BLANK

Look how blank that is. Anyways, I have a weird obsession with notebooks. I was thinking last night, if I ever published a book, and my little author bio in the back with that planned spontaneous photo would say something like this:

Margaret started to write so that she could begin to fill the collection of notebooks she had accumulated.

And then some other things about me that may or may not be true or interesting. Well, to get to the short of it, I need a new notebook so I can start my write everyday for a year thing. So... if anyone is interested -- I'm starting a new blog. Huzzah.

I'll link it, for some purpose.
For my invisible audiences.
Go team.

-- M

Block

So, I've been having an urge to write.
I don't want to write well per se. I just want to write to get a story out.
I don't care if it makes sense, or if the characters are flat,
I just want to write to write.

Unfortunately, I don't know what to write. I have a few scenes,
but nothing that I can write about for a long period of time.

I have to learn to write everyday,
regardless of it's it crappy or not.

Well, this certainly sucks...

Dot dot dot. I learned that in when we end dialogue with an ellipse, it means that the speaker is trailing off. So yes, I am trailing off there, just a wee bit. So anyways -- here's the deal. My car, my lovely little, dirty, always out of gas car had it's back window smashed in by a boulder. Yeah. Like fucking Boulder, Colorado. Now, I know the first reaction is that 'oh I bet some asshats drove by and chucked a boulder at your car.

No. It's just chilling on the back of my car like a big threat. Then again I may be reading into it because I'm a writer and that's what I do, but I don't think so. Now, let's back it up here. My car. Was vandalized. By a psycho.

Excellent. And now the other bits. Ever since I started writing more, short stories and scenes and stuff when bad things happen to me, the little writer in the back of my head says, "hey! you can make a good scene/story out of this!" And I go, "you're right!"

And now comes the part where I try to not let it get to me. It's just a window - on a car that you have. I have a car which is more than a lot of people right now, so I should be thankful for that. And it's just a window. Thankfully it's not one of my roommates or me or the dog. So...

Yeah. Good times. Should make a nice story scene some day I guess [happy-ish]

Worst Day Ever.

Sometimes we have those days. Where we wake up and try to have a good day but it seems like everything in the universe is against us. When we go to bed the night before at a respectable hour because we have plans to wake up early and be good students.

Today was one of those days.

I went to bed at 12 last night with the intention to wake up at 7:30. Pretty good amount of sleep - very good actually for a college student. And then I couldn't actually fall asleep till 4 am. So instead of 7.5 hours, I got 3.5 which was not good. So when I got up I felt like shit. When I don't get enough sleep I feel sick to my stomach. So I went to school early with the intention to buy some coffee so that my three hour class wouldn't slay me.

The things that happened:

1. I was carrying a painting kit, book of palette paper, a painting on canvas, my bag with my laptop. I went the short way to the locker room because I felt like my arms were going to fall off and it's closer to my class that way. The door was locked. I had to climb up two flights of stairs with all my heavy gear and then climb back down another two to put my stuff in my locker, then climb back up 2 flights. Usually not a big deal, but today it felt like I had to climb mountains.

2. I went to the C-store to buy coffee with my card. There was a fairly long line but I could have waited. I really didn't mind the line, nor the other pushy students needing their caffein fix. So I'm halfway through getting my coffee, about to put in some creamer when a cashier suddenly yells out - machines are down, we're only accepting cash. Cool, I'll go to an ATM right? Wrong. The ATM for my back was not with all the other ones a cool 20 yards from the C-store. Mine was up some more stairs and I swear it looked like it was halfway across campus. Plus I was already a few minutes late to class and I didn't want to be any later. So I just gave up and figured I could go it caffeine free.

3. I get to class and almost throw up. Thankfully my teacher is an angel of mercy and let me leave early.

4. I live with my roommates in a house. We're not loud, we don't throw parties, we're not disrespectful, we take care of the house very very well. But we have a neighbor who seems to have a vendetta against all college students who rent that house. He's not even a close neighbor. He lives a block away. But he has reported us for a yard citation, which we fixed. And now he's reported us for another citation. More than 4 unrelated people living in a house. Honestly I heard that that law was in place so that brothels wouldn't pop up everywhere. But now it's one of those laws that they keep around so that we don't try to fit 20 people into a three bedroom house. It's there to prevent overcrowding which is understandable. But our house has 5 bedrooms, one of which is a master bedroom. So four people have their own room and two people share the masters. There is no overcrowding at all, so I don't really see the point in that complaint.

