Favorite Holiday Music

As you can see, I have not been keeping up with my declared "holiday thanksgiving posts". I didn't think anyone would be bothered by it. Thankfully, only about 5 people read this. I really hope it's no more than 5, including myself.

Aha. I love A Charlie Brown Christmas. Indeed, I am very thankful for Charles Schwartz creating one of the most iconic, yet understated associations with Christmas. I cannot leave out Vince Guaraldi in my gratitude rant. I simply cannot. Listening to jazzy Christmas music can only be stated as such: leaves me feeling as warm as a cashmere blanket nested under a puppy and leaves me with the sensation that I am home- content to stay, content to be.

I must admit, back at college I used to play this Charlie Brown soundtrack even in the spring time. Mind you, it's only appropriate as study or sleep music when you are alone with your string lights. It's not college party music. However, you know that already. :) Bottom line, this music makes me feel nestled, safe, and I dare say it- quirky. Yes, I said quirky. Is it because I associate "Christmas Time Is Here (Instrumental Version)" with "The Royal Tenenbaums"? Maybe so. I like it whether Wes Anderson told his Music Editor to put it in the movie.

Christmas Time Is Here

For my benefit- not yours, everyday, I will try to post something that I am thankful for this Christmas season. Maybe some memories and humor will be thrown in? We'll see.

First Entry:

I am thankful I didn't fall off the ladder. Very thankful...

I live another day with no brain damage and working intact appendages.

More elaborative entries to come.

Early

Buy Family Christmas Presents? (including dog) --- DONE!

Wrap X-Mas Presents? --- DONE!

Saved Money On Thoughtful Presents Rather Than Average Expensive-Out-Of-Time Filler- Gifts? --- DONE!

Decorated X-Mas Tree (Just enough that mother can finish it up with the breakable)? --- DONE!

Added Festive Holiday Decor Throughout The House? --- DONE!

Send Out Christmas Cards? --- To Be Done (TBD)

I really like the holidays. I know. I know. Thanksgiving has not passed. I have to admit I hate procrastinating on things I enjoy. Who doesn't?

A satire writing on christmas to come...

The Customer Is Always Right

Lesson Today: The Customer is NOT ALWAYS RIGHT, but YOU CAN PRETEND THEY ARE :)



A principle of good business? Who knows? Sometimes, you have to pick your battles...

YAHOO REVIEW FOR HORIZON RIDGE PEDIATRICS (Mother's Clinic)

Advanced apology if this is too long... I write quite a bit, but this lady- wow, she takes the cake. Also, she was complaining, and we all know that emotions flow out like Niagra Falls.

POSTED BY ALIAS "CHANEL" (aka patient of my mother, Dr. F)
I am new mom with a son and met with Dr. Fernandez prior to giving birth and was comfortable in choosing her as my son pediatrician. I called when I got home from the hospital to ask the doctor a question about feedings, the receptionist was rude but I brushed it off as seeing maybe she was having a bad day. The doctor did call me later that evening. However on my second visit I was not impressed with office staff or the wait time. We waited almost 2 hours to be seen. At that time we scheduled a circumcision for the next week. I thought to myself maybe this is just a busy day. When I received a phone call from the receptionist to confirm my appointment I asked If my son would be seen right away or would there be another long wait. I was concerned about the wait due to the fact the doctor did not want him fed 30 minutes prior to the procedure. She replied that the doctor gets backed up due to walk-ins. I replied saying I did not know the doctor accepted walk-ins and my son would have to wait because of that. She said snidely that the doctor is not going to turn away sick children. I was completely taken aback because I certainly did not think doctor needed to refuse sick children. I was concerned about my son especially because he is a newborn and gets fussy if he is not fed. Not only that I was extremely nervous about the circumcision procedure. I felt that comment was offensive and argumentative. Then I receive a phone call from the office manager Rose, who was exactly the same way. I was under impression the matter was closed and did not need to go any further but I was wrong. The office manager was worse than receptionist, more argumentative and rude. I re-explained what happened and the longer the conversation went on the worse it got. I asked her what the other receptionist said she said she was told by Dr. Fernandez to call me back. At that point I made a decision I am not dealing with this miscommunication and unprofessionalism when it comes to my son. Finally I had to say to her this is not worth it because you are not understanding at all from a patient standpoint. She said your right and hung up abruptly. Basically I feel these are valid questions and concerns. If a front office staff cannot be courteous and customer service oriented then maybe they need reevaluate their staff. I liked the doctor but completely not comfortable with the front office staff. If it is true the office manager was told by the doctor to call me back, the doctor herself should have made the call instead of her rude office manager. I am not comfortable with the staff or the doctor. I certainly not going to take my son there especially when his health is involved.

MY RESPONSE: I guess I am a pseudo-ghostwriter for the clinic. I not a professional, but I must admit it is fun to respond to real people. :)

"At times, HRP gets so busy- that we do not stop to objectively evaluate how we are doing. There are no excuses for how we serviced you, but I hope you know that we are sincerely sorry. First off, HRP and staff will work on long wait time. Please remember, we only have one doctor at our office. Our office appointment policy honors ALL types of appointments, but often puts emergency "sick visits", or "walk-ins", ahead of "well visits" and standard circumcisions. We are confused why parents are not understanding of why sick children should not be seen first, rather than "well checks". However, we will take this input into consideration. We will attempt to adjust this policy, but in all due respect, our moral oath will be still come first- before pleasing every patient. Lastly, our staff has been repeatedly alerted of their lack of people skills. Thanks to your situation, amongst others, we see how customer service is very important to our patients. We will work on this weakness, thanks to your input."


