I’m rereading all of my old creative writing pieces, and some of them makes me cry. They bring me back to the exact day those moments happened, and they still hurt. I’m trying to start outlining/writing new stuff for my memoir-thing. I want it to be a memoir, but I’m really afraid of what my family would say or think, really, if they knew everything was true. I might seem .. a little emotionally unhinged. A LITTLE, hahahaha. Anyway .. the main reason I’m writing this post is because I am reading my first serious short fiction, my first story that really cemented my confidence in my talent, and I can remember every single day and moment and memory and sound and taste sense touch color — EVERYTHING — that happened between juan and me in our freshman year, and I still, still have this sense of sadness and regret. I regret that it didn’t work out, and then I regret that it ever happened. I’m sad that it failed so miserably, and I’m sad that I can still remember how well I knew him when we were young, fresh, naive, and 18. I guess I’ll never really forget. But I don’t think I can allow myself to forget until I get this memoir out from under my skin.
severe quote collector here.
We must live, we must be true to our childhood dreams, or they’re worthless, and our youth is insincere.
“flag & family” cursive.
If someone told me that I could live my life again free of depression provided I was willing to give up the gifts depression has given me–the depth of awareness, the expanded consciousness, the increased sensitivity, the awareness of limitation, the tenderness of love, the meaning of friendship, the apreciation of life, the joy of a passionate heart–I would say, ‘This is a Faustian bargain! Give me my depressions. Let the darkness descend. But do not take away the gifts that depression, with the help of some unseen hand, has dredged up from the deep ocean of my soul and strewn along the shores of my life. I can endure darkness if I must; but I cannot live without these gifts. I cannot live without my soul.
David N. Elkins, Beyond Religion, p. 188
nyc borough picture dump.
I’m finally bringing myself to use the Sony Ericsson Shamas gave me. I can’t stand to be away from music for so long — and also, the camera is SO MUCH better than the bland Nokia that I’m using now. Anyway, I just wanted to post these pictures somewhere and I figure I would take advantage of having a WordPress. I’m no photographer, not even on my down time. But I was with the youth on these days, and I figured why not take some pics with them.
THE HIGHLINE
(i wasn’t feeling well on this day so there aren’t many pics at all)
this life.
My internet at home isn’t working. After snapping and yelling at everyone from Shamas to my brother and to my father, it’s been officially decreed that the router is completely done. But as my father tried to figure out where to buy a new router, my mother told him to check our messages on our answering machine online. And as I walked downstairs from my shower, I heard my high school principal’s voice talking about two kids who were from Floral Park who were critically injured. My first thought: It must be someone still in high school if it was the principal. My second thought: Please don’t let it be anyone I know. It’s selfish to think that, but it isn’t something that I can deny. I started feeling sick, my throat constricting — just the thought of any of my friends involved in any type of accident makes me hyperventilate.
I googled “floral park” on my phone, and I read the first article about a crash. When I read the names, it was like a legitimate cognitive dissonance: I knew, inside, I knew those names, but I couldn’t wrap my mind around why I knew those names. They were so familiar and yet, it just couldn’t be them. When I read their age next to their name, it clicked for me right then that those were the people who I had known for almost 18 years of my life. I’m not going to say that we were ever friends or that we kept in contact or that we even said hello. Once everyone reached high school and hit puberty, they went to a private Catholic school while I stayed in the public school. But we went all through elementary school together, and the people they were friends with — I went through high school with them. It may not seem like a big deal, but in a town like this, where everyone knows everyone and someone is always connected to the other person, having a hit like this is personal. It may not be as hardhitting as the news would be concerning their closest friends, but it’s another remind of how fragile we are.
The facts: There were five people in the car. At 8:45am on the Meadowbrook Parkway, the car swerved into the right lane and hit a tree. Three of the passengers died. The other two are in the hospital, recuperating. No alcohol was involved. The rescuers had to use the “Jaws of Life” to pry open the doors and get the people out. They were all heading to work at Camp Anchor, a camp for children with disablities. Considering the force of the crash, one passenger was ejected from the car. Investigations are still ongoing.
2pm & wonder girls!
So, YES, I saw 2PM & WG when they came to New York on June 6th. It was held at Hammerstein Ballroom. I had just come back from work and was hanging out, waiting for Mink to come into the city. She came in at around 7pm, and when we met up, we walked over to Hammerstein Ballroom which was actually only a block away from Penn Station.
When we got in front, the line was ridiculously long. But luckily for us, we didn’t have to wait on line! We were able to go inside and sit in the balcony seats instead of the standing area. Good, phew. We were just chilling there, and I, of course, started screaming & doing some of the dance moves when 2PM came on. I didn’t know any of Wonder Girls‘ songs, but they put on a solid performance .. as in, it wasn’t really boring. They didn’t seem as fluid or coordinated with each other as the 2PM team, though, that was kind of obvious.
JYP himself actually came out on stage before everything! Mink totally called that, but I thought he would stay in S.Korea, tbh. Well, he came out and said that the concert was a little delayed because there were tornado warnings! TORNADO WARNINGS FOR THE EAST COAST! NEW YORK! WHAT!! And then he made a joke (I think it’s a joke…) about how he had to get them on his private jet to get them to the concert…
“prince of persia” review.
spoilers within.
As promised, I will review the first movie I have seen so far after I put it on my summer list. I would have started with Robin Hood, but I didn’t feel like regurgitating the synopsis of Gladiator — except to throw in a “damsel-in-distress” scene. However, let me start with the summer fluff called Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time starring Jake Gyllenhaal, Gemma Arteton, Alfred Molina, and Sir Ben Kingsley.
First, the movie opens with the scene of the desert night sky and smooth hills of sand, and a camel with riders in the background. The opening scene consists of some sentences, most likely detailing the sands of Arabia or something like that, but I forget. Then we have a voiceover before being cut to the scene about 3 orphan boys goofing around in the busy, overcrowded marketplace. One of them steals something that was semi-necessary for their survival, one of the royal guards gets angry and is about to cut the orphan boy’s head off, until lo-&-behold, one of the other orphan boys tell him to stop. The guard becomes angry — insert scene of running off the roofs — but then the KING and his brother appear before the guard can cut off Orphan Boy’s head. I guess no one recognized him before he strode on his horse already clothed in royal garb to the middle of the marketplace? No one noticed before? All right, I guess.
