to the friends they said i would lose

1040227_440245969406835_1287454189_o

It’s Tuesday night and I should be studying for my finance quiz tomorrow and marketing midterm on Thursday.  But instead I’m here, fulfilling a personal promise a month overdue.  I told myself I would write more this year, as I always do, but tonight’s inspiration sparks from the mere friendships that started it all.

*update: it’s now Thursday night and I already took my finance quiz and marketing midterm.  Good news, I’m alive.

The other day little ol’ shreebz texted me saying Once There Was a Hushpuppy came on her playlist; immediately thousands of memories raced through my brain.  Some from my first year of college, but most from my last year of high school.

It’s pretty crazy to think that I graduated two and a half years ago.  But what’s even crazier, are the friendships that I’ve maintained over the years.

When you go off to college they always warn you of how you grow apart from the people that once made up your entire world.  And quite frankly, I just can’t relate.  Sure, we’ve become different people, no longer as attached to the stigma of being a $cout.  We’ve made new friends and have had our own unique experiences in different parts of the world.  But there’s something special about SP that cultivates friendships that will truly last a lifetime.

Although we may talk less and live thousands of miles apart, I will always be eternally grateful for the ten girls that supported my every endeavor throughout high school.  Sure most of our conversations were dominated by tv shows and academics.  But we were teenagers for goodness sake, what else was there to talk about?  I wouldn’t say that I’m still yearning for high school or living in the past.  I thoroughly enjoy college and am equally grateful for the friendships I’ve made here in Seattle (more on that later).  But I guess what I’m trying to say is that in the case of doomed high school friendships, the majority was majorly wrong.

I don’t care what people say, 15 years of friendship is kind of a big deal.  These girls stood by me from innocence through adolescence.  I watch our AP Spanish video and a rush of nostalgia overwhelms my soul.  I really can’t believe how much time has passed since we all moved away.  It feels like just yesterday, but also eons ago, when we were ruling the halls of SPHS with respect.  And although I don’t keep in touch with all of you on a consistent basis, not a day goes by that I don’t look forward to reuniting with you over a cup of coffee or a plate of turkey-shaped ice cream goodness.  I miss our traditions and our posture checks and our late night taco treat runs.  I’m convinced that either a) no one appreciates our token weirdness, or b) they just haven’t been lucky enough to encounter it in full force.  I’m grateful we all got the opportunity to move away and have our own individual experiences.  It’s helped me appreciate our friendships so much more knowing that they’ve stood the test of time.

So thanks to the $coutz and all the other homies of SP, the ones that inspired me to write in the first place.  SP’s a pretty magical place.  Not everyone can claim friendships that push two decades, most barely make it through high school in its entirety.  But boy did I luck out when I met the coolest group of girls at the ripe age of five.  It seems crazy, almost unreal, but it’s my life and they’re my friends.  People that enter my life in its current stage often have difficulty conceptualizing my friendships back home.  Perhaps they seem a bit bizarre, but I think that makes them more special.

As I watch our video again, I can’t help but feel a rush of happiness and fond memories.  It’s been a while since all eleven of us were all physically side by side, perhaps it hasn’t happened since graduation…or maybe it was winter break of freshman year, boy was that a doozy.  And as we said in our video, “Para avanzar, es importnate que se refleje y que se agradezcan los recuerdos y a la gente.  Es necesario tener un sentido de conclusión para entrar en una nueva fase en su vida.”  Those words, although probably translated very poorly, still remain close to my heart.  And although physical boundaries may keep us apart, nothing can separate the love I have for you all.  I don’t care what anyone else says, once a #$cout, always a $cout.  #Gurl$coutz4Lyfe.

* Also shout out to the main homies that weren’t $coutz, yet still equally important.  For you I credit my sanity.  Advil and literal blueberries wouldn’t have the same meaning without y’all.  You know who you are. *

Advertisements

an open letter to 2016

Well, we’ve only really known each other for 7 days, and you’ve already put me through hell and back.

I’m at a bit of a crossroads.  I can only hope that things will only get better from here, but something is gnawing at my soul, telling me to think otherwise.  To be honest, I had really high hopes for you.  I wanted to start over, do bigger, better things.  I wanted to be one step closer to accomplishing my dreams and finding my place in this confusing world.  While I hoped and anticipated for more stability, it took not even a week for you to turn my world upside down.

I actually missed the moment we met.  My nine-year old sister ran into the room saying we missed countdown by five minutes.  But I wasn’t doing anything other than laying on the couch, wrapped in a blanket watching The Office.  It was anti-climatic to say the least, but I still had faith that as we would get to know one another over the next year that it would be a positive and rewarding experience.

