An Ode to Sarcasm and Lovely Thoughts

2010-10-19T21:55:00.000-06:00

shouldn't be posting this, so much to read. but i love this book, and just wanted to write this somewhere where i'd be able to find it later:
"I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others--the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad."

conference.

2010-10-12T16:36:00.000-06:00

it makes me happy, but it made me sad.
hearing all the talks that felt like they were specifically written for me, to give me renewed hope in humanity, to realize that there is a God who does love us, that was beautiful. until i later read about president packer's talk that touched on homosexual feelings. i am not gay, but that doesn't mean i don't know and love gay people. there was a time in my life when i considered it unnatural, mostly because of my parents' opinions, but as i've grown up and formed my own opinions, i've realized that they have no choice, and it's simply the way they are; they can't change it. so many of my sister's friends from BYU are gay, and she would talk about how they struggled so much with their feelings because they were part of a religion that portrays same-sex desires as being unnatural, and acting on said desires as being a sin. i do not condemn anyone who acts on their feelings, and i don't think a merciful God would either. what president packer said about our Heavenly Father not giving his children those feelings from birth because he loves us all doesn't seem right to me... i hate to question the words of an apostle, but it makes me so sad that he thinks that people attracted to their same gender choose that path. so many would prefer that they didn't have that attraction, so why would they make that decision? i can understand the idea of being homosexual being just another trial that some have to overcome, but shouldn't we be allowed happiness while on the earth? i can't imagine someone being happy when they think that what they feel is unnatural and a sin. loving a person should be a source of joy, not guilt. and really, what is life without love? president packer said that gay people can overcome their desires, and that they should not act on them. how could a person go against everything they feel, try to force themselves to be attracted to someone who they are completely repulsed to? or live a life absent of any physical contact with those you are attracted to? i can't imagine. i was reading a blog (http://gaymormonguy.blogspot.com/2010/10/president-packers-talk-from-gay-mormon.html) that gave me some more perspective on this, but i can't help but feel that what president packer said makes homosexuals of the LDS faith feel like what they feel and what they do is wrong, when what they should understand is that God, if He is anything like i think/pray/hope He is, still loves them, and that they are not at fault, they have done nothing wrong.

for the moments you feel weak...

2010-09-10T21:55:00.002-06:00

"My biggest advice for anyone dealing with the heartbreak of an unwanted breakup is to look very carefully at the person who broke up with you and look very carefully at yourself. If you are radically honest, you will see a myriad of ways that you asked for the breakup to happen as well as the ways that you deserve something better in relation to an other"

hmm?

2010-09-02T22:02:00.000-06:00

it's been awhile... a lot has happened.
but the point of this is not to talk about how angsty i've been in the past few months, but rather, a topic that has been perplexing me.
God? are you there? should i keep blindly following, or go off on my own tangent, pursuing happiness at my own pace, in my own way? i can't not believe that there is a higher being of some kind, but i hate the idea that we should refrain from experiencing some things because it's against God's will. aren't we here to have a fullfilling experience?
i'm so confused about what i believe...and i don't know how to figure out what i do believe. it feels like i'm so used to being part of an organized religion because i was raised in it, and LDS ideals have been hammered into my head for the past sixteen years. only now am i starting to develop any doubts.
but the idea of God...of everlasting life...it gives such a feeling of hope that i've been lacking.
maybe this is a sign? doubting God = empty feeling inside. because recently i've been so unhappy, and i've blamed it on patrick...but that's not the point! i will not talk about him, i don't want to. not now.
maybe this is another sign - i was strolling through facebook, minding my own business, when i came across a peculiar group dedicated to a girl who went to olympus... i looked at the girl's profile, and all of the posts left on her wall were messages from friends, speaking of love and happy memories. i honestly was unsure of what it all meant, because nothing hinted at what had happened - the girl had died from some sort of heat stroke while hiking this past summer. the messages i read made me tear up, because none of them sounded hopeless. all of them were happy, and they all of spoke of knowing that she is still present, at least in a heavenly way. that she still watches over, even if she is no longer physically alive.
i remember when oige died, reading messages on his wall made me cry, too, but for a different reason: everyone was so sad. no one believed they'd see this happy, beautiful boy ever again. they spoke of memories wistfully, saying how much they missed him, and how they wished he was still alive. they had no hope that they could ever be with him again.
but with this girl...everyone said how much they missed her, but it was clear that they knew it wasn't really the end.
how sad it must be, not knowing if you'll ever see someone you love again. that is one thing i love irrevocably about my religion, that feeling of hope. knowing that good bye is never really good bye.
so is it really all or nothing? can i be Mormon without really being Mormon?

happy at last :)

2010-05-10T21:13:00.000-06:00

so maybe things aren't quite as awful as they seem.
thank you, patrick, for helping me to realize this.

2010-03-22T19:02:00.002-06:00

Hating you makes it just a little bit easier to feel less heartbroken by your betrayal.
I wish so badly I didn't miss you.

2010-02-22T01:15:00.000-07:00

Cause I am giving up on making passes
and I am giving up on half empty glasses
and I am giving up on greener grasses
I am giving up
What if our baby comes in after nine
What if your eyes close before mine
What if you lose yourself sometimes
I'll be the one to find you safe in my heart

2010-02-22T01:10:00.000-07:00

i think they should make a romantic movie of my life.
except they wouldn't make very much money
because, really,
who wants to watch a movie
about a girl who is rejected over and over?
and doesn't get a happy ending?
because, really,
people only watch romantic movies
so they can see what it feels like
to be happy and in love.

is that sort of love even real?

2010-01-01T19:27:00.000-07:00

It's so depressing to think about the life experiences I could be having, but am not. To think about the life I could be living, but am too afraid to try. To think about the circumstances that could have put me in a different situation, but never did. To think about how I could know him, talk to him, laugh with him, but don't.

2009-12-31T15:03:00.002-07:00

I refuse to allow my happiness to be controlled by a boy.

2009-12-13T14:13:00.001-07:00

who am i to long for death when other, undeserving, innocent people have it thrust upon them?

2009-12-13T14:11:00.000-07:00

30 days till christmas and all i know is i'm not quite ready to let go of this past year, i have so much to show. one more month and all i need is a sign from you that you think of me. if you don't, then please just say so, cause all i do is think of you.
it's wearing me out, it's wearing me down, this holiday is nothing but frowns for me. but i've got a list, you see. i'm making a list, yeah, i'll check it twice, of all the things you've done in my life and i'll send it your way so you'll see why i love you.
who would've thought that someone like me could've fallen in love so easily. i know that you know that i know what i want, i know i can't have it but give it a thought. i know that it sounds crazy, baby, but all i do is think of you.
and it's wearing me out, it's wearing me down, this holiday is nothing but frowns for me. but i've got a list, you see. i'm making a list, yeah, i'll check it twice, of all the things you've done in my life. then i'll send it your way so you see why i love...
everything you throw my way. i know it's hard to say, but it's a crying shame that i came all this way with so much to say, but all that came out was "happy holiday". a home cooked meal and a nice warm bed, somebody to love a place to lay my head. but i got 30 days and imma make em count, cause i can't call it christmas without someone to smile about.

2009-11-04T20:21:00.000-07:00

the future no longer looks bright.

2009-07-24T14:16:00.003-06:00

Everything else seems so...trivial now. The things I've been concerned about, what other people are worried about seem so stupid, so selfish. How must his friends feel? Death has never been anywhere near close to me, and I've never truly had to face it at all. The pain it brings feels so much more real. I feel so lucky, so blessed, but at the same time, so empty. I just can't stop thinking about how his family must feel, about how they must be grieving right now. It must be so hard, not knowing if they'll ever see him again, not having the knowledge that I do. I can't even imagine losing my sister.
I wish I could have known him. At least, better than I did. We were friends, not very good ones, but friends. I wish I could have talked to him more when I still had the chance. I wish that I had started up a conversation with him when I saw he was on facebook, but all my wishes have gone to waste, because now it's too late. I don't want to talk about it, yet at the same time I do. I don't want to hear about it, yet at the same time I do. My parents have tried to make me feel better, but they didn't even know him, they couldn't possibly understand. I don't know what to do to make the pain of this knowledge go away. Distracting myself only goes so far. It's just so hard to believe... I liked him a little, right when I met him at the beginning. I got over it, but it's still just so... close to home. I was looking forward to seeing him again at the camp next year, but that's clearly not happening. I wonder what he was thinking right before he died... how he was feeling. I know he's in a better place now, and I hope that he's feeling comforted, knowing that so many people here on earth care about him, even people that weren't his close friends. It's just not fair. Why did he have to go when he was so young? He was only seventeen, he had so many things left to accomplish in life. I'm so lucky to be alive, to know that I have a future, that I can have a long life. He will never know what it feels like to have a family, to find the one woman he loves more than anything else, to grow old with her, to experience life and all it has to offer. But maybe he is the lucky one in this scenario. Maybe it was his time to go, and he won't have to deal with so many of the painful things that everyone else will. He no longer has to face temptations, and now he's at peace. I can't help but think, though, that life may have its trials, but there will always be beautiful things that are there to balance them out. The wonderful things make up for the difficulties we face. Maybe Oige dying has taught me something more than I ever thought I would know: that I need to appreciate being alive, that I never know what is going to happen to me, so I have to do the things I love, and take pleasure in every moment I have in this life. I need to find joy in the journey, and I need to share my love with those around me. I need to stop thinking 'What if?' and just go for it. I need to tell the people that I care about that I love them, and I need to live life to the fullest.

Dear Oige,
Hey, let me ask you a question. How are you feeling, now? Is it true? Are you in the place that I've always heard about, dreamt about, the Spirit World? I hope you're happier now, and I hope that you don't regret anything that's happened in your life. Do you have some wicked powers, like hearing peoples' thoughts and knowing how they're feeling? If so, then you can obviously tell how many people are so sad about your moving on. Is it better up there than it is down here? I hope you have someone you care about with you. I know you probably think it's weird, me actually caring to the point of writing a letter to a person who will never get it (or maybe your magical powers are showing you this as I write it), but what can I say, I was shocked when I heard the news. I cried, a lot. Maybe we weren't the best of friends, but it's just scary, hearing that someone I knew and genuinely liked was no longer an email away. That I would never have the chance to talk to you ever again, at least, not in this life. I hope you're being taken care of up there, and I hope your family isn't feeling too lonely without you. And I especially hope it didn't hurt too much when you left your body for good. Is it peaceful? Is death something to look forward to?
I'll see you in the afterlife.
Erin

death.

2009-06-17T19:46:00.004-06:00

i always believed that i would die before age 20. there would be an accident of tragic means, and i wouldn't live to see two decades.
sometimes i feel like if i were to die, i would accept it. by that i mean i'm not eager to die, and i wouldn't be happy, but i would be okay with it. i would understand it if i needed to die. every time i leave on a trip, i start thinking that it's going to be the last time i see my home, and i say goodbye to everything i love. when i left on the airplane from korea back to san fransisco, i was actually surprised when it didn't crash. if it had suddenly failed in the air and had started to free fall, i wouldn't have even been surprised. when we arrived in the airport, i actually felt somewhat... disappointed. then, leaving on the airplane to go to salt lake city, i was waiting for that plane to break down, for me to be forced to have my final moments of life, to breathe my last breath, to look back on my life, and to come to a conclusion that it had been a good one.
it feels like it would be so easy to just die. so much in life is a trial, and so much is difficult. all the time i feel like i'm alone, even if i'm surrounded by friends. i'm almost feeling like the number of close friends i have is dwindling. i still have a few friends that i truly love and care about so much, but the friend that i feel like i've lost... it's almost as if i've lost a limb, or a vital organ. something that kept me whole this entire time. there were things she knew about me that no one else knew or would understand. there are things that i told her that i can't find ways to tell anyone else. even now, when something important or exciting happens to me, i feel a sudden desire to call her, or text her, or maybe just stop her when i see her so i can tell her, but in reality i know she wouldn't really care anymore. when she left, metaphorically, she took part of me with her. and maybe the friendship wasn't meant to last, but that doesn't make it hurt any less. just to think that dying would end all the pain i sometimes feel, it almost seems enticing. i would never commit suicide, but maybe dying with a feeling of acceptance and relief is actually considered suicide.
but, at the same time, there are so many things i haven't been able to do in my life. i would miss out on so much if i died this young. i would never get my first kiss (at least, one that would count), never find the one man that i would realize i'm in love with, never get married, never have children, never see those children grow, never see them have families of their own. just to think of how beautiful life can be, and how bright the future seems... that is what keeps me from giving up, from accepting death fully.

