tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72544251962889913832023-11-16T04:55:11.715-06:00coeur en flamme"When there's nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire."chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-75778371736292396782012-10-01T05:43:00.002-05:002012-10-01T05:43:58.365-05:00I was nineteen, call me.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm writing this because I'm kissing my teenage years goodbye, and waving hello to my twenties. It feels odd because now I can finally sing this song with all the heartbreak it deserves. It'll be nice to finally write about what nineteen meant to me.<br />
<a name='more'></a>I guess I'm going to write this post in order to apologize to the last guy I dated. I don't believe that I owe him anything, since I've said a lot of this to him-- but he's a decent and nice enough guy that I'll send him this in order to explain a lot of what was going on in my mind. In any case, I'm sorry. I really am. I guess after my last relationship, I really did believe I wanted something tangible and real. And I still do. Just not right now. And not with you.<br />
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I'm a firm believer in "making things work," because people do make things work when they really like someone. However, wit my move to Chicago-- it's been pretty stressful, and the last thing I need in my life right now is a boyfriend. That being said, if the right person comes along, will I let them go? No. But, the "right person" still won't necessarily be "the one." I don't know. Sometimes it's hard to differentiate from the two-- but at the same time, I am turning 20. I deserve to be selfish and happy, and if that happens to be alone, that's fine. I don't know, is it wrong to be so picky about who I want to end up with? Or want more for myself?<br />
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For the majority of 'nineteen,' I was in the midst of nursing a broken heart that I should have seen coming. I had been painfully optimistic for the majority of it, as evidenced by my blog posts over the past year. I was in love with a boy who had loved me back, and even though we had introduced distance to our relationship-- it didn't stop me because I had never felt so "right" with a man before. However, a lot of shit happened, shit I don't want to discuss, and this seemingly perfect relationship crumbled before my eyes.<br />
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To be honest, it was the only person I had ever felt was "the one." Other men in the past had been bits and pieces of this man, but no one could compare to him. I had never discussed marriage, kids, a family, any of those "future" topics as willingly and openly as I had with him. I don't know. I want someone who is on the same path as I am in life. Someone in school, or someone who's finished school-- someone who wants more for himself.<br />
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But then again, at 20-- we're supposed to be selfish.chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-270556120840253112012-09-26T03:47:00.000-05:002012-09-26T03:47:56.282-05:00Promises aren't always forever<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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But I bought this ring over the summer and it represents a promise to myself. That I will love myself forever.chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-5190411255563943962012-07-04T03:59:00.000-05:002012-07-04T03:59:14.078-05:00This is all I have to say.<br />
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"<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">To my first love: I'm grateful for you. Grateful that even though it wasn't what I hoped for and even though it was never enough, it was. Some things never are... and we were. I won't forget you. I won't forget the summer. I'll remember who I was when I met you. I'll remember who you were and how we've both changed and stayed the same. I've never had more respect for life and living than I have right now. Maybe it takes a near death experience to feel alive." - Frank Ocean</span></blockquote>chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-76351753300114191002012-06-13T16:39:00.001-05:002012-06-13T16:39:10.018-05:00Fuck you, insomnia. (Or: Why is every guy I meet such a fucking douche?)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>DISCLAIMER: </b>The only reason why I put up "Summer Girl" is because I wanted to have a fun "IDGAF, I'M SINGLE" song up. This, for some reason, is what I came up with.<br />
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Fuckity fuck fuck. I haven't been able to sleep and now I have a damn headache and I'm nauseous. In any case, I've made a pledge to myself not to date until I find the right person. Why? Because I'm old enough to know what I want, and I won't stop till I get it. Okay, but really, Christa. What's the <i>real </i>reason? <b>Every guy that I've come across in the past few months just doesn't cut it.</b><br />
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It's really been the first time in awhile without any true "back-ups" or men I've kept on the sidelines. I suppose there <i>have</i> been men who have tried to chat me up, but I've realized that I probably deserve much better than them. Yes, some of them are cute. But damn, the lot of them are just too forward or not attractive enough (yes, I know I don't deserve to be superficial, but everyone is and I really don't give a flying fuck anymore. I won't be able to fuck you if you don't catch my eye.) I'm aware the bulk of what I'm saying will potentially be offensive, but I don't care. People probably aren't reading this anyway, so lucky for them.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>There is one person in particular that strikes up a few red flags, and at one point-- I was convinced I harbored a tiny crush on him. That crush is now long gone, and completely done with. He's pretty cute, but I wouldn't pursue anything other than a quick makeout session and a casual friendship... Why? Because he's one of those "friends by convenience." And also, attempting to chat with him is like watching paint dry. I'm not intellectually stimulated and the chemistry is just <b>not. there.</b> I find it funny, because it <i style="font-weight: bold;">is</i> there when he's bitching about his love life or how lonely he is. Let me just publicize the fact that he whines about how lonely he is only a few <u style="font-style: italic;">weeks</u> after his last relationship. Really? Are you in high school? Can you not be alone for one second?<br />
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It's men like this that irritate me. Women don't find needy men attractive. <i>Especially </i>not women like myself, who pride themselves on their independence. I'm not saying I'm going to pull a Sasha Fierce and claim that I'm some independent diva who "don't need no man cuz he didn't put no ring on it," but I will say that it's healthy to be alone for awhile. It gives you time to figure out your shit and live your life. (#YOLO, am I right? Just kidding.) It's really nice to feel wanted sometimes, but women don't want a guy who needs a girlfriend for validation. If you do, you need a reality check and you need to grow up a little.<br />
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At one point in time, I thought that was something I wanted. I wanted someone who doted on me 24/7 and treated me like the "~PRINCEZZ~" I was. Then I had my first boyfriend and realized that was the LAST thing I wanted. Along the way, I confused this for wanting a man who I could verbally spar with and abuse because that meant we were "in love." I thought I wanted someone to fight with because it meant that we cared about each other. I was also, sadly mistaken on this point. It was only until my last relationship that I realized there was a fine balance, and that when you find someone you truly love... you're going to want to spend 24/7 with that person-- without that person having to dote on you. Sometimes you'll just want to spend the days lazed around, curled up in each others arms. However, the person will want to dote on you, and sometimes that's good. But, until you find someone with that spark-- don't settle for anything less than you deserve.<br />