Come day two, I fly home to Seattle under a bit of stress as I had four house guests currently staying at my apartment…three of which were complete strangers.  So with a bit of anxiety at the days to come and little expectations, I managed to make a batch of cookie dough, chit chat with the visitors, and maintain a reasonable amount of sanity with the current state of mess my apartment was in.

On the third day, you threw your first curve ball.  I never pegged myself to be much of a materialist.  Nostalgist, yes, but not one to rely heavily on material possessions.  Phone’s dead? Eh, I’ll survive…I don’t have time to respond to my 120 unread texts anyway.  Wifi out?  Quite the inconvenience…but I’ll survive.  BUT GOD FORBID I EVER LOSE THE DATA SAVED ON MY HARD DRIVE. I didn’t realize until Sunday just how significant one clunky piece of metal can be.  It felt as if my whole life, my whole identity was lost.  I know it’s dramatic, but think about all of the pictures, the files, the important documents that you store on your computer…gone in the matter of seconds…doesn’t seem quite so dramatic now, does it? It was such a worrisome and inconvenient experience without access my data, or my laptop at all for that matter.

Anyway, there wasn’t much I could do.  So I set up an appointment with the Genius bar, in hopes that my computer would be fixed and data recovered two days time.  I tried to get over it for the time being.  I mean, we’d only known each other for three days, just a little foul play, a hiccup.  Soon enough we’d be on our way to making memories and conquering the world.

WRONG.  Or well, I can definitely say we’ve made some memories in the past few days, however, they’re not ones I’m too fond of.  And I guess you could say I’m learning to conquer quite a bit…but not exactly in the ways I expected, or would like.

Day four comes around and I start to have weird feelings creep up, as if 2015 was haunting me.  I was so ready to end things with 2015 and start anew.  Perhaps that’s the reason I trusted you so much.  But you betrayed me.  Because on the fourth day, I was running around trying to adjust my then altered plans due to my computer’s absence, when my life seemed to come to a screeching halt.

Now, I’ve always loved water, but good lord can it be destructive.  Perhaps that’s why tears are made of water?  They can be expressed in both happiness and complete sadness…so much power in such basic molecules.  But then again, that’d just be weird to cry dirt, fire or air…so maybe bad analogy.  Anyway, on the fourth day my apartment flooded.  And perhaps the flood itself wasn’t the worst part, but the aftermath and what I have to take care of now…but also the fact that I couldn’t do anything without my computer.  Now, there wasn’t much I could do about the impending lake collecting in my hallway and apartment soon after.  So I let the 12 hour horror fest ride and hoped for the best.

Day five rolls around and I already started hating you.  My apartment entry-way was essentially a swamp.  And although it could be worse, I just wasn’t in the mood to think about potential positives.  Because fact of the matter is, it is what it is, and it’s still pretty sucky.  Not only did I have to deal with my apartment and taking my laptop in on the fifth day of our friendship, but I also had the worst second first day of classes that I’ve ever had.  Seriously, my TTh classes make me want to cry…literally I just did because I’m so overwhelmed.

And although I know I have a lot to be thankful for, and such amazing friends that love and support me…it’s pretty hard to come back from this right now.  I want to forgive you for hurting me so badly, so quickly.  But I’m really having a hard time doing that.  I trusted you, I wanted to get to know you and take risks and try new things.  But suddenly all my dreams seem to be at a standstill has I try to pick up all the pieces of my life that you wrecked and dispersed.

I’m feeling a lot right now…and I’m writing this letter to tell you I’m mad.  I’m mad that I trusted you and put so much faith in you.  I’m mad that you broke my computer.  I’m mad you flooded my apartment.  I’m mad that you made me financially broke with everything between rent, textbooks, and my computer repair.  I’m mad that my classes make me dread learning and going to class because I’m afraid and lonely.  I’m mad that you’ve made me doubt my own capabilities and my dreams.  But what I’m most mad about is that I feel like I’m stuck in a black hole of self pity and feel hopeless of ever getting out.  I still want to believe that it will get better, but I just….I don’t know.

So 2016, you owe me.  I hope this is your way of saying, “here’s all the bad condensed in a few days.  Experience it all now so you can enjoy the rest of your year, carefree and ambitious.  Don’t worry, just trust me, I’ll take care of you…you just have to do some growing now before you experience everything I have to offer you.”  Because if that’s not what you’re trying to tell me now….then I really don’t know how much longer we’re going to make it together…

2015

It seems as if every post I write nowadays begins with how I failed to keep my promise in writing more…well this post is no different.

