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i wish the best [
8.17.11 - 5.03pm
]
How long can we wait here
To say goodbye?
The words once they're spoken
Are words that we can't take

Back to where we were, before
Things got in the way
Life gets so confusing
When you know what you're losing

You
Me
Why can't we see that there's
More to love than we'll ever know
Sometimes you're closer when you're
Letting go
I wish the best for you
I wish the best for you

We'll both regret the hurting
That we will do
You'll learn to forget me
And I'll try
I'll try to forget...

If you ever need a place that you can run to
I'll be here, I'll be here
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the writer [
6.14.11 - 7.40pm
]
you wait for a silence, i wait for a word
lie next to your frame, girl unobserved
you change your position, and you're changing me
casting these shadows where they shouldn't be

we're interrupted by the heat of the sun
trying to prevent what's already begun
you're just a body; i can smell your skin
and when i feel it, you're wearing thin

but i've got a plan,
why don't you be the writer, and make me out of clay?
why don't you be the artist, and decide the words i say?
'cause i'd rather pretend i'll still be there in the end,
only it's too hard to ask.
won't you try to help me?

sat on your sofa, it's all broken springs
this isn't the place for those violin strings
i try out a smile and aim it at you,
you must have missed it. you always do.

you wait, i wait, casting shadows, interrupted

i'd rather pretend i'll still be there in the end.
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letting go [
3.16.11 - 5.27pm
]
"...the only way someone can leave you is if you let them. And I'm not doing that. It may look like that today, or tomorrow, or even a month from now, but one day you're going to wake up and see that this whole time you've been gone, you've only been headed back to where you started. And I'll be there, waiting. ...It's not like I'm not letting you go... I'm just trusting you enough to come back."
--Vanishing Acts
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back away slowly [
2.25.11 - 10.54pm
]
A situation I have never encountered before, because of a number of issues in my past, listed below for your convenience:
1) Clingwrap basically lived at my house and wouldn't GTFO; thus, this never could have happened.
2) CM was an ass and could never be seen with me anywhere, so obviously, this could never happen either.
3) J/Ex had his own house and no younger siblings, not to mention the fact that all his family happened to reside on the other side of the country, so, once again, this never could have happened.

Picture this.

I'm sitting on the bed and he's lying back against the wall. We're watching The Big Bang Theory and laughing our asses off when the door opens, and a small hooded figure who I will assume to be a younger sibling trudges into the room. I smile and wave, and I assume that next to me, he does something similar. But said hooded figure at the door suddenly has eyeballs the size of saucers and backs out of the room immediately, slamming the door quickly.

Nervous laughter? Check.
It really isn't what you seem to think? Check.

Yeah, that must be awkward. I've been the one who walks in on many an occasion (accidental every time, I promise--for instance, how was I ever supposed to know that there would be a couple lying on my bed in my room? exactly.), but I've never been on the receiving end. How strange. o_o
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stop and stare [
1.26.11 - 1.36pm
]
When I find someone rather attractive, I tend to avoid [excessive] eye contact with them because I feel like I'm staring. lawl.
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blind fury [
1.23.11 - 8.55pm
]
She grabbed a bow randomly from the supplies and collected handfuls of the lightest-colored arrows she could find. Then she drove arrow after arrow into the knees of her targets. Then the thighs, then the elbows, then the shoulders, until she'd emptied her quiver. She could disarm any man with this bow at night, that was clear enough. She exchanged the bow for another. She yanked the arrows from the targets. She began again.
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cairo [
1.16.11 - 3.10pm
]
The smell of incense and spices fill the air, mixed in with cigarette smoke and desert sand. The shops in the bazaar are full of tiny, colorful intricately designed containers and jars that wouldn't look in the least bit out of place in an apothecary. Silver bangles and necklaces inlaid with colorful stones glitter from the stands. Stray cats roam the streets, mewing at the myriad of people walking up and down the marketplace.

The shopkeepers seem to know every language necessary. Here, the girl refrains from letting others know that she's from America. Her first encounter with someone in a foreign country who hated her own was when she was twelve years old. The taxi driver then spoke mostly Arabic, but knew enough English to curse Americans on the trip from the hotel all the way to the airport. After they'd left, her brother had asked, "Why does he hate us so much? We didn't do anything to him."