5. I still feel sick to my stomach and I have no money in my account to buy groceries because rent is due soon and bills just breezed through and sucked me dry.

But. As I've said in an earlier post. I'm going to try and focus on the positive because really when I look at it, those aren't major things at all. Just minor problems that annoyed me more than usual because of my lack of sleep. So here are the positive things I need to look at to counterbalance my shit day.

1. My art teacher said that I have some talent when it comes to painting and that my final project sounds interesting and that she is excited to look at it. Plus she let me out early and said that she trusts me to do what I need to do. Angel of Mercy, that woman.

2. My CRWT professor said that the ending of my short story was one of the better ones of the class and that it was a very good story he is excited to read the revision for.

3. My french teacher did a practice exam for the oral final where I have to talk in french for three minutes about a subject and she said that only thing I need to work on is agreement and my accent is tres bien.

-- M

Bad Cents

Sometimes, I need to be reminded of things. Not simple things, like take your clothes out of the dryer, or pay the utility bill. But other things. I need to be reminded why I run and why I love it. The reason I got burnt out was because I fell out of love with running. I started and stayed with it for me. I ran because I loved it and it made me happy. This past year, I was running for everyone but myself. I was running for my parents, for my teammates, for my coaches, for a scholarship, but no where on that list was me.

I also need to be reminded that I can write. Today I had a workshop for beginning fiction and I felt sick, like I was about to start a race. I had to read a passage out of it and I swear my voice was shaking. But the workshop didn't go badly. No one said, 'you suck, get out of this major.' So I don't know why I was so worried. I have to be reminded that I can write, and that I can write pretty damn well sometimes.

That is why I changed majors.

This is going to sound like a pity party right here, but it's true. I'm sure that everyone feels like this sometimes but I'm just the first to admit it on the interwebs. Sometimes I need to be reminded that I'm pretty. I'm not saying that I need to go out and fish for compliments, and I'm not saying that I'm overly gorgeous or terribly ugly. Everyone is pretty in their own right, and every once in a while, people forget about their beauty and need to be reminded. Sometimes when we stand in front of a mirror, all we see is what is wrong with us and we think that we are ugly, when in fact we are amazing creatures.

Everyone needs to be reminded of something sometimes. Everyone needs to be reminded that they are pretty, or smart, or great in their own sense. People need to be reminded about their passions. Because if we are not reminded, all we see are our own shortcomings. And soon those become  the only things we focus on.


(Well shit. that sounded more preachy than I intended, but it's way better than angst angst angst, right?)

Stumble Amok

That made no sense. It never does, but recently I've been on stumbleupon a lot instead of doing other things that I should be doing. I've taken a massive break from the graphics forum I'm a member of and abandoned the writing forum I'm a part of. I should probably go and claim my break so I don't get deleted.

Anyways. During my stumbling moments, I've stumbled upon this blog: Terrible Minds
Which is al kinds of funny, and all kinds of true. It's, from what I gather, a writer writing about writers. A writer writing about the ups and downs and flaws and awesomeness of being a writer, most of which I look at and say, "Oh shit, that's me." Minus the drinking cause then I'd asphyxiate and die and who would write all this nonsense for the masses to read.

Anyways. I like it. You should click the link and read it cause it's very hilarious. And if not, go to stumbleupon.com and start stumbling around. It's a great way to waste a few hours.

One A Day.

Is a vitamin, yes I know. So take your vitamins.
No. That isn't the reason for this. The reason for this post is because as I was laying in my room today feeling sorry for myself and my bum shin, I realized that I've been too sad lately. I need to be happy because happy things happen everyday. It's just that I've been focusing on the fact that my senior year of running has crashed and burned, but will hopefully be revived soon.

Fingers crossed.

