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2010-04-07T00:20:00.000-07:00

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(Written April 6th)

My terribly vexing dream, soon to become a story.

2010-03-13T22:59:00.000-08:00

*story in progress*

I am young. The year is 1965, and spring explodes in tiny bursts out of the tiny yellow flowers popping up in trees all around Paris. Sadly, I am allergic to these colorful blooms, so I spend a large part of my time outside sneezing and taking care of my runny nose. I continue to go outside because I cannot avoid beauty. I learn to cope. I learn to not breathe so much.
I have never experienced this flower-filled season before with such great ambivalence. Before, I would lie in the rolling fields of grass surrounding my neighbor's home in my home of Wisconsin, awkward limbs sprawling about, my mouth breathing in in the fresh air of the fields clear and even. Though it felt wonderful, I did it to avoid my parents. But at the moment I have no reason to.

Grandmother is taking care of me right now. Both me and Mari, that is. Mari and I do not know when mother and father will return, but Grandmother assures us that they will be back within the month. I trust Grandmother, with her big, crinkly face and leather eyes that squint and wink at me whenever she is telling a joke. I don't laugh at her jokes, but I trust her. Mother and father will return.
Mari and I stay with grandmother or elderly relative for a month or two.
Lots of exploring, lots of character development.
Fancy architecture everywhere. Why is this important?
See two staircases frequently but never take the one on the left leading to who knows where. It looks like it leads to a double-door that goes beyond somewhere. I am intrigued by it. It looks exotic because I do not know where it leads. The entire veranda and staircase area is downright gorgeous, the base of the veranda is covered in vines and the handles of the staircase is made of dark wood (between chocolate brown and black), but the base of the veranda and the steps of the staircase are made of either stucco or warm cream wood/material covered in that color paint.
Also am towards end of tale followed by man and posse. About 5-6 of them. Leader is tall, but not too tall, blonde, kind of like the man in Moulin Rouge. Angry face, but crazy. Very variable. He and his men surround me as I am going to the staircases alone to decide which one to take by myself. I am scared. I try to get away, I try to say mean things to make them go away, finally I try to fight them off, but their leader gets the best of me. The other men are there to solely intimidate, and it works. He forcefully wraps around my mouth and head with a single fraying thin strip of duct tape a couple times. I am bound and voiceless. I cannot do anything. I am full of so many words. But he hurts me and begins to rape me. I do not know if he continues to rape me or if his men had a turn as well, for I have blocked out this memory. But I awake afterwards in my bed and it is like nothing has changed but I. I am afraid and bear a body and heart full of pain. I am ashamed and lack the ability to speak. My grandmother and sister do not know.
At the end of the tale, I return to the place with my grandmother and sister, hoping that their presence will spare me from the men who inflicted such pain and suffering on me. We are there and I still cannot make a decision. Finally, I choose to go up the mysterious staircase because what lies beyond intrigues me. And it cannot be as bad as experiencing the same fate of these men over again, a monotonous life, a life that is predetermined for me. But as I am standing on the raised veranda, my grandmother and sister start to go down short set of stairs to the courtyard below (with gardens and walkways and large areas to congregate in) and a man appears, pushing past my grandmother and sister. They object but have no idea why he is here. I do not either, but I may vaguely place him as one of Andre's henchmen. He is slightly round in his face and he looks at me as if I am a piece of meat. I now know what he wants and I become very afraid. I try to side step his thorough moves to get to me. In my dream, I know what may soon be repeating itself and I forcefully wake myself because I cannot live through the same hell of such a real version of rape again. However, the dream could have gone either way. It could've been that I was raped and subjected to the same fate yet again as my grandmother and sister looked on in fear, powerless, or were also raped, or ran away in fear. I'd like to hope that this time, since I had made my decision, I was able to push past the man's huge, grabbing hands, and run up the straight stucco staircase, push the large wooden doors open, and go into my future in some unknown place that I hope is better than the one I was experiencing.

