Friday, October 12, 2012

I am Blogging.

Take notice.

OH HELLO THERE.

So I was doing this thing where I waited until I got my mission call before moving forward with my life in any way.  Because the thing came not one, but two whole weeks (14 days!) later than I expected it to.  So, when you are expecting life-altering news that will change the direction of your life and you wait an extra 2 weeks longer than you think it, will, you start waxing weird.  What is this thing called life?  How do people fill their time?  What things should I be doing right now?

The point is, Bahia Blanca, Argentina.

Doesn't just reading that make you want to smile and be me and go serve people for 18 months in Argentina?  Seriously, if I could've picked where I went, this would have been close.  (That sentence didn't end quite like you expected it to, did it?)


The other day Luc said to me, "Gigi, you are so weird.  Like, you're never normal."  I have told this story to various people in my life to see if their opinion would vary from Luc's.  It hasn't happened yet.

I bring this up because little Lucas and I had a bonding experience a couple weeks ago.  We drove to Utah to go see Adri and Marcus (who is a college boy now!) and we just had sibling bonding moments left and right.  Well, kind of. I mean, we did drive up together, and help Adri move, and go through a scary haunted circus thing, and see Grouplove in concert, and eat a billion pizza, and jump on a trampoline, and then on the way home we hit traffic.



And we got stuck next to bees.  Like a truck full of hives with nets around it all and bees.


We were just trying to pass through Arizona.  In one-billion-degree weather.  In my un-airconditioned car.  So we had the windows down and sooner or later ... you guessed it, A BEE FLEW IN MY CAR.  And landed on my leg.  And slowly walked down.  And I was screaming.  And laughing.  And freaking out.  And I told Luc not to hit it because I didn't want to make it mad.  So I just giggle-screamed as it crawled down my leg and slowly made it's way to the bottom of my foot and then it flew off and I had no clue where it was but THERE WAS A BEE IN MY CAR.

Eventually it flew out and all was right in the world.  Except that we were now driving in a billion degree weather with the windows rolled up.  We eventually inched past the semi full of bees and Luc even got out and jogged for a while.  He was keeping up with me pretty well.  And what's better than a picture of your brother jogging on the freeway?


Not much, that's what.

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Uplandia

Oh heeeeey, party people.  I am in Upland.  Did you know that?  Did I tell you?
Welp, I am.  And here's the part that I know I didn't tell you: I am here indefinitely.  As in, Stanford starts on the 24th, and I am not going to be there.  I have a year left of school - I didn't graduate, but I won't be going back.  Why?

And here's the part where I explain it:
You knew I was a Mormon, right?  And by this point in our country's history, I'm assuming that you know what a Mormon is (see Mitt Romney, the Book of Mormon musical, the bands Neon Trees or Imagine Dragons, the author of the Twilight books, and a bunch of other people/events that I can't currently think of) - but we're actually called the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  Did you know that members of this church go on missions?  They are largely service/proselytizing, and often times you go to a foreign country, perhaps learning a new language, and almost always it involves getting in over your head, helping people, and learning a lot about yourself.

I've decided to do one of these missions.  I will be serving for a year and a half, but I don't know where or when.  (I will find out VERY soon) And after I'm done, I'll go back and finish my last year at school.  I wanted to do it this way so that I could go back and have a year of school left before I have to start the job search and enter the real world.  Just a quick little year.

IN THE MEAN TIME
I'm in Upland, I got a job at tutoring agency, I am bugging Lucas approximately every possible moment, and I am playing the piano like its my job.  At least for now, that's what I'm doing.

So, I was going to wait until I knew where I was going to blog, but I missed you crazy people.  And by "you crazy people" I mean, I missed telling random stories to a faceless internet.

SO EXPECT MORE OF ME, I'M DONE WITH VACATION!

Meanwhile, Lucas will continue to do this as if I never moved in:


Monday, August 27, 2012

I have...

... a skype interview in approximately one hour.



You would hire me, right?

Friday, August 24, 2012

All-Write: A Gamboa Post

I made a mixed CD.  And I gave it the title "Mostly Upbeat/White People:  A MIXED CD, YO!"
And I was looking at my handwriting, and I thought that the way that I wrote the word "White" looked like the way my mom would write the word "White"


Is that a weird thing to think?  Probably.  But my mom has great writing.  Like, 1st grade teacher handwriting.  Except she does her a's with the extra thing at the top instead of plain and simple.  But somehow her handwriting is upbeat and clear and smiling at you.

I asked my Mom for a writing sample and she wrote a letter about what I am like.  It was cheesy and cute, and this is the edited version.  

Which got me to thinking about the handwriting styles in my family, and how they are so a representation of each of the people.  Por ejemplo:



Adri's handwriting stares back at you through cat-eyes, flirting with you and making you wish you were as stylish as her handwriting.  Adri's writing is the most feminine I think. 



Camille's handwriting is more practical than Adri or my Mom, but it's still got its own swagger.  It's so fitting that Camille sent me a to-do list because she is continuously making them.  In fact, just thinking about her handwriting makes me think of the erasable pen-system that she had all throughout high school for taking notes.  I also like the use of exclamation points to denote importance. 

I can't even look at my handwriting without seeing everyone else's.  Also, I have HANDS DOWN the sloppiest writing of the girls, and when I take the time to write really neatly, it comes out looking like my mom's writing.  I guess that says something about who taught me to write.


I was going to do the boys in my family too, but those ended up being too difficult to get a hold of.  But, well, there you go.

Thursday, August 23, 2012

You're a Winner!

The Winning Number were numbers 5 and 2!!!! .... Which means......


LENA - You win the first giveaway!  Boy howdy!

AMANDA- You win the second one!  All that keeping track of my pageviews paid off.


Email your address to me at GigiGamboa@gmail.com along with your choices in the things with options, and I will get right on that.  Although I will admit that I am moving in the near future and so it probably won't get sent out until after Labor Day.
Sorry!


And now let's have another picture:







Friday, August 17, 2012

Adventures in Chavez

Sometimes when I actually work at home instead of going to school to do work, I get really weird about the fact that I haven't left my house all day.  I would do really bad in solitary confinement.  However, I think Adri would do worse.  Just sayin'.

(Also, but not really related, this is a hashtag free zone.  Because there are fewer and fewer of those left on the internets.)

OK, but anyways.  I was feeling extra adventurous because I have done so very little exciting things this week.  And I went to Chavez.  AKA the Mexican grocery store that you have to drive pretty much extra far to get to, but that is probably a good thing because they have a PANADERIA SECTION.

I grew up on pan dulce.  Pan dulce is like my dad playing basketball with a bunch of his friends on Saturday mornings in the gym of our church and then on the way home there is what seems like an endless supply of fresh, warm, sweet pan dulce.  They had pan shaped like pigs and the pumpkin-filled empanadas that I never see anywhere and the classic kind.