I tried to avoid defensive remarks, but a few slipped in.

I guess in life, our feelings take precedence over the reality of the situation. As as business, we want money from the patient, and in return we feel obligated to please them in any shape or form. I guess that is the sacrifice one makes for "wanting" something from "the other". Yet, the act is never easy. I guess at the end of the day, it DOES matter who is right. You just have to keep it to yourself :)

Fencing

Modern Fencing and 18th Century Fencing

For some reason, I have neglected sports for 23 years. It was not till a year ago that I started fencing. My french coach continues to offer me a great deal of challenges upon every practice. Every week I better understand his instructions, but I still keep putting too much weight on one leg. Physical balance is a struggle for me. I guess I should strive to be more nimble and even amidst the multitude of things on my mind as I fence. My love for strategy is what drew me to this sport at so late in the game (pun intended). I didn't become a doctor so this sport must be my manifestation of my unconscious desire to wear white as a doctor. Oh the unfulfilled dreams of our childhood and parental longing! How they plague us... I must confess that the uniform is more tedious than it seems. The sport itself has tested my dexterity when zipping up layers of protection with one glove. Wiring, clips, and hooks are involved in the whole suiting up process. I'm still puzzled why I cannot make my white socks as white as my jumper. Bleach does not suffice in this circumstance.

Too many French at fencing club. Maybe I should devote myself to learning French? Not practical right now, but maybe a cold mixed with phlegm and some occasional french phrases will help me bond with my coach.

As in life, always remember to "riposte".

Missed this.

I often found it selfish to do this. The act itself of writing on a blog unconsciously harnessing the energy of audience attention . Redundant right? "Audience attention" is a complex phrase for me, mostly due to the fact that I care to criticize what I find to be obscene in the world based on my unconscious demons. Why? I like privacy. I love keeping myself to myself. But I write... Why should I rant about me, when there are other "ME's".

I believe everyone is burdened with their own lives, comprising of tedious responsibilities to soulful desires for ultimate happiness. Of course, to add to that list, we struggle to complete all of it before our time is up. I don't think anyone has time for anyone else, if they hardly have time fore themselves. See, privacy is sacred to me, mainly due to the fact that I am used to it. I am used to being alone as one says. As I said before, I am an only child with a singular lifestyle. Many times before, I had to clear this seemingly cry for help. However, if you know me, you know my declaration is not a woeful status, but a matter of fact statement of a contented singular being. I am solid. I have always been. In Sylvia Plath's movie, titled (hard to tell huh?) "Sylvia", Gywneth Palthrow playing Sylvia says, "I don't feel solid." It made me sad. She continued by saying "I have never felt whole". Because the subject matter of this post is on "writing", I cannot help but bring up a writer, or more accurately, a poet. To my dismay, she suffered the pervasive symptoms of most writers- feelings of abject depression and frequent thoughts of suicide at her lowest moments.

I'll tell you something that has always been with me since I was very young. In contrast to Ms. Plath, I have always felt entirely whole AND solid. I struggle like everyone else with releasing the pressure of a full tank through self-expression, but I always feel like ME. No matter the alien environment. No matter the expectation to be something or someone else. I always feel solid as a rock. Of course everyone has anxieties and sometimes the inner equilibrium of the self feels shifted back and forth, depending on hormonal fluctuations (biological origins) and the demanding interactions with other people; however, I like to think I have never truly felt the hopelessness of Ms. Plath.

Tying into privacy and writing, writers seem to have no qualms about bearing their souls in words. One would be niave to think that communicative expressions in writing, painting and etc. are simply creative endeavors for the sake of productivity with little insight into the human being who looks like nothing but a bag of flesh. Strange how complex we are on the inside. Strange how the invisible and intangible is more of our reality than what is before our eyes. People seem to need to write. For others it does not seem as selfish as I think it is. Maybe I am more old fashioned? I prefer the diary style of writing. There are different types of writing: writing for others, writing for ourselves, and etc. Am I wrong to think that nowadays that writing is for the masses in our tech fueled society? It is ok to share, but the narcissistic intent (not everyone, but a majority of people seem to do this) of others is disconcerting. I can be narcissistic at times. I am probably one now, but I am surprised others seem unaware of this human vice. Don't say too much. Listen... Believe me, I struggle with this everyday.

So, the message is here is "write" or "type" (whatever), but do please do it with temperance, in regard to the well being aka the sanity of others and yourself. Mainly, this idea stems from my preoccupation with preserving the person we already give to the world. I believe in the integrity of privacy but the inherent need to share what matters. Also, I know from numerous psychological sources and from my own observations that we only care about ourselves. People will take offense to that statement so I will rephrase. We care more about ourselves than others (more polite way to say it). Again, nothing wrong with an attention to the self. However, we would be fibbing if we did not acknowledge this. Stop pretending. I acknowledge it right now. I love writing and reading about what happens to ME, because I am preoccupied with me. I am hardwired for that. Evolutionary psychology can offer a plethora of answers to strike your academic citation obsession, but I will not get into that.

I receive immense pleasure for writing, not because of competency; but, because like you, I enjoy and require the release. Whether I repeatedly talked about a dog who crossed the street with a four word sentence, which would be of no substance to you than me, I would still write. However, the main point lies in me feeling regret in telling the whole world, even if it was a handful of people how I was feeling. Even if you cared, you shouldn't. Maybe I think no one will care. Problem is too many people think the audience cares when in fact it is the opposite. Never expect someone to care. Sometimes you do not have control over the type of audience you receive. You have to accept not everyone is as into you as you are with yourself.

Just because you have an audience, doesn't mean they are paying attention. But, we all want both right?

Here is to being noticed...

