February 2012
7 posts
Feb 23rd
That awkward moment when a college acceptance feels less exciting because your mother just told you that you’re a crappy daughter.  
Feb 23rd
2 notes
Feb 16th
Meh. 200 miles and a dozen oranges later, I'm...
Feb 14th
1 note
“Why didn’t I learn to treat everything like it was the last time. My greatest...”
– Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, Jonathan Safran Foer (via word-collector)
Feb 12th
52 notes
I get so angry.  I get so upset and tense and frustrated when people use God as a scapegoat to their own ignorance, when people are so shallow and judgemental and hypocritical that they’d rather make misinformed assertions than open their mind to a changing world, an evolving world, a broadening world.   Prop 8 went through the 9th Circuit today.  The courts held the decision that the Prop...
Feb 8th
Feb 4th
11,310 notes
January 2012
11 posts
Jan 30th
80,876 notes
Jan 25th
Jan 24th
2 notes
“I am not sure that I exist, actually. I am all the writers that I have read, all...”
– Jorge Luis Borges (via philphys)
Jan 24th
889 notes
I used to imagine terrain, harsh and rocky, that you would climb over, oceans and mountains that spanned the miles between us.  I used to wish you’d come barreling in the front door, panting and exhausted, fighting to be here.  I remember closing my eyes, trying to remember a man that was strong, stable, dedicated.   Now, I wonder if you ever think of the birthdays you’ve missed or...
Jan 23rd
I dropped it.  All of it.  It splattered across the floor in a delusion of self-preservation and then crawled into the man at my right.  It leaked out my eyes and left stains on the palms of my hands.  It tripped up my feet and bruised my knees.  When I called out, it hung in the air between my gasps, flying and floating up, up, and up.
Jan 20th
I think I'm going to go puke now.
Jan 18th
It’s passed midnight.  The phone connects, tangled through street corners and freeway on-ramps, from three hundred miles of string to the end of a styrofoam cup.  You press against the other side, but most of my words get stuck at the bottom, warped and ripped apart in all the footsteps they’ve already traveled.  My exhales are lost in my inhales and the ends of my eyelashes pull with...
Jan 15th
For generations, my family has been moving, from China to Singapore, from Singapore to the United States.  The destination has changed, but the intent, motivation, and desire has continued.  It remains to be a means of spreading and expanding, growing and advancing.  Now, as a teenager in the States, my aspirations mirror that.  I don’t have my own family to protect or a freedom that’s been...
Jan 12th
Cry, she told me, it hurts less.   Pulling the tears from my eyes and filling her own.  A transparent masking of makeshift. Fight, she told me, it hurts less.   A tickle in my toes, aggressive and violent against the beating  of my footsteps.  I run. Love, she told me, it hurts less.   She told me with her fist around my heart, pumping and bleeding, spreading myself in the spaces ...
Jan 10th
“The writing’s easy, it’s the living that is sometimes difficult.”
– Charles Bukowski (via nevver)
Jan 9th
1,100 notes
December 2011
2 posts
One day, we’ll just drive.  We won’t know where we’re going, and if there’s any destination at all, we’ll never know if we get there.  Every thing we pass will be a notch on the bedpost, a stepping stone, a friendly, traveler’s greeting.  And then, maybe we’ll just stop.  Park.  Decide this is where we’re supposed to be.   Maybe it’ll be in the middle of the country with a field on one side and...
Dec 31st
Dec 10th
340 notes
November 2011
10 posts
“Excuse me,” he said.  Excuse me, as though he’s done something wrong.  It’s polite, of course.  But it’s more than that.  It’s a mask, an insecurity, a safety.  ”Excuse me,” I need you to repeat that.  I watched as he took steps back, forward, to the side.  They each had a purpose, not all belonging to his own.  One for him, one for Justin, one for...
Nov 27th
Nov 24th
Nov 23rd
I just submitted my UC application.  It was the scariest thing I’ve ever done.  I think I’m going to be sick.  
Nov 22nd
Nov 22nd
3 notes
“I like your pants,” she told me.   They were red.  Bright red and corduroy.  They didn’t fit me like they should have and, from the side, could almost resemble a clown costume.  These pants were loud.  Coupled with the floral top I was wearing, they were pretty far off from anything dubbed “fashion” in the latest magazines.  But that didn’t matter much.  They were 75 cents at the local thrift...