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In any case, I guess the point of this is: I know what I want. And if you're not-- I won't bother wasting my time. I don't mind being alone. I'm frequently alone, and I enjoy and treasure the time I am alone. Why? Because in this day and age, it's hard to find time to be alone. Sometimes, it's as if the most seemingly independent of people crave companionship. I'm not knocking companionship, or relationships-- I'm just saying, give me some time to figure out my own shit.<br />
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Once I can master being alone and loving myself, then I can ease my way into a relationship.<br />
That's all.chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-43601721756513867172012-06-05T07:45:00.000-05:002012-06-05T07:45:21.943-05:00"You said I wasn't capable of loving you, I never was."<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's starting to settle in that I won't be back in Omaha come fall. In the meantime, I'm filling my void of not seeing any of my friends through Skype, which has been a productive experience. The summer entering our third year of college is a decisively busy and hectic one-- some of us are struggling to keep afloat, others are busy getting ahead. I'm sort of stuck in this weird in-between sort of land, and I haven't begun to reconcile that I probably won't be seeing a lot of my best friends for awhile.<br />
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However, I got to Skype with one of my close friends, Linh, today and it was wonderful. I always love talking to her because we end up learning so much about each other, and about ourselves. We ended up talking about dating, and it's interesting to see how far we've both come from our past relationships, and where we think it lies ahead.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>I gave Linh some (perhaps) unwarranted advice about her love life-- but I couldn't help it. A lot of her situation was so evocative of what I went through with Andrew that I was terrified for her. Let me preface the following spiel by saying that no matter what happened between Andrew and I, I can never erase the fact that he is my first love. While I no longer feel the same way about him, I am forever grateful for the experiences (despite how painful they were) because I know I deserve better. I know how a man should treat me now, and I know what a real relationship is like. I've moved past that stage in my life.<div>
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Listening to her made me map out my previous loves and journey through them, looking at all the mistakes I've made. I think in her situation though, it reminded me most of Andrew and myself. Of course, he and I had a much more intense and awful situation-- but I just hope she never goes through something like that. I thank Andrew for giving me the strength to love myself first, and to finally realize that I deserve more from a man. Dating, much like relationships, is all about the give and take between a person. However, it is difficult for me to give her advice because our love life history is dramatically different. All of her relationships were long, steady and strong. I, on the other hand, have lived and thrived in dysfunctional relationships. My love affairs have always been torrid and temperamental ones. A lot of why she's confused is because she likes someone who obviously isn't willing to put the time and effort into committing to her. My hope and wish for her is that she finds someone who is willing to be the one to reach out towards her and try. It's so hard being the person who puts 100% into pursuing the other, and not getting anything back from the person. Personally, I feel like I have a lot of love to give and I seemed to always get burned in the end.</div>
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After around four years, I realize that with Andrew, a lot of it was just playing mind games, and someone who wasn't in it to win it. Being that young, at 15 and 16-- you aren't aware of what you want. Falling in love that young is confusing, and when you fall in love with someone, and they don't feel the same way-- of course it is going to hurt. It was one of those cases: I fell in love with a man who wasn't able to feel the same way. He cared about me, and he even liked me a lot to an extent, but it was known that he wasn't the best at commitment. And who would expect a 16 year old boy to be an expert at it? This bullshit with him lasted until I was around 16 or 17, and he was 18 or 19... it's a lot for adolescents to take in. When you don't have your life figured out, how can you expect to factor someone else in it? It's something that I never realized until now, because I was so blinded by love.<br />
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Love makes you do some unbelievably stupid things-- including he mind games. When someone can't figure out who they are, you can't expect them to be able to know what they want in dating or a relationship. They might have a lot of baggage leftover from their previous relationship, or maybe they're just starting to figure out who they are: in either case, it's a perfectsituation for mind games to develop because no one knows what they want. All one person knows is that they want the other so badly that they're willing to do anything to get them-- even if it means sabotaging other potential love interests. In my case, that's what I did. I reacted to his indecisiveness because I was selfish.<br />
<br /></div>chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-1515071475529290102012-06-04T03:08:00.001-05:002012-06-04T03:08:23.363-05:00What the fuck WAS I thinking?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Let me start off this post by saying that I'm pretty sick and tired of dating. I'm just sick of the mess that I have to go through with guys, and more often than not-- they're pretty sketchy ones. After Chicago, I realized that I just have to get over things, move on, and make new memories with new people while jump into things wholeheartedly. This potentially presents a bit of a dilemma because sketchy guys and great memories do not always mix.<br />
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The great thing about dating is that I learn so much about myself and how I respond to the world. I wrote the majority of this post angry and jaded, but, now I've potentially gained more insight into this new-fangled dating world. Still, after over a year and a half of chatting with Australia-- what the fuck WAS I thinking?<br />
<a name='more'></a>I guess this has to start off with Australia. For those of you who didn't know about him: now you do. I'm not going through the motions of how we met, but just know that we've known each other for around a year and a half. During this time period, we have been more than friendly on a couple occasions; even dating for a bit, but if I can't even manage to handle dating someone an hour away by plane, someone that was oceans away wouldn't work either. This brings me to my rant on technology and romance: technology ruins dating completely.<br />
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That being said, you can't just avoid the obvious. I understand that having technology helps-- without it, I wouldn't have been even talking to this guy who lives oceans away. Skype helped because it allowed us to mimic the face-to-face communication in getting to know one another. However, this story involves the mother of all social networking: Facebook. I don't know about you, but facebook is like the gateway into my soul. You can find so much about me from my facebook page-- you can stalk my pictures, you can read my thoughts, you can see what I'm saying to other people: it's essentially a fast glance into my life. Privacy is kind of a big deal for me. My need for privacy is why, even when I add people on my facebook, I separate them all into groups. If I don't know someone that well, I put them under "Acquaintances" (which to be honest, is even worse than NOT adding someone for me. You can't see anything of mine if I put you under this group.) I can hide things from people. I can share the album of all those photos from that party last Friday night, and no one else will be able to find out about it. If you're technologically savvy enough, you can find ways to do all of these things and not get caught.<br />