2009-06-09T23:47:00.002-06:00

every once in awhile (and i mean very occasionally), i go overboard when it comes to practicing. most of the time i either have a satisfying practicing session, working on things that i need to, or i kind of slack off (this happens more often than the former) and get distracted, not practicing as well as i could. but, when i have the right kind of motivation, i tend to over-practice.
like, if there's a piece i really want to get perfect for a test, an audition, a performance, etc., i'll keep playing it over and over, stressing over every minor detail ('it squeaks slightly there', 'i over exaggerate that sforzando') and end up exhausting my hands, and not being able to play, period. today was one of those days. i've been playing the d minor bach suite, and recently started working on the courante. this sunday i'll be in california for a chamber music camp, and we'll be having a small, informal audition to decide what level we're at. today i decided i wanted to play the courante for that audition, and casually started practicing it so that i could have it ready by sunday. now my fingers are aching, and the song is stuck in my head. i played it on repeat for about half an hour, not really stopping to rest, and the entire piece, with the exception of about three chords, is made up of sixteenth notes.
i practiced the last two lines of the piece repeatedly, and i don't know what comes over me, but i get so frustrated. it's like i can never get it quite right, and i don't want to stop playing until i can at least get through it once without making any errors. so, since i haven't playing it for long, i got so undeniably aggravated with myself. as a child, i played the piano, and when i made mistakes, i would get angry and bite my hands, certain that if i disciplined them (because it was obviously their fault), i would be able to get it right. needless to say, my masochism achieved nothing, except for bleeding fingers. even now, i feel this inexplicable urge to cause myself pain when i make mistakes practicing the cello. i, obviously, don't, but instead keep playing until my calluses crack and bleed (whoopee). this has actually happened more than once, but mostly around federation time. i just feel so inadequate, and i want to get it perfect, to sound better than most high school cellists do. i want to succeed at something i do, because nothing else seems to be working for me.

the color code

2009-05-28T23:43:00.002-06:00

i may be a yellow on my exterior, trying to always have fun and joke around, but i am truly a blue on the inside. while i convincingly pull off a disinterested attitude, and tend to try not to get too attached to certain friends, i really want to share all of my feelings and my thoughts with at least one really close friend, but i find it hard to trust people. some of my friends aren't really the kind of people i would share my deepest thoughts with, just because i'm afraid they would mock them (which has happened before) or judge me.

the end

2009-05-27T23:07:00.002-06:00

as i approach the last week of my first year of high school, i contemplate the impact this year has had on my life. i apologize for any misspellings or any grammatical errors, my space bar is broken, and i recently sprained my finger.
this school year has been one of the best of my life. i feel like i made some new, good friends, and learned from mistakes i've made, and i've just plain grown. i've learned that boys will be boys, and that they are immature. i've learned that it's useless to shed tears over one, because another one will pop up around the corner. that doesn't make the pain hurt any less, but it's a small comfort. i've learned that you can't cling on to friendships that just aren't meant to last, but you also shouldn't resort to petty, unkind words. let things be. i've learned it's hard to find friends you can really trust, and girls will always be over dramatic and a little selfish, myself not excluded. i've learned that teachers can be easily sucked up to, and it's not bad to ask for help. i've learned how much i love the cello, and how much practicing can help. i've learned that people can take sarcasm literally and can be very hurt by it. i've learned that some friends aren't worth the effort. but, most of all, i think i've learned that i need to enjoy high school while i'm here, because in two years, i'll be graduating, and i'll be released into the big world.
i'm not sure yet if i'm going to miss school this summer. i can't really tell if i'm interested in anyone, because i was for a little while, but i think i got over it. even i can't decipher my emotions. there's someone that i feel like i like, but i'm in denial because a) he's not the greatest guy in the world for me to like, b) a l0t of girls have fallen for him, aka, he's a flirt, and c) i don't want any baggage to keep me from having a fantastic summer, because chances are, i'm not going to see him till august. we've been kind of joking around with each other, but i do that with a lot of guys, so i don't know if i means anything at all. sometimes, i feel like i'm such a sap, and fall just a little bit in love wih any guy that gives me a second glance. guys are just confusing, and i don't really want to deal with any inevitable heartbreak.
i'm going to miss my friends a lot this summer. i only hang out with certain people in the summertime, usually, so there are going to be a lot of friends i won't see at all until school starts. i'm worried i won't keep in touch with anyone, and i won't have any friends once we start our junior year.
i can't write anymore because the amount of time it takes for me to write is driving me insane, and my finger is pushing too many keys. ugh.
just for memories sake, what happened to my finger is that last friday, a big group of friends and i were walking down the street to go play night games. claire and i started sprinting, and i slowed down, not realizing that anyone else was sprinting. i came to a stop, and turned my head, only to be hit in the face by zach's oncoming chest. next thing i knew, i was facedown on the ground, and my hands were being pierced by the gravel. a couple of my fingers hurt like none other, and i had a piercing headache. everyone was gathered around me asking if i was okay, asking if i was still alive, etc. "zach, i think you killed her!" hahaha. i'm pretty much okay, just sprained a finger, am a little scratched up and have a big blue bruise on my face from the impact. frankly, i just think it's funny.

2009-03-27T16:25:00.003-06:00

Is it possible to cry over someone you don't even remember?
My hadabogi (Or grandpa in korean).
I have very few memories of him, and in all of them, he is not even the main part. The man whose lap I jumped into as I hyperly ran up and down the aisles of a plane, the figure who handed me the peeled oranges and patted my head affectionately. It's like he was just someone who was there, and I don't even remember seeing his face. Everyone in my family knows so much about him and they talk so well about him, but I have nothing to share. I know he was a great and generous man, but I don't have the memories to prove my knowledge. Why does he have to be the one thing I don't remember from that trip to Korea as a child? The few memories I do have I feel like I made up. I just miss him so much even though I don't even know him, and I wish that I had had the chance to know him. My only solace is the knowledge that someday I will meet him, and that I'll have the rest of eternity to know him. I wonder if he wishes he could know me, as well.

pets and love (as usual)

2009-03-25T19:48:00.003-06:00

Often I'm a lot more sensitive about animals dying than I am about people's deaths. Maybe it's just because I've had pets die and no person that I'm close to has ever moved on, but I can't help but bawl at the simplest things that show an animal being killed or just dying. In English we watched Of Mice and Men, and I hastily attempted to hide my fat tears as the old dog was shot. We didn't even witness its death, we just heard the gunshot and saw his master's face crumple in despair, but I cried like a baby, in the middle of class. Something about the way Candy's face fell just broke something in my heart, and I wanted to just stand up and rub his back and comfort him, even if it wasn't real, because I know what it feels like. I know what it feels like to have no power over a beloved pet's death.
And without fail, each and every time I watch the video for the poem about the rainbow bridge, I choke up and cry pathetically. I think about my first hamster, the one I loved so much, the one I took care of and adored, the one I took out almost 24/7, never ceasing to annoy. Before she died, I had stopped caring. She had died alone, when I could have been with her. Maybe I'm just inconsistent, maybe I get tired of my old things and want to move on to the next new thing. And my duckies, my poor duckies... They were my babies. I treated them like children. And then we had to give them away under tragic circumstances. I still can remember the day we dropped them off at Celina's house... Leaving them in their cage as the other ducks surrounded them, and watching them quack helplessly as we walked away, their honks sounding as if they were asking "Why? What did we do?" And then a month later when I went to visit them, and they didn't even remember me, or didn't care. And then a few months later when Joe casually said "Oh, puddles and muddy? I'm pretty sure puddles is dead." then watched as I began to cry in the lunchroom, on any old school day. I just can't help but find hope in the poem, even as my current pet, my little puppy, licks my toes. I almost look forward to the day that I die and join my babies at the 'Rainbow Bridge', no matter how much that sounds like a load of crap.
Every time I watch the music video of Death Cab for Cutie, I start to sob, cause I know the scene is going to come where the one bunny dies, and the other bunny is heartbroken, so it dies with it. I'm just that pathetic. Just the idea that love can be so strong, even if it is represented in animals, that the two ones in love can die together... It seems like true love is impossible to find in this day and age. Everyone is searching for the perfect someone, but almost nobody finds them. I almost feel like if I wait to find the perfect man for me, I'll never get married. But at the same time I don't want to get married, because what if the love fades? What if he cheats on me and I'm left heartbroken and alone? I don't think I could handle that kind of heartbreak. How much ice cream and chocolate does it take to heal that kind of pain? What if it can't be healed? What if I'm the one that cheats? A story of mine says: "Was it truly better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? The idea was debatable. If he had never fallen in love with her, he would never have had to feel the pain of not being able to have her love in return, never have had to face the rejection. But without love... he would be nothing. He never would have understood the beauty of simple things, the joy in the knowledge that there was someone that you would see the next morning that would be glad to see you too, no matter if she was glad for other reasons."

nostalgia

2009-02-22T20:33:00.003-07:00

i miss korea. so so much.
this always happens: i am such a brat, and while i'm going through a really great experience, i complain and whine the entire time, because i'm ungrateful and a snot. before we left, i fought, tooth and nail, to the moment we boarded the plane. when we got there, i spent as much time as possible on the internet, finding any ways of communication with my friends back home. i actually got in several (hundred) fights with my sister about sharing the (her) lap top. now i just wish i had been more grateful, and had cherished my time there.
everything was like a dream; the hazy sky, the towering apartments, the crowds of koreans... a beautiful, three-month long dream.
every little aspect that i detested while we were there, i now love. the lingering, almost unbearable heat, the push and shove of the subway, the endless rows of clothing in the mind-numbingly large marketplaces, the compliments on how pretty i am by little old ladies sitting near me in the subway, the insane tv shows....
none of my friends really understand me when i try to talk to them about it. sure, they nod and agree when i explain how much i miss it, but i can see the disinterest in their eyes, and it encourages me to shut up. it's just difficult to put into words how i feel.
being there never really fully felt real, true, but it inspired me to write more beautifully, to appreciate my experiences more, to have more gratitude for the easier life i lead here, to practice the cello more, to enjoy the simple things that are part of life...
coming back to utah was possibly more mind-boggling than anything i participated in there. we exited the airport, the airport that i had been in dozens of times before, but everything felt different. the air was so much dryer here than i was used to back... home. yes, in the course of the three months, korea had become like home to me. i had even fallen into a routine.
9:00-wake up when mom comes into room and nags at lia and me for about an hour.
10:00- pretend like i'm getting dressed for exercise while really slacking off on internet (keep door locked for intruders, namely mom, of course).
10:30- after being yelled at for about a half hour, finally follow mom and sister out of apartment and to the recreational building, complaining the whole time.
10:35- walk briskly for twenty minutes, then proceed to 'fat-jiggler' machine.
11:40- reenter apartment, eat breakfast
12:00 P.M.- chat on computer while waiting for turn for shower
12:30 P.M.- shower and get ready, slowly
1:00 P.M.- leave apartment for the day's designated shopping/activity (usually shopping) after being yelled at some more and eating fish and rice for lunch.
6:00 P.M.- return back to apartment, use computer or read after washing 'filthy feet'.
8:00 P.M.- practice cello
9:00 P.M.- use computer to watch movies or chat (after fighting with lia)
12:00 A.M.- go to bed, try to sleep even though lia is skype-ing with her friends at home.
9:00 A.M.- start allll over again.

i was so used to this pattern that going home led to me falling into another dream like state. what if the past three months had really just been a dream? what if my overactive mind had just imagined it up? i remember this so well: as we drove back to our utah home, a rainbow peeked out through the grey clouds. i still have the picture i took.
my parents have been discussing the chance of maybe moving to korea someday. my confession? i wouldn't even be that sad. i love my friends, but i love korea, too, sacrifices or not.
i now consider it home.

