Perspective

My phone is dead...

2011-11-28T08:16:00.000-08:00

Cellphones, stupid little time-sucking devices that have taken over our lives and conversations.

At least that's what I thought it should be.

So of course, I was surprised when my cell-phone stopped dead in its tracks, and all of its contents, messages, pictures and notes vanished. Then came the tears.

And I thought to myself, why am I crying about a stupid little device?

In our generation, we text, not talk. We email, not write letters. We post Happy Birthday on your wall, instead of sending a card. You can have a relationship without seeing someone, simply with your iphone, your blackberry, your droid, your palm... oh wait.

It's dead.

As I leered at the phone through teary eyes, I thought about how much that little bugger carried with it.

So many fights had started and ended with the phone. That phone went with me to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, to my family's first wedding, to my friend's graduation party. Roughly 2 years of use, that tiny phone had been through so much with me.

There were pictures of Hogsmeade, pictures of my white french bulldog, pictures and pictures of my various baking experiments. There are various recipes, tweaked after multiple batches of Coq Au Vin, Crown Roast and Braised Short Ribs.

I guess what upset me most, was the loss of all my text messages.
In times when I felt worthless or inadequate, I would read a text from Christian.
"You deserve the best, and that's what I intend to give."
or another text from Christian, "I hope one day you can see yourself the way I see you."

or one from my father:
"Who would think that I will be living in US, with a beautiful wife, beautiful children, beautiful home and driving nice cars. but most important, that my daughter will be graduating from OSU and another will be entering."

Read that, and tell me you feel inadequate, unimportant, small.

That's what this is about, the tears, the puffy eyes and the melodrama. It's about one text message.

I cannot count how many times I read and re-read that text message. And honestly, I'm amazed by how one message, 160 characters could hold so much power, so much significance. As I re-type that text, I cannot help but cry and smile at the same time.

There are times, too many to count, where we exert all our effort and despite our strenuous and tiresome diligence, we still fall short. I guess that's the mark of a human. We pray and pray and pray, and pray some more, just so that we might find the strength to go on and give one more push, and it still isn't enough. I can tell you by experience how many times I fail to understand and appreciate my limitations. At times, I have succeeded and come out exhausted but accomplished. And at other times, I have merely emerged, windswept and depleted.

Even Jesus needed someone to help carry his cross, even for a little bit.

That's when a friend calls to ask "Is everything okay? Can I help you." or when a text message reminds you of how much you are worth, and how in the face of defeat, you still are one heck of a person.

It's hard to rely on others, and it's hard to share the load and trust someone else. I'm not saying it's easy, but having friends like Carly or Kathy, having a sister love and embrace your inner nerd, having a boyfriend constantly tell you how much you are worth, or having a father telling you how proud he is, is just enough to get you past the finish line.

It's not the phone I miss, or the SIM card or that stupid little slot I had to wrestle with to charge my phone. No, it's the messages I miss, messages that I re-read when I do not feel good enough.

Legos

2011-05-03T14:29:00.000-07:00

This quarter I am enrolled in a Design Minor class. I did not expect much from this class having experienced the major classes, but this class has proven to teach me more than I expected. I would like to share with you a paper I wrote as a journal. I found it to be very powerful.

Beginning to read the assigned chapter, I immediately found gratification in the use of one five-letter word: legos. Immediately, Tim Brown launched into the conversation of playing with these brightly colored bricks to create dinosaurs, planes, cars, houses, buildings and robots and prototyping at such a young age. I admit, it is fascinating and eerie to think that at such a young age we are innovators, inventors, creators who build on the world of imagination, with minimal knowledge of physics and limitations. The only limitation is the number of blocks I have in my hands. I find it funny how we invest most of our time, effort and money on one branch of our interlocking web of brainstorming, when the best innovators and the most successful ideas come from children who do not know what the word innovate even means. Honestly, there’s a shred of jealousy and pride in my emotions in regards to this idea. Genius lives in the mind of a toddler, and is much more of a rare occurrence to myself, a 21-year old adult. There must be something irregular about our education process if after education and college, we contain less genius than we did 20 years ago. Or here’s a thought… what if it’s not our academic system but our social system that leads to the demise of genius? Are we so inclined to fit in our society that we let go our imaginative ideas and forget about daydreaming and building robots? Here’s a crazy idea, let’s have the children create the ideas, and we, the willing and able adults create the prototypes and continue the process with the aid and imagination of a toddler.
“Anything tangible that lets us explore an idea, evaluate it, and push it forward is a prototype. I have seen sophisticated insulin injection deices that began life as legos. I have seen software interfaces mocked up with post-it notes long before a line of code was written.” The more I think about it, some of the most aesthetically pleasing objects are ones that are imaginative, simple, fundamental and elementary. I included an image of insulin pumps on my first project on innovation. They are attractive because there is something elementary and almost childish about the idea. Ipods are the same way, they are colorful and simple with only four buttons. And in these simple objects that are successful, we can see the lego mock-ups, or the post-it layouts. The winning designs allow us to think simply, with the mind of a child, or even take our minds back to the time when we were once all geniuses. Apple designs are a good example, my mother who has trouble reading her email can work an ipod. Why? Because it’s so simple, a child could use it. I think this is the idea here, simplicity, but not aesthetic simplicity but simplicity of the product itself. We can forget being adults, forget about paying the bills, or balancing checkbooks, or writing an essay, we allow the product to take us to another place and time. The more I think about it, the more I wish I could be a kid again, and forget about GPAs and exams, where is the fun we used to have? I may be completely wrong, but I do believe we are created as humans who are innately genius, we are visionaries from birth, but society molds and shapes us to fit with the cookie-cutter standard, and we come to lose our whimsy as time passes. I think it’s important to remember who we are, and in this sense, we are all designers, we are all inventors of lego robots, engineers of spaceships, masterminds of genetic manipulation, we make what we want to make and we live the uninhibited life. “This shift from physical to abstract and back again is one of the most fundamental processes by which we explore the universe, unlock our imaginations, and open our minds to new possibilities.”

The next one will be about Disney.

Pause, Rewind, Replay

2010-08-09T22:19:00.000-07:00

Looking back on old movies, there's always the popular kids, like Danny Zuko, and the losers, like Alfalfa.

And now, there's more than a hundred ways to call someone a loser. Dweeb, Geek, Dork, Nerd, Noob, Freak... I'm afraid to go on for fear of offending anyone reading this.

No, this is not a blog about nerds, so you can wipe that idea right out of your head.

Anyways, Nerds nowadays have classes. Let me explain. (I feel like Janice Ian in Mean Girls)

You have your Anima/Manga nerds, the kids who go to ComicCon dressed as a life size Pikachu, your music nerds, aka bandies/bandos/band geeks, Computer Nerds who people call on a daily basis only to realize that the virus on their computer came from the illegal downloading of music, or porn, Dorky nerds who trip up the stairs, Drama nerds... who can name the different musicals and plays of the century and twenty centuries before, Math nerds who spends time solving for x and y, or playing on their graphing calculator, Star Trek Nerds who wear badges on their V-neck sweaters and debate whether Picard or Kirk was better... and as you can tell, I really don't want to waste my time talking about all the different kinds of weird one can be.

All you need to know, is the lowest rated would be the guy who spends time ignoring his girlfriend to raid his level 79 Tauren Druid in Ice Crown Citadel. And the highest rated would definitely be the girl who makes her boyfriend sit through twenty hours of Jim Dale describe the tale of the magical world of an orphan boy with a lightning shape scar on his head.

Anyone, who knows anything about me, would probably describe me with words similar, but not limited to.. nice, asian, sweet, great cook, weird... something along those lines I'm sure. But if you were to ask everyone I know, I'm sure they would all make some sort of reference to my Harry Potter hobby. Or obsession? I shall not digress into what makes me more of a Harry Potter fan than you..

The oddity about this obsession, is that I have only read each book once through. If anyone would ask, I would defend my honor and say that rereading the books diminishes the excitement associated with the unknown future of Harry Potter. In short, if I already know what is going to happen, what's left to read?

The novel of the generation, the franchise of the 21st century is nearing it's inevitable end. The release of the seventh, an final installment, The Deathly Hallows was described by Stephen King as a sadness, "an inevitable parting from characters who have been loved deeply by many." He continues to say, "No ending can be right, because it shouldn't be over at all The magic isn't supposed to go away."

It's like finding someone you want to grow old with. At first there's this bittersweet feeling that you won't have another first kiss, there's no reading into the signs flicking back and forth wondering if that smile meant a little more, there's no first date or holding hands for the first time, wondering if he's repulsed by your clammy hands, wet with the anxiety of the first date.

And then you come to realize, there's still excitement there, in the little things. Like, being nervous when he rings the doorbell to pick you up for dinner, or a little scared the moment you approach the 528608th kiss.

Harry Potter does not lose it's magic, no matter how many times you've read it. You still get scared when that hand reaches from beneath the depths of the black lake, or you still jump when you realize Nagini was there all along, waiting for Harry to return, and you still cry as Harry approaches Voldemort, knowing full well that "neither can live while the other survives."

The other day, I watched Zombieland, and I feel like I should end with his final rule on surviving. Sure, he's giving advice on surviving Zombies, but I feel it applies not only to Harry Potter, but on our lives, however mysterious or ambiguous it may be,

Enjoy the little things.

The One

2010-06-21T20:32:00.000-07:00

From a young age, I was convinced there was only one person in the world,

one person you are meant to love, one person who has been placed on this world just for you,

one person perfectly matching everything about you.

This stemmed mostly from repeated viewings of Disney classics. These include, but are not limited to: Aladdin, Snow White, Thumbelina, The Swan Princess, The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast. Beliefs that lead to thoughts of ultimate happiness, neverending bliss, fantastical memories and happy endings. Princes who were perfect in every way, who did everything for you and who made your life happy no matter the cost they had to pay. Evil monsters who needed to be slayed by your one and only. Dragons and dwarves, elves and fairies, Narnia and Hogwarts.

I hate to admit it. I really do.

It's like... learning that that present waiting for you on Christmas morning was not Santa Claus,

but bought for you by who else? Your parents.

Sorry if I ruined Christmas for you. You'll get over it. I did.

Or even better,

coming to the consensus on your 20th birthday, and your Hogwarts letter is not 9 years delayed, but is never going to arrive by way of Owl delivered-post.

I know, I'm still saddened.

(Now that I think about it, my day will most probably be spent watching classic Disney movies. That, or Harry Potter for the ump-teenth time this month.)

Anyways,

Love.

I think these films reiterate that this so called "love" exists to fruitfully, so perfectly and so divine that it was the one thing we were meant to live for. That once we found it, we could live happy without pain, without sacrifice and without sorrow.

Most importantly, how do you know it you've met... "the one?"

It's taken me years to discover the truth.

This belief, though highly romantic, is incredibly bleak and pessimistic.

What happens if we never find the one?

Most of my revelation came from the evaluation of the other important people in my life.

Not to say in any means that I am polygamous or committed to multiple men, I'm simply referring to my few friends whom I spend hours talking to one the phone about Glee or Harry Potter. I'm referring to my sister, who listened to all my whining about men and still gives me advice after all these years. I'm referring to my classmate whom I come crying to about all the medical possibilities or psychological help that I may need. Even my mother, who annoyingly gets upset if I return at 9pm from a day with my boyfriend.

How about them? Do we not love them?

People say there's different kinds of love. It may be true? But I implore you to think about this.. Are all loves equal? I'm pretty sure if I lost my best friend, it would still hurt as much as my boyfriend breaking up with me. I really think it's all one thing.

And I really think that there's no single person meant for us, there are multiple people that we can love. In every place, we love someone.

So what about love?

I used to think love was just happiness.

Then I used to think love was about kissing.

Then sex?

Then I used to think love was about being with someone all the time.

About holding hands. About getting nervous before dates.

I'm pretty sure I've found it, and while it might include these things, there's so much more.

It's about giving up the last bite of your favorite dessert because they want it too. It's about loving all the things that we find annoying about them. It's about sacrificing 20 swipes for them just because you love eating pancakes with them. It's about driving 2o extra minutes in a dying car everyday just to spend 6 hours of the day with them. It's about staying with them while they're abroad, getting an education or fighting for our nation, it's about waking up next to them every morning. It's about fighting and crying, but then telling them I love you despite all the harsh exchanges. It's about promise.

A promise is all it really is.

With your family, a promise to provide and support in all affairs, financial and personal.

With your friend, a promise to listen and provide comfort.

With your significant, a promise to embrace and live forever right next to you.

With yourself, a promise to be true to everything you stand for.

On Advising

2010-06-12T21:31:00.000-07:00

Here I lay, flat on a Twin XL Bed, lined with two sheets. Beside me, a box of tissues accumulating into a small pile dampened with tears. The walls are bare and white, and the room is empty, save for me, the campus furniture, and a fruit cup to last me the night.

I am reminded of exactly one year ago. I was...

excited by the new job and its prospects,

sad in the ending of my first year in college,

worried about the entrance in a new relationship over the summer,

yet tickled by the thought of my new boyfriend,

nervous about what the summer at home would be like,

anxious and impatient for my floor, and my residents.

It's funny how during my previous schooling, I loved the arrival of summer.

This only made me nervous.

Flash forward to September 4.

I moved in to Morrill Tower,

in a rush, unpacked all my clothes, which I had stuffed in a rather large hockey bag,

and placed every item in its rightful location.

One hour later, I was skipping to the Fisher School of Business, excited by the very thought that Chris was no longer 3 hours away, but minutes.

That very first day, we spent eight hours, lying in this same bed, talking,

just. talking.

This year, this year has been the journey of a lifetime,

and as I sit here, sorry, lay here,

I can't help but think of

1. What I expected from this job,

2. What I received.

2 weeks of training could never have prepared me for what I would go through,

yes, I knew policy, yes I learned about drugs and suicide, yes I learned about enhancing student life and creating community,

but what I,

what I got was not solely a community on a single floor, or free residency, or a nice single room,

no, I got something much much much better.

I think it began Autumn quarter.

My residents scared me, 57:1 ratio was intimidating, and to know all 57 names was a challenge I felt impossible. It was incredibly difficult to see myself as a role model. To take my opinion of myself, and to envision that I was a role model. As far as I knew, I had nothing to offer, but a pretty face and a nice smile.

I struggled to match each name with each face. Not to mention having the courage to walk into every room and just start conversations with people who were taller, skinnier, prettier, more athletic, more intellectual, more attractive that I am.

To them, i was the person to get them in trouble, I was the eyes of the university,

the authority figure to poke fun at and play pranks on.

To me, I was just one person they would go to if they needed.

I took the first ones for granted. I was surprised they approached me with their issues, and I heard it all, I heard it all from suicide, to homosexuality, to girls, to sex, to materiality, to slasher films and vampire obsessions. It didn't occur to me that they came to me because they wanted to, because they trusted me and I was a loyal ear.