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If you aren't-- well, then just don't add people you don't trust as a facebook friend. Bringing me to my next point: Australia and I were really close. Enough for me to have wanted to communicate with him on a more personal level: facebook. He claimed that he didn't have one. A year ago, I respected it. I understand people don't get the hype behind facebook and don't buy into it. It's whatever. I left it alone for that moment. You know, till enough time had passed in our friendship/flirtation that I felt comfortable enough and I did a little snooping and I found out that he indeed had a facebook. By this point in time, let me note that Australia gave me his <u style="font-weight: bold;">home address</u> and his <u style="font-weight: bold;">telephone number.</u> I clicked on his info and I found out why he hid the fact that he had a facebook from me: It was because he was already in a committed relationship. For well over two years. <b><u>WHAT THE FUCK.</u></b> I freaked out, but kept it to myself and subtly hinted at it throughout the course of our flirtation. I had asked enough to the point where I just lay the issue to bed, because I creeped on his profile a little later and they had broken up, and he had admitted to me that he had just got out of a serious relationship. Alright, easy enough. You could have admitted that to me, before, but whatever-- life happens. Shit happens. It goes on. I'll let this lie slide for now. Man, fuck my life. I no longer trusted him though, so I kept his facebook on lockdown, checking every now and then for signs of life. Nope. Looked like he actually HAD stopped really using it.<br />
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You know, till I checked recently and for some reason, had the idea in my head to go facebook searching for his name again. And guess what I found? Australia had apparently caught onto all of my hints and created a new facebook profile. Where he was in another relationship. Again. Let me point out that when Chicago and I had entered into a relationship, I gave Australia the common courtesy of being honest and letting him know we had to break off whatever this weird friendship/flirtation was. But yet again, this explained the long periods of not talking and feeling distant. I understand that: but why wouldn't you just <i style="font-weight: bold;">talk to me and be honest about it? </i>Why? It was because he didn't consider me a serious or viable enough option for him to pursue anymore, so why even bother?<br />
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Yeah, probably all of the above. At the same time, you just have to learn how to trust your gut instinct and not rely on technology to confirm your fears. The red flags that pop up in your head are there for a reason, so, trust them every once in awhile. When you introduce technology into a relationship, you introduce more reasons to not trust someone. You essentially introduce more reasons to doubt the other person's fidelity when you introduce more and more modes of technology. The advent of e-mail brought significant others sneaking on inboxes and outboxes. The introduction of text messaging meant making excuses for when you got caught trying to see what was on your partner's phone. With facebook, there are more ways to be sneaky, more ways to get caught. And with that doubt, gives the other person more reason to do any of that stuff.<br />
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I guess that's what made Australia click. And I guess that's what makes me so insecure. And that's why we don't talk anymore. But good for me, right?chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-12097482173681520462012-05-23T04:36:00.001-05:002012-05-23T04:36:41.292-05:00Right Here, Right Now.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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First off, I know this music post is going to get a fuckload of crap from my friends. To address this: I already told you. I fucking love High School Musical (campiness and all), so go fuck yourselves. Honestly, everytime I say goodbye (or attempt to), I think of this song. Ironically, I associate this song with a bad relationship (or love interest, my first love to be exact-- but that sounds totally fucking lame and I hate the phrase), but it's turned into so much more. It's sad because this scene, though meant to evoke all the emotions seniors feel during their last year of high school (except for me, because I nerded out and intellectually peaked in my senior of high school), is exactly how I feel at this moment. And no, I don't need a Zac Efron to feel this way: you all are my Zac Efrons. ;) (Which means I would jump each and every one of your bones)</div>
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<a name='more'></a>I've written this over and over, drafting a meaningful enough draft that would convey all the feelings that I am feeling at this current moment. But I just can't-- honestly, I've been in denial for the longest time, and now that I'm listening to Ben Folds, for some reason, it's all hit me at once. So, here it is. I'm writing this in hopes that my friends will see this. If you are, I'm grateful that each one of you entered my life. I've watched so many of you grow up, and you've watched me do the same. It's amazing to say that I've spent the past two years loving and living with each and every one of you. Friends have come and gone, but you're the ones who have sticked. And I know I hardly show it, but I will miss every single one of you. You're the ones who have helped me grow up. And I'm grateful for every single one of you.<br />
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I don't really have much else to say, because I don't want to admit this is goodbye. But, I guess realistically, things will change. It's just like leaving high school all over again-- I'm not going to be able to keep in touch with you. A very good friend of mine told me that while me transferring bummed her out, it was just preparation for the future for when we would all eventually graduate and head our separate ways: I was just getting a head start. I guess the majority of what I'm feeling now is pretty delayed: I never felt this way about my friends in high school. To be frank, I feel like I've always been great at goodbyes, but maybe that's because I never feel like I'm actually saying goodbye to anyone. The hardest goodbyes for me to muster up have been the ones I've been reluctant to give because they're the ones that I know in my heart, are the ones that will be the last ones I'll be saying to that person.<br />
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I love you and I already miss you, I hope you all know that in your hearts. But this isn't goodbye-- it's just a see you later.chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-39107301543221203232012-05-23T04:35:00.001-05:002012-05-23T04:35:05.105-05:00FashionistaBlogs are hard to keep up with.<br />
But so are fashion blogs. I suppose this will be my fashionista post. :) I've been pretty inspired lately since my closet has been full of clothes that I haven't worn in forever.<br />
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It's been fun experimenting with my closet. Living in Chicago, I'm going to have to be a lot more stylish in order to fit in!<br />
<br />chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-8574545268035903232012-01-16T21:54:00.003-06:002012-01-16T21:54:46.323-06:00don't mistake me for somebody who's hung up on you<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's always hard to get over someone.<br />
I should know, I'm still in the process. While Greg Laswell's <b>Comes and Goes (In Waves)</b> could be more appropriate to the situation-- instead of looking back, I'm attempting to look forward. It's all I can do. I'm trying to look forward because looking to the past just gets me sad.<br />
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And no one likes a sad bitch.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>The minute I add this song to my playlist, you'll know I'm over you.chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-61214585950339964552012-01-12T02:39:00.001-06:002012-01-12T02:39:31.348-06:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This song fucking kills me.<br />
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Especially at 1:30 in the morning, I can't help but attempt to fight back tears as I listen to this.chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-74898342887813931352012-01-03T08:20:00.001-06:002012-01-03T08:20:25.945-06:002012<div style="text-align: center;">
"Fuck it."</div>
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I've always said that it is my motto in life, but I've never truly applied it.</div>
