Hello everyone! My mom has entered a contest, and it would mean a lot to both of us if you would take a second to vote for her! If you do, leave a comment. As a special thank-you, I will follow you if I'm not already. If I am following you, then I will do a special shout-out to you on my blog.
Thanks in advance, and please spread the word!
Vote here!
If you like her poster, then check out the rest of my mom's art here.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
The Small and Insignificant
My camera has been on the fritz lately, but here are a few pictures I've taken this summer. I'm beginning to notice that most of my favorite things to take pictures of are small, and easy to pass over. Make of that what you will, I guess. Enjoy!
Sunday, July 17, 2011
The Whole Harry Potter Thing
You would have to be living under a rock to not know that the final film installment of the Harry Potter series came out this weekend, and you can bet your bottom dollar that I braved the crowds to see it at midnight. I'm certainly not the most ravenous fan out there, but a life long fan just the same, and the end of the series symbolises many of the same things for me as it does for the characters. The end of an era, of childhood.
The first book came out when I was in the third grade. I remember it vividly because my teacher told my mother that I was not a strong enough reader to read the books which, of course, just made me want to read them more. The character's ages were close to mine, and in a weird way reading about their growth towards adult hood helped me in mine. I never had to fight the forces of evil, but I did have to deal with temptation, choices, responsibility, love, sacrifice, and friendship. I'm still dealing with them. I always will be.
I guess I'm just trying to say, Thank you J.K. Rowling. Thank you for happening upon a pot of gold, and thank you for sharing it with me. With us.
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The first book came out when I was in the third grade. I remember it vividly because my teacher told my mother that I was not a strong enough reader to read the books which, of course, just made me want to read them more. The character's ages were close to mine, and in a weird way reading about their growth towards adult hood helped me in mine. I never had to fight the forces of evil, but I did have to deal with temptation, choices, responsibility, love, sacrifice, and friendship. I'm still dealing with them. I always will be.
And it's not just me. Such a huge percentage of my entire generation has felt what I have felt. It unifies all of us people around the world who don't know each other, but share a story. It’s not just the end of a movie. It’s the end of a relationship that started when I was in third grade and continued through film to my Junior year of college. It’s saying goodbye too the people who not only live in the book, but in myself - the ones who helped me learn how to grow up, that it's okay to be ordinary, or extra ordinary, or misunderstood. Above all, these people and books taught me that each of us is fighting through life in our own terrifying way. But some of us are fighting for something more that life.
Harry Potter was the first book that I took seriously, the first time I read past words and reached something else. That was the same year that I began to think about writing. In some strange, convoluted way, Harry Potter was the start of my adult life - my career, and the only thing that has consistently made me happy, content.
I guess I'm just trying to say, Thank you J.K. Rowling. Thank you for happening upon a pot of gold, and thank you for sharing it with me. With us.
Me at the midnight showing. If you can't see the shirt, I combined the deathly hallows with a lightning bolt. Yeah. Clever.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
One More Time For Emphasis
Things are starting to get down to the wire. It seems like most of the people who have tried to "guide" me through college have all been wrong: getting in as a transfer student is easy, figuring everything else out is the hard part. I'm going from knowing everything like the back of my hand, to knowing nothing, but I'm still trying to plan and prepare for the year like I do. I'm panicking that I'll miss sending in something, or that I'll find out I still have a ton of lower division work I have to do, or that - you know - I'll just fail at life.
Despite all of this fear and insecurity at my abilities in what people have over and over again told me is my field, (where are you now, community college teachers?) I am so excited to explore my major. UCI offers two emphasises in English, which basically means you take a couple extra classes to develop you skills in a specific area of English. The two offered are creative writing and literary journalism, and in my mind, the two are distinctly intriguing but also have their downfalls.
I feel like you can't be an English major and not consider creative writing as the end goal of your career, and I know that being in the program would push me - hard. But looking at the program's website makes me more fearful than excited. It looks intense, strict, competitive - exactly the kind of thing that I'm afraid would unleash my doubts in my ability and cause me to become a writing zombie - just going and going, praying that I get somewhere. Not to mention, coming up with a complete idea for a fiction story, even in my head, has eluded me. I can always get the beginning, but never the end.
Literary journalism is a little less clear cut, but from what I can gather it is essentially writing factual articles on a more personal and thoughtful level, existing on a different level than typical journalism. This sounds more like where my current writing style lies, but I also feel like I might find the field to restrictive to the kind of writing I want to do. Focused more on facts than on feeling, more on a story than the image -the emotion- that the story creates.