Anyways. From now on, I shall focus on what has made me happy that day. And if I have no stories, I'll post a picture or a quote (like I've been doing) that somehow links to something that happened to me that day.

good news: had a nice chat with a couple of the roommates who always manage to cheer me up even if they don't realize they're doing it. Love them <3

Happy

I like this link.
Click it.
I dare you.

Un-Complicate

Womp Womp

I find that to be a great sound effect. But anyways, I actually have a lot of stuff to ramble about, and if whoever is reading this knows me, or has been reading this for a while, then that person will know that I tend to stay away from anything overly trite. I also dislike using clichés and being terribly angsty and dramatic.

And now that I've said all of that, I would like to place a warning here saying that there's a good chance that the below post will contain all of the above. So be warned, beware, huzzah, onwards and upwards. And all that jazz.

I hate to admit this, but I'm pretty sure I've been legitimately depressed lately. Yeah, people say that all the time, when they're having a bad day, they turn to a friend and say, "Dude, man I'm like tots depressed, man." But this is legit. And you know it's legit when I use the word "legit." This was three weeks long and I skipped classes for the first time all year, all I wanted to do was sleep, plus I had no appetite. Oh, and I was prone to bursting into tears at any moment.

Now the big question is why. At the start of this bout of depression, I didn't know what was wrong with me. All I knew was that my leg was killing me and I could barely walk, let alone run. Now that I've had an x-ray and an MRI I know that I have a stress reaction. A "very obvious" one and a very bad one. A stress reaction is the step before a stress fracture. Basically I was in pain because my leg was this close to fracturing.

Excellent.

Now add to this that it's my senior season and I still haven't run my best and I wouldn't have been able to because of the fact that running made me feel like a hammer was being taken to my shin whenever I took a step.

The good news is that there's a good chance I'll be able to medical red-shirt since I literally cannot run. They even have me off the elliptical and back onto a stationary bike. Huzzah.

And now come the trite and awful, eye-gouging clichés. Everything manages to work out in the end. At least that's the hopes of it. And everything happens for a reason. I was bored of running, I was tired, and I was burnt out. I think that this injury is taking me away from running for long enough that I start missing it and that I'll be able to come back to it fresh. I'll have a new appreciation for it that I haven't had for a few months now.

As is very obvious by the last couple of posts, I've been a big fan of weheartit.com. Especially now since it has all these fancy pictures of sunsets and landscapes with inspirational quotes in Helvetica. And quotes in fancy typography, and such and such. But I feel like these are the things that have kept me hopeful about my leg and kept me up when I was so complacent to be down.  (Apologies for the angst)

And now onto another topic. Very much related, yet not at all.

My potential tattoo. Now before I go into this any more than I already have, I want to say that I'm not the type of girl to get a tattoo. I'm not adventurous in that sense. Yeah, I'll eat a snail just to try it, and yeah I'll eat almost anything without hesitation (talk to the old German lady I followed around the buffet), I'll even run down that treacherous looking trail with you. But I am not the girl who gets a tattoo. I have two piercings, one on each lobe. I have never died my hair. I am quiet and shy and not assertive. And in all 22 years of my life, I've never wanted a tattoo.

Where did this want come from then? I think it's because I've never done anything for myself. I always think of other people before I do it. Think of what they will think of me. That's one reason I was so terrified to be a creative writing – I was scared of what people would think of me and my stories. I'm terrified of judgement. I'm terrified of change. I'm terrified of putting my self out there only to be rejected.

I was am unhappy biology major for three years because that's what my parents wanted me to do. They wanted me to be a successful doctor and make lots of money and be comfortable. And that's not such a bad want for your only daughter. But I was incredibly unhappy (note, I didn't say depressed). I was failing classes and I was always stressed and whenever I talked about classes, I wouldn't smile. I would sound tired and worn out.

So one day, after I found out that I failed a chemistry class again, I went to the athletic academic advisor and burst into tears about what was I supposed to do?! I can't do chemistry and math? Shit, math was like brain surgery to me. Or rocket science even.

"What do you like doing? What are you good at?"

"Creative writing."

Simple as that. But that's all I needed to hear. That was the push I needed to switch majors. But then I needed to tell my parents and I was terrified of their reactions: disappointment, anger, and judgement are just a few of the reactions I was imagining. And there was definitely disappointment.