The arrival of winter quarter brought with it thoughts I had never encountered before. I felt punished, like I was life's pitiful playtoy.

I had small bites that appeared every night, which worried me not only because something was happening to me, but because as the weeks wore on, the bites got worse.

Then I found out they weren't bites. Chris didn't have them, so what were they?

They erupted every night, behind my knees, my inner thighs, my arms, my neck, my stomach, my back, and they would start with one small circular red bump, and become clumps of swollen red skin that stained my entire inner thigh.

What was happening to me?

I would cry in the showers, scrubbing at my skin hoping the itching would stop, hoping the swelling would go back down, turning the temperature higher to burn it off.

And for some reason, Chris still found me as pretty as ever. He'd sit with me, and keep me calm, keep my mind off of the pain and off the thoughts that loomed repeatedly in my head.

Each morning I would wake up next to him,

but I would not realize it. Waking up meant a whole new day I had to face, and I didn't want to face it. Waking up would mean I would have to go to class, I would have to do work, I would have to face all my tasks, I would have to be awake.

So I missed a few classes. As I missed class, I would work on my assignment to turn in on time. And finally, I would turn it it, but witness the judgmental views of my classmates and my teacher... my imagination roared, "I wonder why she missed class?" "What's wrong with her?" "Does she do her own work..."

I failed the class.

I remember receiving the email and feeling as if my life weren't worth it. As if I were less than the dust bunnies on the floor beneath my bed. As if there were no point to living.

And I could see it, I could see images, not only images, but desires,

desires to walk out in front of a truck, just so that I wouldn't have to face life.

Blessed, I am so blessed that Chris sat with me, not knowing anything that just happened, but clutched my shaking body as my tears soaked his shorts.

For him, and for him only did I reject my desire to commit suicide. But my my was I so close.

Walking into my room the next morning, I heard the crunch of paper beneath my feet.

A hate letter from an anonymous resident of mine.

Was it ever going to end? Was this torture? Is someone finding this funny?

Why am I a role model?

Is there anything to me, anything to my existence?

By living, am I enhancing somebody's life?

I cried so many nights. Each morning my eyes were bloodshot, my lids puffy, and my nails bitten so low it hurt to put pressure.

The letter was right. I didn't deserve this job, I was no good, and I didn't do shit for my residents.

And somehow I found some unknown strength. To this day, I don't know what that motivation was, but I found it. No, not a person, not my design path or my family, or friends, not even Chris.

I hate to say it, but I think it was God.

I accepted my responsibility for my failure, I spoke to my residents to better the situation, and sought a doctor regarding the hives.

Here I am, the last left on the floor,

smiling at the friends I made, at the impressions I had left on the people of the 16th floor.

Despite all the tears and the late nights, despite the thoughts and the letter,

I'm alive, and I'm a different person.

I have made friends from residents,

I have made purpose from my trials,

I have passed my classes,

I have secured my position for next year,

I have made impressions on the other RA's,

and I am deeply in love with the man I will spend the rest of my life with.

Here's to 2010-2011 and a new Katrina.

On Rock Bottom

2010-03-19T23:24:00.001-07:00

How does rock bottom feel?

I don't know. It feels an awful lot like this,

but how do you know when "this" is rock bottom?

how do you know if you're going to fall further?

So I have an awful lot of thinking to do.

If you know anything about me, if you've read anything I've written,

you'd gather a few things:

1. I'm a female

2. I like design

Now imagine yourself walking in a grocery store,

Kroger, Marc's, Giant Eagle, Big Bear, Roger's, Aldees... whatever fits you...

and you find yourself in... the deodorant aisle.

(It was the one product both males and females use and would know)

You want to try something new, perhaps a different scent, perhaps a different brand,

but you narrow your choice to the Fresh Scent.

In one hand, you've got store brand. Shitty packaging, but most definitely cheaper.

But on the other hand, you've got the Opalescent White Dover container.

Both smell exactly the same,

both have relatively the same amount of product,

but one is cheaper,

and the other looks more... legit.

So naturally, you go with the second one,

why?

Because it looks prettier.

That's what I want to do.

I want to get in your mind,

convince you, but the packaging, to buy the more expensive one,

to purchase the one that's more legit.

Now, I have two routes,

stick with Design,

or go into Marketing.

With Design,

I'm one of 18

I'm doing crafts for homework

I'm elite

I'm going the creative way

I can graduate after these 3 more years (yes, 1 year was added because I was stupid)

After getting a Bachelor's Degree, I can get a decent job

I just have to continue along the path I'm on

BUT...

Every grade is subjective...

All my effort is necessary

I work later at night

Nothing is ever complete, and there is always, ALWAYS, something that needs fixing,

It's only a bachelor's degree

My career choice is limited

My stress levels dramatically and dangerously increase

My emotions are subject to the opinions of others

Creative output is ALWAYS necessary

You must stay in the scene or you're out cold

Over the past quarter, I have witnessed the dramatic change in stress, in my mood, in my performance, and in my thoughts.

For the longest time, I struggled,

as the projects piled on, the stress increased,

but I had no way of letting out the steam,

of taking time to relax,

of releasing my energy.

And over the course of months, everything built up.

I used to spend my free time doing creative things,

drawing, creating, ideating, coloring, cutting...

and now that these are the cause of my stress,

how do I release? How do I let it go?

How can anything else make me as happy?

Here's the truth that I'm struggling to face:

I'm not enjoying this.

Should I give up my balance, my happiness, my time, my energy, my health, my logic for design?

Do I love it that much?

If it causes me to think crazy thoughts,

to do crazy things,

to lose my sanity,

is it worth it?

How do you know when something you love is good for you?

How do you learn to love something that's good for you?

How do you know what's good for you?

Passing By

2009-10-19T10:22:00.000-07:00

It really is amazing how the passing of time changes the things around you. The leaves grow emerald in the spring, gradually change to a jade green, and in the Fall, turn yellow, orange or red and fall off again...

Similarly, you find yourself surrounded by a different group of people. And the people you once thought you'd grow old with, share secrets with, cry with, are no more.

I've struggled with this concept for many years. The process of getting close to people intimidates me for the sole reason that given months, even years, they could be out of your life, having taken a bit of you with them. So what then is the purpose? Why get close to people if the only true guarantor of happiness and security is yourself?

On one hand, these passing people give you a feeling of happiness, of completion and an overwhelming satisfaction with who you are and where you are in life.

But on the other hand, your happiness rests greatly on them, and when the time comes for you to be left out on the road, there isn't much left for you to stand back up, and carry on walking.

This is my problem. My inability to trust, and to hold on to things because I am fully aware of the changing life before us. And because the pain that results is far too great for me to undergo. For this reason, I will let people pass me by, I'll leave them be to their own life, their own ways, and their own happiness. Who am I to stop them?

I guess this is why I prefer to be alone at times, to be beside myself, and to know that whatever happens, I have within myself the strength and the passion to get up, and continue.

My only hope, is that one day I come across you. You may pass me by on a street and flash a grin and leave my life forever, or you might even share a cup of coffee on a corner cafe and exchange stories of love. Whichever it may be, know that for even that small fraction of my life, you have made an impact on my life.

I may not write you, or call you, or text or email you,

but you sat with me, you smiled or cried, you held my hand and kept me close,

and for a tiny sliver of time,

I was yours.

On Art v.2

2009-08-20T13:02:00.000-07:00

Perfect.

Let me paint a picture for you:

I sit alone at the dining table. To my right, sits homemade iced-green tea, a little bitter from the burning of the green leaves, but sweet to the educated tea-enthusiast, alongside a deep bowl filled with peeled ruby-red grapefruit dusted lightly with sugar. Directly across from me sits my laptop, and just beyond that, across the length of the table are three bay windows overlooking a baseball field. Outside the rain falls sporadically, and the faint pitter-patter of the droplets crescendo and decrescendo with the violent bursts of wind.

You may call it gloomy, and miserable,

but to me, to me this is perfect and I can sit and write...

---

I have actually thought about this post, yet I never published it until a good friend brought up a very good point.

I would be lying if I told you I have always been proud of what I do, of painting and drawing, of sketching and smudging... the art profession is not as noble as say, a doctor, an engineer, a lawyer. We paint, draw, splatter, erase, and the world looks not on this profession as honorable by any means.

Years ago, to be an artist was to be great, da Vinci, Michaelangelo, Bernini, Caravaggio, Titian... the list goes on and on, but nowadays, if someone tells you they're an artist, immediately you think of someone sitting among cans of paint with a painbrush in their hand all day long.

Similarly, if you were to have asked me if I was an artist 3 months ago, I would've immediately denied the accusation and explained the functionality, the importance and the versatility of being a designer.

My answer is this: 3 months ago, I didn't think myself to be an artist by any means. It was disgusting and an insult to my being.

Yet something strange happened this summer.

Aside from being stranded at home without any means of escaping the tumultuous atmosphere, I found myself totally alone. The friends I had, though I still hold them dear, I felt as if I were a burden to call them amidst their busy schedules to complain, to vent, to whine... or to cry.

And then tears alone didn't soothe what I felt, and I couldn't write how I felt. How can I put into words something so complex, when I myself couldn't fathom how far the emotion went, where it hurt, and I didn't know how to feel.

I love talking to people, don't get me wrong, but when you talk, explain how you feel, how do you expect them to reply... a mere "I'm sorry" doesn't necessarily ease the pain, so you find yourself graced by their presence, but bathed in a thick silence. I yearned, I hungered for something to understand, for something to not only ease the pain, but take it away. If you swallow your sorrows away, it'll only return until you drown it once more. And I'm not the person to resort to something as low as alcoholism, drugs, or self-inflicted pain.

The anger found remedy in something as simple and tangible as a paintbrush. My anger escaped my body through streaming red across a pure white canvas. My despair covered the white with a deep deep hue somewhere between brown, red and blue.

But that was only the beginning,

What emerged was beauty. I found beauty in the scenes outside, in blurred images, it raindrops on a glass pane, in the fading of foliage the closer it gets to the horizon and the farther it becomes.

I developed something great, something I feel passionate about. I guess that's what artists are. To paint, draw, whatever, it may not collect as much money as lawyers, doctors, businessmen make, but to devote your life to this profession means to feel so passionate about it that it brings you peace, happiness and an understanding of that which you cannot even begin to fathom.

My plan as of now is to create a series. A series of artworks portraying blurred images, silhouettes in the rain, unfocused city lights, the simplification of daily scenes so that each person may relate to the general shape, the mystery of life.

The first piece is a set of three, a triptych if you will, of neon lights from the city, unfocused, silhouettes huddled together under umbrellas, and hanging in front is a single glass pane covered in raindrops,

as if you're looking outside your window, through the rain, on a city street.

Here is my final answer.

I have recognized that I am an artist, and have accepted it. Acceptance is a process of self-realization. First, denial. Second, recognition. Third, egotistical pride, and finally, acceptance.

I paint because I can, because I want to, because it helps me understand my own life, because it eases the pain, because I love beautiful things, because there are moments of my own life I wish to illustrate, keep, and hold dear as a reminder of my life, and my humanity.

Yours Truly,

Katrina

On Time

2009-08-15T19:33:00.000-07:00

It's quirky how time works,

how it passes,

how it fades,

how it freezes,

how it drags,

how it flips as fast as the blink of an eye,

and how one second seems to pass as if it were eight weeks.

Time fascinates me, it captivates me in how relative it seems.

When in actuality, every second is just as long as the first.

I find myself waiting,

waiting the hours away. Waiting until time speeds up again, until it whisks me away with the dandelions and the birds,

until I can't feel it anymore,

until I forget about it.

Every morning I wake up, and sigh. One more day closer,

but as my date approaches, my excitement heightens only prolonging the hours.

Each passing day should be easier, because it's one day closer.

It should be, but somehow it's not.

I'm tired of waiting,

waiting for something to happen,

waiting for my life to pick me up and take me places,

waiting to see you.

It's ironic actually,

I'm fascinated by time, simultaneously it fatigues me, confuses me, annoys me... constantly I'm thinking that one second past is another second closer to death, but here I sit wishing the seconds by, daydreaming the minutes past, closer to death,

And I tell myself to be spontaneous, to take every opportunity,

yet how can I?

I want to badly to begin my life, to do the things on my list, to live as if tomorrow is the end, and if it was, I would be greatly disappointed. There is still so much to do, so much to see, so much to feel and experience.

But as a sophomore college student, without money, without a car, without support, how can I go out and do what I want?

Instead of traveling the world, I'm reading about Afghanistan, about romance in France, murder in Russia, adventure in the Conga,

I'm living vicariously, fighting off dementors with Harry, impatiently waiting for Henry with Clare, I am the Man in the Iron Mask, I am going Around the World in 80 Days, I am Edmond Dantes, I am Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde, I am hopelessly in love with Edward Cullen.

It is no use, sitting and wasting time, precious time.

The time passing will be the ones you cling to at the very end.

I hate waiting.

On Art

2009-08-11T08:57:00.000-07:00

What do you think of artists?

Do you push them aside? Do you find them useless? Do you find them lazy? Do you find them quirky? Do you find them weird?

What do you think of artists?

and what do you think of art?

Let me explain to you exactly what an artist is, and why I, Katrina Valera am an artist.

---

Most of the time, people go through life, existing, living, partying, sleeping, hoping, regretting. Let me ask you this: have you ever held something back, held back the truth for fear of certain reaction?

Held back only to have it thrown back in your face?

If I should be so bold, I'd tell you never to hold anything back. If it comes from your heart, there should never be any reason to hold back how you feel. It means something, and it always will. Better to have told the truth rather than to keep it behind a facade. Better to have revealed than to have the moment pass and never have the opportunity again.

And I am an artist because of this.

We create, we dream, we think, we express... all our opinions, all our views, everything we feel we put into images, into words, into frescoes and paintings and objects, into color and onto canvas. We allow ourselves to be human, and accept every emotion we own, every feeling we express for the world to see. We don't hide, we are not afraid.

Creativity is what makes the difference between a 3 year old and a fatigued 40 year old man. Artists, they cherish that creativity, and everyday we create things. The colors you see everyday, the color of the screen you are reading, and reflection of the rays... we take those, and we create meaning, we create life, we create emotion... we create humanity... we create art.

The pieces of paper you take notes on, the ink in your pen, the everyday objects your hands come in contact with... we give them a story, we give an inanimate object life, allow it to breath, to move and to feel...

Why?

I've often asked myself that exact question.

I guess it's an acceptance of our place as humans. We aren't robots, we think, we feel, we breathe, we die, we love, we cry, we suffer, we succeed... and in pouring out our emotions, we cope with being human, we seek to create an understanding, a deeper meaning to our feelings. Always, after creating something I feel exhilarated, much like that feeling you get after taking an early morning jog, or a steaming bubble bath.

And that paper on the desk beside you?