My new website will be called "FameForward". It is a site for new talent to get noticed, all in an effort to answer that profound nagging question, "Does someone care?"

Let's hope I get the audience's attention. The words seem one in the same, but are not...

Novel realization? Not really. No purpose to this post... I just wanted to release. LOL

Virtue and Value

The path to happiness, a life of profound immersion and intuitive cohesion with the outer world, is based on the this admonition - uphold virtue. Upon knowing your soul's affinity for a particular virtue ie. beauty, truth, and etc, affix this intangible admiration to your present life - this is the form of an ultimate value. It will be, and must be the ultimate end to all means in this daily disintegration of our superficial knowledge of happiness.

Virtue is divine, and magnanimous, but beyond it's out of reach nature, we are strangely familiar with its presence and will expend our mortality for even a glimpse of it. Perfection is never known or entirely experience in our present existence, yet the notion itself can be personified, and can be better understood as a beloved crush whisking in and out of a coffee shop or store, only to catch a glimpse of the side of a face, or the curve of a fleshy palm resting on table. Naturally, as in the nature of the absolute perfection, we never experience the real thing, nor do we see the whole face, yet the anticipation and fervent determination of the eyes suffice. The search quells the hunger enough, but we look not in vain, but simply live for the potential reward. Actuality is wanted, yet few or almost none attain such a gift. As we acknowledge with virtue, it can be exercised to some degree in our attempt to match the whole, or even contribute to the sublime divinity of the whole. We will never have him sit right across from us, and we will never speak, for the virtue exists for us and only us. Moreover, it evolves into a value, or a focus that keeps us coming back to the coffee shop or store, solely to get a glimpse of the cheek, or an extended arm. It is objectified, yet it must be, for it to be a solid consistent ideal. If made into a subject, or a thinking being such as you, or myself, it would be the "he" in my analogy, a person possessing a consciousness: able to move to another state, become sick, or worst of all- die in a car accident. Thus, virtue is an object of all our obsessive affections, for he cannot die. His presence is needed. And, those steps we take to get to the coffee shop and/ or the store all for the gratification of supreme elation and reprieve from mundane ritual, I call them progression.

In simple terms, we gravitate towards the "special", something rare in quantity, but on the absolute threshold of quality and satisfaction. Chaste ecstasy is the only way to describe it, though calling it a feeling would do no justice to the even the most elemental parts of it. Again, it is the end, and nothing is better than that... Sometimes, it is comforting to reach the end, to know my satisfaction is complete, and that I am complete by finding such virtue. Virtue is good and universal, and one's neurotic paranoia, whether an innate drive for petty selfishness or a selfless goal, is calmed by that objective fact that this is "what everyone needs and should need". When there are so many distractions as to what we want, or VALUE, how do we know what works for us is something worth fighting for, yet will outlast our lifespan, and be good for all? This is not assurance of a personal legacy or will for immortality, but an attempt to preserve the continuation of our thoughts and actions beyond corporal limitations- a merging of the absolute forms and the internal transmissions from the depths of PURE THOUGHT. I cannot assure you every idea in your head is worthy of lasting transference, but if it seems to hinge on absolute virtue, you are on the right track. Important questions: How do you want your soul to be understood after you die? How do you want to be appreciated with utmost integrity and respect when evolutionary animal instincts underlie our motives at every turn? ( We deny it, but it is our foundation of biological behavior as flesh and blood beings.) There must be something other than the pure material... There must be...

Not the only answer, but one of the best ways of salvaging the "divine" in every person and life is this: Find your (good) virtue, and try every day to see it in that coffee shop or wherever it lurks. He, or it, will always be waiting for you. It will never disappoint, or fade into nothingness, your admiration will never dissipate, but will grow fonder over time, and as the meetings grow shorter, and failed attempts to catch a glimpse tempt a deviation, your want will remain constant. As expected, your path to the his regular hotspot will be plagued with obstacles, and sometimes you will not see him for stretches of months, or even decades. He may reoccur in various places and take many forms, but his essential essence remains the same. This is the constancy and elusion of virtue, paradoxical, for its profundity and unquestionable beauty will continue beyond human existence, as not only aesthetic perfection, or its ultimate self-sufficiency as the end of all ends, but on the premise of an internal stirring- it conjures up an indescribably satisfying FEELING in our souls. Sensory experience is the medium in which it reaches the recesses of our beings, yet it coalesces into something entirely separate from the sum of all the sensory parts. What comes is the acknowledgment that this is right for ME (singularity, the self)- VALUE, and comfort in taking part in a communal goal (others)- a ubiquitous dream for all - a VIRTUE.

Virtue and value are a balance of personal desire and societal- even existential responsibility- to those that share this life with you. One leads to the other and vice versa; however, both are integral to getting what we deserve, which is a little bit of what we are not- perfection through feeling- brought upon as a pervasive sentiment through action, not form, and sometimes, that is enough. It exhausts all our needs and wants, in a fatal encompassing swoop of intense elation, lasting only seconds, but satiates beyond comprehension, and or want of anything else, besides that moment.

Cheers to Virtue and Value.

Live for nothing else, because these are your hearts desires, for virtue and value together, can never be tangential to the universal harmony and the callings of an observant individual. These are the terms of human experience, never insistent, but deeply felt for those who understand that tried base gratification, never hold a candle to the realization or meeting of the flawed being and virtue. If one makes it his value, he and virtue will meet. Maybe for a second, and maybe it appears over a span of lifetime, successive, till senescence (for a lucky few), but it is there to be discovered for all. Euphoria is not merely a feeling, but a oneness, the feat in itself of a inch closer to merging with what we want, yet what know we will never have. It is the "holiest of affections", because it simply FEELS that way.