Step two. I've always planned on being a doctor. Now what do I do?
This is where the career center, a small building on campus, hidden away up a hill and behind some plants came in handy. I planned on going with one of my best friends and ever since then, everything has kind of fallen into place.

I finally did something for myself. Yeah, it was hard and I was scared the whole time, but the point is, I did it for me.

Being a creative writing major has made me open up and make myself more vulnerable. On the other hand, it has also helped me harden myself against what other people think. Because yeah, I won't lie. I care about what other people think about me, but these creative writing workshops, the professors always say not to listen to everything that everyone says. Just listen to the people who seem to know where you are going and are helping with that. (I'm not sure if they realize how inspiration this can be when applied to life instead of short stories.)

And now, I bring right back around to my stress reaction. A bookend if you will. Watch me throw out some creative writing terminology. Bitches. (Sorry, it had to be done.)

All pictures in this post come from weheartit.com where it probably came from somewhere else. They're all in my heart which is linked a few posts earlier. Check it out – good website. 

Hu-freaking-zzah

I'm taking french, could you tell? One day, I want to be able to write a whole post en français! Anyways, I've decided this is going to be a music post cause I'm listening to music and cleaning/sketching/dancing/organizing. These are the songs that I can't get enough of lately.

e>







Enjoy mes amis <3

In which I contemplate.

fantastic quote image from weheartit.com

This is a post in which I contemplate getting a tattoo. Or a puppy... inside joke. Anyways... I want a tattoo but I'm not sure if I actually want one, or if peer pressure has finally gotten to me subconsciously. I mean, it won't be on my face, or anywhere visible when I'm wearing normal clothes. But I run amok in sports bras almost everyday in the summer or when the temperature hits above 95ºF. And I love going to the beach and when there I wear swimsuits. So it would be visible during those times. It won't be a tramp stamp – cause if I ever get preggers I'll be wanting an epidural, I'm a wimp like that.

So why aren't you getting one? I hear myself ask, my voice echoing around the room as loudly as history's first Echo. Because I'm indecisive and I want to make sure this isn't some strange fad/phase I'm going through and my mother says no.

But, Margaret, you're 22 you should do whatever the fuck you want because you're an adult. True. But the untrue part of that statement is that I can't really do whatever the fuck I want because my parents are still putting me through college and therefore I'm not financially independent of them.  And therefore, henceforth and so on, I think it would only be respectful.

Or it just might be a Filipino thing.

Yes, I'm Filipino. Well, half – on my mom's side obviously. But my dad almost had a heart attack when I mentioned the idea. Not literally though, he just kind of turned red and his eyes got all big and then he just started shaking his head. It's a generational thing too I think. That and my parents both work at jobs where image is everything and they way you present yourself to people is number one.

So yes. There is my absurdly long post where I speculate about getting a tattoo and why I can't do it because my mommy says no. It's a respect thing really. But I'm working on it.

Because showering is when I do my best thinking...

It's true. I was taking a shower earlier, washing off the smell of my drunk friends and loud music I came upon a realization. Lately I've been depressed. Like instead of going to class or doing something with my life – I would sleep.

Sounds like depression to me.

And it's because of my damn leg. I've always run, and it's because I love to run, and I love to compete. Scratch that. I live to compete, to race. I love it all. But lately my passion for running and racing is gone because I've become so focused on practices and the politics of my team and trying to please my parents and my coaches – I've let it all take away my love of running.

But while I was taking a shower, I was shampooing my hair and thinking that I need some new shampoo cause this one doesn't smell that great, I was struck (quite suddenly I might add) that I shouldn't let these people take something that means to much to me away. It's mine and it's been mine for the past 8 years. Nothing should be able to come between me and my love of running, but lately everything has.