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Time to go do that.</div>
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Happy New Year, everyone.</div>chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-53521832092254152362011-12-22T12:45:00.000-06:002011-12-28T06:21:17.069-06:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I fell in love during the wrong season.<br />
<br />
It's a known fact that summer is a season where romances should be kept light and casual. It is a season where one can flutter about and do whatever he or she wants-- as the heat rises, tempers, and minds flare up and cause indecisive thoughts. You shouldn't <i>have</i> to choose between a single person during the summer. However, as the temperature starts to go down, so do the amount of prospects, and the desire for one person to just cuddle up next to gets stronger.<br />
<br />
Winter is a couple's season. Therefore, I fell in love during the wrong season.<br />
<a name='more'></a>Granted, I don't mind being single. It's awesome, and it means I have my choice of men. However, sitting on a bus for around five hours obviously sheds a lot of light on my feelings. I thought travelling and helping out on this medical mission would give me perspective about my own choices and my future--- but instead, I'm thinking about you and the fact that I fell in love with you. And how I didn't give myself enough time to get over you. I sort of just flung myself back into the dating world, in an attempt to "get out there." There was no time for me to actually get over you though. Though this is my normal reaction after I break up with someone ("The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.") I have to be completely honest and say that you weren't just any other guy, this wasn't just any other breakup, and that you were different.<br />
<br />
I'm going to get a lot of shit for saying this but damn, was I in love with you. Your words, your actions, just you in general. You were different because you treated me well, but not only that-- I was different in our relationship as well. It may have been short (only a few months), but it was my first, real, mature relationship. "I'm not trying to have a competition with him, I wouldn't be offended if he made you happier than I did. I think you're always going to have the people you can't forget in life, but because you've learned these lessons and dealt through so much stress from these people I wouldn't want to return to the past. But, move forward to see what is in store for me in the future." It's nice to look back and appreciate what you've had.<br />
<br />
However, it's the most heartbreaking thing to realize that you've been living in the past.chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-58891277140412012132011-12-20T14:39:00.000-06:002011-12-20T14:39:32.819-06:00<div style="text-align: center;">
A big part of me is in love with remnants of my past:</div>
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the people I hurt,</div>
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the ones that I used to love, </div>
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the choices I've made,</div>
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and the mistakes that have transpired from them.</div>
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<br /></div>chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-35917989999239383572011-12-20T06:31:00.000-06:002011-12-20T06:31:01.767-06:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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You know those days where you just want to stop the world and get back to your sweetheart?</div>
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This is one of those days. Granted, I no longer have a sweetheart to go home to-- but I still miss every inch of you. Maybe you'll come back to me one day.</div>
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Here's to hoping.</div>
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Short entry for now, as I'm working on my very long, extensive travel post.</div>
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xx</div>
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Christa</div>chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-37729492789339011712011-12-16T09:17:00.004-06:002011-12-16T09:17:52.026-06:00closing time<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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All I have to say right now is that it's closing time.</div>
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Fuck finals,</div>
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I'm done.</div>
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Peace.</div>
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(Not done with the blog, but the semester.)</div>
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xx</div>chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-39435071847242219082011-12-16T00:28:00.001-06:002011-12-16T00:28:43.939-06:00still now, I send letters into space<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's funny only because I had a conversation with one of my best friends today that went like this:</div>
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<b>Her: </b>You still miss him, don't you?</div>
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<br /></div>
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Silence. </div>
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(It took me awhile to gather my thoughts and formulate an answer to give to her.)</div>
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<b>Me: </b>I don't miss <i>him</i>, I miss the idea of <i>us</i>. I miss what I had with him. Not him. I'm over him.</div>
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<b>Her</b>: Are you sure?</div>
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<b>Me: </b>Yes. Positive. If he came back, I wouldn't take him back. He'd have to earn that shit.</div>
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Still, I'd do it again.</div>
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Even though it ends up with me writing you unsent letters </div>
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and wishing on every 11:11 </div>
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and every star and airplanes </div>
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and knowing that I loved you entirely too much, entirely too soon. </div>chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-64970634675171808512011-12-15T00:00:00.000-06:002011-12-15T01:53:14.694-06:00i never made promises lightly<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Listening to this song will always take me back to middle school. I had the pleasure of singing this song for my dad's show. I was in some weird ass medieval-era costume and held a basket. I don't know. Don't ask me, I don't really remember. The point is... I was a late bloomer when it came to relationships. This song reminds me that when there's no other guy you can turn to.... your daddy is always there.<br />
<a name='more'></a>My father and I don't exactly have that strong of a relationship at the moment. I suppose it stems from the fact that I'm in college now, and the fact that I am now able to assert myself. I'm no longer my father's youngest child-- I am a full grown woman. With her own ideals and goals. I guess this post is to confirm my greatest fears, as well as my father's: <b>I am no longer a pre-med student. </b>It was a pretty rough decision to come to grips with, but I'm glad that I made the decision. I just don't have the drive or passion for the subjects that I need to become a doctor. While I absolutely love the field of medicine, I just don't see myself doing well in any of the courses that I need.<br />
<br />
Disappointment hits hard, especially when you've been seen as the "black sheep" in your family your whole life. No doubt, this will continue to contribute to the whole thing. I'm afraid of being a disappointment to someone who has instilled in me that "Anything can happen if you just believe in yourself." Unfortunately, over time-- I've learned that this isn't <i>always</i> true. Sometimes you have to fight and make your own judgments, despite what others are forcing you to believe. I feel like I constantly disappoint my parents no matter how hard I try. I suppose it's all part of the "asian stereotype" though.<br />
<br />