Something to ponder over in the month of February. V is for Valentine, Virtue, and Value.

Update for the Three.

I've neglected this blog, because I felt it served no purpose. However now, I realize that it connects me to about most three people. Meager numbers? No. Not to me. My self-induced isolation does not come without its paradoxes. Often, I hide for the privacy sake, yet when I hit the degree of a hermit, I explode with irrelevant and garrulous chatter.

This will be one of them:

Recently (these past few months), I have come to accept my slow trajectory in achieving my goals. I am pissed, often pissed that any day I could cease to exist when all my plans and sequential strategized action considers the potential. Foolish it seems. Well, this is the new me. Slow and steady Catherine. I kinda hate it. Every second that goes by I become anxious.

They say plan for the the next day, plan for your retirement, but still live for the moment as if it was your last. Remedy for this quandary? Easy they say. Strike a balance and you will find peace knowing their is an unknown, yet utilizing what is known. Abstract terms for the quarter life crisis of a 23 year old. Lately, I have been trying to retain a sense of my frivolity, not the immature aspect, but more or less a sense of childish purity and creativity while keeping in line with adult responsibilities. I can honestly say that the latter is taking more precedence, due to its sheer quantity, hindering the time allowed for a little diversion. Maybe I am afraid of evolving away from the person I know and love today. Will she become bitter and cold? Will she forget how to trust others after solely putting that trust in herself at the exclusion of everyone else? I beginning to sense a early adult theme here. Hopefully it is only a phase as opposed to a perpetual soul vs. external world conflict. Maybe my fears stem from insecurity and mistrust with myself and others? It is silly how a string of bad experiences create some sort of permanent psyche trauma. I am learning from my mistakes to the best of my knowledge, however; my former gung ho self has produced another person with severe risk aversion. I've taken many risks in the past and have failed at 90 percent of them. I'm serious. I'm beginning to think that my "fight or flight" system is not properly working. Sometimes, I question whether this is something I should change or keep? Again, it is relative, depending on the circumstance, but from the personal statistic, it seems that I take risks during the wrong circumstances.

Concrete examples: I switch from Philosophy to Biology in my Junior year. I pick the bad boy over the nice boy. I get on a plane and visit friends during breaks, when their obviously a terror alert. There are others, but I don't want to recount how stupid I have been.

You can say I can be impulsive. I hate saying the word, because it implies I never think before I act. However, I'd like to think that I over think before I act. Now...now I took the opposite extreme. I hate risk now, because it often ends in more trouble.

Can strike a balance between this persona duality of Crazy Catherine vs. Dutiful Catherine. I like both side equally. Nevertheless, my dilemma lies in knowing when is appropriate. I guess only time will provide me more practice.

I do not wish for perfection or absolute happiness. I just want things to be feel right with people and life in general. I want to be around like minded people, not because I am narrow-minded, but because I've estranged myself from a sense of community. I guess I am ready to let people and situations betray and hurt me again. I think it will be less painful, but it is nothing new to me. Who am I to think I am invincible ? Nothing goes as planned, but in the past, I have become the collateral damage of other people's stupidity. My ignoramus actions are my full responsibility, but other's lax approach make me very hesitant to take the risk- the risk of letting others into my life.

I just want maximum effectiveness with what I have. In other words... How I am I my best self without hiding what is already on the table? Second, how do I let in the right people. Here is an analogy: How does one have a stupendous and rip roarin party with handful of people as opposed to a full house? I suppose it could be a matter of situation- my present life aka time and circumstance situation. If you cannot push the shape into the hole, try another hole. Will I just have to wait?

Hoping to find my niche- a place where I am free to be the REAL Catherine AGAIN, especially without assholes who hang on for the ride. Lastly, I will try to be more evolved from my foolish mistakes, but still foolish enough to try to have fun while contributing to society. There is a balance I can try to achieve for the rest of my life, even if I die tomorow... It is not that mundane and practical that I feel that I haven't done anything of vivacity, and not that zealous that I die penniless at retirement age. I guess the see saw is a perpetual symbol of our struggles with the ideal existence. I think mine needs some oil.

Verdict: Everything is unresolved, but that is the point, that is work, and that is the filler of all our own timeline.

I found this...

UNEDITED.

I CANNOT WRITE TODAY.

DRY A BIT.

I FOUND THIS IN MY CELTX (screenwriting program storyboard section).

THIS IS HOW I USED TO THINK 2 YEARS AGO. WELL, NO ONE HAS TIME TO BE ANALYTICAL NOWADAYS. NO TIME. JUST DO. DONT THINK.
-OLD CLASSMATE- (2008)
you can accomplish anything if you put your mind to it. this is from back to the future. doc brown says this in the first one, i think. i think that he is right. you can do it. you can read my thoughts right now. I am thinking exactly what I am typying. yes you can. no it did not. see how I am responding immediately to your words? no they dont. ;) my mind is being revealed right this very moment through the symbols. i never said entirety? i have to look at the keys when I type. i cant look at the screen and type at the same time. sadly no. well sometimes i can, but most of the time I cant. i am too lazy to learn correctly. that is sad that I cant type without looking at the screen. I am ashamed of myelf. i am a senior in college and I have to look at the keys. its kind of a mental handicap. yeah... thanks for being so understanding about it. you are the most understanding person i have ever met. . . . . . NOT. you see, you now have a piece of my mind on your computer. you can save it, and when I die, you will have evidence of my existence on your computer. you will never forget me becasue of this. i will live forever in the hearts of those who live on after my death. I dont think that it is selfish if it is for a good cause. for example: what about great men like gandhi and martin luther king????? so am I

is that not a great purpose? explain "subjective perpetuation" plaese. no, that is not what I want. This is just an excercise of the creative faculties of my mind. right now this is how I am reavling myself to you. I am not doing this so that I am "praised" (catherine oct 28, 2007). say again? perhaps I am starving for it? maybe it is necessary for my being? thats not true. I dont know what the hell i want. exactly, i am scared to know what i want. thats why we have to look to the words of the great emit brown "you can accomplish anything if you put your mind o it". fuck descartes. read berkely. which is?