All the research that I've been attempting to do results in a frozen computer from the twenty Internet windows open, and more questions than answers. I guess I'll just have to hope that the match for both my talents and my desires finds me.
Or, you know, that my counselor is the bomb diggity.
Despite all of this fear and insecurity at my abilities in what people have over and over again told me is my field, (where are you now, community college teachers?) I am so excited to explore my major. UCI offers two emphasises in English, which basically means you take a couple extra classes to develop you skills in a specific area of English. The two offered are creative writing and literary journalism, and in my mind, the two are distinctly intriguing but also have their downfalls.
I feel like you can't be an English major and not consider creative writing as the end goal of your career, and I know that being in the program would push me - hard. But looking at the program's website makes me more fearful than excited. It looks intense, strict, competitive - exactly the kind of thing that I'm afraid would unleash my doubts in my ability and cause me to become a writing zombie - just going and going, praying that I get somewhere. Not to mention, coming up with a complete idea for a fiction story, even in my head, has eluded me. I can always get the beginning, but never the end.
Literary journalism is a little less clear cut, but from what I can gather it is essentially writing factual articles on a more personal and thoughtful level, existing on a different level than typical journalism. This sounds more like where my current writing style lies, but I also feel like I might find the field to restrictive to the kind of writing I want to do. Focused more on facts than on feeling, more on a story than the image -the emotion- that the story creates.
All the research that I've been attempting to do results in a frozen computer from the twenty Internet windows open, and more questions than answers. I guess I'll just have to hope that the match for both my talents and my desires finds me.
Or, you know, that my counselor is the bomb diggity.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
The Fourth. And Beyond.
Fourth of July has never been a big day in my family. The ritual to the 4th (it seems like all holidays have a level of ritualism to them) seems to be just as much concerned with laziness as anything else. Sleep in, have a late breakfast, walk down to the city street fair with Lisa - which involves the purchase of Guatemalan friendship bracelets and silly junk that only seems like a good idea before you've bought it, the eating of something either a)fried or b)ice cream and making a mess of eating it, and lastly, complaining about the heat. The rest of the afternoon is usually spent enjoying the Twilight Zone Marathon (which, to my dismay, was canceled last year. Still not sure if it will be back) either with Lisa or my sister. The fireworks are enjoyed casually and without pretense with the family. The event is always viewed with a certain level of nonsense - over exaggerating the "oohs" and "ahhs", and commenting on the often unpredictable fireworks show itself. Something technical always seems to go wrong.
Despite all of this, there is always a feeling of reverence lingering in the back of my mind. Whether it's a result of the day's significance, routine drilled into my head over 19 years, or just an excuse to not feel guilty for being lazy, is hard to say. But I'm not ignorant. I know that as I grow older, and move forward or sideways or whatever direction I'm going, holiday rituals like this begin to run out. I'll have to make my own days and my own rituals, and that's not at all exciting, but it does make this weekend all the more important.
Then again, each day has just as much potential to be as important as the day before it - holiday or not. Ever sense I was little, I've subconsciously done this thing on holidays, where I say to myself, "Wow, this is (Holiday). I've waited a whole year for it and now it's here". When really, I should be saying, "Wow, today has never happened before. I've been waiting my whole life for it, and now it's here".
Today is the 2nd of July, in my 19th year. It's the only one I'll ever get, and it's here.
Despite all of this, there is always a feeling of reverence lingering in the back of my mind. Whether it's a result of the day's significance, routine drilled into my head over 19 years, or just an excuse to not feel guilty for being lazy, is hard to say. But I'm not ignorant. I know that as I grow older, and move forward or sideways or whatever direction I'm going, holiday rituals like this begin to run out. I'll have to make my own days and my own rituals, and that's not at all exciting, but it does make this weekend all the more important.
Then again, each day has just as much potential to be as important as the day before it - holiday or not. Ever sense I was little, I've subconsciously done this thing on holidays, where I say to myself, "Wow, this is (Holiday). I've waited a whole year for it and now it's here". When really, I should be saying, "Wow, today has never happened before. I've been waiting my whole life for it, and now it's here".
Today is the 2nd of July, in my 19th year. It's the only one I'll ever get, and it's here.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
The first summer concert of 2011
Last night I went to a concert. The music was great, the band had tons of energy, and everyone was incredibly nice.
So, who was this uber incredible band I went to see? Oh, just a little group called...
Harry and the Potters!
I can just see your eyes rolling now. What, did the last couple of "thoughtful" posts make you forget the fact that I am a complete and utter nerd? Well, guess what, I am.