That's a doorway to whatever you want it to be. To escape from the world and be immersed in anything you create, in your own world.

I'm Katrina Valera

and I'm an artist.

On Tragedy

2009-08-10T21:03:00.000-07:00

I picked up a book to read last week.

I'm about halfway.

The Time Traveler's Wife

Ring a bell?

I chose this book for several reasons,

1. This book I recall picking up at a Half Price Book store exactly three years ago, and I remember making a mental note to read it. I read Twilight instead... why? Now that I think about it, I have no clue, but I do remember thinking at the time that Twilight was a light read, and The Time Traveler's Wife was harder, and confusing to understand the time differences.

I agree entirely with that.

But you remedy that by going along with everything. Stop trying to make sense of everything and putting everything in perfect order... when it comes to time, and emotions, and ... love you can't make sense of it, so go along, smile and forget what is "supposed to be" and "how it ought to be."

See the world as it is, not as it should.

2. Going on a roadtrip, I figured I'd pick up an audiobook as opposed to listening to music. Whenever I listen to music, I find myself lost in the melody. Lyrics... I don't listen to the lyrics. I mean, I can, but I have to tell myself to. And before I know it, I'm lost in my own thoughts again in time with the music. With a book, I would engage my mind and distract myself from the dangers of my own thoughts. I find I tend to worry, or analyze unimportant details...

3. Call me silly, call me cheesy and romantic, but I felt a certain empathy, an understanding for Clare and Henry as they'd go through long periods of time, waiting to see eachother. At times they were restless and they'd go through tough periods, but in the end, they'd know the happiness would justify every moment previous. I understood Clare when she'd describe how much she missed him, and I felt sorry for her.

4. At the same time, the concept completely captivated me. I'm a determinist, meaning I believe entirely on fate. Flawed, I understand, but it's how I think. My tragic flaw...

Anyways, Henry has the ability to bend time, to take his life in his own hands, yet somehow, fate runs its course, even for a man who time travels. I don't know how to explain this in a blog, hell I don't even know how to put this to words... but time and the ability to manipulate it and still have such a thing as "fate" intrigues me.

The ending of summer is bittersweet.

On one end, I'm ecstatic, I'll be returning to campus which I have labeled, home since the house I grew up in no longer comforts me, and everything only worsens. The only time where I am at peace is when I'm up in the early hours. I have received scolding for this early morning habit, so my peace now comes only when I sleep.

It's so different. The house feels different, the dynamic feels different, and although I never thought this would happen, and I spent only 2 quarters on campus, I'm fascinated in this turn-over. Fascinated and annoyed.

I never ever thought this would happen, afterall, this address has been my home for more than 10 years already, but several months away has made me change my mind. I guess I was ignorant to this, and now that it has happened, I'm perplexed.

Nevertheless, I'm glad to be back in a manner of weeks, I'm glad to see people I would talk with everyday, I'm excited to have a life of my own, to walk around and be places without the use of a car, to take walks in the early hours, to do cartwheels on the lawn at 1 am, and to finally be free to be who I am, to be able to take off this mask and be appreciated for who I am.

On the other hand,

I'm terrified. In the course of one year, everything has changed. The people I once spent every hour with has lessened, and my social circle has drastically changed.

I blame myself, entirely for this, especially that determinist philosophy of mine,

and although I know I am at fault for losing touch with my best friends, I still feel that life goes on, and holding on to things will only hurt when they pull away. Hell, it already pains to see the passing of friendships and the loss of contact, but I guess it's my way of moving on, of coping and dealing with the situation. Sometimes I can't help but feel that while I do care deeply for people, I would never want to impose my problems on them, and at this point there are so many that I fear people would only get tired of my bickering and whining.

And here I am, complaining on a blog... how ironic. I guess I just keep my life to only myself and one other, and the rest of the world can see that mask, I'm not quite ready to explain what it is I'm going through, complaining will only make you a burden to another.

That's tragic, especially since the remedy to tragedy,

is humanity itself.

On Parents

2009-07-28T16:57:00.000-07:00

Oh I am livid.

Well, I don't know if livid will cover my anger right now.

And it's odd that I'm spilling my guts to a screen, but nowadays, who can you turn to to listen without receiving response? Just a listening ear is all I need. Funny that technology is the one thing that provides us mere mortals with an outlet.

Anyways...

the endearing thing about them is the one thing that also interferes with your comfort with them. That being their concern. Like I said, it's endearing that when you tell them something, their response is entirely derived from their concern for your well being.

But at the same time,

when you complain about something, sometimes all you want is a listening ear, someone to sympathize, and if ever you want that, your parents should be your last resort.

The only response you get is the ever-so-patronizing "Do-this" and in a twist of things, everything becomes your fault. Even the inevitable or the unexpected.

And then that sympathy? No, It becomes scolding.

Case in point,

today I was complaining about some random piercing pain right behind my shoulder, to my mother of course. Usually, if I need an ear, I don't turn to her knowing full well what I will receive, but in this occasion, and in present circumstance, she's the one I can talk to. It would be a horrible imposition to call my friends and complain about a backache. Whatever.

I just whined about it, and then she interrupts me to tell me that it's because of my posture. Then she tells me I slouch whenever I work, and for this reason I will grow old with a hunch back. And then it becomes a lecture.

1. If it were a posture problem, it would ache in my lower back.

2. I was sitting looking at recipes, not on my laptop as she assumes.

3. My posture has survived my slouching for 19 almost 20 years, I'm sure this one pain is spontaneous.

4. I know full well the consequences of my actions.

Is it too much to ask for someone to talk with? Is it too much to ask for a little sympathy?

Maybe.

On Simplicity

2009-07-23T20:52:00.000-07:00

Ask a man what annoys them about women, and they'll most likely answer in more or less words,

complicated.

Ask a woman what annoys them about man, and they'll most likely answer in more or less words,

simple-minded.

Ask both parties what ruined their relationship and both will answer:

communication.

It's not simple, but it's not so complicated really.

It's kind of funny actually, this correlation, but I guess it balances itself out. If you think about it really. Anyways... to my blog.

I am fully aware of the fact that I wrote only a few hours ago, sure, it may mean I have no life,

I'd like to think it's an outlet for my imagination to run wild, to mark my thoughts as they drift through my mind. My profoundness will not go unnoticed. haha. that was a joke.

Nevertheless, this came while I was washing my face in the basin...

During the school year, I spent the day sleeping, but the nights I would spend wide awake. No, not partying, not getting drunk or high or plastered or hammered or shit-faced or tangling the sheets with a significant other... no, definitely not.

I spent the nights just like I spend my days over the summer... thinking aloud, talking, listening, conversing...

It's actually ironic, I used to hate conversation, I used to be terrified of human interaction, yet this is what I love about life, about my friends, about me. I love to converse.

Talking is one thing, having one person to just talk to for hours on end, about everything, life, happiness, logic, love, men, women, drugs, college, teenage years, growing up, growing old, dying, birth, children, fate... and even the mundane things... cereal. Actually, it's very difficult to find that one person with whom you can talk with, click with, explain your thoughts without fear of judgement, or argument or those awkward lulls where both parties stare in the opposite direction.

But then you find yourself for two nights in a row, talking until 4 in the morning.

On the other hand, listening. People think they know how to listen. No, that sounds like I'm divine and you are a mere mortal... humans, they think they know how to listen. Read this: listening involves no movement from your lips, no vibration of your vocal chords, no shaping of your mouth, nothing. When was the last time you really listened?

A friend asked me to listen to a five minute concerto today. After one minute, I said "this is intense." He responded with a "shush... listen." I followed his instruction, closed my eyes and listened. It took me a while to actually listen, to ignore the bugs flying about my neck, to ignore the sounds of the pond fishes and mute the fisherman yards away...

I spent the next minutes of my life merely existing to nothing but the sweet sound of a piano. A few moments in life forgetting about my worries, forgetting about my fears and stresses, about what I would do in five minutes, or about conversation.

There is nothing more profound than that one moment. And I don't need to be on top of a mountain, or amidst a city overlooking the lights of the skyscrapers, that's listening with your eyes. Listening involves your ears, and your ears only.

Sometimes we verbally agree, we say "yeah, I heard that before" or "No, I didn't know that could happen," or "that was intense." Silence in itself, if genuine, will provide the answer far greater than any words can describe.

And then in moments of conversation...

How often do you find yourself muting the person across you, seeing their lips move but not really listening what you have to say?

Rather,

you're thinking what you're going to say next.

Wow,

that's awfully egocentric of you.

I know you've done it. We all have, I find myself doing it.

I'm so afraid of it being awkward, those weird lulls in conversation,

but that was because you couldn't think of anything,

and you can't really pull anything because you weren't listening in the first place.

ha!

I'll admit, at first what scared me about being in a long distance relationship, was the fact that it hangs purely on communication,

which scares everybody, even the best speakers, the most social people think about communication.

And, I myself was afraid of the conversations becoming stagnant, empty, run out of things to say,

but this was a guy with whom I spent every night talking to since January,

sorry, talking WITH since January.

And I'm still up until 4 talking with him.

I wondered why that was, why we haven't hit a dead end,

and that's because I don't worry about what I have to say next,

if I can one-up him,

or please him,

or make him laugh,

or earn his approval,

you become so comfortable with someone that you don't even worry about what comes out of your mouth,

you sit,

you listen,

and given the circumstance,

you talk.

There's something great about genuine silence provided the most fitting company,

even in silence, you're completely happy.

No words even need to be said because you're perfectly in tune.

And that my friends is the simplicity in life we need to find.

That's why I'm awake when no one else is,

because life is simple then,

no distraction, no noise, no interference of any sort,

just you

listening

Forbidden

2009-07-23T14:58:00.000-07:00

I'm glad to report I am about 90% recovered. Sure, my jaw is a little sore, but at least I can eat solid foods. It's been a week of utter torture eating foods that fail to satisfy my craving... and it all comes down to the enjoyment one second can bring.

This is actually, now that I realize it, very applicable.

I guess it begins with the immediate removal from your everyday life. Suddenly, something you've grown so used to, vanishes. Well, maybe that's too drastic, then again, it is a drastic change. You never realize how important it is until it's gone from your life. But at the same time, you're that way because you're accustomed, you're comfortable where you are. You're satisfied. You're at peace and you are happy.

But the second it is stripped from you, you're left naked in the cold. And nothing, no other substitute can really make you feel the same, nothing can quite perfectly fill that hole. It's miserable, and it's impossible to cope with because of the fact that the only thing in your mind is the awareness of this emptiness.

I could honestly say it reaches it's peak when you can't do anything about it. It's forbidden, you can't cope with it, you can't resolve it because a. you can't stop thinking about it, so there goes forgetting about it, and b. the only way to resolve it, is to return to the past, but that's forbidden, it's hours away and there's nothing you can do.

Somehow, you become used to the emptiness, you grow to this hunger and you accept it. Yes, you miss it, you want it, but you've come to terms with the situation. For some odd reason, you're at peace, miraculous as it may seem.

Then some fear develops... you notice your comfort and it scares you. You're so used to this feeling that you begin to think, you don't need it anymore.

So what do you do? You remind yourself.

But that makes you even more miserable, because you're looking at pictures, you're re-living the memories, replaying in your mind, like an old record player.

And for some odd reason, that feeling diminishes. Or feels like it diminishes, only to be replaced by a numbness.

You're tired of missing it.

And in the time it took for you to grieve, come to terms, relive and then grow, you've somehow managed to see the time melt away. All the time you've spent comes down to one singular moment when what you missed is back in your arms and that feeling of complete happiness, no, more than happiness, more than satisfaction and peace, more than joy and exuberance..

it's always worth it.

Psh, and you thought you were afraid it was losing its significance, that feeling overwhelms you and warms you deeper than any furnace on a cold, wintry evening.

I miss you,

A newfound hobby

2009-07-20T18:12:00.000-07:00

Oh dear...

Have you ever wanted something so badly,

so intensely, that nothing ever fully satisfies you until you have it,

until you have devoured every bite,

until nothing is left on your plate, not even a crumb,

and the plate is so shiny that you could easily place it back in the cabinet,

as if it were never used.

I'm a complainer. I whine, and I verbalize my complaints... often.

My family just happens to have it rough for the next week,

or just until I can sink my teeth into something savory,

some delicious, satisfying, mouthwatering, comforting...

At first, I thought,

"Hey, this won't be that bad. I'll just eat ice cream and yogurt all day long, and jello, and have bed-side service... this won't be bad."

Yeah... wrong. Entirely.

Boredom is pretty bad when there's nothing to do and everyone is busy,

but it reaches it's peak when you're unwillingly bored... with happenstance, you're bored AND you can't do anything about it.

I remedied my boredom by working out, but what can I do now? Staring at a computer screen alone doesn't satisfy my needs, and immersing myself in my Harry Potter books is perfect until your butt hurts and re-positioning doesn't add comfort on any level.

So what did I do?

I've spent the weekend collecting quotes. If you don't know me, basically my favorite quotes I will collect in a worn-out notebook of mine, only about one-third filled.

But I'm tired of reading and writing, my hand hurts.

I caught up on my episodes of Gossip Girl and Greek, I've finished the door-decs I have planned for my floor, I've cut, dried and styled my hair...

so I made muffins.

Blueberry swirl muffins with a crispy lemon top to die for. THe crunch is perfect, the cupcakes smell fragrant and are moist to the touch...

I sacrificed my comfort and my painless afternoon to bite my own concoction...

yeah, the pain is agonizing. Especially when I slid my tongue against my teeth to collect the pieces of muffin, only to yank on my stitches which killed...

I've decided this would be the worst way to die, or rather the worst way to endure torture,

to be eternally hungry, and see pictures of food, to smell food, to see food on your plate, but not be able to even open your mouth to eat.

This is torture. I'm done complaining.

On Weakness

2009-07-18T08:26:00.000-07:00

There comes a time in a teenagers life when they see everyone for who they really are.

Strange that this occurs while I am, or have been, laying motionless in my bed, my body running on vicoden, ice strapped to my face, and the lower portion of my face completely numb. Odd, but no matter, I'm glad to have reached such an epiphany.

As a member of the female orient, of course my mind drifts to those I love. Who will care? Who will be indifferent? Who could care any less? And who is thinking of you right now?

I have a quote for you by James Matthew Barrie, the author of Peter Pan. I bring this up because frankly, I believe it perfect and cannot be explained in any other way,

"Let no one who loves be called unhappy. Even love unreturned has its rainbow."

This lead me to thinking... why do we allow ourselves unhappiness? Why not lock ourselves up, that way no one will let us down, no one will disappoint, no one will argue with us, no one will criticize us, judge us, patronize us... shoot us. Why not?

But does unhappiness stem from others' opinions?

One of my favorite quotes says, "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."

Those who know me would say I'm emotional, I'm an open book, I trust easily, I depend on others way too much.