-ME-
I dont like how you leave my task ambiguous....What should i write? I am rather fond of that black skull scarf hanging on the tent. its not. i remember wearing it when i drove to see a friend back home. my jeans were killing me and i was straving but that scarf will always be associated with that experience. yes. almost 1 year and 1month. i remember the way it was arranged when i hugged my friend. it served as an embellishment for my boring life. I often try to add things...constantly adding so that my existence will not be plain as it seems to be preordained to be...or maybe its a black canvas that i must paint over...i am not sure. no! i think not...just bc i enjoy narrating my life does not mean that i want people to read it and cherish it in their hearts. it must not be attributed to me- catherine...i dont care if i remain anonymous but that the idea penetrates and nothing else...that is an extention of myself and that is all i need..no praise...no notoriety...nothing...i am not sartre who refuses a fucking noble prize. I would love to get an academy award. i will admit this...i want to be concrete in film...the vision is MINE!!!! the medium of film is the vision...the picture in my mind...the streams of images...of course i must be selective..i see your reasoning . my pride will not admit to such a fault but i guess my transcedance does seek so affirmation with others. you just talk about it more. like a little kid telling me his hopes and dreams while wearing a cubs hat. how precious...jk. the more you mention remembering the more i want to punch you in the face for such blunt arrogance. you know i will punch you punk. i know you are right...you are too tall for that.otherwish you would get a pretty nice black eye. i wouldnt do such a thing...im just too nice.true. did you like the scone. i know...im thoughtful...- i did that on purpose. in this case i knew i had to throw it in. most people overlook things bc we are often in a daze...so we must remind them about things...you remind them about remembering and how we must attribute this concept to you...and catherine just reaffirms what others should think of catherine. :) pompous but that is me.i dont like u. you are mean to me. yes you are. where is my letter? sure. they always say that. fabulous. good job. ic. i understand. i have a friend (who is a cancer) she always has that problem. She writes me numerous letters but fails to send them to me. why is that? forget to stamp it and put it in the mail or in your case walk over and hand it to me? why are you all so hesistant? i dont understand. I am very eager to give my letters out to people. u can do it! why are you so scared of being vulnerable? everyone is scared of that...why do you think you are more prone to this fear? no one likes to be exposed. its just a letter...thoughts...feeelings...shelley wrote lovely letters to women. he was exposed..seen as a lovesick fool but he wrote..yes...he was -the best actually-other than byron. i wish i was a man so i could be more liberal about matters of the heart. I wish i had that freedom to be less stigmatized by my femininity. we are more predisposed to attachment and i wish to to unattached to many things. i like to keep moving. you guys have it better than us. how is is bullshit? well you are not a woman... maybe we perceive ourselves to be more weak than we really are...i guess so. not sure...havent tried it out yet. no. actually i tried it out and i failed. i dont feel like talking about it. it will remains stuck in my mind. i will for the ideal catherine to handle situations in a certain manner and i often fall short. i feel like its only me. i do and i cant help feel that i will never break out of it. i want to though... that is limited though...creativity -in terms of actualizing your existence. an individual wishes to build a boat and sail the sea. He builds this boat and it is set to sail for his first voyage but it tragically destroyed by a storm the previous night. this individual wills for his nautical adventure for his happiness but his creative endeavor...him typing our his story is suddenly changed by outside forces. just in that iso

THAT IS IT IN ITS ORIGINAL FORM

IGNORE ALL THE BANTER BACK AND FORTH. I WAS HAVING A "TYPED OUT CONVERSATION" - NO WORDS-ONLY TYPING ON A SINGLE LABTOP.

I still cannot believe I am stuck on that concept "actualizing my existence". What lame academic jibber jab....ARGGHHHH
PLEASE GOD- LET ME KNOW IF THIS INSISTENCE FOR CREATIVITY IS FUTILE!!!!

Sorry, if this isn't like most of my other writings.

Just for the sake of WRITING

I very much miss writing. However, lately, I have been keeping my inner thoughts withdrawn due to my awareness of narcissism in today's society. That statement in no way aims to offend anyone who writes in blogs. I am simply more hesitant to write, because I am afraid my ramblings are testaments to my sick self-involvement. I don't seem to be interested in anything else, other than my inner conflicts. I don't seem to notice anyone else, or care to divulge information about the people I am around (not very provocative people, but good people- my parents) nor do I voice out any concern for any humanitarian cause. I have never been much attracted to those topics. I believe I am flawed in that way. Unable to step out of my subjective casings and into a more whole perspective of humanity, versus the desires and everyday predicaments of my own existence. Again, guilt sets in...Why I cannot be a universal beacon of hope such as a Mother Theresa figure? I cannot understand my purpose when it is incongruent with what we see fit as a contribution to all. Will I grow out of it? Will age change these stubborn views?

Either I will be damned for not trying, or damned for being worthless in a plan of universal peace and love.

I really do not know where to start with either of them.

Oh well.

The Rekindling

I apologize for the very long hiatus. Recently, I lacked the compulsion to write anything...anything.