Love, soul mates, and more

2009-01-18T00:02:00.002-07:00

Love...
It's such a peculiar thing. It comes in different forms, and comes when you least expect it.
There is love for your family, the kind that is bone-deep and came along when you were born.
There is love for your friends, the kind that you gain along with friendships, that isn't quite as permanent as the love for family, but can be just as strong, or even stronger.
Then there is love for partners (or however you would put it).
It is not stronger than the other categories of love, but it means so much more. It's almost as if it is a chemical imbalance in the heart. It leaves the heart throbbing, the stomach churning...
It is so easy to fall in love.
You could see someone on the street and feel an immediate attraction to them. You might fancy it as love, you might consider it just a crush.
You could know someone for a long time without even considering them to be anything more than a friend, or even an acquaintance, then see them one day, and suddenly feel something different. Maybe that love comes from knowing them through and through.
Maybe there are different levels of love, and maybe the love can dwindle. Maybe when you have a 'crush', you really are in love, it's just not quite as strong as your love would be for a spouse. Maybe there are soul mates, and until you've met them, you haven't even comprehended the love you can feel for another. Or maybe you just can learn to love, and the entire idea of soul mates is a load of crap. Maybe that's why divorce rates are so high--because the partners haven't truly found their soul mates. Maybe some people will never find their soul mates.
Maybe I have been in love, but not true, undying, heartbreaking love. Maybe some people fall in love too easily. Maybe some people are too full of hate to allow love in.
Maybe I'm just thinking stupid things.
Why is love so complex??

Cowardly.

2009-01-17T23:53:00.002-07:00

I am such a coward.
I am so afraid of getting my feelings crushed, or not getting what I want, or looking like a fool, that I won't risk anything, and end up looking like a fool anyway. I can never risk my sharing my feelings for guys with them because I'm not confident in myself enough to believe that there might be a chance that they might even like me back. I wish I had the courage to be more outgoing, more bold. I wish I liked myself enough to not aways be afraid.
I feel so ugly, so fat, all the time. I watch other girls and compare myself to them, thinking 'oh, they are so much thinner than me' or 'i wish i had cheekbones like hers' or 'my eyes are so small' or 'why can't i be as pretty and confident as she is?'. I always want to be someone else, I'm never happy with myself the way I am. In Korea, being surrounded by stick-thin, gorgeous girls all the time, somehow I felt better about myself than I do now, and I don't understand why. I just feel like I'm inadequate, and no decent guy would ever like me because I'm too fat. Then I see large girls with cute boyfriends and think 'how can they have a boyfriends and me not?', and I realize that it's all a matter of my pride. I don't believe that I can attract a guy, so I don't try. My criticism on myself reflects when others look at me. I don't have the kind of personality that is friendly enough to make up for the way I look, and I wish I did. I wish I could just be able to talk, to be able to flirt well, for goodness sake!!!

2009-01-02T20:14:00.002-07:00

My favorite blog is probably postsecret. People from around the country send postcards with secrets on them to a man who, chances are, will never meet them. Every sunday I dutifully type the website into my address bar and gorge myself in the lusciousness of knowing things about people i don't even know. I've attempted to send in a few secrets myself, but I never actually got around to doing it. So, I thought that i would dedicate this entry to (mild, short, sweet) secrets that I want to send, but probably won't.

I'm afraid of turning sixteen because I won't have the excuse of being too young to date anymore; I know that no one will want to date me, still.
A good portion of my years in junior high were dedicated to RPing cats on neopets. (hence the awful grades)
I get depressed very easily, even if I appear happy.
I'm a jerk. Well, I guess that's not a secret.
Sometimes, when I'm alone in public, I pretend like I'm texting so I look like less of a loser.
I wish I had a different mom.
I don't like myself very much. I have self-image issues.
I get jealous too easily.
From 4th grade to last year I was afraid of my dad (and all adult men) because of a story I read in chicken soup for the kid's soul. Every once in awhile the fear comes back.
I lie so much and so well that I convince myself some things, and I'm afraid of it.
I feel like I'm inadequate at everything I do.
I enjoy defying my mom's orders.
I'm addicted to the internet.
Once I get into something, I can't stop.
Some of my friends I only put up with because I don't want to be lonely, and I don't like change. (this also goes with 'I'm a jerk')
I'm afraid of the shower.

and that should be it.

a new year

2008-12-30T13:00:00.003-07:00

resolutions i intend on keeping-

embrace practicing the cello. do it and enjoy it. don't get distracted while practicing. stop looking at the time consistently.
STOP PROCRASTINATING. get a 4.0 at least once.
spend more time with more people.
spend more time alone.
take addie on walks more often.
be positive when around other people.
be more confident when it comes to making new friends.
keep my room clean.
turn off cellphone when i'm studying/doing homework/practicing.
be patient with mom. stop yelling at her when she's being frustrating.
complain less.
enjoy life.

2008-12-10T18:54:00.001-07:00

When is the line between friendly flirting and actually caring for someone crossed? How can you possibly tell if a guy cares for you more than he would a friend?

2008-12-04T17:13:00.002-07:00

I am so tired of feeling worthless, and of always having my life controlled. I want to go at least ONE DAY without being insulted and put down by my mom, jokingly or not. I want my mom to butt out of my personal affairs and to leave the guys I like ALONE. I want to like who I want to, and be friends with whoever. I want to wear what I want to wear, wear makeup the way I want to, and cut my hair the way I want to without any input from her. I want to be able to quit the piano if I want to without fearing her judgement, and start doing other extracurricular things without being yelled at.
I want to be allowed to do things I want the way I want to, and not be completely afraid of what she might say or do.
I want the impossible.

2008-11-27T18:16:00.002-07:00

Thinking about love, I've begun to realize a couple of things.
1. It's not fair. At all. How can I feel this way so often about so many people with no feelings returned? Why do I have to go through it so often? I revel in that feeling, but at the same time it's painful, because I know that no one feels that same way when they think about me.
2. Maybe love can be lost. Maybe divorce is really a necessary thing. Maybe I need to accept it instead of trying to prevent it.

2008-11-14T22:36:00.001-07:00

i'll be fifteen in four days. not quite a child, yet not quite an adult.
not yet able to drive... not able to date...
what a disappointing birthday.

you know that feeling?

2008-11-14T22:10:00.003-07:00

that feeling that eats you up inside and burns viciously, but as soon as it's gone, you wish it would last? the one that surges agonizingly whenever you see that one person, whenever you think about him, whenever you see their name... whenever you realize that you will never have a chance, because not only is he that nice to everyone, but you rarely talk to each other, and he's a senior, you silly, silly sophomore. and exchanging cell numbers means nothing, especially when it's only for business.

that's what i'm feeling right now.

that feeling makes me feel valuable, but worthless at the same time; beautiful, but unsightly; brilliant, but fatuous; witty, but slow. it makes me want to laugh uproariously, never stopping, but also to sob uncontrollably, so pathetically that i am incapable of speaking.

worthless, inferior, inadequate, insufficient, deficient, lousy, imperfect, defective, no-good...

2008-10-11T17:11:00.002-06:00

I freaking love my friends!!! Last night, I had Anna, Amanda (I'm feeling less hostile towards her, now), Zach, Felipe, and a couple of Zach and Felipe's friends (Han and Maria) come over to my house so that we could go to a play at my ward that Celina and Claire were in. We hung out for about ten minutes before we walked over, and Han and Maria are great! Han didn't talk much, but Maria is such a cutie. She and Felipe are exchange students here from Brazil, and they're both seniors. I love Felipe, too! In a platonic way, of course. He's such a sweetheart, even if he is a little bit of a flirt. At the play, we met Keti, Krissi, Krissi's little brother + friend and got a seat in the back. Claire was in the very first song in the 'play', but Celina wasn't going to be up till the very last song. I was sitting next to Zach and Felipe, and I have to admit, I was slightly.... loud. Really loud. I kept singing along obnoxiously to the songs I knew, and apparently, according to Anna, some family in the row a couple ahead of us kept staring at me. Hemmm... well, Felipe was doing it, too, and he's seriously entertaining. Anyways, after the play was over, we (Anna, Amanda, Zach, Felipe, Maria, Han, and me) kind of forgot about Keti and Krissi and ran/skipped home, linking arms (SOO COLD!). Celina and Claire came over about ten minutes later with Melissa and Mariah, and we drank hot chocolate and hung out. So much fun having that many friends over!! Even if it was a bit crazy, it was a lot of fun, and we played murder in the dark. hahaha. Celina might like Felipe, but I'm not sure... She said she liked him last week when we went to the haunted house, but then later she said she didn't really like him more than a friend, but it's hard to tell now. And Felipe... who knows who he likes, and if he likes anyone. The boy is touchy-feely with every girl available. Not that I'm complaining: he gives a great hug, too! He actually lifted me up during one, though, so that wasn't so much fun.
And this has been the most journal-y blog entry of all time.

2008-10-05T00:10:00.002-06:00

Hugging Zach is like hugging an enormous teddy bear, except, this one hugs back. And fantastically, at that. I feel like I never want to let go, just remain in his warmth and comfort forever. This scares me. It also thrills me. Being so near to him sparks a pleasant, familiar glow in the pit of my stomach, the kind you get when you fall in love. I don't believe that I'm head-over-heels in love with Zach so much as I'm in love with being friends with such a fantastic guy. I can't even begin to explain what a great guy he is, but I'm going to try anyway. I'm so lucky to have made a friend like him, someone who isn't even close to cynical, who uplifts everyone, expresses his feelings, and is probably the most kind male alive. I don't know if I'll ever meet anyone quite like him ever again. I hope that my future husband is similar to him: kind, positive, funny, uplifting. He says the loveliest things for no specific reasons. Like today, for instance: I commented on how I felt weird not wearing makeup, and he said "You look beautiful no matter what, Erin." How astonishingly kind is that? He makes me want to squeeze him to death with a giant, grateful hug. Having him in my life has made me feel increasingly happy, and I desperately hope that we'll remain close friends through the years.
Maybe I am in love with him. (That's what the Seventeen magazine quiz said, at least)

I lied.

2008-09-16T20:05:00.002-06:00

I did fall for Daniel. Again. He's just so cute, and funny, and I like listening to him talk... I know I shouldn't like him, but who can really help who they like?

I saw him.

2008-09-10T18:15:00.002-06:00

On monday. Daniel, that is. And you know what the first thing he said to me was?
"Oh. You, again." (or something quite similar)
Gee, thanks, Daniel, my summer was fantastic. How was yours?
I guess I shouldn't have expected any more of a welcome than that, but the thing is, he's not even supposed to be in my orchestra. You see, I made YACP, and they were only accepting two cellists in, and Sarah made it in, too, so that counts him out. He was just sitting in so that Jack (our conductor) could see if he could handle the music.
Whatever. I'm not going to fall for him again.
Yep.

2008-09-06T22:29:00.003-06:00

On other, more pleasant, news, i have a new crush. His name is (undisclosed), and he's a senior. Yes, I am an idiot.

And also, I have more story ideas that i can't get out of my head. GAAHh

I HATE HATE HATE

2008-09-06T21:51:00.002-06:00

all i want to do is sit on my bed and listen to my angry music playlist while tearing things up and screaming/crying. and i don't even know why. oh wait, i know a couple reasons. NUMERO UNO: AMANDA. i'm an awful friend, i know, i read anna's email. how could i help it? the email was just sitting there on my screen, and i saw my name. what i read was amanda saying that she 'loves' me, but i'm hard to enjoy being around sometimes, or some CRAP like that. of course, i couldn't read that and not wonder what anna had said to trigger THAT respsonse. all anna had said was that at the stake dance i had gone up to emily to say that anna was dancing with michael (anna and i had a bet) to rub the fact that i won in her face or whatever, and that emily had been a brat and said that michael was anna's future lover. yeah, i don't exactly see what part of that made amanda want to point out her dislike of me, even though she 'loves' me. i've never liked amanda. she's always annoyed me, but i've put up with her because she's one of anna's other best friends, and, even though i can be a jealous loser sometimes, anna deserves to be happy. i thought i was getting along fine with amanda, but apparently not well enough. i was explaining the situation to my sister, and she said that the reason amanda is saying that to anna is because she feels insecure about anna being friends with me, and she worries that i'm a 'competitor' for anna's affections or whatever, so she points out my faults so that anna can see how i'm not so great, too. Lia is way too smart for her own good. butttt, i'm just not going to say anything, and i'm going to be the bigger person, and if amanda wants to diss me, then she can. i still won't say anything negative about her to anna, no matter how mad i am. i'm just going to try to be good.

