Friday, December 9, 2011

Word Vomit

“I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.”
― Marilyn Monroe

It's unfortunate we all have our moments of doubt & insecurity; it's worse when these moments stretch into actual crippling beliefs. Tonight is a night I could allow myself to become a victim to my own sorrow, to the disgusting entitlement of self-pity. I feel fat, ugly, devoid of talent and reason. I see clearly all my short-comings as a friend and person. etc etc etc.

Please let me digress.

But. I hate victims. I recognize these murky feelings, cough them and forcibly vomit them from my system. Dealing with them as they are, instead of ignoring, I can exorcise my annoying demons and get out of this house and hang out with people I love.

Thanks for putting up with my worst and I'll always try to give you my best.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011


“Beware of her fair hair, for she excels All women in the magic of her locks; And when she winds them round a young man's neck, She will not ever set him free again. ”
― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

I am naturally good at being blonde. I've tried every other hair color under the sun. Black, brown, auburn, red, so pink you could scream, blue which faded to the green of over-chlorinated blonde and an accidental purple over a summer once. But blonde suits me best, in looks and personality. I was feisty as a redhead and probably soulless (sorry), emo with black and absolutely vivacious with pink.

I do and say really dumb things. Which makes blonde jokes funny and I chuckle and roll my eyes. Which makes blonde Aggie jokes even funnier. And let's throw in the sexist humor while we're at it!

Blondes aren't dumber than anyone else; our blunders are just more noticeable, or as I like to think it: we're simply less forgettable. :)

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Ten Smiles

“Beneath the makeup and behind the smile I am just a girl who wishes for the world.”
― Marilyn Monroe

1. Anything silly Heather does or says.

2. Rascal licking the couch.

3. Texts from Chris.

4. Puppies at the pet store.

5. Reading stories about A&M.

6. People dancing.

7. My two fave coworkers, Candy & Monica.

8. Watching inspirational and uplifting youtube videos Jenna sends me about soccer teams in Thailand.

9. Anticipating my brother seeing the silly gift I'm giving him for his birthday.

10. Knowing I'm going to see Kyle soon and then my goldens.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Disbelief: Abandoned.

"You love me. Real or not real."


I just finished reading The Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins. I feel the same way I felt after completing the His Dark Materials trilogy... spent. My heart hurts for fictional characters, dead in their storylines and subdued by the raging emotions in me. It's a vicious cycle: I am overwhelmed with all the sadness of the novels, then almost disgusted with myself by how emotional I am, which makes me upset, which continues in this terrible circle. Spiraling, you could say.

My old theater professor said for a play to work (a movie, a book, etc), we must willingly suspend our disbelief. I don't suspend so much as abandon mine; I become the story. It's why scary movies terrify me so thoroughly, why sad movies truly break my heart and why books with captivating stories and well-rounded characters, enthrall me.

So as not to spoil the hunger games trilogy for anyone, I'll talk about his dark materials because it's been out for so long by now, you asshats should have already read it. I will never, ever forget finishing the second book, The Subtle Knife and left with the worst cliff-hanger of an ending, not even knowing when the third and final book would be out. I consumed The Golden Compass & then The Subtle Knife only to be left turning the intentionally left-blank pages signalling the end of the novel. I re-read the last paragraph, then the last page, then the chapter, sure I missed something. No one ends a book like that! Maybe my copy was a misprint and the last part was left off? Nope. Phillip Pullman got one over on all of us. I was in 8th grade. I only had to wait a measly two years (compared to the decade + for some fantasy series...) for the last book to come out. And boy, I don't think I've ever cried so hard over fictional characters.

I think I keep seeing similarities between the two because they're both trilogies, both aimed towards young adults but can span generations of readers and have an amazing female protagonist. Who falls in love with an equally amazing male lead character. They're young and so full of passion and purity, it makes my heart to think about it.

Which is pretty silly; they aren't real.

But it leads me down so many thought-paths... There really are people in this world so full of passion, determination and drive to make this world good... How amazing are these wordsmiths to weave together letters which form the words to make complete human beings from nothing more than ink on paper?

I know these books will stay with me forever. I could describe for days, the scenes, the words, the lines that will remain etched in my memory because of how powerfully they moved me. The scenes or lines don't even have to be emotionally, just beautifully written, to the point I can taste the food the author describes, or catch myself speaking outloud the lines, to hear the cadence of the character's voice.

I will always remember Katniss lifting her arms, slowing spinning, her wedding dress burning up, Cinna transforming her into the Mockingjay.

I will always remember Lyra leaving Pantalaimon behind, tearing herself from herself as the boat moved away from the shore.

Absolutely brilliant writers. I gladly surrender all disbelief to submerge into their crafted worlds.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011


As a self-declared linguaphile, I try to think before I verbalize anything by writing or saying exactly what I mean (a leftover habit from taking an introduction to logic class which attempted to take out the ambiguity of the English language) to avoid incorrect inferring. For example, I try not to flippantly say, “I’m so lucky for _______” because I’m not sure I believe in luck, so I try to say, “I’m so blessed for _____” because I do believe in blessings. (Weird, whatever.) I don’t like to say I regret something because truly I regret nothing. Everything in life has shaped me into the Christine you find before you and while I question a lot of things in life, I do not question that I like this Christine. So for better or for worse, this is who I am and this is where I am. There are instances where a better decision, action or word could have been chosen, but for whatever reason, I did what I did, so I say learn, live and move on!