The only time I don't ever feel like a complete failure when I'm talking to my father is when I'm singing. This is why this song, especially this arrangement, plays over and over in my head. My father is a very charismatic man. With that charisma, of course, comes his inflated ego, but everything that comes out of his mouth is 100% true. My father not only talks the talk, he can also walk the walk. He is someone I've always aspired to become, and making him proud is something I've always strived towards. When I performed this song, I saw the look on my father's face after-- it was a look of pure, unadulterated admiration and joy. I could do no wrong in his eyes in that split second. While my father and I don't exactly have the same taste in music (in fact, most of the songs I ended up being "forced" to sing, due to his influence, I hated at the split second. Now, I love the majority of the songs), he and I have an unmistakable, unbreakable bond over music itself.<br />
<br />
I certainly hope that my father can get on my level and see why I'm choosing this path. I have no idea if it's the right one, and I'm scared shitless to find out... but I hope that he can at least be happy for me and push me into succeeding. I want to see the look on his face, the same one he gets after I sing.chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0Honolulu, HI, USA21.3069444 -157.858333321.1885989 -158.0162618 21.4252899 -157.7004048tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-17789792671237120972011-12-14T10:38:00.000-06:002011-12-14T10:38:21.714-06:00i was led astray, the day you walked away<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This song will always remind me of Springfield, Missouri. No ifs, ands or buts. There's a big part of me that will rest with "Missouri", a huge chunk of my heart. It's impossible to be involved with someone for two and a half years and not have a sense of possessiveness with them. A portion of me will always be filled with regret and things I should have said (but didn't.) I will always look back at my time with Missouri fondly, if only to recall how hard I tried to open up, and how difficult it was for him to do so with me.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>I have mixed feelings about Missouri.<br />
<br />
As many of you already know, Missouri is my (apparently) now-homosexual ex-boyfriend. (I'm not using names, so if he reads this, I didn't out him.) I don't mean to say that to sound harsh or derogatory in any way, but if you knew the both of us, you'd understand why I say "apparently." A part of me believes that he just told me that because he really is that, but a part of me believes he did it just to invoke and stir emotions and feelings that I had laid to rest. It took me a long time to get over him, and he came rushing back into my life, and left just as quickly.<br />
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Describing my relationship with Missouri would take a lot of time, and probably a lot of therapy. While I can never claim I was "in love" with him, a lot of who I am in relationships now is indebted to the way he treated me. I know, I know-- with the way I portray men, it was probably bad, right? No. Not really. He treated me surprisingly well for the latter parts of our relationship. It was actually shocking to see him so devoted to making "us" work. Unfortunately, everyone has their baggage, and that was the demise of our relationship. You see, Missouri had a tendency of putting his all into relationships in around the first few weeks, and then he'd disappear into thin air, without a trace for a couple of months. Any sane person would realize that this is pretty sketchy and makes for the most dysfunctional relationships. He would then come back after I had felt a sufficient amount of time had passed and "moved on," and then he would yell at me for "not waiting around, because that's what you do for people you love."<br />
<br />
It's odd to think about how dramatically our relationship dynamic has changed. We were friends because of our similarities in personalities. The lovestruck eighteen-year old me claims that,<br />
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"We are perfect for each other, because we approach our relationships similarly. We flirt similarly, we have the same silly sense of humour, we end up dating people we don’t really like and become apathetic towards the person and our relationship, and when we really know we love someone, we’re scared shitless to lose them. We both become insecure little shits, and constantly push the other away when we really should be holding on for dear life."</blockquote>
While I can't argue with my eighteen-year old self, as I wrote that around half a year ago... I will say, sometimes you can outgrow people. So much of myself loved Missouri, but over the years, I felt that I could do better. So, part of me loathed myself for being with someone I could love so much, but someone who just didn't feel "right" for me. While Missouri had never really traditionally treated me like shit, I definitely did not deserve the way he felt he could just come up into my life, and then leave again without a trace, for months at a time. I also did not deserve the way that he would randomly stalk my blog, and then leave a message to me, if he felt I was "getting over him in some way." Why did I keep going back if it clearly wasn't right for me? Part of growing up is to learn from the mistakes you've made, not dwell on them, and move on. I think a lot of the past year in college was hating myself for choosing a school in such close proximity to a guy I had claimed to be "crazy about," when it really wasn't the right choice for me, and then continuing to pursue a relationship that had clearly already ended before it really began.<br />
<br />
Something struck me when we were fighting one day, and it finally clicked. He had said something to the effect of, "You're not opening yourself up to me. You don't trust me. And you need to learn how to trust me." It confused me because I felt like I was-- but apparently not enough for his liking? Then I realized....<br />
<br />
He was just projecting his own insecurities and flaws onto myself. He already knew that I had a tendency to not open up and hide myself. The sad fact was, he was the one that wasn't opening up. I had given so much of myself to him and our relationship that I was blinded by the fact that it was the other way around. I told him about so many things that were going on in my life. I opened up about my surgery, and my family life, and my dreams and ambitions. And that was all fine and dandy-- and then I realized I knew nothing about him. Nothing. I didn't know anything about the person I was supposed to be dating.<br />
<br />
You know, sometimes love, in and of itself, is not enough to save a relationship. There are other factors that will end it. I'd like to be optimistic and say that "love conquers all," but sometimes it doesn't. While I loved Missouri with all my heart and soul, and genuinely cared about him-- I probably cared too much. Sometimes other things get in the way of a nice relationship, and sometimes that can be the people in them. Sometimes people aren't ready to commit to something so serious. Other times, the timing is completely wrong. Sometimes there's an imbalance between the "give and take" in a relationship. All of these things were things that ended my relationship with Missouri for the last time.chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0Springfield, MO, USA37.2089572 -93.292298937.1077867 -93.4502274 37.3101277 -93.134370400000009tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-83607078280965201802011-12-14T09:30:00.000-06:002011-12-14T10:38:33.397-06:00pull me into your weather patterns<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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To explain the relative importance of this song to someone in short-form is impossible. This song is the song that very fervently underscored the relationship (or lack of one) with my first love. I fell in love to this song, and it is one that I cannot listen to all the way without wanting to strangle someone, or at least shedding one tear. This song is the reason I cannot bare to think of the states "Virginia" or "Maryland" and not want to behead someone.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>I hate writing about Andrew because he means nothing to me emotionally. He is also one of the men who will actually be referred to by name on this blog. I know, right? Most of my friends, and I guess you do too now, reader, know about Andrew. However, given that he is labeled with as my "first love," there are a lot of things I have learned from him.<br />
