I want a week of my life to be a Wes Anderson movie.



That said, I can't wait for The Grand Budapest Hotel to come out on DVD. Note to self: Watch Moonrise Kingdom soon.

A seed lay dormant in my chest,
protected by my ribcage, enduring
an indefinite,
self-imposed winter.

Seasons pass in real time,
years upon years
of comfortable, comforting stasis;
a heart on hiatus.

Spring came upon me without warning,
and now there’s a flutter
where there once was nothing—
the blossoming unstoppable.

I woke up one day and found a garden in me,
vivid with colors and light,
butterflies filling every space
that I had wanted to stay empty.


(Your smile is my long-awaited sun.)

April 5, 2014

There are days when I am reminded that,
more than anything, more than all of my efforts,
I am my father’s daughter.

I have his face, his bad feet,
and his impressively high alcohol tolerance.
I look in the mirror and see him in the curve of my cheeks,
in the shape of my eyes,
in the pale undertone of my decidedly brown skin. I smile.
He is there too, always, and this then reminds me
that he is also in every frown, in every scowl, in every grimace.

I am my father’s daughter, and I carry within me the very sadness he carried,
the DNA of his compulsions, his struggles, his self-loathing.
I have his violence in my veins, a fury that I’ve never quite understood.

But sometimes I throw things. And I feel better.

I realize that that is where it ends.
At some point,
I stop being defined by what I inherited.
This is where I come in.

The violence still bubbles under my skin sometimes,
and I almost always drink too little for my liking.

I thank God for giving me
a quiet, calm, and gentle nature.
It is my shield, my internal compass,
lest I become the very monster
that haunted my childhood dreams:

a loving person who, despite his most fervent wishes,
turned against those he loved—his sister, his brothers, his wife—
his anger irrepressible, fueled by alcohol and late-night binges,
using the very hands he drew beautiful things with to hit them,
hurt them,
and maybe even break them.

I wish I could have asked why.

I have forgiven but not forgotten.
And every time I manage to overcome the seething,
that sudden burning need to hurt people or destroy things,

when I channel that uncontrollable urge
to break someone
(because oh, I know I can)
into something a little less vicious,
something a little more reasonable,
or even kind,

I know that I have already won.

(September 16, 2013)

I'm all for celebrating the little joys now instead of letting myself be bothered by things that steal my happy time.

I guess this isn't something you can call "little," but the greatest surprise and joy and I got last weekend was I not only passed Elementary Korean 1 (I was worried I'd bomb the final like I did last time), but I also received second place in class! This is huge because I half expected to fail, and then I find out that I did this well. My hands suddenly turned cold when I heard my name called as the "second best student," and things kind of took on  an eerie, surreal quality. Was I hearing things? I stared at the stage and then at my friends seated beside me, and I stumbled my way out of my seat, down the tiny aisle, and up the stage. If this wasn't a true honor, I don't know what it is. I was so freaked out and happy!

Having taken the course before was a good advantage to have, but I barely understood anything the first time—I barely had time to study because of I was busy working (and being frustrated), and I always came to class half-asleep because I'd come straight from work. The only reason I got as far as I did was because Tara unni was there, and I really wanted to learn, despite the challenges. As it turned out, my choice to enroll again and to attend Teacher Kang's class was the best choice I could've made.

As with everything, I came into class without any expectations, only with the hope that this class and my learning experience would be better than last time. Teacher Kang proved to be a very skilled and knowledgeable professor. Everything was so easy to learn, and I became more confident in my knowledge. But still, I was so stressed about having to take the speaking exam in the final. I didn't hope to ace it, but I wanted to pass. I needed to. I was confident with passing the reading, listening, and writing exams; I was sure of my knowledge there. Speaking has always been a bit of a waterloo. I freeze up and forget parts of any piece when having to deliver a memorized speech in English, so how does one manage not to botch a conversation in Korean? But Teacher Kang had always told me and Rae Ane not to worry about making mistakes in speaking, that confidence is key. We might mess up here and there, but what's important is that we are able to express ourselves as best as we can.

So I practiced. In class, at home, with Rae Ane, with Tara unni. I would try to watch and listen to Koreans speak, and I would talk to myself in Korean. It wasn't as intensive a training as I'd wanted, but I gained a level of equilibrium, a sense of comfort when I opened my mouth to speak Korean. During the speaking final, I knew I botched a few things in that ten-question conversation, but I also knew Teacher Kang would recognize the effort I put in. I was so scared before my name was called, but the way Teacher made small talk in English before she started asking me the exam questions put me at ease. I thought, This is just me and my friend, Teacher Kang. We're just hanging out, and she just wants to know me better. I guess the strategy worked.