But of course, the driver had made an assumption. They looked Asian, so of course he had no reason to hate them. Asia was safe.

The girl is fairly impressed by their command of not only Mandarin, but Cantonese as well (not to mention, Korean, Japanese, Spanish, German, and, obviously, English...). Apparently, 15 million out of the 80 million inhabitants in Egypt work in the tourism business. The country derives half its income from tourists alone, which is somewhat reassuring in the sense that this means the government officials will do their absolute best to keep tourists safe.

Their knowledge of her other language makes it slightly more difficult to communicate with her fellow patrons, as she tends to revert to Chinese to convey whether she's interested in something, and whether she'd want it enough to start bargaining for it. However, as talented as they might be, Cantonese slang is generally extremely hard to pick up. This was a tested theory at the Turkish leather store, where her dad responded that his name was "閂門落閘放狗" when the manager of the store mentioned that he had worked enough years to understand Chinese, Japanese and Korean, and sure enough, he had no idea, and will likely spend the next year trying to figure out what her dad meant. Anyway, this applies here as well. She has had enough experience wandering through Hong Kong street markets to avoid making eye contact, and to avoid letting any shopkeeper see her even so much as glancing at anything she's interested in. Somehow, though, her mother seems to have forgotten all of this, and as such, their entire group falls victim to an onslaught of shopkeepers.

"Do you speak English?"

She shakes her head. A blatant lie, but what they don't know can't hurt them.

"China?" They ask.

She nods. It is a blessing that they can't distinguish Asian-American from plain ol' fresh off the boat.

"你好!" They exclaim immediately. "請你看看!"

Her mother once again falls victim to looking for 'pay geen.' The girl is completely uninterested, so she stays outside the shop and glances at shiny objects and pretty jars out of the corner of her eye. They look somewhat like miniature hookah contraptions. A young man gestures to the jars and takes them over to her. "你好! 你很漂亮!"

"謝謝," she answers, feeling somewhat out of place in a different continent, but somehow speaking a more familiar language with a complete stranger.

The man is still staring at her, trying to make it not quite as obvious that he's checking her out.

"You're beautiful," he says, switching over to English. He's still smiling at her, and apparently not so interested in trying to sell her anything anymore. He stretches out a hand and she shakes it; he settles back, content.

"Thank you," she says again, although she's pretty sure she's covered in desert sand and is not entirely convinced that she combed her hair that morning, as they'd woken up at 5:45 a.m. and she, as much as she's tried, is still not a morning person.

Her mother is unfortunately still in the neighboring store. At the pace that they are going, she decide to make a bet with her father that they will not make it to the street corner. Negotiations are under way, and one of the men working at the store comes out and looks at the girl.

"Are you from China?"

She nods.

He lets out a low whistle, and she quirks an eyebrow at him, trying to refrain from giving him her standard incredulous look of disgust. "You make me love China."

(Why thank you, kind sir, but this girl is actually from California. That's also her dad standing right there, about a foot away from her, not that he's doing anything, but you might like to know that anyway.)

Progress is slow, as her mother keeps getting shunted into different stores. Every shopkeeper shouts, "One dollar! Two dollars!" outside the store, but the second anyone walks in, the price jumps to $20. One of them zeroes in on her and says, "You! I like you, you're beautiful. Please come into my store!" Her mother is indeed lured in by promises of better prices, more colors, and more variety than any of the other stores. However, the bargaining isn't working quite as well as they would hope, and the girl is somewhat tempted to say, "I thought you said you liked me. Can't you lower the price to $5?"

(If you're wondering, she doesn't do it because she is reminded of the night she worked at The Buzz.)

They continue their way down the marketplace, and she comes across several more young men who tell her she's pretty, or, her personal favorite, that they love her. The latter is her favorite because her mother's friend, following close behind, has taken to yelling, "I don't love you!" in response to this comment. One, she does notice, has extremely light features for someone residing in Egypt. His hair is a light brown and he's tall, with striking eyes. She decides that this is probably why they have him stand out in front. When he tells the girl she's beautiful, she's tempted to say, "你都幾靚仔" to see if he'll understand her. He also says that he loves her, and when her mother's friend says, "Well, I don't love you!," he retorts with, "Not you, her!!!"