Natural beauty

2010-01-27T01:21:00.000-08:00

I discovered a new reading/chilling/connecting with the earth spot on campus on Sunday... It's this gorgeous tree in a grove of trees, beyond this fence by a walking path and the lagoon, that overlooks the lagoon and the ocean and campus all at once. It has a giant branch that is growing completely horizontal to the earth, allowing one to sit or lay on the branch in peace. You can sit there and see all, or look up and see thousands of tiny intricate branches and leaves weaving together into a beautiful puzzle of sky and tree. It makes me happy.

I am ready.

2010-01-17T19:24:00.001-08:00

I am proud of myself and my body.
I ran every single day this month (besides one day a week for break). I am glad I'm motivated to do that. Now, can I get on the track for eating less and seeing actual weight loss? We'll have to see. But I'm proud of my mental commitment to greatness.
I also applied to the managing editor position for the Bottom Line (to fill Jenny's position, since she had to graduate early, lol.) I'm quite excited and terrified at the same time that I have a pretty good chance at getting it. I've thought about it a lot, and today while I was thinking about it in the car ride back from camping all weekend, I decided that even though I'm rather young, I'm mature enough to handle a position like that. The responsibility is a little intimidating, but I think I would love to be in a leading position, especially if my co-workers show me the ropes of the position and generally what I need to do. I'm ready and willing to learn. I think I can finally handle something important like this. I think the only thing that frightens me is the time commitment, but I think generally I will be able to handle it because I love The Bottom Line and what it's done for me and this campus. I think I would love to be in the position where I can raise the paper to a level where everyone at UCSB can be proud of our publication, rather than half of the people supporting our growth and half of the people scoffing at even the idea of having another paper besides the Nexus. I would like to be a part of the movement.
Shit, I've even convinced myself.
I'm awesome. I'm glad I feel like I can handle my life lately. I'm taking 19 units right now but I'm going to be dropping my Music 8 class or changing to a pass-no pass class, cause I would like to minor in Music, but I don't need it for the minor. Plus, I think 17 units will be enough, that with the Managing Editor position and all. I can do it, though :)
I've just got to keep my perspective. And I have a pretty steady awesome group of friends now, so I won't have to worry about maintaining my social life. Every once in a while, I'll just take a break from all of the crazy business that keeps me alternately sane and insane and relax and have a good time with friends or take some time for myself. I can do it.

Meh, break.

2009-12-21T00:30:00.001-08:00

I'm kind of over break right now. I enjoy the Christmas parties, but my parents are stressing me out. I just can't wait until my online traffic school is over. Then I'll have less to worry about, hopefully. And then I won't feel obligated to my parents. I'm glad I can finally pay them back now.
I just wrote an entire long post and then my internet was dead so it was deleted. Don't you hate it when things like that happen? I feel like my time was wasted away. But it wasn't really wasted, I guess it was good personal reflection. Plus, I think I'm still a little buzzed, so I was just rambling about visiting Leslie in Berkeley (super fun! she bought me a hookah for my birthday! we smoked it! I slept over and interesting things happened with her cute guy friend, hooray) and about my parents being retarded and rude to me.
I swear, my family is quite dysfunctional. Why won't my parents get divorced? I feel like they both would be a lot happier.
I just think they're afraid of change and growth. Well, my mother has just settled for disappointment, while my father is afraid of change. This is the bond that holds them together. Plus money. My mother would be very financially unstable without the financial security my father brings.
Sigh.
I hope to never become trapped in a loveless marriage, bickering and name-calling my partner, resenting their presence, and treating them as more of an enemy rather than a loving ally. Please, please, please. This is why I fear marriage. And commitment, to an extent.

Recipes for Successful Nutrition and Delicious-osity (Part One)

2009-08-28T17:40:00.000-07:00

I love making up recipes with ingredients that just seem to kind of go together naturally. Sometimes they don't even seem like they'll jive together but they totally do. It's all a part of getting really bored with certain repetitive foods, trying to dress up foods that I always have lying around, and trying to be healthy by avoiding dry and packaged foods...

I think I may start posting a couple of my recipes on here, just so I can remind myself what they are so I can try them again if I ever want to repeat them. Odds are, they're delicious! At least, to me. Yes, they may have already been made somewhere online or in someone's cookbook... but I've never had the pleasure of discovering them myself. So it feels like I did.