While I agree, and whilst I believe this is a downfall, I cannot help but think that I would rather be this way, I'd rather wear my heart on my sleeve that lock it up, Hoping someday that someone will open it up.

Here's the truth. No one other that you can unlock it. No one other than you.

Sure, I wear my heart on my sleeve, sure I open my self up, but in doing so I'm showing you who I am. All my flaws, all my patches and all my stitches, you are seeing me for who I am. And it's your choice to accept me, to choose me, to listen to me and to love me. If you don't, then why hide myself from you? Why please you if you don't accept me?

In giving myself to the world, to my friends and enemies, to my demons and my lovers, yes, I fall, it's inevitable, and while it is expected, it's human. From pain, from grief you learn that every feeling, enjoyable and agonizing is worth it. In the end, you emerge more beautiful than ever, you come out a better person.

I open myself up to you so you see me for what I really am. I welcome you into my heart to see all the colors, and I do so willingly.

Will you take it?

And while you're laying in bed with no company but a laptop, or a stuffed dalmatian, I can think of only one person, one person only, who may be miles away, but shows their affection from a great distance, affection more deeply than anyone within my town.

I earned that from opening up, from letting them in and showing them all I have to offer. It's not up to me whether or not he likes it, but it's up to me to let them in. And I always do, I'll always let you in.

All my love,

Katrina

On Reality

2009-07-12T22:02:00.000-07:00

I think I have discovered something fantastic.

something unprecedented, unrivaled, something phenomenal.

Something stirring.

I came across this discovery over the weekend,

which I spent with some of my favorite people at Cedar Point.

As an acrophobe, I can honestly tell you I was terrified.

Nothing but the fear of falling to my death repeated in my mind as we waited in line.

The thing about cedar point, is not that it's a place for rollercoasters and rides,

no, Cedar Point is THE place for rollercoasters and rides.

Prior to arriving at the park, I verbalized specific instructions to my ride-buddy,

"You need to persuade me, push me, force me onto the rides because I will find a way out."

So you see pictures online, You think you can ride it, you think you can climb 142 feet and slide right down, you're assured you can be launched at 120miles per hour in four seconds.

It's a different story when you're standing beside it.

or when you're waiting in line.

or when you're the next person behind the gate.

or when you're climbing in to your car.

or when you're fastening your seatbelt.

or when your car moves forward and begins the climb.

and all you hear is the clicking of your car as you reach higher and higher.

For one brief moment, you look up and you see everything. Breathtaking, yet not enough to take away from the fact that in a matter or milliseconds, you'll be racing towards the ground.

and before you know it, it's over.

The anticipation. The anxiety. The fear. The ride. It's over and all you can do is smile.

I won't lie, persuasion from my buddy pushed me onto the ride, but I'd be lying if I told you reputation had nothing to do with it. To know that you were 2 seconds away, but backed out at the last second because you were too scared to take the jump, too scared to leap, too scared to trust.

You went all that way for nothing.

Regret.

I find the worst thing in life is regret.

And the best?

Jumping.

There's a scary, daring thing about taking that dive to the unknown. You never know how it'll work out, yet you do it anyways because if nothing else, you went through it, you lived it and you survived. You came out something new.

Front row on the highest coaster at cedar point...

...telling someone the truth, explaining your emotions.

It's all the same thing.

In the end it's all about trust. How much do you trust yourself? How much to you believe in yourself? That's all it really comes down to. Nobody but you. Scary, but exhilarating nonetheless.

take the ride,

you'll be glad you did.

In loving memory

2009-07-07T19:54:00.000-07:00

Everyday we turn up the radio, we open up iTunes, we slip in CDs in the stereo, we put our earphones on and turn the volume up.

And the song, whichever songs plays reminds you of one brief moment in time. One particular emotion, one setting, one person...

Asher Roth... Freshman year of College

Backstreet Boys... Singing Larger than Life on the bus on the way to school

BBMack... Senior Summer California Vacation

Bloc Party... Late nights at OSU talking with Faraz about nothing but music

Cascada... Video Karaoke with Jennilyn and Majken to Everytime We Touch... 3 times it never finished recording

Cat Stevens... my favorite cousin, singing Cat Stevens in the car in Las Vegas

Chevelle... the way Chris bangs his head when the chorus plays, every single time

Cobra Starship... the Fallout Boy concert with Mike, standing amidst the pouring rain, sweat and the gross odors associated with mildew and perspiration...

Coldplay... How we were so close to going to the concert last October 21... adn the fact that my friend listened to Viva every day of last summer. Probably still does.

Death Cab For Cutie... I Will Possess Your Heart always plays at 3am... I should know, I saw it every night

Eric Hutchinson... my roomates, Jenny, Cassandra and Hiedi

The Fray... My good friend Silis, every time "Never Say Never" plays, I text him to let him know

Fallout Boy... Being at the same concert with my best friend, yet not knowing she was there too

Gary Jules... literally... What.The.Hell... Donnie Darko?

High School Musical... Swooning over Zac Efron with Kaileigh...

Howie Day... haha, Chris and I would always make fun of our friends ringtone... doo doo doo do

Imogen Heap... Jennilyn.. =) and the dance from SYTYCD

Israel Kamakawiwo'Ole... My dad stealing my sister's Uke

Jason Mraz... I'm Yours always makes me smile, every single time

Jimmy Eat World... The Middle on Rockband

Jonas Brothers... in the hangover "not next weekend, the jonas brothers are in town, but the weekend after!"

Josh Groban... the wonderful concert, and not being able to breath while in the vicinity of the famous Josh Groban.... the only concert I've really been to

Landon Pigg... adorable commercial from AT&T

Linkin Park... one day, the boys and I drove to polaris, and I about screaming Linkin Park the entire time, the windows down, the sun bright... just a happy day

The Lonely Island... Riding in the car with Emily and spotting an odd creature, still a mystery

MGMT... my friend Hany left a message on my wall with a random pyramid at the end.. I think this was playing in the background.

Mika... the last day of RA class and doing the "stanky leg."

Muse... my favorite

Oasis... thanksgiving get together last year at my friend Shaayak's house, and playing rockband, eating lean cuisine fettucini and singing Oasis

Radiohead... driving back with Faraz, Chris, Ravi and Mike on high street from the Hookah bar

Red Hot Chili Peppers... =) a friend's favorite

Rise Against... someone's favorite grey t-shirt.

Simon and Garfunkel... my graduation

Taylor Swift... hahahaha, I despise so much, but my friend loves her..

Sorry, I had to do that.

My point wasn't in those artists, but rather on a certain memory I have.

Much of my childhood remains a mystery to me. My memories seem to have faded with time, yet one I specifically remember.

Our teal-striped couch lies with the back against the front window, from which you could see the street. On this day specifically, it was raining and I would sit facing the window watching the rain from the ground become mist as each car drove on by.

In the background, Michael Jackson.

Funny how the few memories I remember have these in common...

1. Always raining

2. No climax, no plot

3. Overlooking the surrounding

I'll admit, I shed only a few tears during the memorial today. It never occurred to me how important he really was until he died. To me, he represents my upbringing, my childhood, and when I was little "Heal the World" was my favorite song for all time.

Nothing really matters until its past, until its gone. And when it's out of your life, you realize just how important they were to you. When they leave you, they leave behind a hole, a void which can't be filled, sure, it may be replaced, but never exactly the same.

And then you're kicking yourself in the butt for never telling them, never showing them, never verbalizing all they meant to you, the impact they've made, the mark they left on you.

all my love.

A Case for Distance

2009-07-01T13:58:00.000-07:00

For the past three weeks, I have been counting down the days until I finally get to see someone I have grown so used to seeing everyday. How do I feel? Well, I feel excitement, nervous, anxious, overwhelmed, what else?

Alas, my purpose is not about my excitement, I digress...

Moreover, I find the situation entirely ironic. Why? Because I prefer to be physically near someone, physically near my friends, physically near my family, and physically near anyone I care about. I would be lying if I said my relationships with those I consider dear aren't based on proximity.

Now, I'm swallowing my words, because here I am, counting down the days until I see my boyfriend.

The thing about long distance, is rather nothing about distance. It's about connection, and it's about the strength of the relationship. About long distance, I have learned the following:

1. You learn that when you really care about someone, the distance won't matter. You still stay up until 5 in the morning, talking just as if he were right there beside me. You still remain the same two people, sharing one commonality, one similar, mutual interest, one goal.

2. There is the overwhelming existence of trust and support, which matters more than presence or proximity can ever fix. And you see most especially you both live different lives that can exist without the other directly beside you, holding your hand.

3. Emphasis is placed upon conversation and communication. Since it is the one connection you have existing, might as well strengthen it. Communication to understand emotions, worried, stresses and to hear the other party only assuring you, to comfort your concerns and anxieties...

4. And in the final moment of reunion, you feel it all again. You know exactly why you put yourself in this position, because you feel strongly about them, and they you. Finally within proximity, communication doesn't even matter, just presence is enough to make you happy, more more than happy, exuberant.

Yours truly.

On anticipation

2009-06-27T19:26:00.000-07:00

And here I was, thinking I would write more as a result of free time...

false.

The summer nights pass by incredibly slow, I honestly don't know how much more I can take of this anticipation.

I guess anxious is the best word I can use to describe how I'm feeling. Almost to the point where I'm eagerly counting down until summer is over.

Weird huh?

A year ago, I can easily remember savoring every single day for three-four months...

Now I'm waiting for it to end.

It's funny how things change. In the course of a year, I have changed, my friends have changed, and my surroundings have all changed.

I used to be organized, I used to be clean and motivated. I used to make my bed every morning, fold my clothes, take 30 minute showers and do my hair every morning, change my outfit five times and keep a planner. I used to sleep at 1 and wake up at 10 in the morning, go to work, work out, take a shower and hang out with friends every night. I used to care. Care about what others thought, care about how I appeared, care about what impression I was giving, what difference I made.

Now that I think about it, this is tragic.

What do I do now? I wait until the last minute to do things. I sleep at 5, and wake up at 2... on a daily basis. And with every aspect of life, I repeat the following, "whatever happens, happens." A lazy outlook, but a lazy lifestyle to match. I care less about what people think of me, which has lead to a decrease of time in the shower, as well as the incredible ability to wake up, go to class without showering, and falling back asleep, with my contacts still in my eye. I don't care.

So what happened? I don't even know what was the catalyst of all this. Honestly, I have no idea.

well, then again, maybe I do. For some odd reason, success happens for me when I plan less, be spontaneous, live without regard, and hope for the best. I guess that's all you can do really, hope for the best. Because no matter what happens, no matter how many days in advance you study, or how many calendars you keep around the house, there is a set path laid for us. And in the end, whatever happened was meant to happen. I know it seems ridiculous. I won't lie, it IS ridiculous. I will admit that.

But how else can I explain my better grades on my procrastinated assignments? My life was in the hands of an entrance exam, given 6 weeks in advance. I completed the project in two nights. Skipping class, in order to finish a portfolio which would determine my life's track... I will honestly say the work I put in was not my most impressive, just enough to get by. Yet, by some miracle, two nights of work was enough to get into my program. Why is that?

Sometimes you'll plan things, expectations arise from planning, and if at all life deviates, we have no idea what to do, how to handle the situation because it wasn't planned. My friends, this is what happens.. life intervenes with its own agenda. The best we can do? Honestly, In my humble opinion, go with it. Expect nothing, but hope for the strength, the endurance to handle all that comes towards us, and in the end there were to expectations that weren't met, there is no disappointment, there is only awe in the way that life is handed to us.

I can say that I do know one thing we can control.

Now.

Right now.

We can't change what already occurred, and we can't forsee what's in store, but what exists right now is you. Sitting in front of a screen reading my ridiculous ramblings, you can choose.

You may feel aggravated at such an obscene philosophy, or you may feel connected with something so similar to your perspective. You can guarantee only one thing to exist, and that is you. Control what you know and there will be no room for disappointment.

Play it by ear my friends, be spontaneous, and in the end,

you've lived without regret.

Starry Night

2009-06-15T13:08:00.001-07:00

You know what?

I have no idea what will become of this post. What purpose I'm achieving through my words as of this moment... but here I am, writing as a means of coping. But how can I cope, if I cannot even begin to understand what I am feeling?

I spent the weekend on Lake Eerie, nestled between someone I consider dear, and something I love. We sat, silent, listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks beneath us. Our eyes were directed towards the horizon, noting the difference between the royal blue behind the city lights of Cleveland, and the fading peach hue of the sun's light. And it's near impossible to separate where the water ends, and the sky begins.

It hit me then... everything changes. Sure, we change over the course of an academic year. We change friends, we change perspectives, we change sleeping habits, we change. But in the manner of a day, we change too. The next day, I won't be with a friend I've seen everyday since January, I will be back in Dublin, sitting on a computer, facebooking. I will be up late, but I won't have company, I won't have the usual people I'm used to seeing on a daily basis.

As a result of one year, I can honestly say that I have evolved.

So the question now is... who accepts you for who you are? Who is still there beside you despite the mistakes, despite the changes, because deep down, they understand who you are, and that you are human. Who loves you for your imperfections?

Now that I think of it, that's what I miss. Aside from ordering wings at 3 in the morning, or walking over the river at 5am, or naming all 151 pokemon for two consecutive days, or just having someone listening to your complaints until 7 in the morning...

I guess that's why I barely write anymore. I write to release, but in most cases, I want you in front of me, to talk with me, to look me in the eyes and tell me it's alright, to rest my heavy head on.

I am so lucky to have not one, but two people listening to my thoughts. No judgements, no tone, just ears and on occasion, a word of consolation.

Expect me to write more, expect me to blog at 4 in the morning, expect me to be here more often as I anticipate my morning hours to be alone, without the usual company.

While I sat on the lake, it occurred to me exactly how blessed I was. How amazing is it to have someone beside you, accepting of everything about you, loving of every flaw sitting in silence, because that's all you really need in the end, just the company.

Yours,

Katrina

On the shoulders of giants

2009-05-30T01:39:00.000-07:00

I can't sleep.

The clock on the beside table ticks...

I can't sleep.

The room is pitch black, aside from the fluorescent screen...

I can't sleep.

The house is silent and still aside from my fingers on the keyboard...

I've been laying in my bed, I've tried a million positions, and none will give me comfort. I slept last night, but rather agitated. I fear nights like these, afraid the restlessness of thought will drive me to irrational thoughts, allowing my imagination to come to life...

So here I find myself... nestled comfortably at home, and I still can't sleep. Ironic, especially because I came home to get sleep.

Whatever.

Two weeks remain of my freshman year. Two weeks. I don't know what to make of that. Or even how I feel about it. Relieved? Yes. Stressed? Yes. Joyful? Yes. Reluctant? Yes.

All of the above.