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Your first love is an important milestone in your life. I absolutely abhorred that my friends kept telling me that your first love was meant to be something beautiful-- because each person has a different experience. Unfortunately, mine wasn't all that great. It was dysfunctional, and warped to the extreme. Before Andrew, I had already been with others-- so I knew what I was like in relationships: destructive, demanding, and damning. I was a sheer force to be reckoned with. I had already known how to flirt with guys and how I acted with men.<br />
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Despite the various claims that I could "be in love" with other men, it meant nothing until Andrew rolled around. By that time, I had been in enough relationships to know how breaking up worked. I had been scarred before, but no one had ever destroyed me quite like Andrew did. The funny thing about myself was that up till my first relationship-- I had always pinned myself as a "hopeless romantic." I had always thought I would have loved being with a man who treated me like a princess. It wasn't until 'Austin' rolled around, that I realized all of that was the opposite of what I wanted. I didn't want to get married, I didn't want to plan my future with someone and I didn't want to deal with the prospect of "tomorrow," because I wasn't even ready to deal with "today." I knew I was in love with Andrew simply because the future with him didn't scare me. I didn't think we'd be together, or even end up together-- but I saw him as a familiar face in the bleak, mysterious future. That's how I knew. Of course, with Andrew, things were just... complicated. I never want to feel the way that Andrew made me feel with anyone ever again. Things were destructive, and I hated myself every single day. It was a constant battle with myself and my emotions. I always felt like I wasn't enough for him.<br />
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However, if there's anything I've learned about love from Andrew, it's that love can make you act like a complete asshole sometimes. While I no longer believe in the type of love that I shared with Andrew, I do believe that falling in love with someone is multifaceted, and is a different experience for everyone. From Andrew, I learned how to love myself and embrace my flaws. I learned to never apologize for who I am, and that I had to learn how to love myself completely before I could learn to love someone else. After Andrew, I always thought love consisted of angry, temperamental fights, where you had to "fight" for the other person to keep them around. This idea of "love" has since changed, but I still agree how my sixteen-year old self summed up the idea of "first loves," and moving on pretty well:<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #888888; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; line-height: 16px; text-align: justify;">Despite all this, love-- especially first loves, end. They can either fade, or end abruptly. And from either end, it's one of the worst feelings you can feel. But you can't regret what happened, because for a brief, fleeting moment, a split second before you allow yourself to resent the person, you have to realize how much you were truly in love with that person, and how many good times you had. I believe that some people are lucky enough to find their true loves straight ahead, but that's one in a million, and people brew up ideas of the idealistic romance because-- isn't that what everyone aspires to? Nothing lasts forever, honestly, and instead of wallowing in misery-- look on the bright side. You're alive. Instead of resenting the past, look to the future. The only path you can take is the one right ahead of you. Sure, you may not know where it leads, but it's somewhere. I believe, no matter how many mistakes the other person, or yourself has made, you have to let go of lost love eventually. Keeping it pent-up inside doesn't make much of a difference at all. It's gone, if you're lucky enough, then you'll rediscover a flame, and learn to fall in love again with that person, but let it go. Resentment after love makes for a poor outlook on life. And life is what you make it out to be. Don't victimize yourself, look at the world, and Carpe Diem-- Seize the Day. Take an opportunity to reevaluate yourself as a person, and see if anything's changed, and take the lessons from broken love, and fix yourself.</span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #888888; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; line-height: 16px; text-align: justify;">At the end of the day, I believe love is everything. But not truly romantic love. Like I said, we must learn to love ourselves before we can love others. I've fallen from a first love, and I've only been in love once, but who knows? I'm shedding my bad skin, and trying to move on with my life, finally. I'm learning that letting go of love is the hardest stage. You can spend between a lifetime and an eternity trying to get over someone, and it never ever stops hurting. But you need to pull through, because it wasn't meant to be. And you know what? You're a hell of a lot better off anyway.</span></blockquote>chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0Virginia, USA37.4315734 -78.656894234.2055064 -83.7106052 40.6576404 -73.603183199999989tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-27146825405669757922011-12-14T00:18:00.000-06:002011-12-14T00:18:20.752-06:00pugsy malone!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Everyone knows how much I love pugs.</div>
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This will always cheer me up.</div>
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Just a little image to cheer everyone up through finals.</div>
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xx</div>
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Christa</div>
<br />chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-54335013415501360002011-12-13T11:58:00.000-06:002011-12-13T14:39:11.620-06:00thinking about forever...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This song was written by one of the greats, Frank Ocean, for this artist, Bridget Kelly. The song is actually titled "Thinking About You," while Bridget renamed it "Thinking About Forever." I'm going to use this song to preface when I talk about my current dating escapades, mainly because this is exactly how I feel at the moment.<br />
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"<i>A tornado flew around my room before you came, excuse the mess it made..."</i><br />
I've only fallen in love once before this guy. I'll write about him later, but honestly, before 'Chicago', I don't think I've ever fallen in love with any other guy other than my first love. Naturally, after four years of this-- you'd think I would have fallen with someone else by now. Nope. Not a single person because of the mess that the hurricane left. While I'm over my first love, there is no denying that they leave a certain amount of baggage behind.<br />
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I guess what annoys me the most is that trying to date after Chicago is the absolute worst. There are still so many fresh wounds from the disintegration of my relationship with him that I can't even count them. I still bleed myself dry, and attempt to avoid the fact that I'm only hurting myself and others the further I go out into the dating world.<br />
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Case in point: I was talking to "Chicag-hoe" (Different from Chicago, I promise. It ends with 'hoe' for a reason!) last night, when he told me that he loved me. I freaked out slightly, mainly because I don't use that phrase lightly. It's becoming phased out slowly and diffusing and disintegrating into culture. Why has "I love you" lost all of its meaning? I feel like no one means it anymore. How can a man say he loves me after only about two or three weeks of us "seriously talking." And even then, I'm managing to speak to other men. It's not realistic, and I definitely do not feel the same way.<br />