FOR THOSE OF YOU NOT IN THE KNOW: Pan Dulce is literally spanish for sweet bread.  So a panaderia is like a Mexican bakery.

I bought two for myself (my roommate is gluten-free, possibly for the rest of her life, so I couldn't buy a lot because I would eat literally all of them.), but I quickly gobbled the first one up, and only before eating the second one did I think I should take a picture.  It is natural to want to document everything ever, right?  Especially food?

Oh, it reminds you of a turtle?  That's alright, it reminds almost everyone of a turtle.  

That was my breakfast yesterday morning. Better than wheaties, that's for sure.  The real point of this story was to say I bought 60 eggs.  No, that wasn't it!  That was just something that happened that I just told you about for no reason.  (I will be that lady who buys in bulk, probably forever.)

THE REAL point of this story is that all of the people spoke to me in Spanish!  Like I was one of them.  I mean, I halfway am, but all my life I was told that I look white.  And now I am refusing to believe them!  It was like, "Are you finding everything alright?" EXCEPT IN SPANISH.  (sidenote: I get asked this question 9/10 times that I go to the grocery store because I stand staring at everything I buy for like ten seconds before I put it in my basket like I am trying to see into its soul.  I mean, you should really try to get to know they things that you eat, no?) And then when I checked out, the guy was like "hola" and from there the whole conversation was in Spanish and I just about died from Mexican-ness.

Oh, what has my life come to?

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

10,000 Say What?

Big News.

BIG GIVEAWAY.  I don't think you're ready for this jelly.  No, but seriously, I don't think you are.  After much contemplation, I have decided to break this sucker up into two different giveaways.  Double the trouble, double the fun!  Just like that old comercial for wrigley's gum!  With the twins!

The first Giveaway Will Feature:

  • A MIXED CD in your choice of dancing music, chilling music, or music that makes you feel cool!
  • Gamboa COOKIES (they are chocolate chip in nature)!
  • an autographed picture of me!
  • a $10 GIFT certificate to target!
And the Second Giveaway Will Feature
  • a $25 GIFT certificate to your choice of Best Buy, Etsy, or Target!
  • The Incredibles STICKERS!
  • an autographed picture of me!
  • And a DRAWING of you made by me!!! (I can't draw)!


To enter
Comment on this post saying what your favorite post in the history of this blog is
That's it!  You are this close to winning something awesome!  What are you going to do about it?

I thought this day would never come, but HERE WE ARE.

Have a picture of Hugh Jackman to celebrate:


Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Loleeetz

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder.  I think that's true in this case.  In the very depths of my soul, I missed Lolita.  It's a funny thing, things you take for granted.  When they're gone they rock your world, but when they're there you just don't realize how good you have it.

This girl:

To this girl I would say, don't do that to me ever again.  I know we all get a little tired sometimes, but there are better ways of getting a break.  In the mean time, I promise to take better care of you. Starting with a car wash.  

What's that?  Did-did you say something? Did I hear you say - you wanted pictures?  I mean, okay, I guess. I could get behind that.  



Now let's all pretend that never happened.  ;)



Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Loosely Related

Surprise! I am blogging!

Today I took the bus home from school where I had been working/spending time outside of my house.  (Working from home starts to feel awfully prison-like when you have no car, but then I think any summer job starts to feel awfully prison-like).  Everyone on the bus got off at my stop, which always leaves me wondering about what a driver does with an empty bus.  I suppose the answer is that he keeps driving his normal route in his normal way, but I like to pretend that he dances across the bus and invites his friends to have a tea party with him on the bus or something to just completely abuse the bus driver authority.

A little woman who got off the bus with me was met by her husband waiting at the bus stop to walk home with her.  There was just something about it.  He was wearing socks with sandals and he took her backpack off her back and wore it for her.  And they met each other with huge smiles.

In other news, I had a dream last night that I was on some sort of reality show that took place at a camp where there were an equal number of boys and girls.  And every week one of the girls murdered one of the guys and whichever girl everyone thought did it had to go home.  We had this challenge where the girls had to kiss one of the guys, and this girl murdered the guy I kissed and I was really upset because I thought I was going to be sent home since he was the guy that I kissed.

Lastly, there are a lot of girls from my high school choir who are either recently married (including my beautiful best friend) or they are engaged.  It's like they put something in the water because the choir was small (about 26ish people half of which being girls) and 4-5 of the girls are married/engaged.

and those are my thoughts about love.

Picture:

Thursday, July 19, 2012

FINGA NAYYALS

For a class I took, we watched a lot of movies.  Specifically Urban films, which I suppose is a film that takes place in a city.  We were supposed to be analyzing the music (it was through the music department) and one of these movies was Spike Lee's "Do the Right Thing."  (I will eventually get to the point, bear (bare?) with me).

There's this scene, where Spike Lee is stopping from his pizza delivery job to get some lovin from his Puerto Rican girlfriend and it's blazing blazing hot outside and he takes a piece of ice and rubs it on her neck and says, "Thank God for the neck" and then takes the cube to her lips and is like "Thank God for lips" and wipes it on her thigh and says "Thank God for thighs" and then takes it to her kneecap and I started busting up laughing because among all the sexy body parts Spike Lee chose to bring up the kneecap??!!  And my class got to hear me laugh at something that's not supposed to be funny for about the billionth time.  But of course after that he thanked God for more private body parts (only one movie in the whole class had breasts in it, and I chose to bring it up on my blog), and my inappropriate laughter turned into awkward/nervous laughter because that is how I handle seeing other people's naked bodies and also I have the maturity of a 12 year old when it comes to those sorts of things.

The point of all of this is: Thank God for fingernails.  (Aren't you so glad I took forever to explain the context on that one?)



I spent an inordinately long time painting my fingernails last night.  And I'm not even done.  I would give you a tutorial, but I think you might just get the point if I say wait until the last coat is reaaaaaaalllly dry and use scotch tape and remove it immediately after you paint it.



I messed up about one thousand times, but it's really cool and architectural looking now that it's ish done.



And now, when I go to any of the three meetings I have tomorrow, my respective supervisors will not be wondering why I don't know enough about income tax in California, or why this excel graph looks exactly like the last one, because they will know that it is because I spent literally hours trying to get my fingernails to be "really cool and architectural looking" because working from home is apparently a terrible idea for me.

Which is to say, the work gets done, but only in between coats of fingernail polish.

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Some Things

I couldn't quite pinpoint a reason for why I've been silent for the last 10 days or so, but I could tell you it's a little bit due to the ways in which I try to soak up all of my feelings of being home while I am there, a little bit due to the fact that I had a delicious post scheduled regarding an activity I didn't end up doing, a little bit due to the fact that I was in a wedding and that just takes time and energy and is endlessly glorious, and a little bit due to the fact that I haven't taken any pictures in a while.