2008-09-06T00:36:00.001-06:00

It's been awhile, but I just have a short revelation. I'm not gonna lie, I'm a sucker for blue eyes.

a small change in heart

2008-08-07T06:07:00.003-06:00

what started out as a torturous voyage i was dreading turned into a fantastic vacation that i have regrets leaving.
while it is true that i'm ecstatic to be leaving for home, due to my friends there, addie, my room, a car, and an actual BED, there are many things that i'm going to miss about korea.
such as....
the aggravating, yet constant buzz of the (giant, bird-like) cicadas, the rumbling of the subway only a few stories below the pavement, the swarms of thousands of similar looking people pushing past me on the street, the sound of children shrieking gleefully from the playground beside the apartment, the lack of any buildings with below 10 stories, the friendly members of the church we've been attending here, the easy, cheap transportation (subway = love), the chance of meeting someone new in the apartment elevator everyday, the cheerful little stationary stores sitting on every street, the demanding vendors, the fact that every female here is completely in fashion, karaoke rooms (nori-bang), the (usually repulsive) food, the glass storage cases in front of every restaurant that has plastic samples of the food to be eaten inside, the cuuuute korean guys (yes, i admit that i now think that korean guys are cute) who all look the same, the thrill of being in a city where I know practically no one, therefore being able to be whoever i want to be, the comfortable/chic bookstores, and maybe most of all, the ping-su. i'll miss the fads that go completely overboard, like the unflattering thick, black-framed glasses that practically everyone wears, astigmatism or not, waffles for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks (they're delicious! i see why everyone likes them), baggy short-shorts, frilly, lacy things, healthy drinks, ridiculously high heels (to make up for everyone's shortness, i guess), chains of cheap make-up stores, seafood flavored snacks, everyone getting plastic surgery to look like westerners, silly english sentences on notebooks and t-shirts that make absolutely no sense, and dramas (soap operas) on TV.
oh, and i'm disappointed that we're leaving just as i finally made a friend.
there are a few things that i won't miss about korea though,
like...
the fact that every single freaking girl here is a size zero, so it's extremely difficult to find any cute clothing that fits, not being able to hang out with my friends whenever i feel like it, having to exercise every morning, walking at least 4 kilometers a day (not including said exercise), getting carsick when i actually get to ride in a car, the lack of american movies, not being able to have a bed, and most of all, having to follow every single ridiculous rule my grandmother can think of to torture us with (SHUT THAT DOOR! CLOSE THE TOILET LID! DON'T USE THAT LIGHT! NEVER, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, SIT ON MY COUCH!!!!!!!!!! DON'T SIT ON MY CHAIR AT THE DINING ROOM TABLE! CLOSE THE CLOSET DOORS! WASH YOUR FEET RIGHT NOW! DON'T WEAR THOSE SHOES! DON'T LET THAT BAG TOUCH THE GROUND! DON'T TOUCH THAT HANDRAIL! etc.)

The Story of the Sixth Borough - an excerpt from Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

2008-07-09T00:11:00.001-06:00

“Once upon a time, New York City had a sixth borough.” “What’s a borough?” “That’s what I call an interruption.” “I know, but the story won’t make any sense to me if I don’t know what a borough is.” “It’s like Neighborhood. Or a collection of neighborhoods.” “So if there was once a sixth borough, then what are the five boroughs?” “Manhattan, obviously, Brooklyn, Queens, Staten Island, and the Bronx.” “Have I ever been to any of the other boroughs?” “Here we go.” “I just want to know.” “We went to the Bronx Zoo once, a few years ago. Remember that?” “No.” “And we’ve been to Brooklyn to see the roses at the Botanic Garden.” “Have I been to Queens?” “I don’t think so.” “Have I been to Staten Island?” “No.” “Was there really a sixth borough?” “I’ve been trying to tell you.” “No more interruptions. I promise.”
“Well, you won’t read about it in any of the history book, because there’s nothing—save for the circumstantial evidence in Central Park—to prove that it was there at all. Which makes its existence very easy to dismiss. But even though most people will say they have no time or reason to believe in the Sixth Borough, and don’t believe in the Sixth Borough, they will still use the world ‘believe.’
“The Sixth Borough was also an island, separated from Manhattan by a thin body of water whose narrowest crossing happened to equal the world’s long jump record, such that exactly one person on earth could go from Manhattan to the Sixth Borough without getting wet. A huge party was made of the yearly leap. Bagels were strung from island to island on special spaghetti, samosas were bowled at baguettes, Greek salads were thrown like confetti. The children of New York captured fireflies in glass jars, which they floated between the boroughs. The bugs would slowly asphyxiate—” “Asphyxiate?” “Suffocate.” “Why didn’t they just punch holes into the lids?” “The fireflies would flicker rapidly for their last few minutes of life. If it was timed right, the river shimmered as the jumper crossed it.” “Cool.”
“When the time finally came, the long jumper would begin his approach from the East River. He would run the entire width of Manhattan, as New Yorkers rooted him on from opposite sides of the street, from the windows of their apartments and offices, and from the branches of trees. Second Avenue, Third Avenue, Lexington, Park, Eighth, Ninth, Tenth… And when he leapt, New Yorkers cheered from the banks of both Manhattan and the Sixth Borough, cheering the jumper on and cheering each other on. For those few moments that the jumper was in the air, every New Yorker felt capable of flight.
“Or maybe ‘suspension’ is a better word. Because what was so inspiring about the leap was not how the jumper got from one borough to the other, but how he stayed between them for so long.” “That’s true.” “One year—many, many years ago—the end of the jumper’s big toe skimmed the surface of the river, causing a little ripple. People gasped as the ripple traveled out from the Sixth Borough back toward Manhattan, knocking the jars of fireflies against one another like wind chimes.
“‘You must have gotten a bad start!’ a Manhattan councilman hollered from across the water.
“The jumper shook his head, more confused than ashamed.
“‘You had the wind in your face,’ a Sixth Borough councilman suggested, offering a towel for the jumper’s foot.
“The jumper shook his head.
“‘Perhaps he ate too much for lunch,’ said one onlooker to another.
“‘Or maybe he’s past his prime,’ said another, who’d brought his kids to watch the leap.
“‘I bet his heart wasn’t in it,’ said another. ‘You just can’t expect to jump that far without some serious feeling.’
“‘No,’ the jumper said to all of the speculation. ‘None of that’s right. I jumped just fine.’
“The revelation—” “Revelation?” “Realization.” “Oh yeah.” “It traveled across the onlookers like the ripple caused by the toe, and when the mayor of New York City spoke it aloud, everyone sighed in agreement: ‘The Sixth Borough is moving.’” “Moving!”
“A millimeter at a time, the Sixth Borough receded from New York. One year, the long jumper’s entire foot got wet, and after a number of years, his shin, and after many, many years—so many years that no one could remember what it was like to celebrate without anxiety—the jumper had to reach out his arms and grab at the Sixth Borough fully extended, and then he couldn’t touch it at all. The eight bridges between Manhattan and the Sixth Borough strained and finally crumbled, one at a time, into the water. The tunnels were pulled too thin to hold anything at all.
“The phone and electrical lines snapped, requiring Sixth Boroughers to revert to old fashioned technologies, most of which resembled children’s toys: they used magnifying glasses to reheat their carryout; they folded important documents into paper airplanes and threw them from one office building into another; those fireflies in glass jars, which had once been used merely for decorative purposes during the festivals of the leap, were now found in every room of every home, taking the place of artificial light.
“The very same engineers who dealt with the Leaning Tower of Pisa…which was where?” “Italy!” “Right. They were brought over to assess the situation.
“‘It wants to go,’ they said.
“‘Well, what can you say about that?’ the mayor of New York asked.
“To which they replied: ‘There’s nothing to say about that.’
“Of course they tried to save it. Although ‘save’ might not be the right word, as it did seem to want to go. Maybe ‘detain’ is the right word. Chains were moored to the banks of the islands, but the links soon snapped. Concrete pilings were poured around the perimeter of the Sixth Borough, but they, too, failed. Harnesses failed, magnets failed, even prayer failed.
“Young friends, whose string-and-tin-can phone extended from island to island, had to pay out more and more string, as if letting kites go higher and higher.
“’It’s getting almost impossible to hear you,’ said the young girl from her bedroom in Manhattan as she squinted through a pair of her father’s binoculars, trying to find her friend’s window.
“’I’ll holler if I have to,’ said her friend from his bedroom in the Sixth Borough, aiming his last birthday’s telescope at her apartment.
“The string between them grew incredibly long, so long it had to be extended with many other strings tied together: his yo-yo string, the pull from her talking doll, the twine that had fastened his father’s diary, the waxy string that had kept her grandmother’s pearls around her neck and off the floor, the thread that had separated his great-uncle’s childhood quilt from a pile of rags. Contained within everything they shared with one another were the yo-yo, the doll, the diary, the necklace, and the quilt. They had more and more to tell each other, and less and less string.
“The boy asked the girl to say ‘I love you’ into her can, giving her no further explanation.
“And she didn’t ask for any, or say ‘That’s silly,’ or ‘We’re too young for love,’ or even suggest that she was saying ‘I love you’ because he asked her to. Instead she said, ‘I love you.’ The words traveled the yo-yo, the doll, the diary, the necklace, the quilt, the clothesline, the birthday present, the harp, the tea bag, the tennis racket, the hem of the skirt he one day should have pulled from her body.”
“Grody!”
“The boy covered his can with a lid, removed it from the string, and put her love for him on a shelf in his closet. Of course, he never could open the can, because then he would lose its contents. It was enough just to know it was there.
“Some, like that boy’s family, wouldn’t leave the Sixth Borough. Some said, ‘Why should we? It’s the rest of the world that’s moving. Our borough is fixed. Let them leave Manhattan.’ How can you prove someone like that wrong? And who would want to?” “I wouldn’t.” “Neither would I. For most Sixth Boroughers, though, there was no question of refusing to accept the obvious, just as there was no underlying stubbornness, or principle, or bravery. They just didn’t want to go. They liked their lives and didn’t want to change. So they floated away, one millimeter at a time.
“All of which brings us to Central Park. Central Park didn’t used to be where it is now.” “You just mean in the story, right?”
“It used to rest squarely in the center of the Sixth Borough. It was the joy of the borough, its heart. But once it was clear that the Sixth Borough was receding for good, that it couldn’t be saved or detained, it was decided, by New York City referendum, to salvage the park.” “Referendum?” “Vote.” “And?” “And it was unanimous. Even the most stubborn Sixth Boroughers acknowledged what must be done.
“Enormous hooks were driven through the easternmost grounds, and the park was pulled by the people of New York, like a rug across a floor, from the Sixth Borough into Manhattan.
“Children were allowed to lie down on the park as it was being moved. This was considered a concession, although no one knew why a concession was necessary, or why it was to children that this concession must be made. The biggest fireworks show in history lit the skies of New York City that night, and the Philharmonic played its heart out.
“The children of New York lay on their backs, body to body, filling every inch of the park, as if it had been designed for them and that moment. The fireworks sprinkled down, dissolving in the air just before they reached the ground, and the children were pulled, one millimeter and one second at a time, into Manhattan and adulthood. By the time the park found its current resting place, every single one of the children had fallen asleep, and the park was a mosaic of their dreams. Some hollered out, some smiled unconsciously, some were perfectly still.”
“Dad?” “Yes?” “I know there wasn’t really a sixth borough. I mean, objectively.” “Are you an optimist or a pessimist?” “I can’t remember. Which?” “Do you know what those words mean?” “Not really.” “An optimist is positive and hopeful. A pessimist is negative and cynical.” “I’m an optimist.” “Well, that’s good, because there’s no irrefutable evidence. There’s nothing that could convince someone who doesn’t want to be convinced. But there is an abundance of clues that would give the wanting believer something to hold on to.” “Like what?” “Like the peculiar fossil record of Central Park. Like the incongruous pH of the reservoir. Like the placement of certain tanks at the zoo, which correspond to the holes left by the gigantic hooks that pulled the park from borough to borough.” “Jose.”
“There is a tree—just twenty-four paces due east of the entrance to the merry-go-round—into whose trunk are carved two names. There is no record of them in the phone books or censuses. They are absent from all hospital and tax and voting documentation. There is no evidence whatsoever of their existence, other than the proclamation on the tree. Here’s a fact you might find fascinating: no less than five percent fo the names carved into the trees of Central Park are of unknown origin.””That is fascinating.”
“As all of the Sixth Borough’s documents floated away with the Sixth Borough, we will never be able to prove that those names belonged to residents of the Sixth Borough, and were carved when Central Park still resided there, instead of in Manhattan. Some people believe they are made-up names and, to take the doubt a step further, that the gestures of love were made-up gestures. Others believe other things.” “What do you believe?”
“Well, it’s hard for anyone, even the most pessimistic of pessimists, to spend more than a few minutes in Central Park without feeling that he or she is experiencing some tense in addition to the present, right?” “I guess.” “Maybe we’re just missing things we’ve lost, or hoping for what we want to come. Or maybe it’s the residue of the dreams from that night the park was moved. Maybe we miss what those children had lost, and hope for what they hoped for.”
“And what about the Sixth Borough?” “What do you mean?” “What happened to it?” “Well, there’s a gigantic hole in the middle of it where Central Park used to be. As the park moves across the planet, it acts like a frame, displaying what lies beneath it.” “Where is it now?” “Antarctica.” “Really?”
“The sidewalks are covered in ice, the stained glass of the public library is straining under the weight of the snow. There are frozen fountains in frozen neighborhood parks, where frozen children are frozen at the peaks of their swings—the frozen ropes holding them in flight. Livery horses—” “What’s that?” “The horses that pull the carriages in the park.” “They’re inhumane.” “They’re frozen mid-trot. Flea-market vendors are frozen mid-haggle. Middle-aged women are frozen in the middle of their lives. The gavels of frozen judges are frozen between guilt and innocence. On the ground are the crystals of the frozen first breaths of babies, and those of the last gasps of the dying. On a frozen shelf, in a closet frozen shut, is a can with a voice in it.”
“Dad?” “Yeah?” “This isn’t an interruption, but are you done?” “The end.” “That story was really awesome.” “I’m glad you think so.” “Awesome.
“Dad?” “Yeah?” “I just thought of something. Do you think any of those things I dug up in Central Park were actually from the Sixth Borough?”
He shrugged his shoulders, which I loved.
“Dad?” “Yeah, buddy?” “Nothing.”