Yet as the year seems to come to a close and I get the annual email with my blog stats for the year, I can’t help but feel a little pang of regret.  I wrote about 30 posts this year, actually probably more…but only 30 of them ever got published.  And although that’s definitely more than I would have guessed, it’s quite pathetic in comparison to my first blog, in which I literally posted every day for an entire school year.

As always, I don’t really know where I’m going with this.  I’ve already scribbled down my thoughts of 2015, and long term dreams in my little leather-bound moleskin.  So I don’t feel particularly compelled to reflect much here.  Is that because it’s too private?  Because I’m too lazy?  Nah, it’s really because I’m a little distracted writing this post as I simultaneously stream The Office on my cell phone…

But if anything, I would like to take the time to apologize to all of my followers for frequently invading your inboxes with my lawless rants.  Well you’re in luck.  2015 will officially be over in less than 24 hours (but like actually…what the heck is with that?? Where did time go???), which means everyone can justify a “clean slate”…for a month or so at least, myself included.  Anyway with that, here’s to the end of 2015 and all my failures, and to the hopes that maybe, just maybe I can create some subpar content in 2016…and hey, if it’s still garbage, let’s just hope it’ll be somewhat comical…but who knows…with my track record lately…LOL.

hello, from the month of december

HAH!  I bet you’re pretty sick of that song, eh?  Confession, I still haven’t listened to her album.  I’m not sure if it’s because I’m salty about the frequency in which I hear “Hello” blasting every which way, or because I don’t want to pay for the album.  But if we’re being honest, it’s really because I’ve been listening to the Biebz on repeat since Purpose dropped.

Man, it seems like just yesterday Wen-goat (shout out to the realest if you’re reading this) was raving to me about 21 in Sr. Whits class…or was in Schaller?  Either way, it’s been a while.  And now it’s already freaking DECEMBER 2015?!  Where did time go???

It’s kind of funny.  I thought I hadn’t posted since June.  However when I ventured to my blog tonight, I saw that I’ve actually posted quite a few times since them.

Anyway, lately I’ve been thinking a lot about how much I love and appreciate art.  Being able to create something, whether it’s a simple piece of writing or a full feature film, it’s absolutely incredible.  I always find myself discovering little seeds of inspiration that I often toss away.  I think of random things to write about and create, but so easily dismiss them.  My thought process goes as follows:  Wow that’s to cool.  I should write about it.  Yeah, definitely want to write and photograph and just embrace the whole idea!  Wait, lol, but like, who am I kidding…I’ll never actually get around to it.

Like what the heck!  So many little bits of potential just tossed into the wind.  Anyway, tonight I was just marveling at how fast time flies.  As I was taking of my mascara and getting ready for bed, which might I add is the biggest pain in the butt in this weather.  Like I want to take off my make up and wash my face, but like…the water is freezing so can I just not?  Anyway, as I was griping about the bitter cold I was thinking about how often I used to write and how much I miss it.  I thought about what was different then as opposed to now.  And although time is a huge factor, I narrowed it down to one thing–the culture of today’s social media.  Now, that’s pretty broad and I could say a lot about that.  But it’s late and I need to go to bed as these next two weeks are going to be absolute death.  But I just wanted to get some thoughts onto the screen before they just fluttered away again.

I can’t quite remember why I referenced this post to Adele or why I even started writing for that matter.  But I gotta start somewhere, and this is where I chose to do so.  It probably doesn’t make any sense…but hopefully I’ll get better at making more sense of it here on this platform…so until then…

funemployment – a look from the inside

Funemployment, the mask which covers the terror in one’s eyes as they realize life just isn’t quite working out the way they planned.

This summer I was funemployed.  Yes, a dorky plan on words, but accurate nonetheless.

Between hopping from state to state and growing my nails long for the first time since my middle school nail craze, my summer wasn’t at all what I expected, to say the least.  As some may well know at the end of my spring quarter I secured a pretty groovy marketing internship in LA for a new up and coming music festival.  Within two weeks the company went sour and my internship down the drain, along with everything else that was seemingly stable in my life.

In a frantic attempt to pull my life together I made the irrational, but necessary, decision to move back to Seattle for the summer. By then I had already spent a month in LA, jobless and near broke.  Ok, maybe the broke part was an exaggeration.  But considering the significant amount of money I spent at uppity cafes and my non-existent income, near broke is pretty accurate.  That’s really the only reason why I stayed in LA so long, the food.  Well, that and my family of course.  But those factors aside, I wanted to go back to Seattle to be with all my friends.  So I did just that.