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At this moment, I'm still reeling over the boy that I had my first serious, mature relationship with. A sign of entering maturity is the fact that it becomes easier and easier to talk about "the future." Perhaps it was just a summer fling (summer isn't exactly the season to have a "serious boyfriend.") But, come on. Relationships that feel real also feel extremely effortless. It felt like there was no effort between him and myself, but there was a significant amount put in. Relationships are a lot about give and take, and both of us balanced this out pretty well. Failed relationships usually stem from the imbalance of "give and take" between the two partners in the whole. There were a lot of firsts in our relationship: this was the first time I wasn’t really scared. It is an unusual feeling to describe, this feeling of being so safe, so secure. There was also the first time I felt comfortable talking about marriage, children, starting a family, my future, etc. with someone. Agreeing and disagreeing, arguing about what our points of views, and having serious talks about this kind of stuff. It’s all stuff that I never talked about in great lengths with other boyfriends, simply due to my views on those topics and how scared I am of the future. So, thank you to Chicago. You taught me a lot about what love was, and this is the song that I think about whenever I think about you.chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-39639096614172346302011-12-13T05:07:00.000-06:002011-12-13T05:59:19.849-06:00i'm no superman, i hope you like me as i am.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I figured out how I'm going to structure this blog, and hopefully you all will be able to appreciate how I'm doing this. You know how the doctor says "<i>An apple a day keeps the doctor away"</i>? Well. This blog will be like that, but I'll pick a song to structure the day around, and this blogpost around. And through that, I'll mention various aspects of my life, anecdotes that go along with this song. However, in hindsight, that quote would have been pun-nier if the song I had picked was "Apple." Oh well, my loss. </div>
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So I thought my inaugural post should be about this song in particular. I've written about it so many times before, and I've discussed why it's so important to me, but I guess it's one of those songs that even if I get sick of it, will always resonate throughout me. It's an important piece of my life. This song dictated one of my very first relationships. Granted, now I know better-- I know that it was one of those "high school" relationships. It wasn't until much later that I discovered what true love really was, but puppy love was enough for now. So, I'm going to have to thank this guy for introducing me to Joe Brooks' music. (He knows exactly who he is, despite the fact the two of us no longer speak.) Without this relationship in particular, I would have never fully found Joe's stuff, and been able to do half of the stuff (like go to his shows, or meet him/talk to him) that I've accomplished as a fan of Joe's. </div>
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I was fourteen, turning fifteen. Fresh off the heels of my first real relationship with none other than 'Austin,' the adorable, yet slightly dimwitted jock that I had dated as soon for the majority of my time in England. However, I met someone else. We had started off as friends, and I knew that he had a lot of girls that had liked him-- so I did the brave thing and attempted to stay friends, despite my growing attraction for him. It wasn't until I had started dating someone else that 'Sacramento' (that's what we'll call him) had come forward and admitted to me that he saw me as more than friends. Of course, being young and naive, and not being able to express our emotions succinctly and clearly enough-- we used music to convey our feelings for us. </div>
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Don't we all do that though? Music resonates within our souls and our lives because the melody and lyrics intertwine and portray our thoughts and emotions better than we could ever express it using our own words. In any case, Sacramento had been mustering up the words to attempt to ask me out, and had managed to shyly use his myspace profile in order to give me the hint. </div>
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"You should listen to my myspace profile song whenever you have the chance," I heard him tell me in his cutest voice.</div>
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"Why? What is it?", I replied, curious. Having already been in two relationships, I could already gather the subtle hints through his twinkling eyes, and the fact that he was too nervous to speak.</div>
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"Because it's the way I feel about you," he answered back, confidently, yet still hesitating slightly-- as if what he was about to say could bite him back in the ass. </div>
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It was this song. Once I had listened to it, I started blushing. The song 'Superman,' itself, Joe has described as a song he wrote when he was seventeen for a girl that was his "best friend" and describing the angst of being in love with this girl and knowing that what he had to give wasn't enough. He couldn't be 'Superman,' but hopefully this girl would like him for himself. So, essentially, Sacramento was telling me he wanted to be with me, and that he hoped that just him, flaws and all, would be enough to be with. It said it all, when he was too flustered to get the words out himself.</div>
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While this relationship didn't exactly pan out the way I planned it... (We ended up being on and off for awhile. As young 'lovers,' we certainly were fickle. A few days after he asked me out, he ended it. This became a vicious cycle, until we both realized that we were not good for each other, and just stayed friends.) it can be said that certain songs just conjure up memories. It could be a day, a single moment, or the song could be the soundtrack of an entire relationship. Just listening to this song causes this entire relationship, especially this moment, to rush back to me. My best friends will always make fun of me for how awkward and nervous I get around Joe Brooks-- but this is my explanation. Joe Brooks, and his most famous song, Superman, instantly become a physical and musical manifestation of an entire relationship, a moment that will forever stay with me. This song isn't the best song I've ever heard by any means, nor is it even my favorite of Joe's stuff-- but it is the song that will mean the most to me. It's the song that no matter how much I listen to, I can never really get sick of it.<br />
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Songs are funny like that. Powerful, little pieces of writing. They can either make or break you. Or you know, embarrass you in front of artists that you find attractive and admire musically.</div>
</div>chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0Sacramento, CA, USA38.5815719 -121.494399638.4822709 -121.65232809999999 38.6808729 -121.3364711tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-37781938974386000412011-12-12T22:55:00.001-06:002011-12-13T00:10:45.821-06:00Shit Girls Say<div style="text-align: center;">
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I wanted this post to be long and deep. But instead, I'll focus on this gem.</div>
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"Shit Girls Say."</div>
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I do everything in this video down to a T.</div>
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"AAAAAAAAHHH TWINSIES."</div>
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xx,</div>
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Christa</div>