As I'm sure you've already guessed, this band writes songs about harry potter. I first heard them when I was a freshman in high school (2005...I think?), when one of the captains on color guard started playing their songs during warm up from time to time. At that point I was already a harry potter freak, but I was also incredibly shy, so I didn't say much about it.
Time passed, the senior class graduated, and I kind of forgot about the band. Fast forward to last Sunday. I make a quick trip to the library to pick up a book for my mom, and outside the library was this little sign:
My reaction was somewhere along these lines: *points fingers, jaw drops* th-they-ha-wha?-I-whe-ohmygosh-wha-needtogoneedtogo. Yep. I'm real articulate huh? The crowd that showed up for the show was surprisingly small, but it was a blast none the less.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Perception: Friend or Foe
It seems strange to me how differently two people can percieve and remeber the same experience. Psychology constantly begs the question, what matters more - our genetics our our environment? Just like all of these factors must be considered in psychology, I'm sure there is a myriad of things that affects our memories.
But lately, I've been thinking that our vices have just as much to do with it as our social or genetic factors. I've come to decide that everyone is insecure (not too big of a surprise there..) but also that everyone is vain. Don't we spend more time thinking about ourselfs and what others think about us than anything else? Why else would we think about what we wear, what we say, do. Why else would we strive to do well, or hate ourselves? Because at the heart of it all is self importance.
So, sometimes I wonder if people (consciously or not) actually remember the past as worse than it was because they need to believe that the present is better, that they have beat what held them back in the past.. And, hey, maybe it is and maybe they have. But the fact that we all need to find growth, improvement - instead of a plateau or stagnation, is incredibly self preserving. And self preservation is tied to our genes.
On the other side, isn't it possible to remember things better? To forget about the bad and romanticize the past? What's the first step that most people take when they encounter a problem? Pretend that it doesn't exist. Maybe it's to protect their sense of self, maybe it's because they don't want to believe that they could be anything less than happy, or maybe saying "that was me once. Wasn't I great?" is our own way of dealing with the problems of the present.
Either way, our memories can't be trusted.
But lately, I've been thinking that our vices have just as much to do with it as our social or genetic factors. I've come to decide that everyone is insecure (not too big of a surprise there..) but also that everyone is vain. Don't we spend more time thinking about ourselfs and what others think about us than anything else? Why else would we think about what we wear, what we say, do. Why else would we strive to do well, or hate ourselves? Because at the heart of it all is self importance.
So, sometimes I wonder if people (consciously or not) actually remember the past as worse than it was because they need to believe that the present is better, that they have beat what held them back in the past.. And, hey, maybe it is and maybe they have. But the fact that we all need to find growth, improvement - instead of a plateau or stagnation, is incredibly self preserving. And self preservation is tied to our genes.
On the other side, isn't it possible to remember things better? To forget about the bad and romanticize the past? What's the first step that most people take when they encounter a problem? Pretend that it doesn't exist. Maybe it's to protect their sense of self, maybe it's because they don't want to believe that they could be anything less than happy, or maybe saying "that was me once. Wasn't I great?" is our own way of dealing with the problems of the present.
Either way, our memories can't be trusted.
Or, you know, I could just be makin' something outta nothin'. Wouldn't be the first time.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Then vs. Now
Lately I have been having this weird battle with nostalgia. Working with high school students, that phase of life is pretty much always sitting in the front of my consciousness. But the thing is, I never really associate their high school with my high school. Sure, I talk with them about my experiences, and there are tons of similarities, but high school isn't really real for me any more. It's like when I think about elementary school. When I think of it, I don't even really think about me. It's just some weird shadow that is only part me.
I was lucky to have a great high school experience, but I don't at all think of those years as the "peak" of my life. It's hard not to think back about a time when I had tons of friends and a social life, was really good at things and didn't have to work or stress about money. Now it's just the opposite, and after drifting so far away from the good things I had back then, I feel this weird unspoken drive to "win". To turn out better than the people I constantly wanted to be in high school, or at least equal. But usually, I only match them in words, not actions.
Guard contributes a lot to my perception of myself. Sure I make my money from teaching, and I will always love it, but I have also lived without guard in my life. It was so hard at first, but like anything else, I got used to it. Now, strangely, when I talk to or meet people who are still fully - even partially - apart of that world, I feel this strange sense of age. Even when these people are older than me, the fact that I have lived with out this thing that can't not consume your life makes me feel so, so - experienced, wise, old? - in comparison to them. It makes no sense, but it's proof that someone got my birthday wrong. I can't be just 19.