It soon becomes clear that she will be going nowhere of interest to her. As such, she brings light to her own life by spending time with the stray cats weaving through the stores. A black cat resembling Tuxedo Mask, her Davis cat (but with a slim tail instead of the giant fluffy one), appears out of an alleyway. She calls to the cat and it walks over, mewing softly. The cat raises itself onto her hind legs and rubs her face against the girl, twining around her legs. Girl and cat spend time together as they watch the girl's mother bargain yet again for more 'pay geen.'

Before long, the hour is up and the group has to head back. The girl has decided two things.
#1: At the bazaar, people will do and say anything to get you to come into their stores, and if you can talk their prices down by at least 50%, you are a master bargainer.
#2: She hates the roads in Egypt with a passion, as they are especially painful for stomachs that already aren't feeling well. As such, it is unlikely that she will be complaining about Osgood for as long as the memories of Egyptian roads remain.
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heart [
12.12.10 - 3.14am
]
He falls into step next to her--her right hand and his left hand pushing the cart with the "boyfriend" and various other structures down the long, empty hallway. They make conversation until they reach the classroom door, and she steps around the cart to open the door. The heart model tips as her backpack pushes against it, and she turns around quickly, although it's too late to save it from falling.

But he stops it before it sways off the cart, wryly stating, "Heart attack!"

And indeed it was.

She smiles and thanks him, slightly embarrassed that her lack of spatial awareness continues to plague her, and they continue to their usual seats.

It's half an hour later and they've exhausted the contents of "boyfriend." Upon the professor's suggestion, they decide to look through the atlas to see if they've left anything out to study. It's been a long day, and they're losing their motivation.

She points at one term she's never heard of. "Crista terminalis...?"

The girl is met with blank stares.

She scans the textbook, but finds nothing, so she turns back to their resident genius. "Do you know where it is?" She points back at the heart on the atlas and gestures to the model on the table.

"Sure!" He reaches over and points to the atlas where her finger is. "It's right there."

"You're always so helpful." She exclaims with blatant sarcasm, but she's smiling. This is how they decide it's time to move on.
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if you wanna go... [
8.2.10 - 11.30pm
]
One more time sitting in a silent stare
and I'm the only one that's here
Let's just get it all out
Gimme every single word
even if it's gonna hurt...

Cause too many nights falling asleep
With all of these doubts stuck in between us
Being polite is getting us nowhere now...

So if you wanna stay, just stay,
If you wanna go, if you wanna go
Just go,
So if you wanna stay, just stay
If you wanna go, if you wanna go
Just go
Go far away, go far away...

I feel like a song...Collapse )
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you raise a valid point, good sir [
7.22.10 - 12.49am
]
She paused. "But here's the thing. He knows I like someone else right now."

He shrugged. "That hasn't ever stopped anyone before."

This stopped her. He definitely had a point. After all, hadn't she always been the poster child for just this kind of situation?

"So what are you going to do?" He asked, turning away from his computer to face her.

"I wish I knew."
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如果的事 (What If) [
7.15.10 - 7.35pm
]
如果你决定跟随感觉为爱勇敢一次
如果你说我们有彼此
如果你会开始相信这般恋爱心情
如果你能给我如果的事
我只要你一件如果的事
我会奋不顾身地去爱你
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as of a year ago [
7.6.10 - 11.14pm
]
为何我不再奢望时你卻要给我, 给了我, 卻要收回去.
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lyrics from a mix cd [
2.14.10 - 2.04am
]
What I am to you is not real
What I am to you, you do not need
What I am to you is not what you mean to me
Damien Rice - Volcano

Here's a lullaby to close your eyes, goodbye
it was always you that I despised
I don't feel enough for you to cry
Here's a lullaby to close your eyes
Room of Angel

Do you still remember all the time that has gone by?
(do you believe?)
Do you still believe that love can fall out from the sky?
If from where you're standing, you can see the sky above
I'll be waiting for you, if you still believe in love
If You Still Believe
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never knew [
1.19.10 - 9.08pm
]
There came a crossing on the road
If only there were signs to show me
Which direction I should go
I live my life with no regrets
It hasn't caught up on me yet
But I never knew I was losing you
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memory [
12.7.09 - 8.51pm
]
So hold on to me
(Caught up in the moment)
Because I don't want to lose you
(People think I'm crazy)
I don't want to become a memory.