I made a delicious quesadilla today, but it had only one typical ingredient of a quesadilla.. the tortilla.
I normally HATE quesadillas (think they're TERRIBLE!) because of all the icky, fake, goopy, sticky, messy cheese in the center of it. It makes me want to hurl. But last week I was forced to eat a quesadilla with some nicer quality cheese and chicken at a party... and I got to thinking that they weren't really all that bad.

Melissa's quesadilla for those who hate quesadillas:
One tortilla
A handful of feta cheese (mine comes in little crumbly chunks)
A handful of sliced tomatoes (about a half of a tomato)
Lettuce (preferably shredded)
*optional* Chicken or other meat (I didn't put any in myself, but I imagine it would be pretty tasty)
Shred lettuce and chop up tomatoes anyway you like.
Stick feta cheese and tomatoes in the tortilla. Fold tortilla over the ingredients.
Roast the tortilla with feta cheese and tomatoes (and meat, if desired) over the stove quesadilla style. When the feta cheese has melted a lot but not to a sticky, goopy mess take it off the stove, open it up, stick the lettuce in, and enjoy!
I find it is a panini-like quesadilla that's not actually a panini. And isn't as spicy. It's actually pretty nice and sweet, especially if the tomatoes are ripe. Mmmm. And I don't even like tomatoes normally either! So this meal was a win-win.

Healthy tip: Eating more tomatoes boosts the Lycopene in your body. Lycopene is good for you because it reduces inflammation, fights zits, and creates healthier, clearer skin. You can also rub raw tomatoes on your face to clear pores, allegedly. Perhaps the phrase "tomato-face" could become a good thing in the future!

I am a book.

2009-07-12T02:41:00.000-07:00

You rifle through my pages, soft like silk, desperate to discover and curious to uncover.

Quite a few have casually flipped through, adding a slightly worn crease to my edges, and a curvaceous bend to my spine. I do not mind these casual readers, for they have turned my pages all the same, but the memory of their vaguely interested touch fades quickly. But their coffee stains do not fade as fast, leaving little dark brown residues that blot out the corners of words, misconstruing my witty dialogue.

Therefore I do not like to be considered light reading. This is not to say that you do not want to read me for fun, for my text is chock full of wondrous and amusing situations and ideas. You just might have a bit of trouble getting through the dramatic sections, or you might be afraid of committing to so much reading, regardless of the pace you choose. Perhaps you might hear about me from a friend, check me out, set me on your nightstand for a couple months, and nothing ever happens besides a few short, sleepy encounters because you never find the time and effort to read me. So if you decide to pick me up for a short while, you may find yourself returning me to the shelf if the endeavor is too much to handle.

To read me chapter by chapter is to devote countless hours to an endlessly increasing novella, fresh pages stacking up by the day. You are never obligated to read me, for you will read for your own pleasure, but once I’m in your hands you will find you cannot put me down, especially in the dark hours of the night, reading me under the covers by the light of the moon.

I am constantly growing and changing, adopting new characters, scenarios, scandals, values, conflicts, ideas, and resolutions. You may find yourself addicted to the interactive adventure of reading me. And you don’t even have to read my story in sequence to enjoy its magnificence.

Those passionate for my material find my prose engaging and my plot thick with tremendous twists and turns. The main heroine of my story is decidedly real, analytical, curious, beautiful, and humorous, but quirky and unpredictable. Chances are you’ll find yourself identifying with her. And you’ll want to read her regardless because she’s so goddamn intriguing.

A quick word to the wise: Be careful you don’t turn a page too fast or in a haphazard manner, or you’ll get cut. At an awkward angle, my seemingly innocuous paper can make you bleed. You’ll wonder what you did to deserve such a wound. And I don’t want your blood on my pages. I’m not that vindictive. But I also don’t want to be treated with disrespect.