2008-06-28T01:54:00.002-06:00

I love writing and drawing.
They both have so many positive attributes.
Writing and drawing are both so perfect for expressing emotions.
While they're both fantastic, though, sometimes drawing can go farther in-depth than writing, and vice versa.
That is all.

a life without insecurities

2008-06-28T01:39:00.003-06:00

How beautiful it would be, being uninhibited and brave, reaching out to others in a way no one else can. To be able to say what you want, do what you want, be able to uplift others easily and without doubt. Seeing the poor begging on the streets makes me want to do more than just help them, it makes me want to reach out to them, pull them up into a warm, embracing hug and say "Everything will be okay. And if it's not, you're still alive. You'll be okay." Seeing the blind man stumbling through the subway, cup in his hand jingling quietly, makes me want to stand up, pull him into the vacant seat beside me, wrap my arm around him and tell him "Rest, you've got a long day ahead of you."
So many people are unwilling to do the littlest bit they can, myself included. My reasons are feeling shy, naive, embarrassed, the fear of being yelled at. Good reasons, but not good enough in the big picture.
Yesterday, on the subway, I stood up with my sister and her friend because we would be getting off at the next stop. A woman sitting three seats down scooted to my seat on the very edge simply because even though she would have to sit next to someone, she wouldn't have to have another on her other side. It seems the corner seats are the most popular in Korea.
Why can't people be willing to sit next to a stranger, reach out to them in that small way, just by being there? It offends me when people scoot away from me, as if I'm a parasite, and a parasite that smells, at that.
I will do what little things I am brave enough to do just to make the mental and physical gap between strangers that much smaller. I will not scoot away from people on the subway, I will donate money to the poor and unfortunate, I will smile at strangers who look at me curiously, just so they all are aware that I am opening my arms to them, in a hidden but real way. Even if said strangers just think that I'm creepy and/or a pervert.

Korea

2008-06-17T05:17:00.002-06:00

Seoul must be so terrifying to a newcomer at first glance. Ichon itself is ENORMOUS with intimidating, gargantuan neon signs flashing their wares in a foreign language, numerous/countless apartments clogging the streets, cars rarely stopping for a light, thousands of tan, skinny, well-dressed, and dark-haired people littering the sidewalks and roads, the constant presence of smoggy, gray air, the lack of any nature whatsoever (besides, maybe, the river), the merchandise stands on the street with loud, nosy employees, and worst of all, the agressive old women, shoving past you on the subway, and making it clear that they do NOT like Americans. Speaking of which, it's not helpful that millions of students are protesting imported meat from America, and probably hate my guts just for being half of the country they're fighting against. I actually saw a shirt that said "I'm afrain of Americans". The mispelling is intentional, believe me. What also must be frightening to outsiders is the subway. If they have never been on it before, it surely must be a nightmare. Waiting at the station for it to come, loudspeakers chime to announce it's arrival. Little do you know that doomsday is around the corner. The maelstrom of artificial wind engulfs you, tugging your clothing and hair away from your body. A low, menacing honk echoes through the passage way as you hear the deafening rumbling of something coming close, and fast. As you cower in fear from the dread of dying so young, you notice that all the Koreans around you are completely calm, reading their newspapers and listening to their MP3 players. The Metal Monster comes barreling down the track, flying past you so quickly that you jump back in surprise. Its shutters open after it slows down to a screeching halt, and you have no choice but to nervously walk aboard, letting the Koreans fight over the only seats left as you stand, clutching onto the handle provided for safety.

2008-06-11T22:12:00.002-06:00

Lia was telling me about how perfect her summer was last year, and I started thinking about the summer I had. I'm sure it won't be the best summer of my life, but thus far in my short existence it was one of the best. Really, it was a summer of firsts. My first boyfriend, the first time someone of the opposite sex told me he loved me, the first time I realized that love shouldn't be used in such a trivial manner, first time that I learned that I was far too immature and unprepared for a relationship, the first breakup, and the first time I lied and hurt someone for my own personal gain. The first summer of getting another best friend, first time I had sleepovers whenever I felt like it, first time I could say anything and not worry about being judged. The first time I ever rode an ATV (and overused the privilege). First summer of being partially accepted by my ward sisters, and the first summer of having a hot book. It was a beautiful, lazy summer, a summer filled with new experiences. While I enjoyed and treasured it, I know that I won't have any more summers exactly like it. Changes occur, and if every summer were similar, they wouldn't be special any longer. I hope the first experiences will lead to many more of the same, sculpting my life into a fascinating piece of art.

2008-06-08T09:54:00.002-06:00

Even though I know that I should be ecstatic that I never have to return to Churchill ever again, I feel kind of morose. Churchill is practically my junior high, since Wasatch burned down and it was our building, but if I ever want to visit any of my old teachers, I have to go to the new Wasatch. Driving past Churchill on the freeway will be weird because the relos will all be gone, and the parking lot will look so staggeringly empty. And I am so scared for high school. Absolutely terrified. Skyline is so... big, and it'll be like seventh grade all over again. New, big school, lots of new, big, older students, getting lost in the halls while desperately clutching onto loads of books. Ah, the nerdiness returns. Maybe I'll go back to my seventh grade element and stop plucking and using makeup. Ew. I wonder if they'll give us more than five minutes between classes, seeing as there are like 4 seperate buildings. And I wonder if all my friends will either 1. have forgetten about me or 2. stop talking to me since I won't have seen them all summer. Maybe I'll have to start school with no friends, allllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll over again. Whee. Actually, I'm not that worried about that cause I've got good friends who have my back. Anna has been taking tons of pictures for me while I'm in Korea so that I can relive the memories even though I wasn't part of them, and Celina MIGHT come visit me in Korea. I hope.

2008-05-29T07:41:00.003-06:00

Is it bad when you run out of ways to describe how much you like something that you really do like? If you can only say "Oh, that's cute." and not even make it sound like you really mean it? Lately I've been feeling like a blob with very few emotions, and when I do have them, they're over exaggerated in an almost false way. As if I'm trying to make up for something. And I've been saying "hahaha" and "lol" and ":)" so many times in my emails that it looks like I'm some sort of monotonous laughing monster. All of the pictures taken of me show my face with an extreme lack of emotion, my expression looking so empty I almost look angry. It's true that they aren't bad picture, but what happened to my constantly cheery, chubby face? My consistent grin? Last year Alex Graham made fun of me for being so happy all the time, and Emily scolded me for being non-stop positive. This year Alex accused "Erin, you're always sad." and I didn't really talk to Emily, so she didn't say anything. I'm not a sad person, but it seems that my smiles are becoming more and more scarce. Or maybe I'm just overreacting.

2008-05-18T17:40:00.002-06:00

There are times when I want to describe my happenings with big, pretty words and artistic views. There are other times when I just want to scream and jump around manically, giggling like a kid who's had his first shot of mountain dew. Today is one of the maniac times. OHHHHHHHH MY GOSH. I THINK ZACH ACTUALLY LIKES MEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
How do I know? Wellllll, seeing as I'm leaving to Korea this Thursday, I had a goodbye party yesterday and invited Zach (along with my gal pals, but-no offense to them-they don't matter in this post). When I sent him the message to ask if he wanted to come, he replied asking "when is it? I neeeeeeeeeeeeed to come!!" or something along those lines. He came with Alex, and it was all fantastic. I talked to mostly them, seeing as they didn't know anyone besides Anna and me at the party, and we had a lot of laughs. Blah blah. When his mom and dad came to pick him and Alex up, I was planning on hugging him, but I couldn't get myself to, hence my last post. After the laste person (Celina) had left, I sent him a message just saying "Thanks for coming", and "it was fun", and "I'll keep in touch with you while I'm gone". He replied with "are you kidding that was SO MUCH FUN !!!!!!! btw i felt really awkward when i was saying goodbye i felt like i should have hugged you but i didn't known what would have happened if i did that in front of your mom. . . ((<- important part)) anyhoo IT was fun meeting some of your friends! tell them that they are really cool :D"
He wanted to hug me too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Well, he "felt like [he] should", but STILL. I REALLY hope this means something.

2008-05-17T18:59:00.002-06:00

I am a pathetic, withering, incompetent, cowardly piece of crap. I'm not going to see him for three entire months, and I can't even hug him goodbye!!!! Words cannot describe the frustration I'm feeling towards myself, and I wish that I were braver. Less goofy, more confident. He's just so...wonderful. Such a great friend. So kind, good-natured. He laughs at my pathetic excuse for humor, and when he does it's so cute. Just seeing him snort makes me bubble. Which sounds really weird. I had a dream awhile ago that he gave me a hug, and it's impossible to explain how it felt without sounding completely corny. It just felt...right to be in his arms: safe. And it felt like we belonged like that, together. But the point is, I didn't hug him, and now I'll never know what it really feels like. Honestly, why was I so afraid of a hug?

Korea

2008-05-05T21:30:00.003-06:00

It's really hit me, now.
I'm leaving to Korea in only a couple weeks, and I'm not going to get back until a couple weeks before school starts.
Shoot me.
NOW.

2008-05-05T19:49:00.001-06:00

Is it a problem that just seeing his name makes me shiver? That discovering that his tryout time was an hour earlier dissappoints me drastically? It probably is, because it means only one thing:

I'm obviously not quite over him yet.

But that can change. Oh, don't fret, that can definitely change.

p.s. Apparently my sister has 'linked' me to her blog (or whatever) so I have to watch out for what I say in all future posts.

2008-05-01T23:47:00.002-06:00

Why do I have an obsession with writing romances? Simple. I want my characters to have lovely lives that make up for my own pathetic one. Like, while Olivia is pointlessly arguing with Collin when inevitably they're going to end up together, courtesy of their creator, I'm scared of seeing a guy who, I hope, has no clue of my crush on him. I'm scared that he won't even acknowledge me, even though we were friends for awhile there. Like I said, me=insecure. I just want to...look at him. Hear his voice. See his smile... But more than that, I want his laughter to be directed towards me. Like it was for awhile there. I want his voice to be taking part in the art of conversation with mine, his penetrating blue gaze to be focused on my bland, hazel one. In reality, I won't even end up seeing him at the auditions, and if I do ever see him again, it'll be next year, in the after-school orchestra. Which I will end up not making, and he will end up succeeding. Or vice versa. Oh, gosh, my sentences are so choppy. It's infuriating! The point is, all of my characters have their happy endings because I choose the endings for them. All I can hope for is that someday, for at least one year, someone will love me, and I will love them, and I'll be happy. Then reality will kick in, and I'll be left alone, crying. Life for a fictional romance character must be so simple, not having to worry about self-pitying tears, being abandoned and never cared for again. They must all know that they'll end up getting what they want, and there's really no need to worry cause it'll work out in the end. In my case, and in most normal peoples' cases, love isn't that simple. Nor is life.