Now that I think about it, three quarter passed by rather quickly. I hardly remember the details. If a friend were to ask me to describe a memory, I would simply smirk and respond with one word: cot. To think of it, the majority of my time was spent on the cot of the suite nextdoor.

That cot is more comfy than my bed right now. If I were there, I guarantee you, I'd be asleep by now.

Nevermind, one word to describe my year? Late nights. Give and take one word: late nights.

1. I remember vividly being assigned an entrance exam for the design program of the Ohio State University. They accept 18. We had six weeks to complete this portfolio/visual/written exam and prove to the board we were worthy of our spot. One of eighteen. I wanted it, and yet I let the weeks pass without advancing. Before I had the chance to check out the time, it was already the weekend before the due date. The project was due on the following Tuesday by 12 noon. The weekend was hopeless, I was preparing to move in to the Residence Halls, I had much to do. Prepped Saturday, Moved in Sunday, Met the floor on Sunday, and on Sunday night, I began what was given to me six weeks ago. I had two nights to complete a portfolio.

1. Large can of Rockstar.. $2.00

2. 100 pack linen paper.. $25.00

3. 10 Pack graphite drafting pencils.. $12.00

4. Beginning a long, lasting friendship with the guy nextdoor.. priceless.

Needless to say, I made a good friend, a best friend over the course of those two nights.

And... within the month, by some miraculous work of faith, I was accepted.

2. Countless times, I've stayed up late just talking. I prefer those nights over the wild party nights... I would much rather stay in, sit on the cot nextdoor, and converse with two people in particular. It's on these nights that we've gone to McDonalds, Wendy's, Eggs... so very random, yet memorable. Each night sticks in my head so vividly, I'm assured to remember these specific nights years from now. I guarantee you that.

And one specific night, I remember sitting with the friend from the previous number on the bridge across the Olentangy, talking about exactly this. The view from the bridge as the sun begins to rise... breathtaking.

3. I believe it was the first week of school... might've been a tuesday, I don't recall. I do remember walking hand in hand with one particular friend, who at the time was everything to me. I don't remember his words, but I can imagine my contentment, my internal peace as we randomly strolled along the empty streets. I was at peace. And I remember taking the bus to retrieve my car from the west campus lot... in the bus we sat parallel a black window, and in the reflection I saw two of the happiest people on earth at that exact moment. Sometimes thinking of that reflection, it brings me a certain peace I can't describe.

Sometimes alone, I sit and think... would I have it any other way?

And I prefer to think when the world around me is silent, when everyone lies motionless, and it's nothing but the lights, the sky and me.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Other memories which bring me discomfort also come to mind, memories of grief, of anger and rage, or restlessness and tears... but those nights too, I cherish.

Whoever I am, lying here in the darkness, whoever I am tomorrow as I look at my reflection in the mirror, whoever I am walking through campus, through the world, I am who I am as a result of every experience, no matter how joyful or distressing makes me who I am.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Sleep well,

Katrina

How to deal

2009-05-26T12:24:00.000-07:00

I was taught to believe that when you love something enough, you can have it. If you have the passion, the drive and the desire, what you want will be yours.

"There is a time when a man needs to fight, and a time when he needs to accept that his destiny is lost, the ship has sailed and that only a fool will continue. The truth is, I've always been a fool."

-Edward Bloom in Big Fish.

So I ask you, and I ask myself... if you love something more than you love yourself, if you're willing to do anything for that, is it really worth it? Losing your mind, lending your heart, leaving your soul for something that may never be returned. Is it really worth losing?

The thing about love is that the majority of it is not necessarily the precious moments where both parties are mutually euphoric, but in pain, loss and grief. So why do we?

I ask myself the same question.

I have no idea.

Sometimes we're willing the endure the pain, to suffer through tears just for a couple moments. And other times, it is only returned to us, pieces missing, pieces torn, pieces lost forever. Love is not in the happy moments, but it is also those times when we need to let go. To realize that holding on is only hurting you. Yes, you love more than you love yourself, you give yourself up, you let yourself go, but in the end, is it really worth it?

Sometimes it seems that it's worth all the pain. When everything is perfect, there is no greater feeling, there is no measure of happiness. And the little memories flutter around your head, and you find yourself smiling at the smallest raccoon, a sandwich wrapper, a bendy straw, the little things. And when they reciprocate, you know you've made a difference, that you mean the world to them and for once in your life, you are everything and everything you are is embraced by someone else. You are the world to me.

And other times, it's not worth it. Love is not worth the multiple nights you lie in bed, eyes wide open with thoughts running endlessly, it's not worth the puffy red eyes you see in the morning it's not worth the times you've gone to bed sobbing on a wet pillow and it's not worth losing yourself over. You fight and you fight and you fight more, only to have it thrown back at you in shambles. Your body is nothing but a lifeless crumple on the pavement.

Although it may seem hard, love is worth those horrid times...

without grief, how do we understand the presence of love? Without pain, how do we appreciate the small moments when for a single point in time, both of you were breathing in unison? Without loss, how to we embrace what we have in our grasp right now?

And beside all that, when all that is said and done, you learn that you do have the strength to carry on.

You learn that you are stronger than you thought, and happiness is not based on what you got in return, but what you gave, and how you could take misfortune, grief, loss, pain and rise from the ashes.

That's worth the pain.

Knowing full well that you can handle the toughest of times, witness the bottom of the abyss, feel the most painful sorrow, but swim to the surface and float on top of the sea.

And after all that,

you come out a new person

stronger

refined

experienced

passionate

and someone worth more, will deserve you. Not the soul-sucking dementor who left you in ruins, but the prince charming who is worthy of your perfection.

All my love,

Katrina

Bad Timing

2009-05-11T17:18:00.001-07:00

I hate that this came up at such an important time: I have a midterm tomorrow in which I must do all the studying I can fit into 24 hours... I have no time, yet this is important as well.

I talked to an old friend today.

...I feel like everything begins with that. But why should this be any different?

You know that friend that you don't see often, but when you do, it doesn't matter how much time has passed since you last saw them, or what happened or how you both changed with the passing of time.. you're still the same person, they're still the same person, and between you things are exactly the same.

Over the past couple weeks, months, even the entire year, I've been stooped on relationships, friendships for the fear of becoming so close to one singular person, only to have them leave you. I recall doing a post on this topic not too long ago.. I still fear that one day, I won't know your name and you will leave my life as I've only grown to love you, care for you, be with you.

It makes me sick to my stomach... the thought of losing someone so important, so influential to your life, to mine. And it worries me, it haunts me, it sends chills...

and then you talk with an old friend who tells you that people come and go. You have no control over what people do, but you have the power to either let them pass you by, or hold on to them. Sure, holding on gives a little part of you up, but that in itself is love. And when you let yourself go, give them a little part of you, they give something back.

and it doesn't matter how much they give back, or even IF they give back...

they made an impact on your life.

you are who you are as a result, and for that, your love was not in vain.

Sure, you may grow apart as time passes, but both of you definitely remember who you were, and what you felt... and that is enough. More than enough to still rejoice in the inevitable reunion. You can only hope that you influenced them in the same way they impacted your life.

You'd be lucky if they told you, showed you what you meant to them. As if your existence, everything about you and who you are made an impact, and in the same way you loved them, they felt it and reciprocated. To simply feel their love, appreciation for you is more than anyone could ever ask for.

you've made a positive impact in my life. I can only hope I did the same for you.

all my love.

Decline

2009-05-10T17:16:00.000-07:00

We spend an awful lot of time on the computer, most of the time on networking sites such as myspace, facebook, twitter, blogger, tumblr, wordpress, xanga... so many synonymous names. If you think about it now, it's amazing that you can be close friends with people all over the world. An old friend in Australia? Facebook. A client in Tokyo? Twitter. A few minutes from downtown Columbus? Blogger.

You can develop relationships and never see a person face to face.

And to think, people would travel for months to send a letter to a dear friend across the states when we can simply type a few sentences, and press a button. If we're unlucky, they'll receive it ten minutes too late. It's amazing. Really it is.

Yet while we're following three hundred twitter-ers (?) and be followed by three hundred more, what does that say about us? Centuries ago, handwriting was beautiful and artistic in itself, and now we take great discomfort in writing in pencil, as opposed to typing. Think about it, a handwritten letter is more heartfelt than monotonous black text against a stark white background. In pen, we can see where the strokes become heavier, then lighter, as if to breathe through words,

as if they were in front of you.

And as for emails? They pile up in your inbox... you create an alternate electronic email account to send the "important" mail, and eventually, that takes over as your trash mail, and you create yet another for "important" mail... I have over a hundred unread emails, but am too lazy to sort through what should be trashed, and what should be read.

There's an intimacy I find myself missing... a large part of me wishes to see your face as we're emailing back and forth, as we sent instant messages over aim, as we send a short text on our cellular phone. I want to see your smirk at my comment, I want to see you laugh when I crack a joke, I want to hear your voice, see you sigh as the conversation lulls, see your eyes light up when I tell you I love you, I want to see your cheeks rush red when I talk about how amazing you look, I want to feel your breath when you whisper something secret, or hear you scream at my ignorance and once the conversation is over, I want to hug you as if I'm never going to see you again, to feel as if I belong in someones life, because surely, you can't receive that over a text message.

Text someone "I love you."

Now look someone in the eye and say to them "I love you."

Do you see the difference?

You can just say that I'm being stubborn, or impossible and ignorant. It's just my preference. Sure, call me, text me, email me.. I will still receive your word, I will hear my own voice saying your words,

but i dont want that.

I want to hear you say your words to me.

----

It's ironic how I just "bashed" written messages as opposed to verbal words as I switch to something amazing that happened today where written messages were necessary.

I spent the late/early hours in my bed, first: reading, then trying to sleep, then texting, then listening to music, then watching a movie, then sleeping again.. but while I sat underneath my soft white duvet, my father knocked on the door and walked in.

At first, I was annoyed. The immediate spilling of light in my dark room was unappreciated, but I saw him tape a message on my nightstand. Waiting until he left the room, I got up and read:

"For all the TIME you listened to our nonsense comments, corny jokes and complaints." In small print after this comment was typed: Eya's Den.

a scavenger hunt if you didn't quite understand.

sure, we don't need a singular date to remember we have a mother. What we do need, is one day to go out of our way, to escape from the normal day's task, to release the monotonous routine from our daily lives to illustrate in spectacular ways that we appreciate every small act. It's not everyday we set scavenger hunts for our mothers to wake up to, and honestly, they need one day just to feel our open arms.

One day to be a queen, a princess, to escape from the role of being a mother.

My mother loves more than anyone I've ever known.

For that? She deserves everyday to hear me say "I love you." To have the dishes done, our beds made, the food ready for her return at the end of the day, a goodnight kiss before she falls asleep at 9 in the evening.

To tell you the truth, I need one day to remember I have a mother, because I often forget to do the small things at the end of the day to show my appreciation. I often take her for granted. I think the world needs it too.

for the oatmeal she'd make for me every morning

for not being upset with my unmade bed

for eating the leftovers while the rest of us eat the new, fresh food steaming as it just came out of the oven.. hers steaming from the microwave heat

for organizing and cleaning my room the week I was out of the country

for driving me to school every morning

for waking up to the sound of my sobs, wiping my tears and stroking my hair until I forget about the pain in my heart and fall asleep for the night

for teaching me to greet my friends' parents as I walk through their front door

for encouraging me after receiving a C on my first test

for listening to my frequent complaining

for making me practice piano rather than sitting in front of the television

for crying everytime I leave her sight

I can only hope to love half as much as she loved me. That is enough to love the world and everyone in it. If I'm lucky, I'll love as much as she did.

Happy Mothers Day

I love College?

2009-05-09T18:37:00.000-07:00

As a freshman in college, it is almost necessary to attend at least one party. Yeah, the ones with a fridge filled with nothing but Natty-lite, Cough syrup-tasting "Jungle Juice," and a dance floor where the humidity is at least 75%...

I spent my first couple weeks attending these. For what reason? I have no idea. I guess it is part of the experience, it's intriguing, the entire scene:

purple chunks in the bathroom sink,

vertical baby-making against the wall of the dance-floor,

hearing the crunch of a ping-pong ball underneath your feet,

the nauseating stench of beer on the breath of your friend,

and the immediate need for a nice hot shower to wash off the sweat from your back.

Honestly? Now that I look back on it, I really dislike it. Sure, I'll admit that I had fun the first couple times, but in the end... I'm not really having fun. I'd lie to myself and say that it's alright when you can just dance, no drinking necessary... but think about it, grinding your rear end against.. need I say more?

But while I bash the scene I vehemently dislike, I will admit to my sympathy. Before college, before the parties, before the crazy nights, I held immediate judgement against people who drank. To the point where my opinion of a friend would change if they consumed alcohol. I can say that now, I do not hold any prejudgement against college students drinking. Merely, I sympathize.

I'm starting to think I'm weird... I prefer sitting on a comfy couch with Scrubs, or Friends, or That 70s Show running on the tv, and a good friend at my side. There are countless times that I think I'm weird.. not normal because I prefer certain things over others, and that I think certain ways and do things in a particular manner, and that I keep and cherish specific things. I like laying low, being chill, having nothing to think or worry about, and I love talking. I've realized that. I love talking with people. Yeah, I'm an introvert, but with my few real good friends... I can talk the entire night, if only sleep wasn't necessary.

If I had a choice on how I would spend my friday night, I would describe it this way:

Tim Burton or David Fincher film on the tv

Bloc Party/Coldplay/Jack Johnson/Red Hot Chili Peppers/Muse playing lightly on my laptop

The company of a few friends, preferably less than 5

Crunchy Munchies and a sweet iced tea within arms reach

A Fluffy pillow in preparation for dozing off

and you know it's great when even after the movie, you're spending the early morning hours talking about everything and nothing.

everything and nothing.

2:47pm

2009-05-07T23:47:00.000-07:00

Here I sit, on the common-room cot of the room nextdoor. Pretty much, no one lays on this cot but me. You know those people that walk into the starbucks on their streetcorner, look the vendor in the eye and say "the usual"

this is my usual.

This is weird, because one, it's not even MY common-room cot, two, it's a male suite, three, I spend more time here than in my own room.

For some odd reason I find contentment through the declining state of my education. I cannot even begin to understand why that is.

In the past two weeks, I have slept through my classes, I have been sleeping at 4, and I haven't been keeping up with my homework. Surely, my grade is declining as I sit here on this cot. Could there be a correlation between the time I spend on this cot and the fall of my grade point average?

It's frightening to realize that I've developed an apathy, most especially towards school. And what's more frightening is that I do not know what has lead to this downfall. Correcting it is way too much work, more than I plan to do, and frankly, at the last stretch of the year... who gives?

But why am I particularly happy? I can list ten things that in a whole, have made my first year college experience...

1. Skipping all the 2nd quarter of History of Art, and receiving a 100% on the final exam and a total of an A as a class average that I probably skipped 80% of.