But I can warn you never to go into IKEA when you're not in an energized, good mood.

And I can tell you about the guy behind me at the store purchasing only KY jelly and a video game of some sort who was standing all too close to me and who "accidentally" walked into me when I was leaning over on my shopping cart to talk to my friend (aka, the butt of my yoga pants met the front of his whatever he was wearing) and how when he apologized I started to say it's okay but then realized it wasn't and just said It's ooooo......

And I can tell you that you shouldn't bake anything when you're the only person in your house because you will inevitably eat all of it and then hate yourself for having given up on running a mile every day for the last forever(but I'm starting up again!)

And I can tell you that life is seasons and that this is a season of staying at home a lot and wearing skirts and walking under the sun.  It'll be a short season.

A picture, because that's my rule?


Because I am queen of my apartment right now....

Monday, July 2, 2012

The Sun'll Come Out.....


Tomorrow will be spent
  • Doing laundry
  • Baking a pie or a cobbler or both
  • Sleeping in the Bed I slept in in high school 
  • Flying in a Plane 
  • Awkward Smiling at my Parents 
  • Applying shameful amounts of fake tanner and possibly lying out 
  • Reading 
  • Eating 
  • Getting my Eyebrows done? 
  • Lamenting the absence of all three of my brothers (Is it a coincidence that they all left the day before I got home?) 
  • Enjoying

Vamanos a la playa, playa!

Thursday, June 28, 2012

To Borrow a Cooking Term

My dears, I am done with all negativity today.  Do you ever look at yourself and realize you don't like the things that you spend so much time and energy thinking about?  I am doing an over-due spring cleaning of all the things I worry about, because they are not important.

And I am replacing myself with new things that make me happy.  It seems to me that we people are always wanting of something.  Wanting more or wanting something new or wanting to feel a certain way, etc. and so forth.  And wanting is good so far as it keeps you out of complacency, but bad so far as it keeps you out of contentment.

This last weekend, I watched my roommate cook and bake her cares away.  And I watched her do it all with a tremendous smile, because cooking and baking just simply have that effect on her.

And then I just watched her marinate in all those good feelings because she was doing something she loved.  She marinated all weekend long.

THAT is what I need to do.  Marinate in the things I love.

I am for the next while, car-less, and I think this is the perfect opportunity for me to try and do that.  Because instead of feeling stuck and bored, I want to feel like this is a new opportunity for me to enjoy the world in a new way.


Ya digg?

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Some Thoughts on Today

I've been exercising more often lately, which, to say I had been exercising with any degree of constancy would, by nature of how I am usually a lazy-girl, mean I am exercising more often.  I mention my exercising because I realize that I had forgotten about endorphin's, and how after I am done working out I want to do more and more things.  Like a surge of productivity, those endorphin's.

Also, I like the way that when I take off all my clothes after the exercising and before the showering, there are patches of skin across my body that are all splotchy and red and sweaty.  It is like a road map of blood flow, and I am the united states and my veins are interstate highways.  Don't credit it me for that one, because I'm pretty sure I got it from that one episode of the Magic School Bus where the bus shrinks and the class goes in that one dude's body. (Except that I actually think that was two episodes of the magic school bus.)

My brain does this thing when I am running, where it struggles to think about anything else besides how much I hate running.  I find that the longer I can get my brain to forget to think about it, the longer I can run before I want to walk.  Unrelated (but slightly), Jillian Michaels is such an enchanting she-devil.



Isn't the Summertime Grand?

I don't think they appreciate the summertime at my new job.  They are like deadlines, deadlines, work, training.  And I am listening, but not all the way, because in the months of June through, oh, mid-September, my brain is at least 20% thinking about sun-tans and beaches and books and not having any cares in the world at any moment.  I'd like to keep it that way, you know?


And the living is easy, my friends.

Monday, June 25, 2012

This Summer

Oh, boy oh boy do I have plans for this summer.

I grew up with great summers.  It seemed like there wasn't anything I had to do in the summer, and the days were long and the popsicles were plentiful.  Every year my Mom would take us to the library at the beginning of the summer and we would pick out books.  So many books!  And so leisure reading is a summer time thing for me.

This year, I want to get a lot out of my summer.  I hate that most days when I am bored I just plop down in front of the tv or in front of the computer and get sucked into this zone of mindlessness.  My goal for this summer is to be able to entertain myself.  To be able to be unplugged and to still enjoy myself.  So here are the things I want to do this summer, should time and funds allow:


  • run 100 miles in 100 days (I have already started!)
  • blog a lot
  • read CS Lewis
  • read at least 2 biographies
  • play the piano a lot
  • write a lot
  • practice my spanish
  • go to the beach
  • get a good tan
  • get a lot of sleep
  • make new friends
  • go new places
I'm really excited to start going through my list.  Oh and DEFINITELY ask me about my 100 miles in 100 days.  I want to be held accountable for that one.  


The fun has already begun, my friends.  

Friday, June 22, 2012

Talk About This and That

We're not going to talk about the fact that my car died again on my drive back to Stanford.  And how Lolita might be dead forever.

We are going to talk about how the tow truck man was talking to another tow truck man, but then reprimanded him for using foul language because there was a lady in the car, and how he opened the door for me.  Gentleman do exist, they are just older than my father.



We're not going to talk about how much money I spent to get a plane ticket back to San Jose or about how I sat down on the plane and just cried.  Just cried and cried and cried and avoided eye contact with anyone and everyone.  Or about how I'm a dummy and booked the shuttle for the next day.

We are going to talk about the fact that a homeless man gave me his bus pass for less than the price of a ticket and then told me all about his deceased wife.  And then we'll discuss how the bus driver and I got to be really good friends on account of the fact that I had been on his bus for about an hour by the time I got off.  And we are going to talk about how good it felt to come home and shower and eat cereal and just lay in my bed until I fell asleep, feeling for the first time in this entire day that I was where I was supposed to be.

And then, I'll tell you that that was a day of sadness and today is a day of happiness, and that there are always a billion things good in my life.  Like the fact that even though my car blew up, I made it safely to the side of the road.  And that I was only an hour from home and my hero-dad raced over to save me.  And that smart phones make it so that when you book a shuttle for the wrong day, you can figure out how to cheaply get back home in approximately one minute - perfect timing for catching the bus you need.  This summer is going to be good, my friends.

If nothing else ever, this summer is going to be good.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Good Enough For Now

Oh I have so much to tell you, and so very little time in which to tell you about it.  But until I do, let me leave you with a few pictures





and tell you that I posted over at my sister's blog here.


Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Questions

Sometimes (let's face it, it's quite often), I walk into a room or reach into my purse, or turn on my computer, and I can't remember why.  My mind goes a little blank, and I think
What am I doing?
This question haunts me.  Every time I take notes in a class that I have absolutely no interest in, I hear it like a whisper in an empty room.  When I find myself laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, too lazy to put on a pair of pants and face the world, it pops into my head.
      What am I doing?



Usually, I let the answer be that I am just doing what needs to be done.  That there will be a reason if I keep going.  These four years are not the end all be all like I thought they would be.  And that is good.  But they are important.  I will want to remember them for a long time.  Plus, there are all sorts of good things going on.

Sometimes I have to stop and remind myself what I decided.  I want to fill my life with love.  Am I doing that?  Most likely, no.  Most likely if I am  feeling so lost and negative, I am being the opposite of love, which is selfish.

I don't know what I'm doing, quite honestly.  But maybe that doesn't matter.


How Embarrassing

Anecdote time, y'all!

One Saturday night, I went to the grocery store and I ran into no less than 7 people from church that I know, who all know each other, all at the same time.  At the time I had only feminine care products in my basket.  I was not embarrassed.



One Saturday night, driving home from the grocery store, there were some road flares and a cop in the middle of the street and I stopped because everyone in front of me was doing it.  When I got there, the police-man was cayuute.  I mean he was probably a 7/8 out of uniform, but in uniform he was a 9.  And when he waived me forward, I stalled my car hard, and it was totally because he had distracted me with his polices charm.  I started my car again and looked at him to realize that he was sort of half-laughing at me and I just about died.

I do not not not get embarrassed easily.  I do stupid/awkward things all the time.  It is just part of my personality.  Which is why this moment sticks out in my head.  I feel like I was the pinnacle of a young girl getting flustered over a pretty face and the cliche of it all just made me want to bury myself.

But, as embarrassed as I was, I am over it now.  I have learned that most embarrassing moments are moments that other people think are funny for about two minutes, and then promptly forget.


Saturday, June 2, 2012

9,000 is Very Close to 10,000

Another thousand pageviews, another giveaway hint.  YOU KNOW WHAT's UP!


People of the world, I love orange juice.  That was ir-elephant.  I mean irrelevant.  I am in one of those good moods where everything is awesome for no particular reason and you think that maybe orange juice reacts with your brain like unto uppers.  That would be really cool.

OKAY HERE IS MY HINT:
You have options here my dudes.

Ok that hint was super duper lame, but looking at the last hint, I realized that I pretty much hinted at everything there is to be hinted at.

Also, Saturday blogging, what is this, Cuba?  I really don't know what's going on in my noggin.  Can I tell you a story of an old man who was giving out new testaments on campus and he looked really worried when I didn't want his partial-Bible and then when I told him I already had one, he nodded and I felt like I was his granddaughter and that he had approved of all of my life choices in one single nod?

Have a picture of me eating chocolate mouse in Italy when I was 16:


Thursday, May 31, 2012

Coming Clean

Here's the deal.  I don't like not telling you things, internet.  Because I told you when I was depressed and I told you when I failed midterms and I told you when I cried in my car all by myself listening to Coldplay.  So here it is, a big pile of throw-up of all the things I haven't been telling you.

I had a cancer scare (My first instinct was to capitalize cancer.  Ew.).  I mean, not really.  I have this enlarged lymph node in my neck.  When I went to the doctor they were like, oh that could be lymphoma.  I was like, it's not lymphoma, I've had it for about a year now, it's not lymphoma otherwise I would feel more cancerous than I currently do.  So one Cat Scan with intravenous stuff that makes you feel like you have to pee, two utra-sounds on my neck, like 7 blood samples, one out-patient procedure (biopsy), and five months later, I am now officially cancer-free.  And life returns to - oh wait this had no impact on my life except for being part of the reason I've made the trek home so often lately.  And now I have a lovely scar on my neck that sometimes really freaks me out. because I'm squeamish. 


Check.


Oh, I got a retail job part time.  I have never had a job like this before, and I never plan to do it again.  it's kind of a thing I want to do though, is have an entry-level, just-above-minimum-wage job.   Because I am old-fashioned, and I want to remember why I'm getting an education that frequently breaks my back.  And I always think of myself as one of humble beginnings and I can't take that too seriously if my first job was a cushy office deal that was handed to me.  Which it was, but now I know what actual humble beginnings are like just a teeeeeeny bit more.  (As I write this I have a look of disgust on my face because I have been blessed with so much and I sound redonkulous.)

Check.

I got a cold.  Not very exciting, but it's part of the reason why I haven't blogged.  I feel pretty normal as of today, but I've been in a fog since Saturday.

Check.

And lastly, I gave myself a bad bang cut last week.  There are two rules to a good self-bang cut.  1.  I have to think that I need a bang cut for at least a week before I do it.  and 2.  I can't be in a rush when I do it.  I think I broke both of the rules, and wait a minute YOU DON'T CARE.

Check.

Haha.  This whole blogging thing is great.  You don't care at all.  Maybe about the cancer thing you do, but that's probably the one that I cared about the least.

Well.  What do you do?


Picture?

17 chins at midnight at the library last night.  I might be failing all my classes.  I might be lacking any desire to change that.  These are just mights, only time will tell. 

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Superlative


"The world tells you that to be more confident you have to be more than others in some way - that you need to have more things, more talent, more intelligence, more popularity.  This is simply not true.  That is counterfeit confidence." 



College for me, if it had to be one life lesson, is that I am not the best at anything.  Absolutely nothing.  There is not a thing that I have done that someone else hasn't done better.  And that is good too.  I used to think I deserved to be the best at something.  That I earned it somehow.  That there was something in me that was inherently better.  I used to take pride in being the smartest person in a room.  Or in being the tallest.  Or having the best hair.  Or in having written the best paper.  Or figured something out the fastest.  Or in having the ability to shove the most information into my brain, only to let it all spill back out in a test.

I haven't fully learned the lesson.  Part of me still likes it when I find myself the -est in a room.  But my freshman year, I learned quickly, that I could try really hard and still not be the best.  I was not the nicest, the smartest, the hardest working, the most unique, and at first it was okay, then it was discouraging, and then I hated it.  But over time, I am trying to learn, that not being the best in the room does not mean that I am not good.  Standing next to a model in a picture doesn't make me uglier. In fact, standing next to happy people usually just makes me happier.


Oh there are so many things I am bad at.  There are also a very few little things I am not terrible at, and I'm going to try and do those things over and over again until I die.  And I am going to try and add more things to that tiny little list of things.




Oh to be college.



Monday, May 21, 2012

$50 on 5

Oh, I owe you a few stories, and maybe an explanation.  There are just so many emotions that this cold heart of mine does not want to relive.