The Reason Why Romance Stories Are Far From Real

2008-04-25T23:49:00.003-06:00

Because things don't always work out in the end. Guys cheat, hearts break, marriages don't last. Not every story has a happy ending, at least, not in real life. Not all girls are beautiful enough to have guys actually want them, and some girls end up not even getting married, let alone proposed to. It's sad, but unfortunately, it's true.

2008-04-24T19:06:00.005-06:00

Hm...the pictures are making my page cheery. Here are some more pictures. Just random.

Marriage

2008-04-24T17:25:00.002-06:00

I feel almost like I have a chronic fear of marriage. I'm completely aware of the fact that I'm far too young to get married anyway, but when the time comes, I'm almost dreading it. It's not the concept of love, and having a close relationship with someone like none other. It's the thought of divorce, and the loss of that once so strong love. Every B Day, I discuss topics such as these with my lunch friends, and it doesn't really help at all, it's just nice to know that other people have the same insecurities that I do.
I believe that love is real, I really do. I believe that once you find it, it can last forever. That the irrelevant and quaint crushes that I currently take part in having are just leading to the real thing. I also believe that finding that love must be extremely difficult. Is there only one other person in the world for me? And if I never find him? Will I have a lacking relationship, with an emptiness I can never understand, let alone explain? Can love be forced, if the person is willing enough? I want that deep love that lasts forever, one where he will love me just as much, and all jealousy of past relationships can be left behind. A love that is so strong that we will only see each other, ignoring the beautiful people that surround us because we know each other's heart, each other's soul. A love that will never falter, a love that may have its shortcomings, but in the end will vanquish all misgivings. In other words, I want the perfect romance. So many marriages end because of cheating and lying. So many remain together even though the love has long past faded. I don't want to marry the love of my life, only discover after 25 years of marriage that he's cheating on me with a more beautiful woman, a more slender one, more more more. I want a husband who will remain faithful and loving, one that I will keep loving, who will think of me as perfect, even if I am not the most beautiful girl he's ever seen. Only shallow relationships are based off of looks. The way a person looks may be what first attracts their partner, but personalities and thoughts are what really join the two in harmony.
I worry about myself. I worry that I'm shallow and flighty, eager to move on to the next hot thing, guy-wise. I worry that I'll think I'm in love, but after only a few months of marriage I'll get bored and want to move on. And then I worry that I'll be the one so enamored with my spouse, and he'll be the one that gets bored and files for the divorce shortly after we get married.
My parents seem as though they were never especially fond of each other, which could be a base of my insecurities on love. Neither dated around all that much, so how could they completely tell that they were meant to be together? The way that my dad proposed was neither romantic nor clever. They made a decision to get married with 'mutual agreeing'. He didn't even have a ring. I hear the sappy, corny, but oh-so-adorable stories of romantic engagements, and all I have to say is, "Oh, they agreed to get married." My dad didn't even end up buying her the ring! Her dad had to buy it! All due to my grandpa (Dad's dad) and his moronic stinginess. Or frugality, in nicer terms. As of now, they hardly touch. It seems as though they are still together because that's the way they think it should be. If my dad tries to kiss my mom, she claims that he's 'hurting' her and shies away. I want my marriage to be more close than that.
I guess all that I'm trying to say is that, I want to find a lasting love so that I don't get hurt in the end.

2008-04-21T17:29:00.003-06:00

the shadows and sunshine beat fervently against the eggshells of protection shielding my pupils, trying in vain to pierce their vision. wispy wind lazily drawls, attempting to pull the thin layer of warmth from my chilled shoulders. a faint whiff of new cherry blossoms flirts lightly with my nose, before flitting off to a new lover. my feet move to a memorized course, rhythmically plodding at a steady beat. music of the birds floats dreamily in the airy, sunny air, uplifting and praising.
spring has come.

The Concert

2008-04-20T20:59:00.002-06:00

Might as well write about the event I had to go to. I talked to Mr. Watson sometime this last week to ask him when and where it was, seeing as I had never gotten the letter containing the dates of the concerts and crap. He said it was at the Rose Wagner hall at 7:00, but I should be there at 6:45. Today, at about 5:30, I started panicking about whether he was just pulling my leg about the place, because it seemed too nice for our orchestra to play there. I was worried I'd show up, clad in all black carrying a large, cased instrument only to discover there was no concert, or at least no concert with me in it. I'd go to school and get upset at Watson, and he'd say "What, you actually believed that?"
Worried, I confronted my mom, and she said to call a girl in my section. I did, and her mom answered. When I asked her if Sarah was there, she said she was already at the concert, because we were supposed to be there at 5. I thanked her, hung up, and freaked out. We got there at about 6:30, and I practiced with my orchestra. Turns out the concert tonight actually had all three orchestras in the group playing, and at the end we were going to play two pieces together, one of which I had never received. The two pieces were actually really pretty, and I stand partnered with a guy from the older group. He actually went to my junior high when I was in seventh grade, and he's the older brother of Christian, who's in my school orchestra. Speaking of Christian, he said that my dad had the most awesome hair ever. When I asked him how he knew who my dad was, he said that it was because he was with my mom. I asked him how he knew who my mom was, he said it was cause she was the only Asian woman in the room(which is hard to believe). I asked him how he knew my mom was Asian, and he said he just did. Odd. Anyways, I asked him why he thought my dad's hair is awesome, and he said something about it being a comb over. I have no idea why anyone would ever think that's awesome. It's not even a comb over, my dad's not bald enough to be... fortunate enough to have one.... Odder.

2008-04-20T20:50:00.003-06:00

He didn't even show up. The last time I was ever going to see him until (maybe) after summer, and he didn't even show up. Tonight was the last concert of the year, and Daniel was supposed to be there. His sister was, his twin brother and mother were in the audience, but he was no where in sight. I guess I didn't matter enough for him to attend. I don't see why I thought I did, but for awhile there I thought we were at least good enough friends for him to want to see me one last time before the season let off. Sarah, Megan and Isaac were constantly teasing us for flirting--which in my case, I was guilty of--and he let them know that he liked a girl (Governor Huntsman's granddaughter)at his school. I told them I liked someone who I really, honestly don't from my school. They still made fun of us, and I wondered if they really thought we liked each other. It would have been nice, but apparently isn't so. I should stop having high expectations when all they lead to is disappointment and hurt. Maybe I should become a Mormon nun and live in a cave somewhere (by myself) in the Himalayas, singing hymns every ten minutes and devoting my life to the Book of Mormon and prayers.

2008-04-13T17:37:00.002-06:00

I don't want an Edward Cullen. I don't understand why anyone would, really. I mean, he's so...perfect. Who wants their boyfriend to be perfect? Him standing next to you would make you look so...plain. And besides, imperfections are what make people beautiful. I've always thought that scars and freckles are cute. They show that the person actually does things, goes in the sun, is reckless enough to get their imperfections. If I were to be around Edward Cullen, I'd feel like the ugliest thing to be dropped on the face of the Earth.

2008-04-12T23:41:00.003-06:00

The land of my dreams is barren, almost devoid of all life-forms, with the exception of the occasional friend that has apparently been within my self-conscience. They can be so inexplicably random and uncomprehendable that I often wonder what runs through my mind unwillingly. They affect my reactions in real life, without me consciously agreeing.
Strangely, I'm beginning to accept it.

Romantical

2008-04-12T20:47:00.002-06:00

What an odd emotion I'm currently experiencing. It's not even like an emotion, but...a state of mind. I feel sort of at peace, yet restless. Celina and I are currently in an unrequited obsession over a beautiful senior at Skyline, hence my last entry. This emotion that I'm going through is so... different, it's like this bubble in the pit of my stomach, enlarging at the thought of him, and depleting considerably at the realization of how different his world is from mine, how he most likely doesn't even remember me, how he is so attractive in so many ways that much more beautiful girls are probably trailing after him also.
-I met him at Joe's birthday party, last summer: the summer of 2007. I think the date was August 6th, a Monday. Joe's brother invited his friend to join us for Raging Waters, whose name was Patrick. Beautiful. As soon as he shed his shirt, all the other guests were left drooling. Well, probably only Celina and me because everyone else was a boy... besides Joe's mother, but really, it'd be inappropriate for her to be lusting after her son's friend. Anyways, it was shocking that such an appealing creature would be friends with Scott, brother of Joe, both of which are... not exactly eye-catching. Unless you're thinking how...freckly they are. And how they look exactly like Bobby Brady, which they should, seeing as he's their father. That's not the point. Wonder boy was amazingly hot, pardon the crude term, and I was practically in lust. He spoke little to us, but when he did, I was left panting. First, Celina and I were lying in our inner tubes soaking up the sun's rays. He asked us if we spoke Spanish. Celina is a Francais girl, while I'm an Espanol, so I said that I did. He spouted off some phrases which I had no clue what the meanings were. I, being clueless asked "Huh?" and he laughed and walked off. Oh gosh, cute AND bilingual.
-The party was great, and Celina and I got thirsty, so we bought some fruity slushy drinks, I think called 'Fruze' or something. Celina's flavor was Raspberry and mine was Strawberry Banana. It was more banana than strawberry, and tasted like badly mixed flavored fructose, which it probably was. I was complaining about how it tasted like crap. Patrick asked if he could have a taste. Of course I let him, who wouldn't want those lips touching the same straw your lips did? It was practically like kissing! Except for not at all!! I almost kept the straw. Almost. I forgot about it and threw it away.
-Our last encounter is hardly something to party about. He was playing with my sunglasses, and dropped them. One of the lenses got a crack in them. Woo hoo, broken sunglasses. Sad thing is, I still have them.
-Since then, I've practically forgotten about him, then gained a new found interest. Joe got a myspace, which meant that I found his brother's myspace (ew, he has pictures of girls clad in bikinis), which meant that I found Patrick's. It's almost like Patrick is self-conscious because he has no pictures of himself, aside from some blurry shot of his eyes and nose. I don't see why. There's something about his nose that I find so attractive. It's got a bump in it, and it's so... characteristic. Plus he actually READS. And his interests don't have the word "Girls" in it once. That has to be one of the first times I have ever witnessed that. And he writes POETRY! POETRY. And does photography. It's probably really creepy that I know all this, but I'm sorry. When I get into things, I get REALLY into them. Therefore research them more than I do topics for school essays. The most depressing thing is that I will probably never see him again, because by the time I'm in high school he'll be long gone, graduated and gone beyond.

Inspiring

2008-04-12T19:59:00.002-06:00

he's aglow with the musty morning light, mouth hanging slightly open in the effort of concentrating on the beat. their music is promiscous, abounding in hard rock and light indie, almost painful to listen to but strangely satisfying at the same time. his cheeks are red, imitating a cherry in it's stage before ripeness. he spares glances to no one, only having eyes for the drums before him, his hands clutching at the sticks creating the whimsical rhythm. strands of his hair of sand are dancing drunkenly throughout the circumference surrounding his head; lilting methodically.

Prayers

2008-04-11T21:13:00.002-06:00

Why is it that the elderly pray longer than the young? Is it because, since they have lived longer, they have more to be thankful for? Is it because they know they will be meeting God soon and they want to atone for their sins? Perhaps it's because through their long lives, they have perfected the art of conversation, discovering more to say to Him, more to ask of him. Or perhaps they are lonely and have no one else to talk to. Maybe they are being selfless and praying for others' blessings and safety. Maybe they are praying for a painless death that doesn't leave their families mourning them for ages. Maybe they're praying that someone will even remember them after they're gone. Or, on another thought, maybe I'm just assuming that all of the elderly pray longer than I do because all the ones that I know do. Maybe the majority pray for less time, or no time at all, than I do.