I came back to Seattle excited to hang out and ready to work.  Determined to prove something of myself and make some extra cash to make up for my LA indulgences, I applied to a vegan donut shop and a couple boutiques with high hopes.  I quickly got an interview with the donut shop and waited to hear back.  But three weeks had passed and still no word.  And to my dismay I eventually learnt that I didn’t have enough barista experience.  I mean, you could’ve told me that three weeks ago?  Still a little bitter, but that’s ok.

Then September began to roll around and I made another trip down to LA.  But that’s when my “funemployed” status started to set in.  And I began to realize…it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.

I went home for my birthday as an embarrassed college student who stupidly wasted the summer unemployed.  I had minor regrets for not staying in LA to work with my Uncle as well as bitter feelings towards the failed job hunt up in Seattle.  I felt conflicted and confused.  Where was my life going?

To sum it up, funemployment isn’t fun.  Especially if it’s not by choice.  It’s really just a lame word that someone fabricated to take the edge off feeling like a loser and a failure.  Although I enjoyed spending time with friends and a summer of carefree “bliss,”  I wish I could’ve been productive and made something of myself.  But perhaps I needed the time off to think and grow.  And I can confidently say that I’ve done just that.

School starts in two days and it doesn’t feel real.  This summer has been the longest summer of my life and although it hasn’t quite hit me yet, I’m ready for what this school year has in store.  This chica has been in summer hibernation for the past three and a half months, and she’s ready to take on the world.

and she (selfishly) began to listen to the tiny desires of her heart

There’s fun, and there’s force.

Lately it’s been a balancing game of the two.  Things can be fun, and they can be forced.  Both have the potential for greatness.  It’s important to have fun, but sometimes a little push in the right direction is necessary.  However, when the two become intertwined, that’s where the confusion begins.

Taking pictures has always been a fun side hobby of mine.  I was that girl that took thousands, yes literally thousands, of pictures of anything and everything.  Every event from SPHS Color Day to HYCs, I was the girl taking multiple pictures of the guy throwing up.

Somewhere along the line, technology got better and I became more technical.  I went from taking simple snaps on a point and shoot (pre-cellphone camera days) to shooting in manual on my dslr.  And although I enjoy the simple pleasures in capturing the perfect photo with just the right amount of bokeh, the joys of photography have gotten lost in a whirlwind of force.

Nowadays I feel like I’m expected to take pictures.  I’m expected to film every random moment, or somehow compile everyone’s random snap stories into one cohesive project.  It’s these expectations that kill the spark in my heart.  I’m starting to realize that it wasn’t the practice of photography that I enjoyed, but the thrill in freezing spontaneity.  I loved chasing the unexpected.  With all sorts of expectations and pressures on my back, I feel as if my passions are being choked out by a feeling of force.

So as a result, I’m going to start listening to my own heart.  In efforts to find my passion again, I’m going to take a break.  No more videos, no more photos.  I want to enjoy events and time with friends on my own accord.  Not with the pressure to keep up with everything through a lens.  I want to take pictures for myself again, not for other people.  While on this journey to rediscover, or better yet, redefine my passions, I’m going to:

  1. leave my camera at home for events. Unless there’s something tugging on my heart telling me to bring it.
  2. go on solo adventures, just me and my camera.
  3. ditch the fancy lenses, it’s all about the 50mm/1.8f that made me fall in love with photography.
  4. print the ones I like.  Like legit prints from SOACC.
  5. keep them to myself and take pride in my own personal accomplishments.

But most importantly, I’m just going to have fun.

sycamore

DSC09578I think one of my favorite memories this summer was going to Sycamore Kitchen with my parents and my brother.  Sycamore Kitchen is the bomb.com.  Every time I go home I make a point to stop by and grab one of their heavenly salted caramel babka rolls.  Seriously, these sticky buns are a right of passage.  Like, you haven’t lived until you’ve tried one, trust, they’re life changing.  The salad was pretty yummy too, can’t quite remember what was in it, but it was great being able to spend time with my family without my little [lovable] nuisance of a sister causing a ruckus.  It was refreshing being able spend time with my brother and parents. There was definitely a different vibe.  It felt more bonding and mature, more meaningful.  It was cool being able to share one of my favorite parts of LA with them and experience food and quality time with just the four of us.  It’s rare that we spend moments like these together and I will forever cherish them!  I can’t wait to be back home for my birthday! 🙂

DSC09582DSC09584DSC09587DSC09597DSC09600DSC09602