I have been spending a lot of my time alone. Though that line usually comes with a tragic tone, ignore it- that's not applicable here. Thus, my time is spent with my thoughts mulling in my head. I am not bombarded by the intercessions of differing opinions. I must admit it is very restorative; however, a lack of human contact always ends in a form of lacking (especially for me). It is something I know all too well as a only child. Bottom line- in the past, people have always exhausted me, on account of my constant expulsion of energy and effort. I hope you know that it was never in vain, or for the sole entertainment and accommodation of the other person. I simply get excited. It is strange, but I become my full myself when I am conversing with people. There are limits though. I approach some situations with such vivacity that my easily wear myself out. It is a satisfying feeling though.

I was supposed to move to New York for a talent management internship. Sadly, it did not pull through because I did not have a paying job in Manhattan, and my parents are not very supportive of my aspirations as a film executive. To their dismay, I have never lacked the ambition to be in the entertainment industry. Sounds cliche but it really makes a difference when your parents give you a pat on the back. It is not fair to say they held me back. I am codependent of their approval, hinging on that fact that they are the only people I unconditionally care about. I don't fall in love easily, nor do I get too attached to friends. My semi-transient childhood is not to blame, but it set the foundation for my lack of attention to people who are not my parents. They were the only permanence in my life, and somehow I find it disrespectful to stray from their needs and expectations. I guess they don't have faith in the industry in allowing me to succeed. However, it manifests as me lacking in talent and smarts for the job. They know I will never become a doctor, but they seem to put down any chance of me becoming anything else. Basically, it is a dead end. I might as well become a nurse, stay home and take care of them till they expire...

I fear that is my destiny...

I know. What a dour topic...

I just needed to vent.

Deontology

I know what you are thinking. Another big word as a header, what a pretentious writer...
I can acknowledge that I may seem to be certain things, but only I can see the underlying motivation for my countenance and actions. Do I have a fear of being more than I am? Yes, most definitely. Aren't we all? We would seem foolish, if we were guilty of this.

DEONTOLOGY- I forgot the exact definition. All I can recall is that it means: something you ought to do.
Words inspire me. Language is most profound when it used with proper inflection, diction, and syntax. In a nutshell, communication- the simple conveyance of the inner thoughts swirling in our personal cranium is the most beautiful thing in this world. I know there are other beautiful things, but let us focus on this topic.

All my life, I have struggled with my autonomy and the things demanded of me by parents and society. I know I am not an isolated case. For some reason, I found some peace with this dilemma. I feel no longer propelled to listen to anyone else- even if they say "you suck." I actually have not been lamenting on my imaginary chains.

I hate to admit this, but all the sudden I have this heaviness on my heart.

Maybe, it is because I saw "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button"...

I feel lonely. How can I feel lonely, when I never been the opposite? I think I know why. For one moment, I experienced the calming quietude of a parallel understanding, in other words, a mutual co-existence that can be likened to the feeling of a home. It was only a couple minutes, but in that moment, I believe I felt an aspect of love- a natural companionship. All I can say was that I was in a tent. I was working on my philosophy homework, and he was looking at music videos on my ipod. I will not go into details, because I do not want to appear any more sappy than I am now- disclosing my past romantic experience in a blog when stricken with a surprise hormonal depression. I feel warm recalling the experience, but empty on realization of the recall as a thought, not an actuality. I guess when there is nothing tangible, it is always missed. Sometimes, I feel as if my words do not penetrate others. I speak strangely at times, mostly in an abstract manner, because I'm not disciplined or sharp enough to deliver concise narratives. Someone understood my verbose handicap. I was only for a short time. He never really wanted me. However, I cannot help but feel grateful for the chance to be myself with someone. No filters. It was a vulnerable position that does more harm than good. Nevertheless, it made me realize that some of the most pleasurable and fulfilling experiences in life can come from communicating with another person. Also, soft yellow lighting from the tent added to the romantic aesthetic :)

Do not worry. No more LOVE posts. I hardly go into these types of rants. I believe its because I took one of my mom's 50+ multivitamins. It might of had extra hormones in it for menopausal women.

Happy New Year everyone.

Wow. I don't even write like this...

Oh well.

Sound of Silence

Sometimes, notthing came out. I was a bulimic purging an empty stomach. I was frustrated by the thought of a dry spell. Surely, it was an impediment to the glory of production...

Then this came out...

Grab the linoleum cover of your existential being. Release it into the languid dream of futural consciousness. This is the benchmark of progress. This is propulsion of the self against the viscious tides of deontological caps to the self will.

The fight is a necessary consequence to the liberation of the soul.

Stories to Tell

I think that will be my next installment on this blog. A little less rant and more humorous reflections on things that have passed...

Part 1:

A Quintessential Parisian Revelry

This is the actual photo of the room (courtesy of Ms. Elaine).


To be continued...

Leper Deontological Crisis

Many have said (in the most patronizing tone) "Life if what you make of it!"

Wise existential advice indeed, yet too optimistic and sugar coated in everything sweet and nice for my palette. It is an incredibly vague statement that falls short of the truth of our present circumstances. Instead, I would bitterly declare "Life is what it makes of you."

What is the difference, you may ask? An immense one, that divides so wide, that Indiana Jones could not possibly manage to maintain his balance on a "leap of faith". Most memorable as a narrow extension(Temple of Doom) taking the form of a frightful (for those that suffer from vertigo, or managed to watch the Hitchcock film an obsessive amount of time) bridge to the other side of the cavern. Whoa what a long analogy. Obviously, I am partial to them.