2008-04-08T18:57:00.007-06:00

I think I'm the most insecure person in the world.
I'm always thinking that I'm having problems with my friends, when in reality, I'm not. Like right now for instance. Ha, you're probably thinking "Oh boy, here comes the useless drama." Well, you're right.
Anna is one of my best friends, we got really close over last summer after knowing one another for about two years. About 4 months ago my mom announced to me that I was going away to Korea for the summer. For three effing months. When I told my pals, they were all dissapointed, Anna saying "Who am I gonna hang out with now?" For some reason, I think the vacation is putting an emotion rift between us. She's started getting more attached to other people, and leaving me behind. My mom doesn't really let me hang out with her, or anyone, much. Today at lunch, she, Emma, Celina and I were walking and Emma went to the bathroom. Celina and I were hungry and Emma was taking awhile so we asked Anna if she was going to come with us. She said "I can't leave Emma alone!" We ended up waiting for her. But no, every single day that I have lunch with her, she and Emma leave me behind after the bell rings to go back to orchestra. Way to play favorites. Also at lunch, Anna was talking about how she'd so much rather eat lunch in Mr. Wightman's art room because Amanda and Alysha were in there. Way to make everyone feel oh so loved. She said that she has to be better friends with other people so that when I leave this summer she'll have people to hang out with, and I jokingly said "Why not treasure your time with me?" but not so jokingly, to which she replied "Well, your mom won't let you." So I can't hang out with her every single weekend. It's not like I'm abandoning her willingly to clean my room. This really shouldn't matter so much to me, and I know I'm being self-centered and pitying, I should understand her need to broaden her horizons and to have friends to be around over the summer. I just feel like all of my close friends are leaving me for better people. What's wrong with me?

Stories

2008-04-05T14:24:00.005-06:00

Today feels like a very writey day. Maybe because it's gray outside. I tend to want to write more when the weather seems rainy. I feel as though after Lia told me about her depression problem my perspective in life changed a little bit. I feel a little bit less shallow, and I frown upon the girl I was in seventh grade: Obsessive with boys, obnoxiously loud, annoying. Funny, I don't feel like I'm even the same person. I really like my more recent story about Olivia and her mother dying because I feel it's more...deep than my story about Charlotte in Spain. While Olivia is woeful about her mother's death and is unwilling to let anyone into her heart to help heal it, Charlotte is a flitty, guy-loving girl, only caring to find a Spanish fling while other more important things are going on. Her situation is unrealistic, at least in my eyes. Three boys falling for her on one trip? Like that would happen to anyone. At least, like that would happen to anyone like me. With Olivia, she really does like Collin, but she doesn't want to admit it, because she finds his arrogance infuriating. He insists that he will become her friend and learn as much about her as he can, while she is sure that if he does find out what she's like, he'll no longer want to be around her. While she's telling herself that she simply doesn't like him, the real reason for her detachedness is that she's worried that she'll lose another loved one in her life. And who can really blame her? She's afraid of looking in the mirror because she looks like her mother, for crying out loud. Losing more people doesn't especially seem like the best healing method for her.

2008-04-05T13:56:00.004-06:00

I'm just starting to realize how little I really know. My sister has been one of my greatest role models in life; always doing well in school, trying to avoid conflicts with my mother, and very organized. All the things that I am not. She has been like a second mom to me, while my real mother is yelling at me, trying to get things her way, Lia is reasonable, trying to get the concluding result to favor in every one's opinion. Her motherly ways can be quite frustrating, and my temper often gets the better of me, seeing as I have anger issues. I always figured her as a cold, almost emotionless person, always collected and straight to the point. At times she can be goofy and a little hyperactive, but those times are rare, especially now. Today she told me why: She's suffering from depression, and all I do is aid in its destructiveness. She didn't say the latter, but I figure that my temper doesn't exactly help. She explained to me how when she was 14, she had depression but didn't tell anyone in the family because she worried that mom wouldn't have understood, which she probably wouldn't have. A cousin of mine is also depressed, and my mom chastises him for being 'weird'. Sometimes I just can't understand why she thinks it's okay to make fun of other people as long as they don't hear. Just yesterday I mentioned how I think a little half Chinese half American boy in our ward is so adorable and she replied that, No, he isn't because his mother is ugly. I told her that it was rude of her to say things like that, that she shouldn't, and how would she feel if someone said "Oh, Erin's mother is so ugly." In response, she said "I don't think that I'm ugly. But she is." I was so frustrated with her that I kept arguing, saying that even if the person doesn't hear you making fun of them, it's still considered a sin because you are voicing your unkind opinion of someone else without any need. She said "You ungrateful little girl. I'm taking you to the library and I don't even need to! I should kick you out of the car right now." Her logic seriously astounds me sometimes. Instead of admitting that it's rude to call people out on their personal appearances, she insisted that she was right and I was wrong and I simply "didn't understand". This really doesn't have anything to do with my original topic, so I'll return to that. Lia said that she had recovered from her depression when she was 14, but it had caused her to become detached and less confiding with mom. It had ruined their relationship, and had made things harder for her. I never realized how well I had it off, but my conversation with Lia really set things in a new light. Whenever my mom and I fight, my dad tends to side with me or at least try to calm us both down. She gets angry and says that he cares about me too much. Lia told me that when she was younger, dad would hit her and yell at her, while with me he's more gentle. I've come to think that maybe it's because after his experience with Lia, he realized what he had done was wrong and tried to be more fair with me. My mom learned no such lesson, although she's a little less strict with me. It's partially because she learned to accept that my grades will never be perfect, and that I will never bow down to her will. But Lia's life was much harder than mine is now. She even ran away from home her senior year, after a fight with my mom and dad. I don't really remember what happened, I was only in fifth grade, but she somehow ended up coming back home. Anyways, more with her depression. She said that she's had it for awhile, and that it's more a chemical unbalance more than anything else. Apparently, she's considered comitting suicide many times, which completely suprises me. I thought Lia was more put together than anyone I know. Goes to show that appearances are fooling.

sighs

2008-04-03T19:08:00.006-06:00

It really sucks having beautiful friends. Last year, I overheard a girl talking to her friend. She was saying "Look, can I please just go to this alone? Whenever you and I are together, guys only notice you and don't care about me." I know how she feels. One of my closest friends is so pretty, and I feel like even when I'm having a good day, guys only look at her. Cars are always honking at her, and her reactions are always so natural. The only time I've had a car honk at me was when I went outside in my green flannel pajamas. Two cars honked. Sometimes they honk if I'm with her, but rarely when I'm alone. She can say things like "I think he likes me." so casually when I'm not nearly confident enough with myself to even think that. If a guy I know and she doesn't is flirting with me, he immediately stops and switches to her when she comes into the picture. I just feel so...irrelevant. Inadequate. Losery. Now that I'm finished with adjectives that make me feel bad about myself, I'll continue. For example, with Zach, he would flirt with me all the time, yada yada, but she started art lessons too, and he flirts with her now. She unconciously flirts back, and she never realizes. How do I know this? She told me. I wish I was near pretty enough to compete with her.

Heh.

2008-04-03T16:46:00.005-06:00

Funny, it seems that guys and girls were meant to clash. Guys are really unsensitive to girls' feelings, like "Man, your sister is hot." And girls are really touchy, like "What is THAT supposed to mean?!?!" Someone up above must be laughing as he watches us bicker uselessly

Lovely day, really

2008-03-27T23:32:00.006-06:00

Seriously. Things seem to be turning up for me. It was the last day of the quarter in school today, and my grades are actually adequate. I think they're the best that I've had since my 1st quarter of seventh grade. I actually have a 3.6, of which I am extremely proud. I'm actually on honor role! Like I said, first time since seventh grade. Sure, I got 3.5s in my sevie year, but not 3.6s! Ha, enough of this. Continuing on, I got to hang a bit with one of my closest friends who I felt I was drifting away from. We have only 2 classes together, one of which is orchestra and we can't talk there because, well, it's orchestra. Not to mention she plays a different instrument than me. The other is Seminary, but our seminary class is divided into two groups, and of course, she is in the other. Blah blah, I rant. Anyways, we went to the district art show--where we both submitted some art--and we both got ribbons. She only entered one piece, whereas I entered about 5(not my fault, the art teacher took them all). She got an honorable mention while I got 2nd place in black and white pencil along with 4th place in the same category and an honorable mention as well. Pretty fan-freaking-tastic. I hope that I'll be able to remain as close with her though, because we have really similar interests and personalities. Unfortunately, I'm going to Korea for three entire months this summer, so it might be difficult to uphold relationships with my friends. Eh, I'll send post cards.

Exceptions in expectations

2008-03-27T23:19:00.006-06:00

Realization has dawned upon me. And the realization that has occurred is that: Love makes exceptions. Like I've said before, I'm almost positive that I've never really been in love, but I've been in like, if that makes any sense at all. At one point, I convinced myself that I only liked boys with shaggy blond hair and blue as the sky eyes. Maybe it's because the first guy I ever fell in 'like' with looked like that. But so many absurd things are trying to convince you that there's only one type of guy that you are allowed to like, and you have to stick with it. Have you ever seen one of those survey quiz things on Myspace? The very last category is "In a guy/girl..." and it goes on to ask what eye color, hair color, body type, height, etc. you most prefer. Is it not possible to like guys with different eye colors? What about personalities? Don't they matter too? Sure, I think guys with blue eyes are attractive, but I've seen guys that look good with brown eyes, and that wouldn't look so... put together as they do if they had different eye colors. If everyone in the world had blue eyes and blond hair it wouldn't make those elements special anymore, would it? This is kind of going off subject. The point is, it's easy to be bent on something that you think you know that you want, but you can meet someone else without that feature, and you like them anyways. I hope that I'm making sense.

Luuurrve

2008-01-12T23:04:00.005-07:00

Love. How can a word so simple be so complicated? It's so easy for me to fall in and out of 'love'. I have the slightest suspicion that I've never even been in love. If I'm convinced that I'm in love with someone, but after only a month I only like them as a friend, what does that mean? Does it mean I only felt affection towards them or that I have some commitment problems? The only person I've ever liked for more than a year is Ryan Scott, and that lasted for..about 9 years. Was I in love with him? I couldn't possibly have been, I was too young! I started liking him at age 4 or 5, and stopped last year. Maybe the only reason I even liked him at all was because there was no one else around. And he was the only boy I really got to know as a friend from age 4 to 10, and from then on I just wanted to hold onto my childhood love. How did this blog even change to this? That's not the point. I guess love isn't meant to be understood. Or maybe I'll only understand it when I truly fall in love.

the new year

2008-01-04T00:01:00.007-07:00

So the new year has begun. My resolutions are quite simple, really.

Get Zach's email

Maybe, just maybe, get Daniel's email

Stop procrastinating (pssh, haha)

Write journal entries every day

Read the scriptures every day

Take Addie on [long] walks at least twice a week

Finish writing at least one book before the end of the year. I can do it!!! I know I can.

2008-01-03T22:59:00.004-07:00

Of all the choices at my school, this year, I've only found one person in my grade attractive. That doesn't mean that I have some undying crush on him or something, it just means that I think he's good-looking and a fun person to have a conversation with. Today, he was talking to his friends about something I have no idea about, and suddenly added me into the conversation by saying "Yeah, Erin thought I was as dumb as a rock when she first saw me." I didn't even realize what was going on. "What are you talking about?" I asked, "I'm not just gonna take one look at you and think, 'Yeah, he looks like he's really stupid.' What even makes you think that?" Without answering my question he just asked "Then what did you think about me when you first saw me?" How am I going to answer that? "Oh yeah, I thought you were hot." Duh, no. I just didn't answer, I changed the subject back to me thinking him stupid. And then, of course, he did as he usually does by saying completely retarded. "Even if you didn't think I was stupid when you first saw me, that's what I thought when I saw you." Ugh. Of course he said he was kidding and all that, but why even say it? Things like that bring thoughts of the movie "Bambi" and little Thumper. "If you can't say something nice, then don't say anything at all." How I wish people would actually do that. But that's actually quite hypocritical of me, seeing as I do the whole insult and then say 'just kidding' a lot. Back on subject, I was talking to a friend of mine, and I found out that another, not as close, friend of mine likes this boy. And she's pretty sure that he likes her back. I already assumed that that was true, because I have 2 classes with both of them in them, and woah they flirt a lot. At least in one of them. And I know I don't like him, because I'd probably be dying of jealousy, but no. The girl is so sweet and she's really pretty, so I wouldn't be able to blame him. And though he can be a complete idiot, he's decent at times, and quite cute, like I said before, so I think they would make a cute couple.

On other news, I feel like I'm drifting from so many of my friends. I have no classes with a lot of them, so I never get the chance to talk to them. Plus I only hang out often with one of my friends, I don't know why. It's actually only one friend that I'm really kind of not been connecting with as much recently... It could be because before she was a little antisocial and only had my other friend and me as friends, pretty much. Well, we were her best friends at least. But now, she barely acknowledges me when I greet her in the halls, she's always too busy talking to other people to talk to me, and she just seems...different. I love her, but I want my old relationship with her back. I'm glad that she's making more friends, I really am, but I wish she would still make some room for me...