Nov 15th
Nov 13th
I don’t know what I’m doing.  I’m running around all these people in my life.  They’re all standing in the middle, waiting for me to make a straight line and I can’t do anything but circle.   I have issues.  Real, honest committment issues.  I don’t get it.  I don’t want it.  I don’t need it.  It’s horrifyingly awful that I don’t...
Nov 9th
Nov 9th
3 notes
Nov 3rd
October 2011
5 posts
I’m falling into the hole in the ground, diving, jumping.  It doesn’t have a depth.  There is no bottom, but the walls fit perfectly around me, cementing me in this place so that I never slip.  I am an edition onto its very being.  I am meant to be here.  It was built so that I am here.  When it breathes, I feel it.  I feel the shudder, the contraction.  It grows, shrinks, constructs,...
Oct 22nd
Clovis East High School.  A classmate in AP Lit speaks up on the other side of the room.  He makes a comment and the scope of his vocabulary credits him in the ears of the class.  With the teacher’s nod of approval, he continues.  She is grateful only that someone has taken the “risk” of speaking aloud.   Here, in Clovis, California, we are traditional, we are conservative, and we are suburbia....
Oct 18th
Pathedy of Manners - Ellen Kay At twenty she was brilliant and adored, Phi Beta Kappa, sought for every dance; Captured symbolic logic and the glance Of men whose interest was their sole reward. She learned the cultured jargon of those bred To antique crystal and authentic pearls, Scorned Wagner, praised the Degas dancing girls,  And when she might have thought, conversed instead. She hung up her...
Oct 8th
“Art is that thing having to do only with itself—the product of a successful attempt to make a work of art.  Unfortunately, there are no examples of art, nor good reasons to think that it will ever exist.  (Everything that has been made has been made with a purpose, everything with an end that exists outside that thing, i.e., I want to sell this, or I want this to make me famous and...
Oct 8th
I am different. 365 sleeps, and I am so different. It’s October, again.
Oct 2nd
September 2011
3 posts
I just wanted to say that Saturday was the best day I’ve had in a really long time. It was simple, in a good way. Sometimes I get tired of things being difficult and complex. Everything always has to mean something, has to be interpreted, and analysed, and looked into. I love analysis, don’t get me wrong. But sometimes things get so picked apart and worked through that they stop being....
Sep 20th
Sarcasm. Sexual Innuendos. Blah.: I hurt, I'm... →
I just wanted to tell you that I get it.  I know what it’s like to be disconnected from people, to be alone, to be rejected and cynical and angsty.  I even understand what it’s like to not understand.  To not get it.  To really, truly be confused.  Because you know what?  We’re good fucking people, right?  We’re attractive and intelligent and funny and confident, so why the...
Sep 14th
2 notes
Sep 4th
August 2011
6 posts
Letters are nonsense.  Sound.  The back static of a radio. And they mean nothing until they’re put together.  There’s this sound on my tongue, and it means to tell you something, anything, a creation.  It means to give you an idea, grab your own mind and insert it into mine.  It’s sitting on my tongue, trying to be spoken, but I feel like it might slip off.  I feel like the...
Aug 30th
“She wasn’t doing a thing that I could see, except standing there, leaning on the...”
– J.D. Salinger (via nevver)
Aug 18th
2,094 notes
Aug 16th
5,147 notes
I have this hole in my head that only digs when I know I’ve done something wrong, something vulgar, something impure.  I have this pain at the end of my toes that curls into my heels when I think about my oversight. It hinders me from walking, setting my foot down, advancing to another state.  It grips at the end of my legs and begins to burrow into the floor, cementing me in place.  I...
Aug 15th
Aug 12th
There’s something to say about a place that changes your definition of comfort in just a month.  COSMOS 2011 was not a summer program, a camp, or a school.  It was a home, a sanctuary, and a confidant.  COSMOS 2011 was an honest experience, one that will always be considered a turning point in the line of who I was to who I know I will be. I walked onto the UC Santa Cruz campus with...
Aug 10th
July 2011
2 posts
Jul 7th
Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the...
word-collector:  Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, Jonathan Safran Foer (submitted by: http://paintedrosesinaloveletter.tumblr.com/)
Jul 7th
33 notes
June 2011
9 posts
“I thought about all the things that everyone ever says to each other, and how...”
– Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer
Jun 23rd
God, I feel like shit today.
Jun 22nd
5 Days
I used to count the days after.  Now I’m counting the days until.   We all leave.
Jun 21st
Jun 19th