"You" on the end of the second mantra is a strategic placement of emphasis of the sentence itself. For those who have suffered the pitfalls of everyday existence, you all know that the ways of the world are out of our control. Thus, life is the antagonist, and we are the mere receivers of its whim. I do not believe the first mantra is very practical to say the least, it indicates that you are in charge of your happenings, almost stroking your inner fantasy for a fulfillment of a god complex. Something, I am very much addicted to. However, as paradoxical as it may be, acknowledging that you must take the blunt of the storm of "life" ( I know I sound like a New York Bestseller Christian Self-Help book, by the number of times I say LIFE ), only strengthens the foundation of the tree (ah! I said Tree, also a biblical symbol).

I have had my share of responses these supposed forces of nature. Nevertheless, I know I must maintain, be allusive, yet purport for what I want, for the satisfaction gained by reaching goals are my only means of survival and happiness.

I should not have had that beer an hour ago. I tend to write in a sentimental manner when I do so. At the beginning, I wanted to rant about the unfair situations I have encountered, not only for me, but for others I know.

I walked away from the living room in my matching blue monogrammed pajamas, and beige turban headband, clutching my MACBOOK. The white stick from the cherry dum dum pop protruded from between my lips, like an anorexic mock cigarette. Strange sight for those new to the household, but all too common for those who reside with me. I cannot recall why, but I walked with a particular stride up the stairs in this outfit, confident, but irritated by the fact that nothing will ever work with me again. What I mean is that, I always encounter things working against me- a new concept for someone who perpetually did that best to attain the best, becoming disappointed by the turn in my wheel of fortune. My ideal is never reached and those who offer nothing, but more the same often ascend, breeding homogeneity, manifesting the mundane lifestyle many so often forfeit for death.




Deficient in skills valuable to capitalistic society, I can honestly say that I will never be a candidate for the Ivies or any professional bureaucratic occupations. Strange, because this was always the longing of my nurtured heart, yet old news for my "nature".

Prospects are down, and the future is bleak for those that mutations of our proverbial gene pool. Only if the wheel of fortune would turn on the other side, then I would get a little satisfaction.

However, I am a firm believer that the misunderstood will always be the outcasts of society- that is a universal form of instinctive repulsion that luck cannot change.

For Once...Advice Needed

Writing in quasi-depressed states are not my cup of tea. One, they often result in dreadfully annoying your adult readers, to the point that you sound like your 14 year old self, on those pages of your hello kitty journal. I never actually had one of these, but I had something equally cutesy and novelty-ish. Two, these feelings of subjective melancholy and wrenching despair when confronted with the cruel world, often pass, and you look back and say " What a whiny twit! All while smiling at every small toy sized animal that crosses your path (this also applies to other petite things- such as children".

Though I provided my reasons for dismissing what I am about to write , I will do it anyway, as any good rebellious young lady would do so.

Here it goes, as it is scrambled in my head, run on sentences (nothing new to me) and all:

Mind you, I am giving it to you all as unfiltered as it stirs in my channels of anxiety...

FUCK! This world is full of cruelties which can be rendered as the one the most unfair injustices to those who do not deserve it. But who is to say that I do not deserve it? ARGH! The one thing that angers me most is the fact that I cannot fit the conventions of a world that rewards and takes pride in such things. Inherent in my nature is the art of unabashed pioneering. I find it too easy to follow directions. Common animals can follow directions! I do not intend to insult them, but as a creature endowed with rationality and creativity- I should be given the right to use it without bounds. Oh yes, they say "We admire you for your adversity; however, this isn't how what we want!" That statement usually uttered by "THE MAN", is a metaphor for the patronizing that your equals wish to reply when the square does not fit in the circle. I believe, in fact, I strongly believe that I am NOT in the right state of mind for this world. My character wins the etiquette award, but also takes first in the rebel without a cause competition. I am angered that my writing is NOT academic enough for them. Maybe I am subscribing to endeavors I an destined to fail at. Everyone else seems to display the natural aptitude...why can't I? They praise them for making replicas of work beforehand. How trite! I can't fight it though. If you are too clever, they are insulted. If you underperform, they demote you. I am exhausted because I need their approval, yet, I will never get it. What I have cannot and will not be admired by anyone...except myself. A forlorn thought, but an accurate acknowledgment of the endless performance.

We are laughed and shouted at on stage, till the curtain falls and the lights dim. We finally feel at peace, but cannot help but yearn for the strange coupling of exhilaration and humiliation when the curtain rises again. This will always be the case...we dance for them, as they watch. They will always be the audience, and us- the entertainers.

Why do I ALWAYS FEEL THIS WAY!

I will resume to my regular writing when my humor returns. Pardon the grievances written in streamline sentences!
I actually exhausted all my good thoughts today, while ruminating on the cause of my anger.

This blog is not for therapy, but maybe I can spare the embarrassment of this post by calling it a fancy category
"Iconoclast Rants- Another Fight is a Day's Work".

I know this sounds unnatural of me, but I wish I was normal and cookie-cutter intelligent.

The plebians get too much credit.

The Bohemian Manifesto Pt. I

Pardon the title, for I fear that the topic you may deduce from the header fails to match the narrative to come.

The invention- blogging- is a testament to those who call themselves prolific writers, prone to the spontaneous outpours of verbose prose (these are often the ones that characterize my case, as seen by my writing) on random parchments. However, this only makes sense if I am prone to the habit of transferring the jargon of my tattered pieces of my imaginative intellect onto the technological data saver and medium to mass populace of strangers. I am not privy to the exposure outlined above. Sadly, my thoughts are simply distilled by the immediate call of the moment that follows after a keen observation or a humorous realization of the most mundane hours. I am tempted to convey how I came to be such a half-hearted storyteller, going point by point of what I have used and failed to use, but I do not want to run the risk of being seen as pedantic. Cut to the chase I say! (I actually never say that...)