These thoughts all came to a head the other night, when the school I work for had a special performance, where all the girls did their own routine. Traditionally, the coaches preform too, but I didn't. a couple people came up to me, asking why and urging me to change my mind, but I just didn't want to. In high school, I would have been all for it. a year ago I would have been all for it. But now? Lately I've come to this weird acceptance that I am insignificant, and that everyone has their shot at that idealized, self centered high school experience that I had. I didn't do a routine, not because it would have been extra work, not because I was afraid to be embarrassed, but because I didn't need to. My time had come and gone, and it was my happy duty to step out of the way and let them have theirs. I felt this convoluted sense of contentment and happiness at this recognition. My only hope is that I can find it in everything. In my money stress, in my lack of social life, in the reluctant and willing choices I make.
I was lucky to have a great high school experience, but I don't at all think of those years as the "peak" of my life. It's hard not to think back about a time when I had tons of friends and a social life, was really good at things and didn't have to work or stress about money. Now it's just the opposite, and after drifting so far away from the good things I had back then, I feel this weird unspoken drive to "win". To turn out better than the people I constantly wanted to be in high school, or at least equal. But usually, I only match them in words, not actions.
Guard contributes a lot to my perception of myself. Sure I make my money from teaching, and I will always love it, but I have also lived without guard in my life. It was so hard at first, but like anything else, I got used to it. Now, strangely, when I talk to or meet people who are still fully - even partially - apart of that world, I feel this strange sense of age. Even when these people are older than me, the fact that I have lived with out this thing that can't not consume your life makes me feel so, so - experienced, wise, old? - in comparison to them. It makes no sense, but it's proof that someone got my birthday wrong. I can't be just 19.
These thoughts all came to a head the other night, when the school I work for had a special performance, where all the girls did their own routine. Traditionally, the coaches preform too, but I didn't. a couple people came up to me, asking why and urging me to change my mind, but I just didn't want to. In high school, I would have been all for it. a year ago I would have been all for it. But now? Lately I've come to this weird acceptance that I am insignificant, and that everyone has their shot at that idealized, self centered high school experience that I had. I didn't do a routine, not because it would have been extra work, not because I was afraid to be embarrassed, but because I didn't need to. My time had come and gone, and it was my happy duty to step out of the way and let them have theirs. I felt this convoluted sense of contentment and happiness at this recognition. My only hope is that I can find it in everything. In my money stress, in my lack of social life, in the reluctant and willing choices I make.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Residual Stress
is there such a thing? I am more than willing to bet there is. School has been out for just under a week (adios community college!), but I'm still feeling the stress of finals. I keep having dreams that I am frantically trying to right an essay-but to no avail, and whenever I go out somewhere I'll get a feeling of panic and think "What am I doing??? I need to study!!!!" out of nowhere. I know that I don't have to do any of these things, but my mind begs to differ.
The only cause for this that I can think of is that I'm subconsciously mixing up my stress over things that I have to get done this week, with the things I've been worrying about over the past month. Color guard clinics and tryouts are this week, which means I've got double days Monday (yesterday), Wednesday and Friday, along with an afternoon on Thursday, and all Saturday morning. The girls have their guard class at 8 am. so on the double days I spend most of my morning with them or in transit, and then in the afternoon I have to drive back for clinics/practice. As much as I enjoy the actual practice part, the gap in between frustrates me. Either I come back home and get nothing done, or I hang around in Irvine, meaning I will definitely end up spending money that needs to be saved.
The pressing fact that my dresser needs to be organized, and I've got to figure out loan stuff doesn't exactly help, either. But I'm slowly, very slowly, starting to get stuff done and mellow out a little.
The only cause for this that I can think of is that I'm subconsciously mixing up my stress over things that I have to get done this week, with the things I've been worrying about over the past month. Color guard clinics and tryouts are this week, which means I've got double days Monday (yesterday), Wednesday and Friday, along with an afternoon on Thursday, and all Saturday morning. The girls have their guard class at 8 am. so on the double days I spend most of my morning with them or in transit, and then in the afternoon I have to drive back for clinics/practice. As much as I enjoy the actual practice part, the gap in between frustrates me. Either I come back home and get nothing done, or I hang around in Irvine, meaning I will definitely end up spending money that needs to be saved.
The pressing fact that my dresser needs to be organized, and I've got to figure out loan stuff doesn't exactly help, either. But I'm slowly, very slowly, starting to get stuff done and mellow out a little.
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