape them into the way I see them (or want to see them). How many people can stay after that?

But then again I think my way of thinking closely follows the way of the world. This corrupted, damned world. Every day people need to face standards forced upon them. Everyday you question what your reason for living is. Everyday life throws another fucking truck at you. You can’t succeed in life thinking you can just do whatever the hell you want - nothing works that way. There are quota you need to meet, rules you have to follow. I can’t justify my retarded way of thinking everything is based on accomplishments and cold, hard facts. But neither can the rest of the way society works. I know that I love people who can have nothing in their portfolio and I would still love them. That’s not to say I won’t worry, that’s not to say I won’t question.

I’ve never really been scared of death. That is, until I realized my greatest fear was to die unaccomplished. In our feeble world, with our insignificant lives, I live by the mantra that we need to make something of ourselves. We need to contribute to something greater than our useless existences. Even if it means investing in something as unpredictable and unstable as the future. I’m not scared of death, I’m scared of dying before I’ve gotten a chance to prove my worth.

Life isn’t proved by personalities or feeling. Our fucked up world functions on facts, lists, awards. It’s not even about talent and hard work anymore, you need skills, resumes, images, and money to back up your existence. You know those insane prodigies who hold the genius of a million artists? They don’t make it without their looks. They get their fifteen minutes of glory and fade back into oblivion. Superficiality wins over. Tell me, is that worth living for? Those fifteen minutes? I don’t understand how a world like ours that prides itself in glorifying talent can’t even give those prodigies a chance. Then what of the people that are simply dedicating their lives to work hard? To try and achieve that talent? What happens to the people that try their whole lives to prove their worth?

The truth is, it’s really up to them.

I think along the lines of the world’s system. But that doesn’t mean I think it’s alright. I think it’s fucked up. I believe that a system based on merit works, but I also believe a lot of people get lost and thrown away on the way.

I think our generation needs to be strong.

**We need to make a stand in this fucked up world.**

(via onmyowntwohands)

May 26, 2010

So I passed organic chemistry.
Even with a C- I was flipping ecstatic. I should have failed that class, I really should have. Considering I didn’t study as much as I should have. Although sometimes I think even if I had studies twice as hard,… — *So I passed organic chemistry.*

Even with a C- I was flipping ecstatic. I should have failed that class, I really should have. Considering I didn’t study as much as I should have. Although sometimes I think even if I had studies twice as hard, I would have still had a hard time. But considering I got a C+ in AP Chemistry, it was a miracle already to get a B in general chemistry. But Cam told me something that really made me think…

“I never thought I’d hear you settle for a C.”

Huh. She’s right. Half a year ago, I probably wouldn’t have. I would have rather thrown myself off a cliff than be okay with getting a C. I was so set on beating out everyone else, I never let myself stray from my goal path. I wonder what happened, exactly? Maybe it’s this atmostphere I’m in - all these geniuses left and right who are capable of everything humanly possible. Even the girl I hated for the past two years wasn’t satisfied until she got her straight A’s. Until she got her A in organic chemistry.

I’ll be honest. I’m a cocky, confident, spoiled, self-centered bitch. I think highly of myself. Where I am is at the top of the world, where I am is where everyone should want to be. Where I am is the best place on Earth.

Except here.

I feel very inadequate. Small, teeny, miniscule. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I feel like I have run out of self-esteem. I have nothing really amazing worth contributing to this over-achieving community. I feel like I can’t achieve my goals, as ambitious as they can be. I’ve lost myself. I’ve lost my edge and my competitive nature. Lost my will, lost my hope. Where have my dreams of saving the world gone?

I really need to step up my game.

I really want to beat this game called life.

happythings:

widesmile: avatardance: (via dirtylittlestylewhore)

May 22, 2010

I love spongebob.
I want to smile like him always, as goofy as his face is. Optimistic, hilarious, silly. It’s hard not to love watching the adventures of spongebob. But there’s something about him that annoys me sometimes. His happy smi… — *I love spongebob.*

I want to smile like him always, as goofy as his face is. Optimistic, hilarious, silly. It’s hard not to love watching the adventures of spongebob. But there’s something about him that annoys me sometimes. His happy smile, his blank stare. His stupidity.

Oh, I remember.

I think I hate stupid people. No, maybe I hate the ones that think they are smart, but are actually really retarded. There’s this stereotype that people that get into good, better, best schools are nerdy. They’re smart, so they must have no life. They spent all their high school days studying and they ended up with no social life. But, what about the people that attend the drop-out schools? They must be all social-life and no grades. That doesn’t mean they’re not smart. Oh no. Because *smart* people fuck up in high school and get into shitty schools, attempting for a mediocre degree. *Smart* people are geniuses who must be of higher standard because their in the worst school in the state. *Smart* people are beautiful people that don’t try, but have the ability to.

Don’t complain about being smart and just not trying, in the end, you’re still a fucking failure.

More and more people tell me they don’t want to go to the top tier universities. Why? Because students there *must* study all the time, twenty-four seven, and *absolutely* have no lives whatsoever. What the fuck? That’s fucking bullshit. Don’t blame your fuck ups on people that took an initiative on their lives. Don’t blame your mental illness on students that worked their asses off for what they wanted. Don’t assume that people who are smarter are less social. Don’t even think for a second life is all about getting fucked up. Drugs, alcohol, sex. Do you know anything else?!

You may have fucked up your life, but that’s not what the world is about. So get off your cocaine and get off your pot. Shut the fuck up, stop complaining, and do something with your pitiful existence.

Sorry, I think my period’s coming. Shit. So angry.

I wish I could be like Spongebob - oblivious to the morons of the world.

helloworldsmile:

**A Smile for my 948th Follower, awesomeee-ness**

May 21, 2010