The world is abuzz with the death of Steve Jobs and in mourning for the loss of a revolutionary figure. I don’t know when, if ever, I would have otherwise listened to (and subsequently read) his Stanford commencement speech but hearing it now couldn’t have been a more perfect time for me.

Life has never been easy for me; the compliments are greatly appreciated, but I tell those who say I’m strong, it simply boils down to being good at surviving. I don’t feel as if I’ve ever had a choice in what I do. I am a professional level survivalist. But I guess that is a choice. I choose to survive. I choose life and its heartaches and all the pitfalls it contains. I survive the valleys because I know there are peaks. Without sorrow, by what would we measure happiness? And even if you haven’t experienced any deep despair, as one of my most beloved authors, JK Rowling tells us, our greatest strength is our imagination because it allows us to empathize without having had to experience.

So buoyed by my loved ones’ support, I choose hunger and foolishness as advised by the late great Mr. Jobs. Still not entirely sure it was a choice though :P

Monday, October 3, 2011

This is just a ride.

The world is like a ride at an amusement park, and when you choose to go on it, you think it's real, because that's how powerful our minds are. And the ride goes up and down and round and round and it has thrills and chills and it's very brightly colored and it's very loud. And it's fun, for a while.

Some people have been on the ride for a long time, and they begin to question: 'Is this real? Or is this just a ride?' And other people have remembered, and they come back to us and they say 'Hey! Don't worry, don't be afraid -- ever -- because... this is just a ride.' And we kill those people.

'Shut him up! We have a lot invested in this ride! Shut him up! Look at my furrows of worry; look at my big bank account, and my family. This has to be real.' It's just a ride. But we always kill those good guys who try and tell us that -- ever notice that? -- and we let the demons run amok. But it doesn't matter, because... it's just a ride, and we can change it any time we want. It's only a choice. No effort. No worry. No job. No savings and money. Just a choice, right now, between fear and love. The eyes of fear want you to put bigger locks on your door, buy bigger guns, close yourself off. The eyes of love, instead, see all of us as one.

Here's what we can do to change the world, right now, into a better ride. Take all that money we spend on weapons and defense each year and, instead, spend it feeding, clothing and educating the poor of the world, which it would do many times over -- not one human being excluded -- and we can explore space together, both inner and outer, forever. In peace.

-Bill Hicks, shared via JWoj :)

Someone told me I need to write in my blog more and I told them I get scared of writing in my blog after something really intense happens in my life that I touch upon in my blog. Maybe I'm scared that my rendition of drunk weekend memories negate any seriousness I attempted. Who knows. Or maybe I'm just fearful of revisiting the powerful emotions behind the posts. WHO KNOWS.

Not me.

I've been going through this struggle lately of what truly makes me happy; it frustrates me beyond measure that for a person who claims to do what I want,I'm so unsure of what I want in life. Well, I do know exactly what I want and what truly makes me happy:

I want time to stop so I can sit and waste hours stumbling and laughing over funny things on the internet with Jenna and giggle over silly sex stories then cry over living so far apart but glad we have each other to cry over.

I want time to stop so I can spend every moment ever with my famfam and laugh about all the silly things each other says with great conversation going on and my face hurts from smiling so much from being around people I feel so myself with.

I want time to stop so I can "take it easy" with Heather while listening to Katy Perry and Justin Bieber on repeat and end up sloppy drunk and crying over Michael Scott proposing to Holly and loving it so much we watch it again.

I want time to stop so I can read every book in the world ever.

I want time to stop so I can make a giant mess with my craft projects and it's okay because time is stopped so I don't have to be frustrated by having to wait for paint to dry.

I want time to stop so I can learn about everything in the world I've ever been curious about.

I want time to stop so I can not feel so pressured to have children because I'm worried I'll die without seeing them have their own children.

I'm just a greedy person.

I want to know what choices to make because I'm terrified of making the wrong ones. But I'm even more scared of not making any.

Yesterday was my Dad's birthday; I completely forgot about it until halfway through today. I wonder if he even remembered. And if he did, I wonder if he was hurt his daughter didn't contact him. I wonder if he even remembers he has a daughter. I'm pretty sure he doesn't know my birthday.

Sorry to digress, just thought about that.

I came to write in here because Jenna sent me this:

Just a ride. I ain't scared of roller coasters.

Friday, September 9, 2011

A Spark Neglected

Texas is burning.

Central Texas is being consumed by fire and it's breaking my heart. I love my country so much, please rain. I hate waking up to the smell of smoke and knowing my Texan community is suffering: they're homeless, they're injured, they're dying.

Please let it rain in Texas.

That is all I ask.