I just want you to read me if it brings you pleasure, great joy, and fulfillment. Perhaps my story will even help you figure out your own life and philosophies. Maybe a passage or two of my prose will resonate so strongly with you that you consider them quotes to guide yourself on the path of life. Maybe I won’t mean anything to you. But with the chance that I could give meaning to someone’s life through my own existence, I am here, an open book resting on the shelves of the world’s library.

2009-04-04T23:30:00.000-07:00

This weekend has depressed me greatly, except for floatopia. Man.
Erika's been avoidant, and I really wanted to hang out with her for her birthday. Oh well.
I've been drunk and high, sure, but it's just kind of lame. I want excitement and fun. Please world.
Thank you.
Beach with Felicia tomorrow morning and then I'm going to watch the NORML (pot club) joint rolling contest with Natasha. Hopefully it all works out. :)
Then run with Nanor!
At least I have a running partner :P And some good friends. Just Erika's kind of bothering me. Bleh. Tonight was lame.
But Floatopia was fun with Kristin. It was great to see the ridiculousness of it all. It was a fuckin' spectacle. Titties poppin' out of teeny bikinis, floats filled with drunkards littering the beach and ocean, tiny girls carrying giant bottles of wine, beer cans littering the waves, men with hot abs and men in terribly tiny speedos, the alcohol-poisoned getting airlifted and wheeled out, hot guys carrying hookahs, rampant seduction and dry-humping in rafts on the beach... I saw it all..
My god.
What school am I at? Oh yeah, the University of Casual Sex and Beer. Today reminded me of that truth.
Also, there were SO MANY PEOPLE THERE! It was an insanely huge event.
I'm going to bed now, hopefully. Laters! <3

I don't use this anymore. But I should.

2009-02-25T00:48:00.001-08:00

In an effort to release cooped up emotions and tension and all that bullshit, I may use this goddamned thing again. Even if it's just to write a sentence or even a phrase. Cause you know, sometimes I have little phrases and ditties that get stuck in my head that I really want to write down, but then I'd have five hundred little pieces of paper that begin to mean absolutely nothing to me when I find them again, 2 years later. Oh wait. I do.
Fuck.

I haven't written in this since the first night of college. My god. Maybe I got over it.
Maybe I was tired of being melodramatic. Maybe I didn't have time. Maybe I was tired of writing.
Pshh, filthy excuses.
I'll do it whenever I feel like. It's my life.
That's right.
It would be a good place to just put all that stuff swirling around in my head down again, instead of thinking of perfectly inappropriate/appropriate facebook statuses that have to be a little vague unless I want to offend someone or reveal WAY tooooo much personal information.
Usually, what I feel like revealing to the world, when I really shouldn't, is stuff about my own personal fetishes like dabbling in slight masochism, how I really feel about ex-boyfriends, detailed explanations of sexual emotions, all of my emotional ups-and downs...
I'm not normal, am I? It's okay, though... right, world? You can certainly take it, you've taken a lot worse.
College has fucking changed me, hasn't it? Also, the addition of three nights of little sleep and the rush of caffeine from a diet coke has added an interesting bite to my bark.

Good night, moon. I have much more outlining to do for my joke of a psychology class. It's okay. I plan to wing it anyway :)

I love having no parents around!

2008-09-21T08:23:00.000-07:00

Last night was my first night of college! And of course, I got sufficiently wasted. But I wasn't sick! My roommate was, though. I love her though. She's kind of quiet but she's reallly really nice and caring, and funny! And she'd love to come further out of her shell, so... awesome! I'm looking forward to a good year. My parents are still here, in a hotel kind of far away, near Solvang... I'm excited to meet the rest of my floor! They're not here yet, but since Felicia is working, she's moved in already. I'm mostly moved in, I just have to organize my stuff and clean up our space... it's already cluttered :P
Anyway, I should go back to bed. I have really no idea why I'm up. I'm awake, though! And I went to DP and stayed out til one with Felicia... weird.
Back to bed! College is wayyy better than home. Way.
-Melissa

DDR Craaaaaving

2008-07-19T22:02:00.001-07:00

Tonight was interesting.