The best part of this is, speaking was actually my second-highest area, with 94 (reading was first, with a whopping 100)! O_O I was so surprised. As I thought, I did well on the other areas (I got 90 for both listening and writing), but a ninety-freaking-four on speaking? I FEEL LIKE SUCH A CHAMP.

I really do need to believe in myself more and believe in what I do. This experience is a great reminder of that. I'd mess things up, I won't always manage to do things perfectly, but winning means I did my best. Winning means I didn't give up on myself. :D

God, I feel so crappy.

Thursday: Okay, so the bank's system decides to be utterly stupid and 1) delays my entire office's pay—almost everyone got theirs at around 9PM, and 2) did not process my pay at all. This happening on the eve of a national holiday made it even more frustrating because I couldn't follow up the next day. But I had hoped that the money would come in anyway.

Friday: Checked ATM card around two, three PM. No dice. This began my slow descent from annoyed and uncomfortable to just plain sad. I'm not that obsessed with having money; it's just that I had some plans for the long weekend, and not getting paid meant involuntary house arrest. Thank goodness for that 1000-peso cash advance our office admin assistant gave me. At least I can feed myself for the time being.

Saturday: It's 12:40 AM now, and hello, December. It just bums me out that I start the month a little bummed out and penniless. Not to sound so whiny, but come on. I worked my ass off for that. I deserve a weekend of knowing I could have dinner and watch Rise of the Guardians with my coworkers without having them pay in my stead. I am seriously feeling so embarrassed to have anyone spot for me like this (yes, Noey, even you. It's bad enough that you do it more often than not >.>). So I think I'm not going. Unless by some miracle I get money in my account today, that is. But UGH, I really wanted to go. Dammit.

Living paycheck to paycheck sucks big time, but I'm still getting the hang of the whole budget thing, especially when I spent the last year enjoying my money after years of having to take care of other people's expenses. At least this stupid incident kept me from spending anything this weekend? Meh. As much as I want to look at the bright side, I'm still pretty bummed.

So I need to lose at least 34 pounds to reach the ideal BMI. I've got the eating less part down, but I do know I really need to exercise. But where to start? And to be honest, I don't know if I want to. LOL. But seriously, I'm concerned because it's making me sick (my uric acid is ridiculously high). But how do I even start. I know that I should do this, but WHERE DO I GET THE MOTIVATION djshfjds :|

I've always loved writing, and it's something I'll always have. But if there was something I realized this past year, it was that I can't write for a living, not when it stresses me out like no other. Some days writing comes easy, but most days, it's just not. Writing had slowly become a chore more than something I enjoy, and I really didn't want to stop loving writing. So it was time to switch lanes, change gears. Becoming a proofreader/editor not only a job that falls into my comfort zone, it's also something that won't necessarily bore me. This year, I made a promise to myself to find a job and actually keep it for more than a year. I'm thinking three years is long enough before I even begin to entertain thoughts of getting a new career, or something. But seriously, I just want to have something constant and reliable. If I start considering leaving this company in six months, someone slap me, please. But yeah, it was high time for a new thing, since writing for a living wasn't working out. This new job's flexible hours now gives me more time to read, dream, and maybe get back to the short stories I've put on hold.

Right now, I'm being obsessed with Marvel's Young Avengers. I can't be any happier, haha.


EDIT: 6:15 P.M.

I just came across a letter E.B. White wrote in reply to a question on writing:


Maybe it's time I got over it. Not completely, no, but I've come to realize that it's not what I want to do right now. I still have a bit to relearn as an editor, and I intend to be good at what I do.

This song pretty much says everything I've ever wanted to tell anyone I've ever loved.

Someone to Fall Back on
Aly Michalka (Bandslam OST)

I'll never be a knight in armor
With a sword in hand or a kamikaze fighter;
Don't count on me to storm the barricades
And take a stand or hold my ground;

You'll never see any scars or wounds
I don't walk on coals, I won't walk on water —
I am no prince, I am no saint, I am not anyone's wildest dream,
But I will stand behind and be someone to fall back on.

Some comedy — you're bruised and beaten down,
And I'm the one who's looking for a favor.
Still, honestly, you don't believe me
But the things I have are the things you need.

You look at me like I don't make sense,
Like a waste of time, like it serves no purpose —
I am no prince, I am no saint, and if that's what you believe you need,
You're wrong — you don't need much
You need someone to fall back on.

And I'll be that, I'll take your side.
If I'm the only one, I'm used to that.
I've been alone,
I'd rather be the half of us —
The least of you, the best of me.

And I will be —
I'll be your prince, I'll be your saint,
I will go crashing through fences
In your name.
I will, I swear —
I'll be someone to fall back on!

I'll be the one who waits,
And for as long as you'll let me,
I will be the one you need.
I'll be someone to fall back on —
Someone to fall back on,
One to fall back on.