I keep going home.  In the seven weeks that have occurred in this quarter, I have gone home twice.  That's a total of 24 hours of driving.  Just me behind the wheel, driving driving driving.  Which is probably why I haven't been doing anything as often as I'd like.  I'm behind in school, in blogging, and I think today I just finally caught up on all my sleep.  So here we go, me attempting to get back into blogging.  I think I'm afraid that I'm no good at it anymore.  Not that I was great to begin with, but that homeless guy/little girl I babysit post was one of my favorites of all time.  That was two trips home ago.



The last time I went home, I left for my drive at like 740 PM.  Except at the gas station before I left, I locked my keys in my car.  Yes, my only key to my car, trapped right inside my car, visible.  I had no phone, only an ATM card that I had grabbed in order to pay for my gas.  So I ran into the gas station and borrowed the cell phone of the man working there to call triple A, only they couldn't find my membership record so then I called my dad so that he could drop everything and take care of it remotely for me.  (I have a really outstanding father by the way).

AAA didn't get there until just after 9.  So in the mean time, I had so, so, so much time to talk to the man working at the gas station and to keep myself from crying because it had already been a long day and I just wanted to be home already, and I don't handle these things well, as it turns out.  I can't remember his name, mostly because I never quite pronounced it right.
But the man was from Nepal.  And in Nepal, he had gotten his college degree in Economics and then after graduating, he got a visa to come to the United States, and without thinking twice, he and his wife and child moved to this here US of A.  And when he got here, he tried to take some college courses and some English languages courses, but he had to make ends meet, and he took a job at ARCO to get some money and to help his English.

This man told me that he knew all of his numbers very well.  After 5 years of living here, his son had near perfect English, but he and his wife still struggled.  And when he got to this job, he learned that the only thing that people would say to him was '$30 on 4" and "45 on 7 please."  No one ever said more than that.

I would have cried for that man, except that by the time 8:45 rolled around he started asking if I had a boyfriend and if I was on facebook and if I liked to go out to the clubs.  It got weird fast, and I made excuses to go clean my windshield.  But still, I had to think about him.  I don't realize sometimes, that I am literally living a dream.  I am a Stanford student with a bright future and I'm studying Econ, a topic that just seems right sometimes.  In fact not only am I living a dream, but when I was in high school, this was my dream.  Only now I have new dreams.  Too many dreams that don't quite meld together very nicely.

I think my point, or my realization, was that dreaming is good, but living is more important.  Or maybe that happiness is not going to happen all of the sudden if a dream comes true.  Life is not a waiting game til the next thing you want happens.  Every moment is not a stepping stone, it is a time, right now.  Today is a day; 24 hours where I can decide to live a happy life.  And there is so much to be happy about.



__________________________________________________________________________________

P.S. Look for me on my sister's blog.  I will be posting there ish-regularly and if I'm not there, than you can just admire how much cuter her blog is than mine.  No, but seriously, her blog is so cool.

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

An Update

I didn't much like my last post.  For the first post I had in over a week, it wasn't much of anything good.  I don't like to be so whiny when i first come back.  It's like if you haven't seen someone in a long time and the first thing you do when you see them is get mad at them for not spending time with you in a long time.  You should reward them first for visiting you because secretly you are training all the people you like to be horribly addicted to your presence. 

Now that I have revealed my sociopath roots, it's time for a picture show of what I've been doing or seeing or experiencing or whatever in the last couple of weeks that I haven't blogged already.  And here's where the words end because I want you to experience some mystery, because a TA told me once that mystery is the spice of life, although I disagree. Ok enough is enough.


Monday, May 14, 2012

Sweet

My little brother just turned 16.  Coincidentally, on Saturday I wore the same shirt that I wore to my 16th birthday party.  It fits me the same now as it did then (it vaguely looks like a maternity shirt).



Thinking about my 16 year old self makes me mostly realize how much less I had to worry about, but at the same time, how I have probably about the same worry level now as I did then.  So probably in 5 years when I think about my college days I will wish that I had reveled in how little I had to worry about.

But 16 year old me knew what she wanted.
She wanted a Stanford education, and she wanted people to not think she was little or that nothing great would come from her.
21 year old me is all too indecisive
One day she thinks she wants this and the next day she thinks she wants another thing and the next day she is driving home because she wants to quit school and live at home now.  And then when the weekend is over she goes back to school and fails a couple midterms.  Well, in her head it felt like she failed.

This third-person thing is getting creepy.

That is all.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Listen

The following was written yesterday in a bought of stupidity, and is yours to enjoy here.

I've been so unable to write today. I wrote about half a not-disgusting blog post and then i got struck by writer's block. Everything was coming out wrong. Nothing was insightful or good.

And nothing is coming here either. Or on the cover letter i was supposed to write. My mind is empty of anything worth recording. I wonder why. 

I think maybe i am trying to record the wrong things. Actually, i don't.  I can tell I'm at the edge of a few great things.  Teetering there.  Is it that I'm afraid? I don't think so. 

I think I'm just supposed to do more action.  Maybe. Maybe I'm supposed to go. and not think.
Maybe just see and feel and not use words.  Act. Dance. Listen.  There it is.  I'm supposed to listen.
What's being said?


And since we're on the subject of listening.


Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Melt my Heart

I had the opposite of that moment I talked about the other day.  where everything felt right.  Instead, everything felt wrong.  I was walking through downtown Palo Alto which is a bizarre place.  It just seems to want so badly to not be  Palo Alto, but it is.  As a drunken man stumbled past me, I felt the seed of anxiety get planted somewhere deep in the pit of my stomach.  The opposite of awesome for me is anxious.  It is the worst emotion I can think of.
Anyways, I was almost back to my car, when a homeless man and I made eye contact.  Do you ever step on a grape when you're barefoot and halfway through you realize what you're doing, but at this point you can't help it and your doomed to have a smushed grape on your floor/foot?  Or you're driving sort of absent-mindedly and you realize the light is yellow, but you don't want to slam on your breaks so you go through, but as soon as your car has passed that threshold of the crosswalk line the light turns red and before you know it, you've broken the law?  As I made eye contact with this man, I realized I had somehow done wrong.  He looked into my eyes and he hated me.  I could have anticipated the words if I hadn't been hoping they wouldn't be said, but they came out of his mouth anyways, a loud, "F**k you."


1.  I think I look like a white trash Mom in this pic.  2.  This pic gets somewhat relevant, I promise. 

I spent Friday night babysitting, which is like paying me to eat cookies.  Literally, I was being paid to eat their food.  And watch their 3 1/2 year old little girl.  I'm not always the best with little girls, but in general little boys love me.  I just have more practice with them, I suppose. 
But we bonded, mostly over our knowledge of Disney princesses (girl was showing me up - she could differentiate between Flora Fauna and Merryweather from Sleeping Beauty) and our mutual enjoyment of dancing in the middle of living rooms to Vampire Weekend songs. 
An hour into it, she kept accidentally calling me Mama.  Which I suppose, meant she identified with me, liked my company, and saw me as an authority figure.  Two hours into it, she stopped playing, stared at me, and said, "I'm so glad to spend time with you."  It was very cute, and as one who does not spend much time in affectionate environments, it was sort of a surprise.  About three hours after she had met me, this little girl stopped again to tell me she loved me.  I hesitated for about half a second before I told her I loved her too. 