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</div>chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-5869949189893616292011-12-12T19:11:00.000-06:002011-12-12T19:37:15.241-06:00gratuitous christmas list<div style="text-align: center;">Here are things that I probably don't deserve, but I still want them anyway. Want to be an awesome friend? Okay, get me these things.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.wdrake.com/WalterDrake//images/p304496b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.wdrake.com/WalterDrake//images/p304496b.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>Diabetic Socks. </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I know this sounds weird, but they are extremely comfortable. I also found this fall that I am (now) diabetic. These socks do not hinder my circulation and I sound like a geriatric talking about them, but I have around two pairs and they are probably God's greatest gift to diabetics. Okay. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">They are probably $5 for a pack of two at Walgreens. I will love you forever if you get me a bunch of them. (And my roommate is laughing at me because these are at the top of my Christmas wishlist, but don't make fun of me. God will smite you and probably send you the gift of diabetes. It's the gift that keeps on giving. Just kidding, I would never wish that upon anyone.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://img2.etsystatic.com/il_fullxfull.272663842.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://img2.etsystatic.com/il_fullxfull.272663842.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>Fleur de Sel Caramels from <a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/87891257/handmade-fleur-de-sel-caramels-12-lb-in" target="_blank">TheCaramelJar (Etsy)</a></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">For those of you who know I have diabetes, this is probably the worst gift to get me. Or you can pull a concerned friend and go, "But Christa.... You're diabetic. You probably shouldn't be eating this shit. It is bad for your already high blood sugar!" You know how I'll respond to that? "I don't really give a fuck because I will order these puppies on a regular basis. I was a dedicated customer all of last year, and if you buy me a gift certificate (or two... or three... or four...), I will love you forever."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">$10.00 for one gift certificate, which will be redeemable towards a 1/2 pound jar.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.deandeluca.com/ProductImg/500/704199.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.deandeluca.com/ProductImg/500/704199.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>Dean & DeLuca's Chicken Pot Pies</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">For some reason, I just became incredibly aware that I'm hungry. So around half of the things on this list will be food-related. Fuck me. Anyway, so you know that movie "American Pie?" Where Jason Biggs has sex with a pie because apparently that's what masturbating feels like to men. I wouldn't know because I don't have a penis, and I feel like it would be weird to shove my cooch into a pie. If that's TMI, then I don't really care, because if you know me, you know I have weird cravings. But I do have a secret, constant craving for pies. Savoury pies. Yes, I spelled savoury with a 'u' because I like to pretend I am British. I love Cornish pasties, I love empanadas. I love meat with pastry. Is that a bad thing?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Dean and Deluca is selling sets of 2 pot pies for $20 <a href="http://www.deandeluca.com/new-and-seasonal/comfort/chicken-pot-pie.aspx" target="_blank">here.</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizbVAiW76qWjVgGis6786EHA5PIYjlrUxIufIhy4ly_yi4Ngsf-_z-zwew59QgpDSW5ljlPVH28IiYO4AP7_4yfhqDF18Zqh1oeFXOhyw7s04QEL2mabmfF5qUecqH7ARRXczuX4N1MnY/s1600/naked_LP_naked2update_v4_cropped_02-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizbVAiW76qWjVgGis6786EHA5PIYjlrUxIufIhy4ly_yi4Ngsf-_z-zwew59QgpDSW5ljlPVH28IiYO4AP7_4yfhqDF18Zqh1oeFXOhyw7s04QEL2mabmfF5qUecqH7ARRXczuX4N1MnY/s320/naked_LP_naked2update_v4_cropped_02-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>Urban Decay's Naked Palettes</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>(Although I just really want Naked2, as I have two Naked palettes)</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I don't normally wear makeup. I have no one to impress. But when I want to look "natural," or I'm just in the mood to look "pretty," I bust out UD's Naked Palette and go to town on my eyes. Yeah, that's right. I go to town on them hardcore with the Naked palette. Anyway, the Naked2 palette just came out and I want to feel like I'm on the makeup bandwagon. So... yeah.. Also, Naked2 comes with more "matte" colors to make me feel more adultish, and not like a hooker with tons of glitter and shimmer.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">$50.00 on <a href="http://www.urbandecay.com/Naked-2-Palette-by-Urban-Decay/282,default,pd.html?start=1&cgid=9999&prefn1=isNewDisplay&prefv1=true" target="_blank">UD's website</a>, but they're sold out. So just buy it off EBay.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://igiveugetgiveaways.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/visa-gift-card.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://igiveugetgiveaways.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/visa-gift-card.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>VISA gift cards</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="http://usa.visa.com/personal/cards/prepaid/gift-card-online.jsp" target="_blank">List of vendors who sell prepaid VISA cards</a></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I have a bad habit for shopping online. If you get me one of these in any varying amount, I will probably love you forever and ever (amen.) These are pretty much the only things I'm really asking for this Christmas, basically because they're a lifesaver and they're sort of like donations to my wallet. My poor, broke college student's wallet. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The great thing about these puppies is that you can put any amount you want on them.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">You can probably find them in any Supermarket.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">EDIT:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Also, and a girl can dream...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYhu4gDnfoyk_ZABVKk07XNILZjGouzHHEO2-oHJBXnNx6yFhcMeNAzDk_Y8eNQNaPtEDuhqIepzlhnB_4NVFJSzrAs2b5v8911Kj8EdfBjdi2x2Lutlugur0bR-rqVpL3BTnqNEulsdOP/s400/Joe+Brooks+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYhu4gDnfoyk_ZABVKk07XNILZjGouzHHEO2-oHJBXnNx6yFhcMeNAzDk_Y8eNQNaPtEDuhqIepzlhnB_4NVFJSzrAs2b5v8911Kj8EdfBjdi2x2Lutlugur0bR-rqVpL3BTnqNEulsdOP/s400/Joe+Brooks+%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>Joe Brooks.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But not in a creepy way. Although I am aware that putting him under my "gratuitous christmas list" automatically makes me a creeper. But all I want for Christmas is for him and I to become buds. The kind of buds that jam together and make fun of each other. And give each other presents. And bake and cook together. <strike>And become raging alcoholics together. </strike></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strike><br />
</strike></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>Zac Efron.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">No picture because you know who he is and this was meant to be creepy. I want his body. Not like on me, but like, in me. HAHAHA. That was so scary. I'm sorry. This was totally a joke. (Or was it?)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254425196288991383.post-77428710227347034732011-12-09T23:20:00.000-06:002011-12-09T23:20:29.613-06:00The Songs That We Sing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://blahblahblahscience.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/charlottegainsbourg.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="258" src="http://blahblahblahscience.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/charlottegainsbourg.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I watched Melancholia today. Charlotte Gainsbourg is absolutely stunning and one of the most beautiful people I have ever had the pleasure to watch on screen. I have to admit, I wasn't feeling my best when I was watching Melancholia, but for the parts that I was awake during-- it was beautiful. Charlotte Gainsbourg was a standout for me. I wasn't particularly in awe from Kirsten Dunst's performance, nor do I think Melancholia was "bad" or "good." I just didn't watch enough to judge it. But I will say that Charlotte Gainsbourg blew me the fuck away. I absolutely adore her.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I guess I felt uncomfortable during Melancholia because I feel that way. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I don't feel, nor do I really want to.</div>chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03655586021601450841noreply@blogger.com0