Las Vegas

2007-12-28T23:17:00.005-07:00

So I am currently in Las Vegas, which is the first part of our Cali trip. I hate it here. Why would anyone want to come here for more than one day at a time?? There's nothing to do but shop and gamble. It stinks like cigarettes, and my feet are sore. Since my family and I don't gamble, that leaves the options to shopping. The hotel is nice, but we're only here at night. Sigh, at least we're leaving tomorrow. Then I can schmuck around on the beach all I want. Seeing as it'll be about 60 degrees, that won't be too much. Hey, that's better than the snow in Utah. Ah, Christmas was a blast. I got a guitar!!! She's so purty. I named her Audrey. For some reason, I really love that name. I think it has to do with Audrey Hepburn. Oh, my gosh, this is so random, but I've been having the worst dreams the past 2 nights here. First, I had a dream that I failed 3 classes on my report card, and then I had a dream that a series of murders were taking place in my house and I witnessed all of them. Gah, it was horrid. Now every time I pass a place in my house where I saw people die I'll cringe. I'm such a crybaby, you shouldn't pay attention to what I say. Heck, why are you even reading this?

lovely day. sarcasm

2007-12-10T18:05:00.006-07:00

Ah, what a pleasant day. It began by my abrupt awakening at oh, about 7:13. My mother's shrieks interrupted a lovely dream about Zach, and caused me to look at my clock and realize that I had 7 minutes to get ready. We left at 7:30 to get to my school, got there at 7:45, giving me the oh so generous 5 minutes for me to put my cello in the orchestra room(first floor), go to the third floor to put my back pack and lunch in my locker, and scramble back outside to my Geography relo. Did I mention how much I love walking through the bitter ice to get to the relos? After an hour and a half of trying to finish my homework for my next class, seeing as I had been so kind to myself the night before by putting it off. After then end of the class, I ran to Algebra 2, also in the relos, but of course in the parking lot 2 floors below. I hadn't been able to finish my homework in Geography, so I didn't turn it in when everyone else did. I just assumed it'd be okay to turn it in later. Next class: orchestra. First half of the period was quite nice. Lunch period started, and I realized that my 'time of month' was also starting. I borrowed some 'feminine hygiene products' from a friend, and was ever-so-thankful that I didn't get cramps. Turns out that I do get cramps. We returned to orchestra after lunch with me practically limping from pain. I tripped the few steps to my teacher's office, and knocked on his door. He swung it open and I said, "I need tylenol." Yes I know that's illegal. But he's cool like that. He said "Wait a minute," and shut the door on me. His office is in the bass section, so I lied down, and stuck my head under one of the chairs. He didn't come out, and the orchestra started playing, so I went and sat down. At the end of class, he finally came out and said that he couldn't give me medicine, and besides, he was out. I groaned and walked with Anna to the third floor. Science class: I really had to go, so I asked my teacher for a hall pass and went to the rest room. When I came back, there was a note from the office for me, saying that I needed to go call my mom. When I got to the counseling center, I called her, and she immediately said "You're in a lot of trouble." Apparently, my Algebra 2 teacher had called her and told her that I was struggling, and that I hadn't turned in the past 3 assignments. I had to go to her relo right after school.

Crappy week.

2007-12-09T14:19:00.006-07:00

A lot has happened in the past 4 days.
1. I lost my wallet with all my babysitting and birthday money in it ($60), and my friend found it with nothing left in it.
2. My hamster died. (yesterday)
3. I had to play the cello for the stake youth conference this morning.
1. I'm sorry, but that just pisses me off to the point of screaming. I'm completely aware of the fact that most people wouldn't turn in 60 bucks because they're selfish enough to not care that maybe someone needed that money. Maybe someone worked hard to earn that money. Heck, they just see all the green and go "Sweet! I'm gonna go buy drugs!!" I don't know what people do with the money they steal. I asked a lot of people what they would do if they found that much money, and all of them except 2 said that they would keep it. That just bothers me so badly. Is there any integrity left in the world?! My friend Cici was astonished that I said that I would turn in that much money if I found it. But I'm more astonished that people can live with themselves after NOT turning it in. The guilt!! It's so nagging! Okay, I'm done.
2. Is it a bad thing that I'm not all that sad that my hamster is dead? I think it is. When my first hamster died, I was all weepy, could hardly breathe. But yesterday, my mom came into my room and said, "I think Momo is dead, Erin.." and I replied, "Oh. Dad can get him out. I don't wanna touch a dead hamster." Am I really that heartless? Poor Momo, I didn't even take care of him. His entire life was inside that cage. What kind of life is that? It was a mistake getting him. I got him a month after Lottie (my old hamster) had died, and I had mainly gotten him as a replacement. When he hadn't turned out as nice as Lottie, I deemed him evil and left him alone in his gloom. So this is a tribute to Momo. May you rest in peace, and may your spirit live happily.
3. What can I say? I played in stake conference. The end.

Cali

2007-12-03T16:32:00.005-07:00

Sweetness! I get to go to L.A. on the 26th of this month! Day after Christmas, baby. 6 days there!! What better to get my mind off of boys? And what more, but we're going to the Hilton, which is on the BEACH! Oh, my gosh, I wish there was a beach in Utah. I would never be at home. And I might actually get tan!! Which also brings the possibility of skin cancer.. But that's not the point. California!! Six flags!!! HECK YES.

School

2007-12-02T15:57:00.004-07:00

All I can say is that school bores the crap out of me. And I'm doing..not so well in Algebra 2.

Daniel

2007-12-02T15:24:00.005-07:00

Ah, the other half of my oh-so-pitiful love-life. I'm not even sure if my love-life counts as a love-life, since my feelings are most likely not returned. Ah, I'm pathetic. But my patheticness is not the point of this blog. Daniel is. There's not nearly as much to say about Daniel as I said about Zach, but hey. I met Daniel in my after-school orchestra. We both play the cello, he's sixteen, in tenth grade at East High(yes, the High School Musical East High), light brown/dark blonde, has blue as the sky colored eyes, and is about my height. On my first day for the orchestra, I thought he was hot, but he didn't talk at all. It went on like that for about a month: him not saying anything, but listening to my conversations with the other members of the cello section, and laughing at what I said a lot. We finally took a test to finalize our seating. I sat at third, and I was praying that either Daniel or my friend Dana would be my stand partner instead of the insufferable little Isaac who thought he was so amazing. Luckily, Daniel sat next to me, even though it turned out that Dana was my stand partner(she wasn't there yet). When she came, Daniel sat behind me instead, but was consistently poking me in the back with his bow, finally proving that he could talk. I actually got yelled at a lot for talking to him, but it was totally worth it. Unfortunately, orchestra is out for Christmas, and I won't see him till January. All is well, though.
Oh, and might I add: He looks sexy in a suit. Not trying to be a creepy stalker, I'm just saying, it's true!

Zach

2007-12-01T21:30:00.004-07:00

The first major change that has occurred is Zach. Standing just taller than me in height, he has striking red hair, fairly pale skin, and according to an anonymous source, amazing muscles. Being the son of my art teacher, I see him only on Saturdays, seeing as he goes to a charter school, and even if he did go to a public school, he wouldn't be in my boundaries. I met him about 2 months ago when I went to maybe my third art lesson of the season. I had just evacuated my mother's car when I saw him entering his house through the front door, instead of the side door that I used to enter my teacher's studio. I had seen him before, briefly, as he walked past the room, but he had never so much as entered the room in which my lessons took place. When I entered the studio, I took a seat at a table at which no one else was seated, unpacking my colored pencils and sketch book hastily. Zach creaked open the glass door--which, as I mentioned, had never happened before--and spoke softly to Sydney(my art teacher, and his mother), taking a last glance around before vacating again. I shrugged it off and began to slowly recolor the rich hues of my prisma of a bird. I heard the door open once more, and saw Zach holding a sketch book and a container. Sydney called us to attention, and said "This is my son Zach. He'll be joining you for this lesson." I felt uneasy as he pushed through chairs and sat across from me. I restrained from looking at him for ten minutes, instead staring at my picture, picking at every last imperfection. I finally glanced up and saw his picture. I gasped silently to myself. It was a young boy drawn in a prisma with only different shades of blue. And it was beautiful. I remained silent for another ten minutes, trying to convince myself to say something to him about the drawing. I knew what I'd say: "That's such a pretty picture! Who is it that you drew?" I finally said it. Curiously enough, it led into a 2 hour conversation(I was there for three hours because I was making up a lesson). Every subject we brought up made me feel more and more attracted towards him, but I was--and still am--convinced that love was only trouble. For such a long lesson, it swept past quickly. You know the saying, "Time flies when you're having fun"? That's how it felt. I went home, content with a lovely day. The next day, Lia, my sister, came home from BYU. I was talking to her, and I said "I had the best day yesterday." In reply, she said "Why? Did you meet a boy in art lessons?" I was dumbfounded by her immediate knowledge. "Huh?" I stuttered, "How do you know?" It turns out, Grace, Lia's friend's younger sister, was in the class, and she told Lia's friend's husband that I was flirting with a boy all through art class. He called my sister and told her. Funny how things can travel. Continuing on, I was ecstatic for the next Saturday, even though I was trying to convince myself that I didn't want to fall for him. It was just as fun as the week before, and it continued on this way for about a month. My friend, Anna, was so intrigued by my relationship with Zach--which was just friendship--that she wanted to join the art class also, so she could be a part of our...interesting conversations. When she joined, three other people had joined also. The room was completely packed, and there was hardly anywhere to sit. I finally managed to squeeze in at a table with Anna. Zach was standing at an easel at the foot of the table I occupied. We talked a bit, but not nearly as much as I wanted. After about a half hour, Sydney said something to him, and he left. Dissapointed, I wrote a little note to Anna, saying "He left. :(" In response, she said that she had overheard what Sydney had said to him. Apparently, she told him that he had to leave because the amount of people polluting the area. I felt slightly better, but still remorseful. I assumed that Zach would be there the next week. In the course of that week, I was talking to my sister about what was going on, when she brought up something that Sydney had said to her(Lia had gone to Sydney before I had, and she had joined me at one of my lessons with Zach). Apparently, Zach said that I have the prettiest eyes. The comment made my stomach churn, and placed a permanent grin on my face. "Did he really?" I asked Lia, doubting that I had pretty enough eyes for Zach to comment on them. She rolled her eyes, saying "I'm only saying what I was told." Unfortunately, given time, I thought about it so much that I came up with the more believable solution of, he hadn't said that my eyes in particular were pretty, that maybe he had actually said that I draw pretty eyes(I had shown him a picture of some eyes that I'd drawn). It made more sense, but made me feel crummy again. My next art lesson, I had to go to an earlier class thanks to a piano recital I was having. Zach wasn't there, and I talked to Anna, and she said that he hadn't been in hers either. Feeling even more crestfallen, I hoped that he'd be there the next week. He wasn't, but he kept coming into the room, talking to Sydney about homework. The next week, this past Saturday, he didn't come either. But at the end of the lesson, he showed up for about five minutes. We talked quite a bit, until Sydney shot him a death look, and he said that he should probably leave us to do our art. I have the strangest feeling that every Saturday will be like that, and I should just give it up. I admit, I have fallen for him quite drastically, but if I rarely see him, it'll just result in heart ache. Maybe it's just time for me to move on.

The New Beginning

2007-12-01T21:25:00.003-07:00

I have decided that I have entered a new phase of my life, and therefore needed to create a new blog. It's really not that my life has really been altered so drastically that it will never be the same, it's more that a lot has changed for me. I'll create different posts for each different element.

An Ode to Sarcasm and Lovely Thoughts

conference.

for the moments you feel weak...

hmm?

happy at last :)

death.

the color code

the end

pets and love (as usual)

nostalgia

Love, soul mates, and more

Cowardly.

a new year

you know that feeling?

I lied.

I saw him.

I HATE HATE HATE

a small change in heart

The Story of the Sixth Borough - an excerpt from Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

a life without insecurities

Korea

Korea

The Reason Why Romance Stories Are Far From Real

Marriage

The Concert

Romantical

Inspiring

Prayers

Stories

*sighs*

Heh.

Lovely day, really

Exceptions in expectations

Luuurrve

the new year

Las Vegas

lovely day. *sarcasm*

Crappy week.

Cali

School

Daniel

Zach

The New Beginning

sighs

lovely day. sarcasm