2. Spontaneously getting Jimmy Johns for dinner, eating at Mirror Lake and finding a friend in a nearby raccoon.

3. Most recently, the random and spontaneous decision to get McDonalds at 3am in the morning for Apple Pie and m&m McFlurries.

4. Sneaking into Pomerene Hall into the basement to see the abandoned small 2-lane lap pool, then walking on Mirror Lake in the snow.

5. Noodle and Co. every week.

6. The First Day of School.

7. Mexican parties ay ay ay ay ay and definitely the asian frat high-ighter party.

8. 14 hour dance marathon, party after, passing out in an old friend's bed.

9. Walking from North Campus to South campus in the rain. It's an odd coincidence that each time I make this walk in the rain, I wear the exact same pair of jeans.

10. The cot.

When you find a place where you fit right in... where your company is preferred... where people find confidence in you and you in them... when they prove to you that you are worth something afterall...

nothing else matters.

I'll miss this.

On Love

2009-05-05T23:55:00.000-07:00

I tend to classify love into several categories, each vastly different than the others..

1. Friendly love: a level of mutual love, casual yet not in the "hook up" sort of manner. A friendly love exists between friends, and is what makes the difference between friends and best friends. This may be shared with members of the same sex, or different and with this level comes a shared comfortability in sharing each thought. My theory.. everyone needs to love their best friend, and truly, there's only one. A friend told me that one is perfect enough, so that you may devote all your time, all your heart to one person knowing they will understand you and hopefully may return the favor back. And what makes this special? Significant? Unique? It lasts longer than any romantic relationship. Sure, there are hardships and things happen, but there is certain happiness in the conquering of these tribulations.

2. Love for a night: there come those moments, and living in this world, it just so happens that at times, we need someone to physically display affection to make us feel loved. Sure, there are no feelings toward said subject, but there is the human need for company, for just the night, for just a couple hours. Spending the late hours interlocked within another persons arms is comforting and gives the feeling of contentment, knowing that to someone, you mean the world. Whoever that may be, for one night we all need somebody to care for us, and make us feel loved, even if the feelings are completely mutual.

3. Familial Love: The love that exists between close friends and family.. the comfortability yet also the undermining of the power of familial love. We tend to overlook those who still think of us, maybe not on a daily basis, but when support is needed, they support you and you know they support you. They will always remain there, sure, you may not converse often, but you know there is a mutual consistency in support. A state of mind in which you trust the other person trusts you and vice versa. And being flawed human beings, we focus on significant others that we forget to credit those who stand 24-7 behind our back, carrying our burdens with us.

4. Superficial Love: Existing as a passion, "ganas" if you will, a striving for a certain specific role, way of life, object, subject... whatever this may be, we find this as one singular sensation we use in our daily lives to keep motivation forward. As a designer, I live and breathe design, I see art, I smell the paint or the rubber cement, I feel intensity of the crimson red... and I love it. You'll find people who are motivated simply by their infinite passion. Often, they are seen as obsessed, but I disagree, as it is a form of love for something that provides purpose to some underlying message, theme or motif. A purpose in life other than human or interaction, but an alternate reason for living bigger than human achievement.

5. Lust: Lust is enough to drive the human logic from our minds and switch our mental process to an animalistic, immature and automatic setting where our hunger to meet physical needs become our priority. Let's face it, we are humans and as humans, we have flaws. Need I say more? Often mistaken for love, this is merely obsession, infatuation for a physical desire and cured only by physical acts. There is no love, only the body's craving or longing or maybe even a release of emotion.

6. Love: The mutual understanding between two people that no other being may complete their existence. Simply, the realization that one person in the world loves you more than anything else, that they are willing to give up their lives, their souls, their hearts to you for all time, knowing full well you return the favor. An expression for need, not only as a partner, but a companion and a contentment of being as they make you feel good about who you are, make you feel worthwhile, and make you want to be a better person. Love is sacrifice, willing to be vulnerable, but putting everything aside for one person, putting your life in their hands knowing they will hold it close, warming it in their palm and keeping it always.

7. Unrequited Love: Most common, love is unrequited, unreturned. It hurts, it stings because you were vulnerable, you sacrificed your emotion, your life, your heart for someone, yet they did not recognize the significance, the importance, and the difficulty and only took without reciprocation, without return. And although they seem vain, they may not even know how to love back, or maybe it's just not right, because returning love is vulnerability, it is the loss of self which is valued at a price higher than any amount of money can buy.

Sometimes I wonder why we do? Why do we love if it means hurting? Why do we love if we know we will be hurt? Why do we love, knowing full well it may not be returned? Why do we love?

An advocate for unrequited love, I can tell you that it is something to live for. What is life without a little give and a little take? For a brief moment, happiness comes in a simple thing as a longing hug, a lingering kiss, a heartfelt embrace. We love because for only a short moment, we feel happiness that cannot be measured by dollars, pounds, inches, ounces... through love we gain a glimpse of bliss.

And through love, we lose... lose only to feel what true happiness really means. It may not be returned, but it is something to hold on to that we know exists because we feel it. Sure, it cannot be held, but it can be felt and that is enough to put us through hardships.

And I love, sometimes too much, sometimes not enough, sometimes for a second, sometimes for 2 months... sometimes I cry myself to sleep for weeks at a time, and sometimes while I'm walking to class, I smile as I reminisce. Yeah, it hurts, but what is happiness without pain?

Why do we fall?

So we can learn to pick ourselves up.

(And there goes my fantastic idea of sleeping at 2:30... it's now 3:30)

2009-05-03T00:42:00.001-07:00

And once again, I find myself within the comforts of my own dorm. The time reads 3:42, which I consider early... sad.

Things I love:

-Laughing so hard it hurts to laugh more, but you do so anyways.

-Seeing someone's face light up as you walk into a room, and they don't have to say they missed you, you just see it, you feel it.

-Collecting quotes and writing them down in my own journal for me to remember, read and reflect.

-Staying up late every night just to talk to one person and one person only.

-Being the confidante, the one someone trusts with everything, who knows more than anyone else.

-By means of coincidence, seeing a familiar face smile back at you as he passes by the store window.

-Closing your eyes as the sun warms your skin, the grass cushions your back and the wind gently sweeps the warmth.

-The joy of knowing you did something wonderful for someone else without any expectation of return.

-Talking so intensely, so excitedly that you don't realize that it's 6 in the morning and you have class in 3 hours.

-Being appreciated.

-When someone goes out of their way, out of their comfort zone just to make you smile.

-Being in love.

I love where I am. I can't say it any other way. I love where I am, location-wise, personality-wise, everything-wise... everything I need is just 2 seconds away: a friend, a confidante, comic relief, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen, and a friendly smile.

sweet dreams.

In Passing

2009-04-28T07:58:00.000-07:00

How can I believe, when this cloud hangs over me?

I've been listening to the same song for about 24 hours now. Why is that? Breaking Benjamin's Forget It. I downloaded it, I fell asleep to it, I woke up to it, I showered with it playing, I walked to class to it, I ignored class and listened to it, and now I'm sitting here... It probably has played over 1000 times but how is it I'm not sick of it.

I think it gives me condolence, an unconfirmed notion that somewhere, someone understands me. I've yet to meet that person, but whoever you are, wherever you may be, know that I love you. I don't know you, but I feel for you.

And as the clouds hang above us and the rain begins to pour, I feel a breeze against the back of my neck, sending chills...

A member of our beloved family died. I knew him only a couple hours and I loved him. Sometimes I wonder why people come into our lives if they don't stay, if they don't remain with us... it's a bleak look, I know. And why is it when I give advice, or give my two-cents, it's an optimistic view, yet I am strictly pessimistic?

This is my weakness... I'm too emotional. I feel too much for other people, I care to much for others and I love what I am not meant to. The girl passing me in crutches... I feel for her. The group of students to my right... i feel their anxiety. I care too much, but why should I if life ends for everyone in the same manner?

We're born. We learn to walk, talk, stand, sit. We laugh. We cry. We Wake. We sleep. We love. We lose. We remember. We forget. And we die.

Do you notice a cycle?

And for you, I wish you happiness. I wish you eternal peace of mind, endless bliss and for your path to be remembered by everyone you reached out to. Rest in peace.

----

We are meant to lose the people we love. How else are we supposed to know how important they are?

On Excitement

2009-04-25T21:49:00.000-07:00

It's exhilarating.

A rush of emotion, a swell of ideas, a surge of adrenaline...

and the only valid acceptable reason for insomnia.

and its enough to wake you up in the middle of the night jotting down notes, making quick sketches, and your mind takes over and for minutes at a time you lose control as you let your mind wander on paper...

like a visual stream of consciousness.

like a dream, except we're awake and can remember every image.

like a state of mind.

like meditation.

i live for this and nothing else.

On Discovery

2009-04-23T23:02:00.000-07:00

I made a discovery, bittersweet, but a discovery nonetheless...

About two things I am certain

1. Happiness is security of character

2. I lack security of character...

I'm the kind of person who you can easily manipulate, push in your direction, ease your mind, make your day, listen to your thoughts, and push aside. Yes, I will mull over my own interests to please yours, but if I've done so in the past 19 years, why am I not pleased with who I am?

When asked the question, "who are you?" I honestly have no answer. I can say things about me, things I like and things I dislike, but who am I? I don't really know. Sure, other close friends know, but what matters is what I think. If I can't trust others, If I'm always doubting, second-guessing, finding the loophole, I think it's a sure sign that I lack a respect and confidence in myself and my own abilities. I need to see these for myself. Honestly, that means more than anything.

Every week I spend the nights listening to people, and when people ask me what I think... i have no answer. Every night I stay up until 4 or 5, listening to people, and when it comes for me to fix my own problems, I don't even know how to listen to myself or what I really want. I need to figure these out for myself.

Maybe the reason I'm insecure is because I don't see these things. Fact of the matter is, I don't. It's that simple. Once I see it in myself, the insecurity will fade, and others will respect me more. I'm tired of being used, I'm tired of playing the puppet, I'm tired of being conned and tricked and picked on, I'm sick of that.

I need to know who I am. And i think that's what my purpose is. Sure, i can make you happy, or maybe I can't, maybe I just listen to what you say... but maybe it's time to turn the gears and make myself happy. So far, my happiness depends on others, so far my happiness is fueled by those around me, which to be honest, is rather weak. I need to stand up for myself. I need to find a happiness that I can find deep within myself so nothing, no one can bring me down.

The truth is... I'm tired of depending on others. I'm tired of always reaching out, or always waiting to be reached for. If I can't reach myself... how can you?

Goodnight.

Ah Moment

2009-04-19T22:49:00.000-07:00

I would like to take these last couple minutes of my day,

just ten minutes if you will.

To remember exactly why I'm feeling happy.

To remember why I'm at peace.

To remember where I am.

To savor these last couple minutes to a beautiful day.

I am so incredibly happy right now.

No, it's not because of the new shoes I got two weeks ago, or the tax refund I received the other week, or the bill I paid, or even a quick word from the hot guy in class...

It hit me today what happiness was.

Happiness is mutual, a relationship with someone who you know you can't live without, who completes your everyday, and who texts you just to let you know they're thinking about you. Happiness is that vulnerability of giving your heart to someone and knowing that they too are sacrificing theirs for you. Happiness is willingly giving your soul, your efforts, yourself for someone, knowing they will take it, hold it close, and keep it.

Yeah sure, life is hard at times, and things happen, but what really matters is who are you in spite of it, and who is still there with you at the end of the day.

And it takes effort, it takes things like sacrifice, hurt, betrayal to prove who really matters. When they're knocking on your door, knowing how you hurt them, and they still want you as a part of their life, suddenly nothing else matters.

Nothing.

No one else's opinion matters, and you know you've made an impact in some one's life, and how they depend on you, they trust you, they love you.

and for the final ten minutes before you go to sleep, you can't help but think how much they mean to you, and how much you love them.

Goodnight.

On Harmony

2009-04-12T20:51:00.000-07:00

I used to play piano religiously. I used to play everyday and now it's sad that I don't have enough time to contribute to the things I love to do. I miss things. I miss the peace-ful hum of silence on a sunny spring morning... or the sound of raindrops hitting the ceiling and sliding down the window... I miss childhood.

It's amazing what Henry Mancini does to me. That stream of conscious that takes flight in

the early hours come through the tune of "A Time for us."

I used to play that.

And when the house was quiet, and all you could hear was the quiet tones on the piano. I love it especially when it rains. I feel at peace then. And I escape the haste and chaos of everyday life. With the priorities of work, with the haste of time, with the need to meet deadlines... time slips us by. I hate wasting the time.

This though, this is not time wasted. I'm at peace when I talk to you.

Wow, I'm getting chills.

Let me paint a picture for you. This is my heaven. You know that novel, The Five People You Meet in Heaven or even Tuesdays With

Morrie (my favorite) by Mitch Albom... he describes everyone as having their own heaven. A certain place, or time when everything was perfect, and everything was at peace.

The calm after the storm.

The smell right before the rain as daylight tints the blue sky with pink.

The sweet dew on the spring grass.

Background Music

My heaven is set in a clearing. Located half an hour from the rush of the city, the surrounding lights add an eerie enchanting glow to the setting. The grass I can still feel against my bare sole, the smell of the ocean combined with the

breeze sending a chill from my hairline to the tips of my toes... To the left, the skyline...

You can hear the soft rumble of cars and the rhythm of the urban scene, but it's only a hum, only a soft rhythm that beats in time with your breath.

To the right... the rippling ocean. No waves, just ripples. And the lights from the city lose their fluorescence and leave their shadow of a pure hue, soft and smooth against the dark blue of the ocean. Just above it all... the overlooking Darling Harbour and the White tips just above the trees. Maybe if you listen close enough, you can hear the sound of a single streamline high soprano.

Do you see it?

This is my heaven.

This is my refuge.

This is my place.

This is my time.

This is my love.

This is my dream.

This is my reality.

This is me.

Do you see it?

Artist Statement

2009-04-09T19:21:00.001-07:00

Now I know I don't like to think of myself as an artist, but as a designer... but artists have this connection with life that I'd like to possess. In my design class, we've been researching various artists, designers and photographers...

Uta Barth

Doh-ho Suh

Collier Schorr

Michael Ray Charles

Now a great photographer, Henri Cartier Bresson titled that climactic second, when everything falls into place in just the right time... "the moment."

So often, we forget to take the moment for what it is. And only after it has passed do we really see the moment for what it is. I think that's what regret truly is... forgetting to take the opportunity. Forgetting to cherish what was there, so that when the inevitable end comes, the happiness has slipped, and we're left with memories we never fully enjoyed.

Photography has taught me several things.

1. Art is the mastery of three things...

-emotion

-creativity

-Mechanics

and without mechanics, you cannot truly convey the correct message. I'm using a camera more complicated than my brain, and my mind is pretty damn complicated.