I am, in general, very stingy with giving my emotions out to others.  It takes me more than three hours to love someone, and much longer than that to tell them about it.  Negative emotions, which I am probably (wrongly) more liberal with, still take me a bit of time to develop.  I have never hated someone with one glance, which is probably a good thing, but I still think there's something to letting yourself feel.  I recently told me roommate that I had never cried over a boy.  She thought that was really weird.  Which I suppose it is.  I am more ready to give away my kisses than I am to give away my feelings
But in the moment, I realized that I love that little girl.  which says a lot to me about the ability of children to open hearts. 


I think I made all my points.  Gosh, I wish I were better at tying bows at the end of my posts, but I'm just going to leave you with that. 

Friday, April 20, 2012

Long Overdue

It's been a while, my friends.

And back, by popular demand(not), is a post where all the little strings of my thread in my brain come together - not to become some sort of fabric or item of clothing, but a giant ball of knots that only Maniac Magee himself could untangle (side note:  that book is still awesome, and you should reread it as an adult, unless you are a child in which case, i wasn't aware children read my blog.  actually I wasn't aware much of anyone read my blog.  except wonderful people.  if you are still reading at this point, i can say with 100% surety that you are a wonderful person).

Yesterday I walked home around 1:00 pm and just about everything about the walk wanted to be blogged.  But they were all different things.

There was the way that when you tilt your face towards the sun and there is a gentle breeze and life seems perfect that you can let the world be perfect in that moment.  There are a lot of moments like that in life, where you just feel good and everything feels right.  They are the tender mercies that I've heard about.

Also, right after that happened, this guy gave me this look like what the crack in the jack are you wearing slash I think you might be from outer space slash your hair looks nice.  1-2 of those things might not have been communicated in his look.  Then I realized that most of the time, I am a spectacle.  Coral pants and shirt that can only be described as ugly, but in a cool way and sunglasses.  then I realized that what is a spectacle without spectators.  And I gained new-found respect for you, my dear blogger-dom. 

I was thinking about the spectacle/spectator relationship as I found an empty classroom last night and danced in it with complete fear that someone would walk in on me for about half an hour.  Then I doodled on the chalkboard for another half hour.  It was largely productive and largely unproductive simultaneously.  I took a picture before I erased it all:


Betsy the elephant is probably the best friend I've had for the longest in my life.  We're going on like 8 years of best-friendship now.  That's pretty significant.  And sad.


Also, yesterday I dropped a class. My photography class.  Because going to that class feels a little bit like standing naked in front of the person you like's parents/the casting agent for skinny-model-agency/Adam Levine.  (Sorry, I was just watching the voice.)  Which is to say that just because I have no talent or experience in photography doesn't mean that you should completely disregard all of my work and make me feel like a waste of time.  It's not actually that bad, but it isn't exactly the supportive environment I had hoped for.

You know what they say about how to get to Carnegie Hall though?  Practice.  By which I mean, I am not giving up on photography, I am just giving up on that class.  But also, I mean, I have already sung in Carnegie Hall in my life.  This is not a joke, that actually happened.  This is a picture of me right around the time of that performance:

This photo could have been taken anywhere, but will you believe me when I say it was backstage in Carnegie Hall? Also, at least one of those girls looks really pretty.  And usually I ask permission before I post photos of my friends on my blog, because it's on the internet, but this picture is already on the internet, so I didn't ask.  Sorry Britt!  Love you!

This is now nearing that point where I've said most of the things that I can remember that I wanted to say and now there is not much more of a point to writing.  That's kind of the definition of my blog though.  

Yeah, man.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Dancing in the Moonlight

Well actually, sunlight.

One of my favorite pastimes, if I am in the mood for it, is to celebrate coming home with dance.  The people who live in my house are mostly gone during the day, and this quarter I find myself coming home really early - like 130.

And when it happens, I like to open all the blinds and put in my headphones and dance around the place in as weird a manner as I possibly can.  It does wonders for my outlook on the world.

In no particular order, the songs which best foster weird dancing.  Like you don't even know how weird I'm talking.

Tokyo by Imagine Dragons.  My dancing is weirder, I promise.

New In Town by Little Boots.  Warning, this video is weird and full of city gritty-ness.  If you watch it, you'll understand.

Rill Rill by Sleigh Bells - Seriously, I just wonder what your boyfriend thinks about your braces.

Tongue Tied by Grouplove I'm realizing that all of these music videos are weird because these are weird songs.  All the better to dance to, my dear.

All I Need by AWOLNATION.  This is not an official music video because such a video does not exist, but it's pretty good.


And there you have it folks, dance the afternoon away.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

I Want a Perfect Body

And I want a perfect soul.



If you really love something, then you treat well, I think.  I've heard that somewhere at least.  It sounds true enough to me, anyways.  Let's for a moment, except this as truth.
I've been thinking about how I treat my body.  Not very well.  I must not love it.  I think I should love it.  It's a gift.  It allows me to do anything.  It allows me to feel, and touch is my favorite of the senses.
I torture it sometimes.

When I wake up in the morning, I pick out an outfit and go into the bathroom.  I take off every scrap of clothes that I wore to sleep and do a full evaluation.  I shudder at the fullness of my hips and  the lumps on my thighs.  I suck in my stomach and try to press it in with my hands.  I begin the process of putting on my clothes.  I contort and twist my body into fitting into whatever items I have picked out.  Sometimes I wear sausage-casing-esque "shapewear" in order to make the bulges look smoother.  They're fine at first, but after hours of wear, my body begs to be freed.

Once I'm dressed, I begin the process of plastering colors on my face.  Mascara, eyeliner, foundation, powder, bronzer, eye shadow, sometimes blush and lip gloss.  When I was 13 my dad noted that mascara was Spanish for mask.  I think about that sometimes.

I fill it with junk.  Or what's worse, I eat raw vegetables for about 8 hours until my withdrawal-shaken body lashes out and I then eat way too much of whatever it begs for.  Usually sugar.  Sometimes potatoes.  My body has weird cravings for potato products lately.  After I do that, I think about how weak I am.  I am filled with regret.  I drove my body to want this, but yet I look at it so disapprovingly.

This is not the peak of my body mistreatment.  In high school, hardly a day went by where I didn't skip meals.  Being hungry and then overly full seemed to be the regular.  And eating in front of people was always a struggle.  I went through a period of time where after binging, I would take laxatives in order to try and erase all the bad I just ate.  But then my body would just feel as sad as my mind did.