I finally went out with Cliff tonight for a whileee... it was pretty nice. I asked him to impress me with his guitar hero skills, he did, we messed around for a bit... then we went to dinner at Cafe Baklava! My main reason for picking this place was A) Lizzie works there and B) LIZZIE works there. hahaha, I needed to see Lizzie working a job, standing on the street as a hostess, no less.
It was great. Food was great, Cliff was amusing (we had a weird conversation about santa), Lizzie was crazy and entertaining, etc.

Plus, Cafe Baklava is right next to the Scientology building, so there was a protest outside the asian market across the street against Scientology that we got to watch for the whole time. Rather amusing non-violent protest... Just 3-4 people with signs that said things like "Religion is FREE, Scientology is NOT" or "Stop Scientology's Human Rights Violations", wearing grinning V for Vendetta masks and bouncing around and dancing in step to the happy bouncy techno music/ethnic tunes that they were blasting. They danced to "Tunak Tunak Tun"! And the techno Pacman theme, and cotton-eyed joe and all these other random songs. Great free entertainment. And I totally think Scientology is a vacuous waste of time, money, and resources (and is generally ridiculous), so it was even better. Morals upheld!

Anyway, after we paid Lizzie her tip (2 dollars shoved into the bra like a common prostitute!) and she flashed Cliff and chased after a hot waiter that we begged her to seduce, we went back to Cliff's car.

And there it was, covered in post-it's. What the fuck?
Apparently his friend Alex found his car, covered it in post-its with a couple other people, and wanted him to go bowling with them. Zuhhh? Crazy!
How did she know where we were? How did she know where his car was? Creeeeeepy. Stalkers!

Anyway, he couldn't go bowling for the same reason he couldn't hang out with me longer, he "needs to sleep" so he can wake up insanely early tomorrow morning. Tch. Men.
I want sex! It's been almost two weeks. Driving me craaaaazy. But at least I got to see him.

Being awake while the rest of the world sleeps...

2008-07-06T17:16:00.001-07:00

..is impossible.

Just think about it! I mean, everyone's on different time schedules like Pacific Time and Eastern Time and Korean Time and Idon'tfuckingcare time and so therefore someone's always going to be awake. Like at four in the morning, when I really want to call you and tell you how much I want you precisely at that moment but I know you'll either A) be asleep or B) be gone, I am not the only one staring at the world with open eyes and wondering why. Some motherfucker in Kazakstahan is awake, experiencing the same kind of 4 o'clock monotony. Only he's in the middle of the day, not exactly time for dinner and way past lunch. Why exactly do I want you? You aren't even very good for me, are you?

2008-06-03T00:37:00.000-07:00

I'm finishing the notes for my Clockwork Orange project... and soon, very soon I will be done with my last high school project EVER. This is kind of scary. And awesome. I love not going to school and wasting my time taking inane notes or listening to teachers blather. Sometimes, just sometimes, I feel like I get some real education out of high school, but really... about 90 percent of it is crap. Although I absolutely hated the ridiculous amount of homework and projects that footcock gave us, I still enjoyed her class, suprisingly, and I feel like I actually got something worthwhile out of it. I feel like I actually... learned. How to prove myself and describe how I feel about an issue. What is foolish and what is worth exploring. Debating the value of sources.
Pretty cool stuff.
Cliff tomorrow! Yay.

Do Not Push

2008-05-28T23:09:00.001-07:00

George Carwinkle spent his days at work in a glass box, pressing buttons all day long. The voluptuous red one was for the crane, the blue one was for the stirrer. As he pushed these buttons, his spidery fingers callused with boredom, scents of cocoa and its various complements wafted through the air, flirting with his overlarge nostrils. He would snort and cough, his eyes watering from the putridness of the smell. Oh, how he hated chocolate. He wanted to destroy the cavernous vats of cocoa, take apart the machines, and leave them to rot in their sickening squalor.