2. There is a fine line between photography and fine arts. In art, masterpieces are created. Sort of a delusion, a utopia people create that visually creates images of equilibrium and bliss. Things we cannot understand or achieve, we 'create' and 'imagine.' Photography is the opposite... photography is realistic. Rather than being made, photos are 'taken' as described by Szarkowski. As we capture reality, we take a second glance at the surrounding, and take in the beauty of what is real, what exists, what is in front of our eyes.

In this sense, photography has taught me to see things as they are, and not as they should be. Why worry about how things are meant to be? Or how things should be so... there is no use in deluding ourselves in make-believe. There is beauty around, if only you look around.

And thus, Bresson captures what is called 'the moment' when everything falls in harmony in just the right stitch of time... capturing little pieces of perfection... that's what is truly happiness... the little things we forget to remember.

I think I found my stride... my purpose if you will. Each designer, each artist ties their work with a universal message.

Here is mine...

Reflections. In reflections we remember the moments, the little moments that are enough to erase the horrifying terrors of past nightmares...

You see park-benches in my work, you see tears, you see the passing of time...

this is my ode:

As I often forget to take in what is in front of me, as I worry about intangible, unimportant aspects, there is so much to enjoy that may pass in the blink of an eye. There is a moment everyday, and I need to learn that. With that in mind, I use my work to capture these little things so that I may learn and explore what is meant by the two words described by Henri Cartier Bresson...

"The Moment."

Peace.

On Apples

2009-04-07T20:17:00.000-07:00

For some odd reason, I can't seem to verbalize, or speak as much. For some odd reason, I'm keeping everything inside.

Why?

I have absolutely no idea.

I came across this today on my tumblr...

"Sometimes... you just feel everything and nothing all at once. Sometimes you'll find yourself smiling while missing something at the same time. At times you can absolutely love a person, all the while wanting to hate them. Life comes without guarantees; except that smiling will brighten your face, laughing will enhance your eyes, and falling in love will change your life."

1. I feel so overwhelmed. There's so much I need to keep tabs on. Homework due on certain dates, dilemmas other people are having, and people I need to call. And while I remain calm on the outside, I'm freaking out just a little. This is all evidenced by my meaningless chit-chat, and a hyped-up temper. I don't even know how to effectively deal other than keeping it withheld.

2. All at the same time, I am feeling this weird serenity. For once, I feel like I am who I am. I don't talk a lot, I am misunderstood, I speak through art, I live through design, and I love infinitely. Why would I then try to impress someone, if that means putting on a mask and being someone else. I am who I am. And I'm okay with that.

3. Falling in love will change your life. I love what I do, and I love who I am. Sure, things get tough, but if life were always perfect, where would the fun be? Find passion. It may be for something, or it may be for someone. I have an infinite passion for design, I can't even begin to describe. I tried once, and that turned into a novel.

I am imperfect.

I value imperfection.

Perfection is idiotic. We're human and we have our flaws. It's what makes us and it's what breaks us.

1. I'm insecure.

2. I'm manipulative.

3. I'm secretive.

4. I'm jealous.

5. I'm delusional.

6. I'm possessive.

7. I'm passionate.

8. I'm obsessive.

9. I'm emotional.

10. I'm impulsive.

11. I'm hypocritical.

12. I'm paranoid.

13. I'm superstitious.

How do you like them apples?

But here's also something about me...

For those I love and cherish, I am willing to undergo any pain, any suffering for you. In the end of a long day, it's your happiness I wish and your peace that I pray for. It's you I live for.

All my love,

Katrina

p.s. Happy Birthday Emily.

wow

2009-04-05T20:33:00.000-07:00

I don't even know what to say.

Have you ever had that moment where something profound hits you square in the face, and every thought, every emotion, every feeling vanishes in the blink of an eye. And for a brief moment, you are caught off guard, you can't breathe, you can't talk and you can't even think.

I've only had one other moment like this, and it lasted fifteen minutes. At a retreat for my church, we took part in a meditation process. In small groups, we travelled to separate stations where we would read, pray and meditate basically. One step had an effect on me. The panel instructed us to obtain a pebble, and hold it firmly in your hand. With it pressed tightly against your palm, remember every grudge you held, every judgement you gave, every word you said, every claim made against you... and as you look back, rub the stone, press it tightly in your hand and remember every single moment as far as your mind may wander.

Then take the stone in your hand, and place it in the bath of water.

It's amazing what happened. I can't describe it. The feeling of a perilous weight lifted gently off our shoulders and nothing left. No grudge, no regret, no hate. Nothing. Total peace.

I took a stroll in the rain today. I suggest the same for you.

Goodnight.

In Passing

2009-04-05T08:10:00.001-07:00

It is absolutely amazing.

No, not amazing, wonderful.

No, not wonderful... spectacular.

During the past week, several events have occurred... all of which have left the same footprint in my thoughts...

"What endures?"

And as I sit, entirely perplexed about the course of events, I can't help but wonder, do we really have choice as humans? I let time pass, I let phone calls go, I leave texts unanswered, and as the seconds go by, some things still remain.

And those are what endure. Those little things are what stand the test of time. And after seconds, minutes, hours, weeks, months, years... some relationships do not change.

Take for example my weekend:

I was caught by surprise when my mother called about an old friend visiting.

Here's why this is so big...

I was born and raised in Sydney Australia. There was a group of us, me, Monica, Raffy, Nicol, Monique, Louis... we were all very close, as was our family. Monica and I took tap, ballet and jazz together, and when news reached me that we were moving to Ohio, nothing was more devastating. We packed up our things, and spent some time in Manila, and then in California. I was in third grade when we moved to Ohio. Of all places. So life goes on, people get older, things happen... and then I get a call, announcing the arrival of my old best friend...

At first, I'll admit I was afraid. It had been years... what would we have in common? Have we grown separate ways? Have we lost our friendship?

And in the course of two days, I've realized something that has never really hit me until now:

The best of friendships can last anything.

I'll honestly admit to you... I do not have anyone that is as remotely close to me, as my friend from Australia. It's strange how you grow up and change, and yet your relationship doesn't. It's strange how we're exactly alike and we just... click. It makes sense. My friend, who I grew up with and haven't seen for ten years... is definitely one of my closest.

And when your friend comes knocking at your door, do you turn them away?

On Plans

2009-04-02T13:30:00.000-07:00

The weather was beautiful today. I agree with the warm weather, only with the hopes of a thunderstorm. Those are fun =)

When I was little, and by little i mean until high school, I would see the clouds get heavy, and gradually darken, and my heart was directly correlated with the weather. And as the sky darkened, and the rumble of clouds began, my heart would only beat louder.

Then came the fear. The fear of losing everything. Of losing my family, my friends, my belongings. From the paranoia, I would gather my best clothing (...) a few pillows, a glass of water, and a stuffed animal. (Don't ask me what animal, I don't know. It was yellow, and it might have been a possum or mouse or something, but it resembled no living thing).

To think that everything in a matter of seconds could be taken from you... that terrifies me. Yes, I fear spiders, clumps of ants, the darkness, wasps, blood and death. But of anything in the world, I fear pain. Physical, emotional... any type of pain I fear. And to have anything I love, I cherish taken without warning, I wouldn't know what to do.

Answer: Be spontaneous.

So today I had lunch with an old friend. I met her in middle school, and she knows me better than I know myself. We met in 7th grade, and we bonded over two things: Daniel Radcliffe, Aaron Carter. It's ridiculous, but it does bring a smirk to my face to think about it.

Anyways, as we were walking, we basically collided as we attempted to cross the street. She decided to go to the right, so I followed her verbal decision, but then she decides to cross left at the last second. Teasing her, I commented that she's spontaneous and a little on the wild side. Then she continued to describe how she used to plan things, but now, she just goes with the flow.

She continued her case, her argument being two-fold...

1. Trust in an alternate force, be it God, fate or whatever you choose, there's a trust in how things are meant to occur.

2. In making plans, we depend on others, and at times, they do not follow through, therefore ruining plans for the day. By choosing to live spontaneously, there is no room for disappointment when things do not occur as planned.

Answer: Be spontaneous.

Here are some quotes: (One moment while I pull out my nerdy book...)

"Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go."

-T. S. Eliot

"I am an idealist. I don't know where I'm going but I'm on my way."

-Carl Sandberg

"I am prepared to go anywhere, provided it be forward."

-David Livingstone

"You need not do anything. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, just wait. You need not even wait, just learn to be quiet, still and solitary. And the world will freely offer itself to you unmasked. It has no choice, it will roll in ecstasy at your feet."

-Franz Kafka

"Time can be a greedy thing- sometimes it steals all the details for itself."

-The Kite Runner

"Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart."

-Steve Jobs

"Never regret. If it's good, its wonderful. If it's bad, it's experience."

-Victoria Holt

Common Theme: Be spontaneous.

Yes, it is scary, and I get butterflies in my stomach, but decisions made with the heart, never leads to regret. I promise you that. I do not regret anything in my life, and I rule with my heart.

I'm Katrina Valera

I collect quotes.

I'm a Harry Potter nerd.

I fear pain and loss.

I live for the moment.

Who are you?

On Paradigms

2009-03-31T12:18:00.000-07:00

So I just finished my readings for my class tomorrow, (yay I did my homework)...

this article described in specific detail how objects such as teddy bears, cereal boxes, or magazine covers have images with certain connotation. In the article was a quote in bold:

"If bears are dangerous and scary, what makes your teddy bear different?"

So when we (designers) are faced with symbols that contain connotations, such as chuck taylors, guns or baseball caps, how do we strip the object of its implications, of its connotations and apply a whole new idea to appeal and change the perspective of the consumer?

I have the answer.

Unfortunately, it is not within my hands.

I can however attempt to describe it to you...

but the answer is hung in the student design display at OSU.

By taking these simple objects, and then connecting them with abstract meanings, we can therefore strip the object of its previous paradigm, and give it whole new meaning.

I love what i do.

On Firsts

2009-03-31T11:26:00.000-07:00

Isn't it weird we have three first days an academic year???

So I have a total of 23 credit hours...

Art Education 252 [Photoshop]

Art 300.02 [Digital Photography]

Anthropology 200 [...]

Rural Sociology 105 [...]

Edu P&L 270.04 [RA Class]

Mostly GECs, seems like an easy quarter, but you never know...?

I'm starting to miss my classes last quarter. Design 310 really was amazing.

Here's my irony of the day...

why is it hard to do things during the day?

either way you end up staring into some empty space letting random thoughts fly around

and when you finally can concentrate or control yourself enough to actually do your homework, there are better things to do?

i hate homework.

On Rain

2009-03-25T13:53:00.000-07:00

When the clouds come out, and the rain pours... nothing

nothing is left, nothing but the truth.

The truth comes out in the rain.

...

I love my father. To me, no one has more strength than my father.

And I hear him from the room nextdoor.

As well as the voices of disappointment, arrogance, delusion, anger, pain...

and he speaks with a calm voice, to deal with what I can't. And as i lose myself in tears, in water, in rain

I see his soul.

If I were to ever lose him, when that day comes, the rain will come down in sheets.

and I thank God for my father, and his ability to reason.

that is all.

On time

2009-03-23T21:10:00.000-07:00

There's such a big difference between having nothing to do,

and then having things to do, but choosing to not do them.

that difference being boredom.

could be loneliness, I'm used to being surrounded by people.

this is weird.

I find myself watching two movies which do nothing but make me swoon over the fictional character. I bet you can guess one of the movies. (hint... very fictional)

So I kinda came to several realizations over the past few weeks..

1. Time passes quickly

2. We change as time passes

3. We never take note of the time passing

4. Returning to old time is well... weird

5. Friends are precious

6. Family is precious and permanent

7. Friends aren't.

Kind of bleak. It's disappointing, don't get me wrong.

Blame it on this being the first time Im coming back from college, but that doesn't really count at this point. Do you ever feel like something is weird and you don't know what it is? Like something is not right and it's not anything you can fix because you don't even know if anything is wrong in the first place.

And as time changes, we change and so do the people around us. In my case, they only grow further. And there's no use holding on is there? If what we are is destined anyway to move on? What's the use of holding on to something that won't even last? What's the use of even starting one?

Very bleak things about me.

1. I'm a pessimist

2. I'm spontaneous

3. I'm incredibly lazy, I will not call you

4. Vanity is my curse

5. I never think about the future

6. My biggest paranoia are of what other people think of me.

7. I deliberate more than any human should

Why is it that we... in this case I, are so concerned about what others think, about materialistic qualities such as our appearance?

...if it's not even going to last. Why do I bother?

because I can't trust others. Simple. I like to think I can, but the truth behind it, is that I have a hard time trusting anyone but myself. That's why I worry about these things, because I am sure of no one else, but me.

It's sad, but true. Why can I child living in the slums, begging on the streets for money know what real happiness is? How is it they can understand true value, and I... suffering from neverending credit bills don't even know what value feels like? Why have I been in relationships, friendships, and not really understand friendship?

I guess out of all this, there is a upside... a different kind of confidence. Not enough to get me out in public without taking a shower, but definitely enough to know that what I do, what I love to do... that alone brings me a happiness I can't quite explain. For a moment, I can forget... about the drinks I had last night, about the screaming in the other room, about the friend I valued above others... and lost in a matter of hours, about the increasing amount on my credit card, and about the gradually decreasing grade point average... I can escape to a world where none of it matters but my own expression, there is no pain, there is no sick feeling... there's just me.

Of any movie I have seen, which have been numerous, I find solace in this quote. Said by Kate Winslet from "The Holiday," her monologue reads:

"I understand feeling as small and insignificant as humanly possible. And how it can actually ache in places that you didn't know you had inside you. It doesn't matter how many new haircuts you get, gyms you join, or how many glasses of chardonnay you drink with your girlfriends. You still go to bed every night going over every detail, and wonder what you did wrong or how you could've misunderstood. Or how in hell for that brief moment you could think you were that happy. And sometimes you can even convince yourself that he could see the light and show up at your door. And after all that, however long all that may be, You'll go somewhere new and you'll meet people who make you feel worthwhile again. And little pieces of your soul will finally come back. And all that fuzzy stuff... those years of your life that you've wasted... that will eventually begin to fade."

Goodnight. Sweet dreams...

On Irony

2009-03-22T20:11:00.000-07:00

Irony seems to follow me wherever I go...

In my search for boredom's cure, I began to subscribe to various blogs which peaked my interes

t. These included blogs on design and food. =)

I came across several that I added to my feed. I was browsing my usual sites when I came across this on a design

blog. I half laughed and I half cried:

Here's why it's so

ironic:

I mentioned before about the design entrance exam for OSU... but incase that's too far back to c

heck out, let me recap.

The exam consisted of the following...

a. student profile

b. student transcripts

c. student questionnaire

d. test material (non-specific)

e. test material (specific)

f. optional (but not really) student portfolio.

steps a through f were not a problem.

exclude d, e and f.

the most important parts.

d had two halves.

the first part was to create a ballot instructing first time voters how to vote .

