yes, of course

It’s strange to be able to say these next few things, journal, since I started writing here when I was a baby teen and I’ve grown so much in these 7 years. At least I think it’s been 7. Too lazy to spend 10 seconds going back to check.

(Okay fine, I checked and what the actual fuck it’s been nearly 8 years.)

As I was saying!

I made it through high school.

I fell in love with a boy.

I completed a bachelor’s degree at a wonderful school that completely changed my life.

I learned to navigate around chronic mental illnesses and now understand myself so much better because of it.

I maintained relationships with dear friends who scattered around the world after graduation.

I returned to my high school for our 5-year reunion.

I just finished my master’s degree.

And I’m not supposed to tell people this next thing because of complications that I’ll further explain, but…

16-07-27-02-40-30-634_deco

I’m getting married.

Holy shit, right? That little baby child who started this journal all those years ago is now engaged!!

Continue reading

ALL ABOARD

the train to Nopesville.

The workload of this semester has been so terrifying that my ignoring-that-undesirable-things-exist defense mechanism is in full gear. I’m now home for spring break with three papers to write, an acting performance to prepare for, and a presentation to begin for another acting course. Of course I haven’t started any of those. Here’s a catch-up journal entry instead!

SUMMARY OF JUNIOR YEAR, FALL SEMESTER

Four classes. Cognitive Psychology. Intro to Moral Philosophy. Intro to Linguistics. Research Methods in Developmental Psychology.

I magically got A-minuses in three of the four classes and only got a B-plus in Linguistics because that final exam was nightmarish. This did wonders to my previously atrocious GPA from failing 3 classes!

…not that it’s a great number now but at least it’s not a 2-point-something anymore.

The research methods course was utter hell from September to October because we essentially condensed a semester of material into those two months. But then the rest of the time was entirely focused on our research so I guess I wouldn’t mind keeping the structure of the course the way it is.

My research partner and I examined how preschoolers label ambiguous gender, and although our hypothesis wasn’t supported, our findings indicate that growing up in a gendered society may be an ass even to preschoolers. Since we had to design and conduct our own psych studies, this course really provided some much needed vocational direction for me. I loveeee doing research!

Looks like I’ll be slaving away in grad school for that Ph.D. until I’m thirty.

Continue reading

Part VII: Love Story [and beyond]

Last part after too long.

SO DONE WITH SOPHOMORE YEAR.

(Previous parts: i, ii, iii, iv, v, iv.)

Manny feels very deeply.

He just doesn’t show it.

Enter me, who is dumb and ignorant and can’t read atmospheres and vomits words.  Because of this, I hurt him often, always unintentionally and without realizing it until too late. I still do this.

So for some reason, telling him that we should cut off all communication for a while had hurt him far more than it should have, i.e. not at all. I probably should have explained my reasoning better. Oh well. I could only bear three days of this before caving.

(During this time I also idiotically started the list that would ultimately become this because, you know, that is exactly what you do when you’re trying to forget someone.)

He didn’t respond well. To word it gently, he told me to leave him alone.

“Leave me alone” is one of the worst things you can say to me ever. No matter what the context, it immediately fills me with guilt and self-loathing. You hate me and everything is my fault, and so I will immediately stop talking to you. I have a pretty avoidant personality, in which I will run and run and run the moment there is a conflict of any sort. (Example: Expecting a really important negative email = DO NOT CHECK EMAIL FOR WEEKS.) It’s really selfish to feel like this and to do these things, but I can’t help it. It’s become an automatic coping mechanism.

After having that dagger plunged between my ribs, I should have run. Like usual. I should have been weak and given up on ever earning back his friendship.

Continue reading

Pridelands

I don’t know what Tegomass is doing with this new single. Not sure if gusta.

. . .

Been a while since the events happened but I’ll post a short thing anyway.

Tough few weeks in Massachusetts.

My college is located many miles outside of the capital, but I’ve lived there my entire life. I grew up in a dangerous section of Boston so as desensitized as I’ve become to violence, news of death will garner hardly a blink from me.

We’ve never been terrorized before, though. This is different from the usual robberies and rapes and gang violence. In such an extremely proud city, this is why people care so much.

I wonder how relevant last week’s Boston marathon bombings and related events are to people who live outside Massachusetts. The plant explosion in Texas was huge and tragic and happened right after the marathon, but other than a post or two about it on Facebook, people here didn’t seem to pay much attention to it.

It’s one thing to hear about events of terror. It’s another thing to have it happen in the city you lived in your entire life. PLUS, the street where the bombings occurred? I go there almost every week. Pretty unnerving.

Continue reading

Part VI: [a troubled] Love Story

Well. Um. This is gonna be a challenge, writing about the past and having to forget the past year or so for a while..

(Other parts: i, ii, iii, iv, v, vii)

I am a dreamer, not a doer. I am the sort of girl who is content with sitting in front of a notebook or laptop all day, conjuring up worlds that I’d love to explore, characters I wished I could meet, and lives I wanted to have — because that was all I was able to do in this prison of a home.

Manny doesn’t dream; he plans AND he does. He is also the sort of boy who joined his high school cheerleading team just so he could flirt with the girls — and ended up dating the head cheerleader.

And yet, despite my best efforts to not get too attached to someone who contradicted every quality I would like in a partner, despite NOT BELIEVING it could happen, I fell in love with this very boy.