They stand on the side of the street looking at each other, and she knows he has to go--she knows it's better if he does. So many times during this...reunion, she's had to stop herself from moving closer. Nothing has changed; everything's still there--the chemistry, the compatibility, the emotions, the floods of memories--just as they were before. Nothing's changed, but at the same time, they have.

She looks up at him, remembering how just a few months ago, this is exactly where she walked away and didn't look back, how a month later, she said goodbye for the last time, although they didn't know it then. She recalls how, through it all, he is everything she's ever wanted. It's the closest they've ever gotten to perfect. So why do this?

It's as life goes on that she remembers the other things. Nothing is ever perfect, but this is certainly the best it's ever been, and if there's better, she can't say that's really what she wants. They attest that obviously, they can live without each other, as they have been, but things could be so much better, if...

If.

His arms are around her, and she hugs him back with her one free arm. She remembers past mistakes, toxic relationships, and how different this one is from everything else that's happened in her life. The cool night air, the cars rushing past, everything feels exactly the same. Everything still feels right.

This is the beginning and the end.

...Nothing. Nothing's changed in the slightest.
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tell me something sweet to get me by [
10.12.09 - 10.46pm
]
And hey sweetie
Well I need you here tonight
And I know that you don't want to be leaving me
Yeah you want it, but I can't help it,
I just feel complete when you're by my side,
But I know you can't come home til they're singing.

You know you can't give me what I need
And even though you mean so much to me,
I can't wait through everything.

Is this really happening?
We knew it'd happen eventually.

I <3 this song.
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the feeling of loss [
9.7.09 - 4.57pm
]
I'm lucky my parents, however Asian, have never seriously compared me to my cousins. (I would never match up.) I'm lacking experience in so many situations that they can so flawlessly handle as if it's second nature (which it probably is). I think what I'm lacking in most, however, is their confidence. I don't feel like I even belong in some of these said situations, which does nothing for how I end up coping with them.

This is not the train of thought I wanted this entry to enter. It may be the residual effects of last night's dream. My grandma was still here, but even in the dream as I was hugging her, I knew that she wasn't going to be there very much longer. I opened my mouth to tell her that I loved her, that I missed her, but I couldn't form any words to speak. I woke up crying. She would have loved to be there on Saturday, and I really wish we could see her again.
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my celebrity crush [
6.28.09 - 2.46am
]
F: Who could possibly be an upgrade from you anyway?
J: Jensen Ackles.
F: But he's 10 years older than me and doesn't even know who I am. :O
J: :O!!! See? You didn't say he wouldn't be an upgrade from me.
F: I don't even know him!
J: But you didn't say he wouldn't be an upgrade! ;_;
F: AHHHH!
J: Doesn't this sound like what a lot of girls do?
F: Stop being a girl!
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see it how you will [
5.15.09 - 8.33pm
]
I've come to the realization that the most tortured (or depressed) souls are the most prolific when it comes to art. They're generally also the most talented. (Exceptions obviously apply.) I'm thinking of one person as I write this, not that he's really tortured or depressed. He is genuinely one of the most talented people I know. When he was around in Davis, he was the one I spilled my soul to the most (aside from Jordan). I miss him dearly; I have no idea where he's gone. He seemed so much better when I last saw him (the day of my recital). It meant so much to me that he came to it. I wonder how he's doing right now. I wonder how I can reach him. Within the music department, I'm apparently the one he confided in the most. I hope he's okay.

I used to write a lot more, and while it was by no means quality writing, at least I was writing. Now, most of my thoughts go into my paper journal, and I don't write cryptic and emo pieces here, for a number of reasons. (1) I can tell anything I want to the person I'm writing about, so I'd rather just say it than write it, and (2) I guess I am no longer a tortured and depressed soul (although I'm not sure that was really ever the case).
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five, seven, five [
5.14.09 - 10.25pm
]
I guess I write a lot less when I'm happy, which would explain the massive drop for posts in here (especially as compared to my delinquent days).

"It feels like my heart hurts with you not around."

years ago i would
not have imagined something
like this happening.

but life tends to do
this every time (surprise me),
i should know better.

you brighten my days,
life is better when you're there,
i miss you so much.

it feels like my heart
hurts with you not around (mine,
empty without you.)

being understanding,
i know that things will work out.
still optimistic.

we'll be okay, as
long as you (we) do what's best,
i can't wait til june.
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