He couldn’t understand how he had gotten stuck here, producing this nightmarish dessert. George was consumed by rage at his situation, but what could he really do? His father ran the company for over 30 years, and now he was “obligated to continue in the tradition”. A slow and steady knock had resounded throughout the walls of George’s cheap apartment a few weeks earlier, almost displacing the furniture, as a man’s deep tremolo vibrated further, threatening eviction and eventual death. His chocolate mogul thug of a father had his little mob, and it was an offer he really couldn’t refuse.
He had a brief mental image of himself trapped on the main chocolate floor, writhing in sensual agony as deadly scents ensnared his innocent, uncorrupted nostrils, and throwing himself into a huge, glistening vat to drown peacefully, finally escaping that horrid smell.

Oh, god.

He awoke yet another day, squeezing along the freeways in his cramped SUV, and found himself in his glass coffin yet again. He alternately pushed red and blue buttons, developing a monotonous rhythm. After pressing each a series of 1001 times (he always counted down from 2000), George begin to feel a strange lightness in his forehead. He stopped pushing for a moment and felt the lightness course throughout his body.

Is my mascara running?

2008-05-22T17:38:00.000-07:00

Man, yesterday I was lifeguarding at Denise's house for a little girl scout troop (fourth graders), and this gorgeous tiny black girl comes up to me and asks me that question. I just stared at her. What the fuckkk? Mascara? You're in fourth grade, honey.

How can such small children even think about makeup? Why would they honestly even care? I think it's unhealthy to be worried about your appearance so early in life. And to cover up your blemishes, to wear eyelash accentuators (mascara), to be "sexy"...
Who gives their child mascara, of all things, in the freaking fourth grade? It just feels wrong.

I don't think I even knew of makeup's existence until middle school, when girls began to transform from just girls to objects of attraction. Then people started misusing it or using it to their advantage, some with orange pancaked all over their face, others with eyeliner smudged all over their eyes like wild raccoons, and good looking girls using just a little more than neccessary to distinguish their popularity, lip gloss popping out from uniformly clean, slightly orange faces.

I had noticed, however, that unlike these clean faced pretty little girls, I was plagued with spots.. coverup became my go-to girl, always accessible in an obscure pocket in my backpack or purse. I was rarely without it. And this holds true today, actually. It's kind of sad. I feel like I have to put foundation on my face to even out the lessening spots and create an even skin tone.. I hate looking like a tomato with bright white skin around my eyes like I did before (a product of swimming, genetics, sun, caustic face lotions, goggles, and lack of sunscreen use). It's just not a good look for a girl. But I wish it was. I really wish I didn't have to wear makeup normally, but I know in reality I'm not going to stop anytime soon.

"I'm Sppecial"

2008-05-18T19:31:00.000-07:00

Man, I'm such a stupid little girl around Cliff. I say the most obvious and inane statements possible. We count how many verbal blunders/inanities I make each time I see him... It's been like.. 20.. in the last two times! I'm just moved by hormones, jeez.
I SWEAR I AM NOT RETARDED! Just.. made stupid by sex hormones?
however...
PROM. WAS. BEST. THING. EVER.
Yes. It was.
So was the dancing! And the food! And the boat! And the friends! And the view! And the fabulously wonderful date!
To take a line from A Clockwork Orange ((weirdest, most disturbing, yet intriguing movie ever))
It was real horrowshow, my friends.

That One Day

2008-05-16T23:17:00.000-07:00

God, I could feel the depression creeping in just an hour ago. It started after school, a faint hint of exhaustation and boredom and rejection, and steadily grew in my mind for a couple of hours, nutured by unchained anxiety. I really need to do something about these days. I know them all too well. And things can even be going mostly right, it'll just be... something that gets me off the handle eventually. My mind tends to escalate situations and overreact to them fully. I create entire scenarios in my brain... I don't think this is good for me.
Prom is tomorrow... and I'm so fucked for getting my shit together.