But now that I've come to that epiphany. I'm going to do everything I can to get it back. Because it's my senior year and I'm going out with a bang – or I'm going to pass out crossing that damn finish line. I pinky swear it, and as I assured drunken ward #2 last night, I take my pinky swears very seriously.

epic and majorly cliché pic from weheartit.com

Spam

Yesterday I went shopping and stopped by Hot Topic to add to my small collection of nerd shirts. I feel like everyone needs a little bit of nerdiness in their lives that they can show off. My little bit is my Gryffindor shirt that I got from Hot Topic two years ago for the 6th HP movie premiere. So yesterday I decided to buy a star wars shirt. I walked in and asked one of the guys who work there and he immediately assumed I was buying it for a guy (frown-y face). But I cleared that up right away and got a cool shirt with Darth Vader on it and the phrase that is forever associated with D.V. - "whose your daddy" I can't wait to wear it.

Next I'm getting a Doctor Who shirt or a Big Bang Theory shirt. It depends on what my local Hot Topic is carrying.

Anyways, I'm too tired to make a coherent post that doesn't have me reminiscing about video games, Star Wars and back in the day shit. And I've realized I've curse too much – I spent most of last night say 'fuck this' and 'fuck that' to appease the drunk people I was taking care of.

Good times.

Anyways, here are all my Sunday morning links.
Revel in them.

101 Ways to be Happy
My Heart, Bitches
I'm too cynical
This looks pretty cool
Now I'm on a horse...

Last night I was told by my drunken ward #2 that I was weird. But cute. Really, really weird. But cute.

both pictures come from weheartit.com - the second link

edits at midnight: I forgot to mention my weekend! This is the general summary of it. My mom psychoanalyzed me and we discovered why I was so cynical about love. Then she compared me to high quality cocaine. I want to be my mother when I grow up. 

So to Sew

I actually don't know if that made any sense, but I liked the way it sounded. I found that I'm doing what I always do with things. I grow bored and pick up something else. This something else happens to be sewing – or tailoring old shirts to be exact. I have a shit-ton of old shirts that used to belong to my dad and have been through the wash so many times the cotton is all soft and it's lost it's ability to shrink. Thus the perfect vintage-y tee shirt. Right?

Wrong. My dad is much larger than I am and the old shirts are in fact so old, that I use them as pillow cases sometimes. That's how deformed they are. Good times.

So I picked up a shirt recently and really liked the fabric. And it was comfortable to wear, except for the fact that it was, you know, huge. I could have fit at least a second me. So I took it upon myself to learn how to sew. I bought a little sewing kit and cut up some fabric and voila - a shirt that I could wear in public. And I actually did - wear it in public

In LA nonetheless. To the Hammer Museum. I'll post pictures ones I get them on my laptop. Right now they're taking up space on my phone. Any links to good DIY sewing blogs/websites would be greatly appreciated. Especially for beginning sewers who don't have machines. Yet.

I have to work on my mom for one of her old ones. But they're like her children. Wish me luck

Rainy Day Schedule

Well, today I have no class. Not because of the rain, but because of the fact that it's friday and I don't have class on fridays. Fuck yeah, it's Friday! And what's on my plate today? Well I was supposed to go to AZ with the team, but since I have a robo-boot on my left leg, I'm out for that meet.

So, instead, on this rainy Friday, I'm in my bionic-boot and sitting on the floor and watching movies. I wanted to rent The King's Speech and Tangled, but neither were at red-box.  Boo. So instead I rented Love and Other Drugs which was alright. I think I would have preferred my other options. Then, HBO was playing Bride Wars which was cute but not anything different.

Then I drove over to Life Cafe across from UV village and got take out. Now I'm camped out on the living room floor (again) watching Gattaca. Which I haven't seen since high school. I really like this movie. And did you know that Gattaca stands for a strand of DNA? GATTACA. That's pretty much all I remember from this high school genetics class.

Go watch it. It's amazing.

Pasta, Bitches.

Yes, I'm sorry for the cursing, but I feel like when you say "Pasta, Bitches." It makes dinner sound way more badass than usual. And I want this pasta to be badass. I'm making my own sauce. From scratch.

Bitch.

Ok, so one of the roommates mentioned that  curse too much, and I've noticed that around certain people I curb my language. Like around the elderly, I never curse. Around the bff, I curse like a sailor. Around the other roommates I curse sometimes, but only to make a point. When I'm by myself, dear lord take cover. Anyways. I digress.