Have I ever mentioned this, journal? That I am the biggest skeptic of this so-called teenage love thing? Well, now you know. Yeah, I am such a romantic, I know. That must make me a hypocrite because I often write about teenage love even though I didn’t think it was real. (Cardcaptor Sakura, yes, they are all like 12.) But then it happened to me. I call it love now because that’s the only word I have for it, but to be honest, I can’t be sure that these current feelings of “love” will be the same feelings that I will ultimately have for the person I marry. (Marriage… I mentioned before that this deserves a post of its own. Because I’m not getting married.) Probably not, right? They say you truly fall in love just once, “they” being hopeless romantics. I am not one of those; I’m more realistic romantic, if such a thing exists. I believe that my sort of love is only a lesser version of that “true love.” Both certainly are genuine feelings, though! They’re just on different levels.

But I’m getting ahead of myself here. I should first go back to when I felt that transition from like to love.

Continue reading

Part V: Love Story [into the night]

HAPPY 26TH BIRTHDAY, MASSU!


(credit to yuchen85@lj)

I wish I could write more about this man and just fangirl about NEWS’s upcoming tour and single and fabulousness as a whole, but my manuscript for my summer class is due tomorrow by 8am so some other time, my lovely!

. . .

(Other parts: i, ii, iii, iv, vivii)

Another post detailing more illicit nightly activities in even more detail? Yes? Okay. Let your image of me go down the toilet!

It just gets worse from that previous Love Story post, folks.

I headed over to Manny’s dorm once again because he had invited me to a dance. He, his roommate, and neighbor Andrew were all going. It was a formal-ish event so I brought a dress to change into. Since I was used to seeing the boys in sweatpants and t-shirts all the time, I thought they cleaned up surprisingly well!

The walk/train ride to the dance was significant only because it was the first time he held my hand in public! Like I said, we don’t do anything in order, and this small yet sweet gesture had set off a flurry of butterflies in my stomach.

The dance itself wasn’t really significant, so I’ll just bullet point some details:

  1. Benji got some alcohol from some chick before the dance so he was drunk and weird throughout the night, fail!dancing with various girls.
  2. Manny was dancing with me while simultaneously watching out for his roommate in case the boy tried to to stupid things.
  3. …like run across train tracks as a train sped towards him.
  4. Dathan was at the dance! At 6’3″ and wearing a red dress shirt, he was hard to miss. He offered to drive us back to the boys’ college but he seemed to be having too much fun at the end so we decided to walk back.
  5. I cannot dance.
  6. Especially the grinding type of “dance.”
  7. Manny very kindly (read: blatantly) told me that I should learn how to grind better as us two were walking back to his college, a 30-minute walk.
  8. I was wearing heels. D:
  9. It was freezing. (And he’s anemic so his hands were ice.)
  10. We were starving.
  11. It was 12:30 am and quite idiotic of us to walk through the city at such a potentially unsafe hour.
  12. I was still mildly depressed and extremely socially awkward then so conversing on my part took some effort.

Back at his dorm, he found out that I hadn’t eaten in 9 hours (I never complain when I’m hungry to people who are not family because I don’t like sounding whiny :/) so he cooked each of us some ramen. I know, microwaving packaged ramen sounds ergh and cheap, but I didn’t care. HE “COOKED” FOR ME.

Then he surprised me by giving me two things: a personalized key chain with my name on it that he got when he was in Washington D.C. for a wedding during the Thanksgiving holiday, and a giant monkey for my birthday. I hardly ever receive gifts so it definitely caught me off guard. I’m sure I didn’t seem nearly as happy as I was internally but I was trying so hard to not tackle him in a hug (because he had a hot container of ramen in his hands).

But… let me confess it here. The key chain was the ugliest freaking thing I have ever seen. There. Manny, I’m sorry. It was hideous. IS hideous. And yet… I carried it with me in my backpack for the rest of the school year. Luckily for him, I am definitely the sensitive type who appreciates gestures, so I loved it and nearly burst into tears when I realized that he had searched for something specifically for me.

Then we went to brush our teeth together. Instead of letting me walk up a few flights of stairs to get to the girls’ restroom, he said it was fine if I used the guys’ one on his floor with him. And, of course, while we were brushing our teeth, two guys walk in and proceed to calmly use the urinals, all the while continuing on with their conversation with each other.

o.O

After food and teeth brushing was horror movie time, of course. I remembered the title of this one since it’s so famous. The Grudge. :D

As the movie loaded, he slid into bed with me and just sort of held me in his arms of sexiness. After a moment of burying his face in my hair, he murmured to me, “I think I might be falling in love with you.”

!!!!!!!

Continue reading

Part IV: Love Story [gets even less family-friendly]

(Other parts: i, ii, iii, v, ivvii)

(EDIT: Did I seriously write IIII as the Roman numeral for 4? How mortifying!)

Let me briefly review the pre-college Mimi:

  • forever alone
  • slightly boyish
  • man-fearing
  • reserved
  • not a whore
  • not sexually desirable in the least

Got that image in your head? Good. Now THROW IT ALL OUT AS YOU PROCEED FURTHER INTO MY LEAST FAMILY-FRIENDLY ENTRY TO DATE.

I’m getting judged so hard for lacking morals how much of a slut I am my poor decisions. But, you know, my “no holding back” pledge. MAN, college changes you!

(Parts i, ii, and iii are here)

Continue reading