All Flesh Is Sass

2008-05-15T23:00:00.000-07:00

Muchhhh stress. I have an AP Stats Final tomorrow morning (partt two of two) and I'm NERVOUS! I studied a bit, but nothing much. I neeed to, though. I got distracted by other homework and A Clockwork Orange...
Ahhhh! So much anxiety!! I want it to be over. NOW!
I want it to be Saturday so I can go to prom with Cliff. Sattturday neeeds to hurry up. And my final needs to explode and cease existing. I wish a supreme higher being could actually hear that and do something about it. Alas, all flesh is grass.
x Melissa

Drunken Norweigian Ukelele Players

2008-04-24T11:49:00.000-07:00

First off, I'm having a pretty interesting life.
I asked Cliff to prom last night and he said sureeee! and now I have a fabulous prom date and I couldn't be happier. But I did have to track down a bunch of forms today to fill out, so that was annoying. But so worth it :P Now I have to buy a sexy dress, damn.
Hmm, and there was Ireland! I went with Madrigals last week. The flying/traveling was so tiring... but..
Basically, I had a pretty good time in Ireland. It's one of the most beautiful places in the world, in my opinion. Everything is so GREEN and you can see for MILES in the countryside and there's this miraculous juxtaposition of earth and sea and sky and trees and grass all at once! It's so epic. It was also reminiscient of the Shire, a little. I kept expecting hobbits to jump out of their invisible hobbit holes in the hills and come out and play with the beautiful yellow flowers and dance around with the millions of sheep all around! It was so... serene.
So, we visited Killarney (3 nights), Cork (2 nights), and Dublin(3 nights). It was awesome, except for two nights, when I just felt kind of isolated. Like, I kept hanging out with the same people, and although they were cool people, it's kind of good to get to know other people and mix it up. But I got over it, and I had a really good night on the last night.
On Sunday night, we went to a classic irish band performance and it was awesome and super fun. We acted like crazy drunk people :D When we came back, it was right before bed check. I, being the curious person I am, went upstairs to investigate the source of a weird noise. A bunch of other people were in the stairwell as well, wondering what the noise was..
Finally we determined that the noise was coming from a room in the 300 hallway. We could hear loud yelling and laughing and singing and some weird instruments twanging. Kathl and Michelle and bunch of us ran up to the door, and we were like... should we knock? Kathl finally did. These crazy drunken Europeans seemed to spill out into the hallway, yelling "COME IN!!" with bright smiles. We weren't convinced, until we saw that they had ukeleles and were singing songs! We were like hell yes, we'll join you! It was sooo much fun singing with them. We sang these random Norweigian songs and then old folk tunes and stuff like Jumbalayah on the Bayoouuuu!
It was epic. I think I had more fun singing and dancing with them in those 20 or so minutes than I've had in quite a while. Our choir teacher eventually even came in, cause she was wondering why like 15 of her students were missing. She found us randomly singing with drunken ukelele playing norweigians, and then SHE joined in! It was amaaaaazing.
Ireland was cool because of moments like that.

2008-04-06T10:40:00.000-07:00

So, I've been really out of it for the last... while. Making a serious mistake like I did, Tuesday night, might have been a wonderful or a terrible thing for me, when I think about it. The incredible threat to my life has helped me appreciate things more.. but is it worth it?
My stomach has stopped hurting, as of last night at about 8, but I still want to see a doctor. I need to know that I'm not dying of appendicitis (JD had it on Scrubs last night) or a stress ulcer or I've accidently OD'd on meds or SOMETHING! I just need to know what's going on with my body.
In other news, looks like I'm going to UCSB next year unless I can convince my parents that they should pay for NYU.. which is never, ever, going to happen, seeing as we've had about 25 arguments about the same subject this week. Not even exaggerating. Oh well.. I tried to get excited about UC Santa Barbara last night, though, and look up housing and honors programs online and whatnot. I still feel like it's a drunken party whore kind of school, though, and the fact that I'm in their honors program is not going to change the fact that I have less of a chance finding cool, interesting, smart people there that I actually want to be friends with than at NYU.. which is what I want from college in the first place. Those kind of people as friends who I can party with (sometimes), an expanded mind and world view, fun (how does one even categorize that?), a high level of education, a tolerant atmosphere with a small amount of frats and sororities, opportunities, especially good psychology programs, a city..
Whatever. I probably won't get over it anytime soon, but I will try to deal the best I can. Preferably not by going mental again.
I miss writing, so this felt good. Maybe I'll continue with this, make the background of the website really schnazzy, put photos up, write stories... lots of possibility. We'll see.