I don't always feed it so poorly.  But rarely do I let it move the way I should.  For most of my life exercising was admitting that my body was disgusting.  It was like saying - hey I am fat so I need to go to the gym.  Every invitation to do physical activity was perceived as a slight on my physical appearance.  And I grew to dislike it.  So, so much.

When people didn't like me, usually I blamed my body.  Let me clarify.  When boys didn't like me, I blamed my body.  I told myself that if I wore clothes that had a size with only one digit they would all like me.  That what separated me from the girls who had boys chasing them down was the number on the scale - and I hated my body all the more for it.  And that lead me to treat it worse.

At night, when I go to take a shower, I do a repeat of the morning's body check.  I stick out my belly to see how far it will go.  I get mad at my wrists and ankles and calves and shoulders and knees and thighs and cheeks for not having the decency to be small and feminine.

I'm not going to censor like I usually do and not post this.  Usually when I mention how I actually feel about my body, I am met with half-hearted attempts at telling me that I am actually beautiful and that I should own my body and that here's how I can be healthier and that my body is divine.  Sure, maybe all of those things are true.  But sometimes, its all I can do to not hate my body.  To simply just know that it is the way it is and not be mad at it.

Monday, April 16, 2012

Rolling with the Punches, Etc.

This weekend Camille-ionaire came to visit.  It was fun!  We went shopping and we attempted to get some work done and we ate yummy foods.  Come visit again soon Camille!

As a result, I got almost no homeworks done.  So much so that on Sunday night I still had practically an entire assignment due the next morning at 9 AM.  Yum!  I am terrible.  Not only did I not do it, but I kept finding every excuse not to do it, because I knew it would only take me about 2 hours of actual effort to finish.  I called home, I made soup, I took a bath, I sen an email to our property manager about some repairs that need to be done.  

And then I had done almost all of it except the last few problems, I was supposed to meet with a friend to check answers and THE UNIVERSE THREW ME A CURVEBALL. I got to my friends place, and my phone exploded.  Which is code for it would only show the LG screen and nothing else regardless of how many times I took the battery out of the back.  But I am, at this point in my life, used to the technologies failing, because I buy cheap things because I am cheap and then they break.  Plus I overuse them.  I just went home, and wrote an email and me and my friend went over everything via gchat.  gchat is the future yo!

Anywhoozzle, at 2 AM when I finally finished this hw and went to sleep, I couldn't fall asleep.  I did that thing where knowing that I have not very many hours to sleep makes me anxious and unable to sleep very well.  But right as all seemed devastation, my phone woke up like it was Sow White/Sleeping Beauty being kissed by Prince frikkin Charming.  And I still couldn't sleep, but now I had a way to wake up in the morning.  And I wake up I did, and with a raging head ache at that.  

I imagine the headache that I had to be something like being hungover.  Because the sun, it hurt my head.  The sounds of the bus squeaking, they hurt my head.  The act of standing up really quickly, it gave me a headache.  Then I remembered that dehydration causes hangover headaches, so before class I quickly drank two water bottles full of water. And the professor decided that today we would get no 5 min break to use the bathroom and when class was over I practically trampled the class to get to the bathroom.  

And then today I went home and slept.  I sleeeeeeeeept.  It was one of those naps where I woke up and suddenly everything was right in my world.  Birds were chirping, flowers were blooming, and I was eating yogurt.  

Before Napping:

After:

My attempts to hide my lumpy parts are becoming increasingly obvious.  


My point here is:  I believe that the best days are the days that go up down and left and right.  They are the days that you remember.  They are the days where you learn what color the little rocks that make up your sand are.  And more than that, I believe in the power of a good nap to change your world.   


Yogurt.  

Monday, April 9, 2012

Ode to a Purse

I bought this purse the other day.  


I think it's actually an overnight bag - it's HUGE.

I was at the Ross cruisin and buying a pillow and trying on clothes to (mostly) not buy when I saw this bag.  And I stared a it for a good minute and a half.  It called to me. I have never had something beg to be bought like that before.  I stared and stared and stared and it was like the purse was trying to persuade me and I was thinking of all the reasons why I should not dish out $25 for this sucker.

I put it away and walked away quickly, because I knew if I looked back I would be a goner.  But the wheels of thought in my brainsicle kept turning.  Think of where you could go with that little beauty.  You could take her to the beach and she could fit your towel and spare clothes and a blanket to lie on and even lunch to eat and a textbook to study from.  And your camera.  Or you could take her to San Francisco and finally see that exhibit at SFMoMA that you've been dying to see and then after being inspired you could eat a sack lunch and wander around the city and take pictures.  And then there's so much of San Jose that you haven't seen and you could probably even make it to Sacramento because you should really visit the capital of the state you live in at some point in your college life....

The possibilities, they were endless.  The purse, she longed for travel and excitement and who was I to deny her her life dreams.  I mean, if I didn't buy her and deem her my Mary Poppins bag of never ending tricks and fun, then what would become of her?

But all of this I suppressed and I got in line and didn't buy her.  And then as I was a person away from being at the front of the line, something overcame me and I left my cart and walked over to the purses and picked her up and bought her.  It was terrible and wonderful simultaneously.  I am afraid I won't get to fully utilize her this quarter so I decided to make her my every day bag so that each time I go to school I have a chance for adventure.  And the ability to bring two meals with me.

I need a job.  

I mean, oh this purse.  She makes me look so cool.

That's a terrible photo.

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Gimme All Your Pageviews!

My dear friends, it is that time again.

Where all my Android users at?  Did you get Instagram today?  I sure did.  And I feel like I joined a giant cult where everyone loves it and I am like, "wait I don't get it" and they are like, "just wait you will be addicted and it will be awesome."
Instagram was really smart about it though.  I bet they've had the app ready for Android for like an entire year but they wanted  to wait it out until a time where there was not very much insta-hype for their insta-app and then all the sudden KABLAMOOOO - you are hit with a billion thousand more instagram users and they have instant-insta-hype.

So this is me copying the Insta-model of hype-business.  Just when my blog was getting boring and boring, I am creating hype to make you all like, "OMG this is the best blog that no one's heard of that I've ever heard of."  Because it's time for your thousand-page-viewerly GIVEAWAY HINT.

Do you feel the anticipation rising, my dears?  We are only a hop skip and a jump away from 10,000 pageviews!  And as the little number at the bottom of this blog gets better, the hints get better.  Except that only applies from here on out.  Ok, without further ado...

Part of the giveaway will be personalized for the winner, part will be incredible, part will be delicious, part will be silly and mayhaps partially annoying to the winner, and the big part will be kind of a universal gift.  And of course, I will not be giving anything away that I wouldn't love to have myself.  