I know, I haven't said that in a while. I miss it.
Right, again, I'm making pasta sauce from scratch with a half stolen recipe. I got the original from my Runner's World magazine a while back, but I'm far too lazy to go look for it again. Hence the making up half of it. I'll write down my ingredients here and leave a pictures too boot. (in an edit since I haven't actually made anything yet)

Yeah, that's right. I said too boot.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Ok, so I'm making a meat sauce cause I like me some protein. I'm using extra lean ground turkey. Look at me being all healthy and stuff! So yeah, you're gonna wanna cook that so you don't die when you eat it. Season it to taste (I feel so professional).

Ok, so cook that turkey (of ground beef if you prefer) then I added three 14oz cans of peeled whole tomatoes. I don't know why whole, but that's what Runner's World told me. Plus I like squishing the tomatoes!

Right, so I added the tomatoes and then about 5 cloves of garlic cause I love me some garlic. The some garlic salt, regular salt, a little pepper, and some sugar. Oh, and some oregano – so it's italian and such. Then cook it all together.

The pasta: I learned from my magazine that you do the water, add enough salt before it boils so that it tastes like sea water. Wait for it to boil and then add the pasta.

This is all from my magazine right now: after the pasta cooks almost all the way through, drain it then add it to the sauce to let it cook the rest of the way through. It'll make it all meld together and be magical.

And, I think that's it. Right? Right. Sorry if this comes out crap. But I'll let you all know how mine comes out. 

edit: I added another clove of garlic cause it was laying around without a peel and I forgot to put it away. 

pictures to be added later.... like in a few minutes.

End result: which I previously spelled end reslut.... anyways. I liked it a lot, then again I was half starving so that's not much to go by. The sauce wasn't too overpowering or anything but I was still able to taste it and stuff with the noodles. I would make it again, and I made os damn much I' having it for lunch for the rest of the week.

Boredom version 3.0

It would help if I knew how to spell boredom in the first place. But whenever I think of boredom, I always think of this really great quote by Terry Pratchett: "Human beings make life so interesting. Do you know, that in a universe so full of wonders they have managed to invent boredom." Ironically enough (would it be called irony?) it's the character of Death that says this.


This isn't to say that I never get bored. Because I get bored just as much as the next person, if not more. Ive tried writing something interesting or entertaining here for the past half hour, but I've come up blank. This weekend for me started on Friday. I went to Santa Monica with the bff and we got horribly lost in the parking structure and ended up running to my car moments before the ticket expired. That was fun.

Saturday I hung out with my parents almost all day. Lunch at Punjab Palace over by the Tyler Mall, then Best Buy to look at cameras. I'm stuck between two of them, but I'm leaning towards a smaller DSLR just because it has such awesome custom settings. Then I really wanted a rootbeer float. Like I would've killed for one.

Well, not literally.

I watched Tangled like three times and then decided to try and find the new BBC series Sherlock. Which was amazing. The BBC has a nice habit of picking actors with really nice cheek bones and hands. I stayed up watching two episodes, then went to sleep around 2 or 3 am.

Woke up Sunday morning around 10am. Felt like crap cause I hate sleeping in, but I have the ability to sleep for ever if I want to. And since I've been skimping out on sleep for the past few weeks I decided to keep sleeping for a while. I woke up a couple hours later feeling great, and the bags under my eyes are gone. Which is a big improvement from how I've been feeling and looking these past few days.

And write right (lol, see what I did there?) now I'm writing a blog entry which I haven't done in ages. So now, since this was full of complete crap I'll leave some fun stuff.

Go support Riverside's local independent bookstore, Renaissance Books. The owner is super friendly and was willing to order the book I was looking for since he didn't have it in stock. The current address is: 

6639 Magnolia Ave #

Riverside, CA92506

But the owner was telling me that he's moving to a new location, with more room since the current place is literally packed to the ceiling with books. The new location (I'm not sure when the move is going to be exactly though) is on Elizabeth and Magnolia, I think. Near the Goodwill store. 

By buying books from bookstores and not the interwebs, you're kind of supporting my future as a writer which I appreciate very very much. So thank you! I'm sending you a virtual hug.


Edit: The new header was made by my friend Gemma whose all sorts of talented with photo editing programs and artsy type things. Thanks Gemma, you're a doll <3