The pull of the soul is a confusing phenomenon. I seem to encounter this when I find my will in extreme opposition to the order of the day or society itself. Complete chaos and impracticality merge into my most apparent vice- indulgence. This does not necessary lend to the regular associations with the sin. One may infer that debauchery is a subcategory; however, conversely the guilt of my gluttony lies in my action in merely taking party in what I want. It is a simple problem. The word indulgence conjures up numerous visuals, often those that involve Dionysious, copious amounts of wine gulped down in the most sumptuous areas of leisure, endowed in the finest regalia. Though this would be an event that I would like to experience one day ( I believe all you have to do is wear a hefty amount of jewelry equal to the gaudy grandeur of an Italian mafia don chalice in hand, and book a flight down to Napa- Walla), Grecian imagery is not what I choose to base my faults on.

I will have to continue this later. I should be studying for my LSATs, but I am not. My laxity of self-control is astonishingly extensive in many ways.

I will get to the message of this as soon as I fulfill some obligations that defy my inherent autonomy.

Lamentations of A Post Undergraduate

I was going ballistic- another young recent college graduate still ruminating on years of academic immersion, while drinking hard liquor from the only clean glassware in the whole apartment, bending to the common American disease- self-diagnosed ADD. Also, I couldn't help anticipating about the likelihood of a liaison with either the attractive male friend, or the campus drunk that manages to catch you at your weakest moment by proximity.

This state of mind was the consequence of the liberal college substance abuser, fully aware this rebellion was an expected passage of degradation for any rookie 20 plus student in the American university system. Never admitted, but apparently visible, it was a right of passage for the inevitable metamorphasis into Spartan loving employers of corporate society- for clean lines breed success and prestige. We needed to resort to the most base aspects of rebellious and indulgent human behaviors before age dictated civil propriety.

Some nights were the Dr. Jekle to our Mr. Hide personas in classes. Who wouldn’t be distracted by the adventure of the occasional psychedelic revelry and pretentious philosophical banter? A enthusiastic YES, was the general consensus made by the open minded Philosophy student. It was our way of penetrating one another minus the walk of shame and the herpes scare (the one that Valtrex couldn’t treat). Consequently, all bad things must come to an end...

Regardless of its intriguing nature the revival of a lost time, this sentimentality seemed to be the most irrelevant when you are trying to plan for the foreboding adult 'FUTURE'. Society, most specifically college counselors and those figures seem to base their happiness on the most burdensome feeling of all- pride, most often lovingly advised you to look at your forecast in your neck of the woods- then here comes the directive: plan accordingly to the 10 year outlook.

This is where I stand on my linear progression, as well as my tremendous indignance to the passage to of time to when the only thing that is celebratory about occasions is that rheumatoid arthritis has not set in. Let me provide you a dramatic scenario, equal to the tensions seen in popular television show E.R. (pardon me NBC).

I was a surgeon finished prepping for a risky procedure, staff following my lead and ready to head at the slightest nudge of my sea foam colored masked chin. I was to emulate god himself, giving life to those who’s corporal being was wasting away from nature’s cruel OFF button- disease. This would be a neurological procedure, and all in seriousness this was not something that should ever be taken lightly. However, analogous to my surprising self-inflicted stagnancy as an emerging adult, I was an individual standing by the operating table with his sterilized gloves in the air in some kind of dogmatic homage to the ascension gesture, fantasizing about the sheer pleasure of consuming sweet potato fries with a cold pint of Newcastle at a nearby pub.

Here goes the digression “man why did we never get enough ketchup…I think our waitress was operating on unjust terms of service that may be rendered as sexual discrimination (she always seemed to pay more attention to the groups of the male persuasion.” Focus.

Sadly, the options were very much alluring and the brain took great delight in flipping through my diverse selection of thoughts, anything but my imminent task. It takes great discipline to look at the matter at hand and tackle it from start to finish. I believe procrastinators suffer from the lack of this productive virtue. However, cognitive distractions should not be a new concept for the seasoned former student. I am at the most vagrant point of my life- old enough to manipulate, yet young enough to be forgiven as reckless.

There are two concluding options to this matter of Peter Pan Performance Theory: (one) carry on with the duty that is asked of you, or (the last) perpetuate your stalemate- confuse them, create the "elder adolescent development conundrum", thus ending with a termination from the gossip radar of The Other. As a consequence, they pompously declare you as "one of those kids that lack ambition" by the mere fact that you are moving at a slower pace to the wished senescence of those that artificially pump serotonin with the aid of synthetics and material therapy, coupled with ephemeral prestigious badges of honor and titles. I am simply bothered by their attention to my PACE, not the other obvious societal problems that last statement.

We see that this argument is pointless, yet the vague satirical tone is very purposeful. All I ask is welcome the ambiguity of this new stage. Choose not to choose…(this is not an absolute statement). I have only oh so many years to behave as a “stranger in the night”. However, many may not take well to this personal mantra, knowing that past sentiments for the joviality of youth are in vain and irresponsible for the modern adult.

All the sudden and much to my dismay, I am transported back to situation at the operating table. “These people” would shout with extreme urgency “Fix that man on the operating table! You are a doctor, Jesus! Quick! Hurry!"

I would humbly reply -“First of all, I am hesistating because I am not ready to begin. I need to be prepared before I start and that includes background music. Nurse? Play Beethoven's 9th! Also, make sure you get some beer and sweet potato fries from for me after the procedure. Make sure I get enough ketchup... It is imperative I receive a generous amount of ketchup. Imperative."