So now that that's over, I bet you will be staying up late at night wondering what you could possibly possibly win. I've been thinking about doing some smaller prizes too so that there's not just one winner.  What do you think?

By now you should know about my almost strict every-post-should-have-a-picture rule, so here we go, the photo that was my inaugural instagram photo:


I may or may not have an obsession with this color despite the fact that it is oh so clearly out of my season.  My mother taught me that I'm a winter - but haven't the rules of fashion changed?  And also, these are pants and a glass and shoes so they are not close to my face so that makes it okay?


Either way.  THIS IS HAPPENING YOU GUYS.

Sunday, April 1, 2012

Quiet

Things have been awfully quiet around this blog.  I've been busy with studying for finals, taking said finals and writing a paper and then going home.

Oh, and then once I got home for spring break, within hours I had convinced my oldest sister to drive down to California with her two little children to spring break with us. or really to spring break with me while the rest of the family had to continue with their normal people lives.  

I loved having Adri home.  We went to Disneyland, we lazily watched television, we went to the targets and the thrift stores, and we bugged our little brothers.  Meanwhile her children were fed candy after candy after candy and I chased them around like a madwoman because they are so stinking cute and they grow faster than dandelions in your front yard.  Also, I may be addicted to toaster strudel.  

I got really caught up in it all.  There was so so so much noise all the time.  It was glorious, it was like growing up in my parents house again.  I was actually left home alone for a couple of hours one day with only the zoo of animals we keep and my sleeping grandmother to keep me company and the quiet was absolutely deafening.  I actually got scared by that thing that we have in or house that sporadically sprays stuff that smells good.  You know you've seen the commercials.  

I have come to learn this week though, that when it comes to little kids (they are hardly babies anymore), all bets are off for me.  I mostly mean that I will do anything for those little suckers, but I also mean that I get sick really easily around them.  I think they expose me to about 17,846,921 new germs a day which I willingly absorb in the form of wet kisses and having my nose "eaten" until I beg for it back.  Which means that today, I am le sick.    (Also possibly to blame: Disneyland).  

I feel seriously sickly.  Like I am easily weak and my body feels achy and stiff and I keep getting the chills despite the fact that I have the space heater on and I keep wrapping myself in blankets.  Swallowing feels like shoving knives down my throat, and I think I have a fever.  My point in all this complaining is that whereas three days ago I wondered what I would do when left in the lonely quiet of my school-home, now I wish I could have that sort of quiet.  

My violin-practicing housemate had been subletting his place to a seriously quiet and sweet girl and now he is le back in all his violin-practicing glory.  Meanwhile, my neighbor to the back (slash his place goes directly over my bedroom) seems to be hosting some sort of boys night which involves what I'm assuming are video games making motorcycle noises on the tv that backs up to my bedroom, and jumping up in down every few minutes in the room that is above me.  What I wouldn't give to be trapped at home with only eight fairly silent animals to keep me company.  

This post is admittedly whiny, which I don't really like to do because whining is boring to read and I just feel worse after writing it.  But I will publish this anyway because it explains the quiet of my blog which has been going on and which I think will continue to go on for a few days while I try to recover while simultaneously starting a new term in school.  This quarter system really throws you through a loop every single time.  I am possibly more negative due to the fact that I have a sinus headache.  Yummers.  

This is the part where I should throw in some cutesy photos of my week to make this end on a positive note.  Sadly I did not take any.  Weird.  

Instead, please to enjoy:

Blake Griffin at the Beach

Aladdin's Mysterious Lack of Nipples

A Photo of one of Upland High School's parking lots as found in a Google Images Search?


Yeah.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

A Few Things

"My feet hurt in heels sometimes and other things women talk about." - Liz Lemon

I've been feeling awfully girly lately.  Like 15 year old girl girly.

It's mostly because I have this recent obsession with painting my finger nails.  I by "recent obsession" i mean since about January, I've been painting my fingernails really weird colors every three or four days.  I have a veeeery pale pink, a grey-ish blue, a purple-ish brown, a tan-ish/skin color, and a mint green.  It's getting to be sort of neurotic of me.  The other day the oven was on while I was painting my nails but I was done making dinner so I opened the door and stuck my hands inside to make my nails dry faster.  In my defense, it was our toaster oven, which really doesn't get that hot.  BUT, I have finally quit my habit of biting my fingernails.  This is a habit that started when I was about 9.

This is me making a terribly weird face RIGHT NOW


In other news, I was trying to describe to someone why living off-campus is AWESOME, and I couldn't put it to words.  Then yesterday I accidentally said it after a long day (we're talking 8 straight hours) of being in the photo lab on campus.  I was packing up to leave and telling a friend:

I'm going to go home and eat toaster strudel and take a bath.

I couldn't do wither of those things if I lived on Stanford campus.  Because they have no baths (only showers) and no one ever buys/makes food.  I feel like even most students who live in apartment style housing still don't do it.

Speaking of photography, I had the final for that class tonight, which mainly included each person having a turn at showing 20+ photos from throughout the quarter.  And then the whole class looking at them.  It's awfully exciting.  Even though the work is done, there's a flutter of nervousness and the validation that comes from others telling you that they cannot stop staring at one of your prints.  Or from your professor telling you that something you made is different from what anyone else could have made by looking at the scene and that he really enjoys your point of view.

I plan to take more photo classes throughout my Stanford career.  And my life.  I'm thinking I might take some digital, but I really don't know how to work photoshop, I only understand the dark room.  I have some prins I am very much proud of though.  And I will have four photos be up on campus for the world of Stanford to see.  I hope my Mom doesn't mind that she's in one.  And also one is of Marcus' feet while he's getting ready for church.  Everyone said it looked like an old man.  Another is the crock pot on top of my fridge in my tiny place here at school and the last one - get THIS - will be my own feet.
Isn't that just crazy? I hate my feet a lot.  But one day it was raining and they were filthy and I got home and wanted to wash them and I took off my pants and stepped into the tub and the water around the drain and the dirt all over my feet was just too much for me not to take the picture.  It's one of my favorites, but I feel oddly weird having people see it all the time.  Like it is too personal to share.

I'm putting finals week as the blame for why this post sort of jumps from one segment to the next without connection but without enough lack of connection for it to be purposeful.  It stifles my creativity in all the bad ways.

Lastly, the Hunger Games is coming out this weekend. YOU GUYS.  How many of my study breaks have been me watching the trailer.  One billion thousand, that's how many.  Please to enjoy it here.

Super lastly, my family has been rick rolling each other lately which is weird because my roommate has been telling me how she actually enjoys that song lately and I just wanted to promise that I will never rick roll you dears.  Because I figure reading this guy is punishment enough for whatever karmic retribution is headed your way.


And just because I can, another photo:

Sign me up for whatever this is. Just for the purple warm-ups.