This was a dilemma because

1. I have never voted.

2. I am of age.

3. I am not legally allowed to vote. I am a permanent resident, but not a citizen.

with the cases provided I did not know how a ballot looked like, and images were not sufficient on any search engine I used. So basically I just winged it.

Now I just found out... here is an image that displays very well the design and the instructions. Simple, good design. Where was this when I needed it?

Here's a last thought...

On Magic

2009-03-22T18:18:00.000-07:00

It really amazes me when I see things like this...

There is no more Mattoni

or this...

Her Morning Elegance

I'm caught at a complete numbness for any sense or logic... these are just amazing!

Amazing that these people have created something so beautiful that they defy what they really are. They creat

e an alternate vision, something that relates to more than one sense. In the case of the first link, not only is it something we see on television as an ad, but we feel the water, we know what it is, and it brings this new magic to two familiarities: water and television ads.

This is magic.

I'm proud to be a designer, we bring to life magic. I love what I do.

There is a difference.. I never actually say if something bothers me, but one of the things that gets on my nerves, is the fact that design is treated as an art. While that may be true to form, don't call me an artist.

Artists understand certain abstract qualities of life, they have a stream of consciousness that flows in a level far beyond another's imagination. In that sense, one artist may create a beautiful piece that may mean something profound, it may even describe the meaning of life.. but it is only understood by anyone on that same stream of consciousness. Which realistically, is nobody.

Creating works of art that take incredible imaginatio

n and refined skill of deliberation, these masterpieces are hung on a wall, mounted on black or displayed in a gallery, but there is no purpose. There may be all the meaning in the world, but like I said... no purpose.

In Design, you can call us artists. You can call us engineers. You can call us scientists. You can call us researchers. Whatever it may be, it requires a handful of skills to carry out a task. Given a problem existing in the world as of this moment, we are problem solvers. We find a problem, research ways in which the problem can be fixed, and fix it, but do so in a way that is innovative, creative and... magical. So ofte

n, the greatest design exists without notice.

I bet you've never REALLY looked at this design.

Look at it. Look at the colors. Look at the flavors.

Part of the reason VitaminWater is so successful is the design. Drink halfway, the the design is only increased. The splash of color, the use of black, the simplicity of the label, the typeface...

those are all deliberate. These have been created to be as popular as they are. The clear lid? It only captures attention when the liquid color is seen through the lid.

If the same product were sold in a regular water bottle... would it really be as popular?

It would just look like powder packets added to a water bottle. This has been designed to the point that is is almost an accessory. You notice people carry it, you notice people buying, you notice when people stop running and take a sip of VitaminWater.

Think about it.

Yeah.

We are magicians. We delve into your mental process, and we play with your logic. We manipulate how you think.

We're designers.

We're magicians.

On glasses

2009-03-20T22:29:00.000-07:00

The time is now 1:29... primetime. =)

A man sits at the table, in front of him, his 25 year old son and facing him, three windows overlooking a baseball diamond, several houses, and naked trees against a cerulean blue sky, dimpled with shades of white. The man barely speaks, but today is an exception. Each time words come out of his mouth, they are few in number, but infinite in size. Wisdom and truth is his language, and advice are his words. I love this man. I look up to him. I strive to be like him.

My father.

And he is the reason I am posting this. None of my posts are really "self-help" and "inspiring"... instead, they are a means of me reiterating advice, so that I, primarily gain from what I say. There's an art to learning not through words, but through experience. Just a taste of what goes through my mind on a day to day basis.

The topic?

Control.

A man misses his alarm clock and wakes up half an hour late for an interview. Without showering, he puts on wrinkled pants and a white button up blouse. His shoes are not tied. As he steps out of his apartment towards his car, he takes note of the downpour soaking through his white blouse. Already 45 minutes late, the highway is full of other cars, all in a rush, all in the same direction.

What does the man think of his life?

What do you think?

He could very well be the happiest person in the world, as well as the most depressed, most pathetic creature to have existed.

Three shades here... blue, green and yellow. Accordingly...

a. "Why does my life suck?"

b. "This happens."

c. "I should pick up some Starbucks."

what do you think?

we could argue that fate, or some higher power is punishing said man. we could argue that these things happen to everyone. Or we couldn't argue and instead... put on those yellow glasses.

No, we can't control the weather, the traffic or power outage that messed up the clock... but really, we can control how we go about it. We could laugh, we could ride it out, we could cry. In that sense, we actually have control over what happens. Make an effort to make the day better because if you say it will be bad, then it will be. Life is what we make of it. We basically have all control. It's up to you... do you want a happy life? Make every disappointment a vertex and rise from that and be active. Do you want depression... keep it up. Or rather, down. Eleanor Roosevelt said, "no one can make you feel inferior without your consent" and with that in mind, you have control over anything that happens to you. You just need to believe it.

Odd that this comes from a determinist. If you know anything about philosophy, I am a determinist. Weird huh?

There exists multiple perspectives as to how much control we have over our lives. Two ends of the spectrum are determinism and libertarianism. Determinists believe what happened in our past influences a major part of our future. Whatever happens was fated to happen due entirely to fate and our past. Bleak, gives a reason for those of us to procrastinate, or not study (it was meant to be this way... i get what i get... whatever happens happens...)

On the other hand, libertarians are those who believe everything is up to us. Our past has no significant reigning power over our future. Everything is in your control and every decision is strictly your own. Optimistic.

Quick thought about optimism/pessimism... we need both. Don't tell me to change and be an optimist. I am what I am, and if you don't like that... go find someone else to converse with. The world is in need of both... for the Optimist created the aircraft, while the pessimist designed the parachute.

My father was raised by a single hard-working woman. You make think it ill-fated and terribly unfortunate. So many have that misfortune... but he used that, and it is his learning guide, by which he raised three beautiful children. Don't dwell on the past, spring from it. There is no use... it's gone already and you're missing on opportunities.

Which glasses do you wear?

A case for spontaneity

2009-03-20T07:53:00.000-07:00

What awaits us in dreams?

Last night, I dreamt of a certain crush of mine. For the past couple weeks actually, I've had the same dream, and I usually never dream. For this purpose, let's call him Daniel. For the past couple weeks, I've dreamt of Daniel. Circumstances have made it almost impossible for me to even meet him, but in dreams anything can happen. And it always happens the same way. We meet, we fall in love... happiness. There exists no sorrow, no pain of heartbreak, no complexity... just pure undiluted happiness.

But if this were how we live, without pain, without heartbreak, would we consider it happiness? There would exist no means of comparison between what is joyful, what is sorrowful, what is glorious and what is mystical. Everything at our fingertips.

So why then are we faced with depression to understand blessing? Why heartbreak to know what love is? Why unemployment to cherish our belongings?

Happiness is a weird thing. We never know we're happy until we're... well... sad. So does that justify then the moments when our life is brought to shambles? When there exists no meaning for life, that ultimately, death in one way or another may bring happiness?

What brings us happiness? Where does it come from? Does it come from the new car, waiting for us after graduation? Does it come from weeks of work to afford an Abercrombie and Fitch Jacket? Does it come from a goodnight kiss? Does it come from a big refund check in the mail? Does it come from the Jimmy Choos, or the 3.88 GPA? Maybe not so big...

With every minute that passes, thousands of events occur at the exact same time. While I sit here typing on my mac, someone else is studying for a major chem test next monday. Comfortably laid against pillows on a queen size bed, someone somewhere is sleeping without a mattress, or even just a pillow. And as I inhale... someone is exhaling their last breath. All while this may be depressing, find hope that while we go about each day, we are blessed. Having a family, having a bed to sleep in at night, having a sturdy shelter over our heads to keep the rain and snow away.

Even more subtle, are the moments we pass by. Every second with our closest friends, maybe not even talking, just being with them is enough. Or every kiss goodnight from our loved ones... the little things are what make us happy. And little by little, the accumulation of little things are enough to pass us through the hard times. While every kiss, or breath, or hug, or blink may be our last... take charge.

Dont regret. If there's anything you need to know about me and what I hope to achieve in life, I hope to never ever have regrets.

Blaze a trail. Leave it flaming. Be spontaneous...

take that dive

take that leap

and put a little heart in it.

I promise you, You'll be glad you did it. You never know when the next opportunity will pop up, or even if it will.

Just think about this:

every second that passes by is a second closer to death. How do you want to be remembered?

On Goals

2009-03-16T20:45:00.000-07:00

On life I have three goals.

1. Find love in whatever form that may be, person place or object, it will be finite.

2. Leave a legacy, make a mark, leave behind a message because although we are dust in the wind,

I assure you, my existence will not be in vain.

3. See the world. There is so much to see, the wonders of a world we take for granted. Someday, will all be obliterated, vanished far beyond where it now stands. I intend to see all of it, and not from a clear window across a lace-lined bedroom in a lavish suite, rather on my own two feet in sneakers that are muddy and have the soles ripping off, with a heavy backpack filled

with 10 items only.

What would you bring?

Where would you go?

The remainder of this post will list all 109 places. I've decided after each visit, I'll post a picture. That'll take a while, but the best things in life are achieved after hard work and time.

Santorini, Greece

Sonoma, California

Rome, Italy

Tuscany, Italy

Kings Cross Station, London, England

Barcelona, Spain

Isle of Skype and Kinloch Lodge, Scotland

Dingle Peninsula, Ireland

Les Calanches, France

The Walls of Carcassone, France

Neuschwanstein Castle, Germany

Mykonos & Delos, Greece

Monasteries of the Meteora, Greece

Amalfi Coast, Italy

Venice, Italy

La Mezquita, Spain

Old Town Square, Czech Republic

Petrodvorets, Russia

The Ring Road, Iceland

Lofoten Islands, Norway

Aswan and the Old Cataract Hotel, Egypt

The Hanging Church of Cairo, Egypt

Masai Mara, Kenya

Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe & Zambia

Petra, Jordan

Palmyra, Syria

Old Sana'a, Yemen

The Forbidden City, China

The Li River, China

Lhasa, China

Cherry Blossom Viewing, Japan

Chomolnari Trek and the Tiger's Nest, Bhutan

Hagia Sophia, Turkey

The Road to Mandalay River, Cruise, Myanmar

Corcovado, Brazil

Torres del Paine National Park, Chile

Machu Picchu, Peru

Little Dix Bay and the Baths, Lesser Antilles

Grenadines

Anguilla

Loch Ard Gorge, The Great Ocean Road, Australia

Milford Sound and Doubtful Sound, New Zealand

Marquesas Islands, French Polynesia

Windsor Castle, Europe

Santa's Village, Finland

Dracula's Castle, Romania

Bali

Abu Simbel, Egypt

Zermatt, Switzerland

Barbados

Salzburg, Austria

Melbourne, Australia

La Digue, Seychelles

Dubai

American University of Sharjah

Luxor, Egypt

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Himalayaes, Nepal

Angkor Wat, Cambodia

Iguassu Falls

Auckland, New Zealand

Maldives

Chichen Itza, Mexico

Uluru, Australia

TerraCotta Army, China

Regatta Hotel, Jakarta

Russia Tower, Russia

Penang Global City Centre, Malaysia

Gazprom Headquarters, Russia

Burj Dubai, Dubai

Berlin, Germany

Square du Vert- Galand, Paris

Ile Saint-Louis, Paris

Acr de Triomphe, Paris

Musee du Louvre, Paris

Mont Matre, Paris

Piazza di Spagna, Rome

S. Carlo Alle Quattro Fontane, Rome

Amsterdam

Easter Island, Moas, Chile

Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia

Tokyo, Japan

Bandar Seri Begawan, Brunei

Area 51, Nevada

Half Moon Caye, Belize

Kjeragbolten, Norway

Giant's Causeway, Northern Ireland

Blarney Stone, Irlend

Stone Town, Zanibar

Lisse, The Netherlands

Christmas Island, Australia

Seljalandsfoss, Iceland

Madrid, Spain

Walnivalase, Fiji

Stockholm, Sweden

Warsaw, Poland

Munich, Germany

Tongatapu, Tonga

Montenegro

Manila, Philippines

Brussels, Belgium

Quebec, Canada

Montreal, Canada

Bora Bora

Boracay, Philippines

Palawan, Philippines

Cape Town, South Africa

Florence, italy

Istanbul, Turkey

Vancouver, Canada

Happy Travels!

On Good Luck

2009-03-15T22:09:00.000-07:00

A few words, I don't want to take away from your study time. (yes, it's that time of year).

I don't believe in luck, so it would be idiotic to wish you good luck. Instead I'll leave with this: Good Faith.

Have faith in yourself, have faith in your abilities, and just have faith. Nothing will get you through, except for a bit of reviewing, but you did attend those classes, you did read those chapters, you did write those papers, and somewhere, (when you're done freaking out) you'll find your answers. The human brain is capable of so much with will power, now all you need to do is believe it.

No, I'm not an optimist.

On optimism:

"Both optimists and pessimists contribute to our society. The optimist invents the airplane and the pessimist the parachute."

-Gil Stern

Final word:

"The distance between insanity and genius is measured only by success."

-Bruce Feirstein

I wish you OSU students (and myself) success and good faith

Peace.

On Rhetorical Questions

2009-03-12T20:55:00.000-07:00

So I've come to two conclusions as a result of my procrastination...

1. Don't.

2. No matter how many times I tell myself, procrastination is habitual and necessary.

I also came to two conclusions regarding desire.

1. Have it.

2. Develop it.

My eyes constantly drifted from two things: the clock on the top right corner of my laptop, and to the drawing on the table in front of me. Not even close to being finished.

Why do i do this?

Two projects. Due in one day. Both halfway done. Both final projects. One is for Design 203 which is composed of three parts. The first is a written short story about another student in the class. The second is a visual student profile including a portrait and basic information about this particular student. The last part... a visual process, a comic if you will which visually describes the story outlined in part one. The portrait alone took most of my time, being a perfectionist and being as intricate as I am, this needed to be great since I never really gave my best effort in my class... this is my time.

Why do i do this?

The second project was for Design 310. Let me tell you: everyone has one class, one teacher, one quarter which stands up above the rest, and will remain the best throughout the college experience. I can tell you now, this is it. Design 310 is a color class... yes, color. But not coloring green crayons inside the lines... instead the color wheel, Josef Albers and Johannes Itten, Simultaneous Color Contrast, Monochromatic Scale, Color Transparency. Easily, the most challenging, yet the most rewarding class. Every project done, is portfolio material, and all the projects I had made a priority over my 203 drawings. Inadvertently of course.

Final project is a tool to teach a single aspect of color to a specific audience. The projects ranged from a skateboard with the Bezold Effect, to a quilt of Simultaneous Color Contrast... a train design, a vitamin water test, a puzzle, a plaything...

Mine? Tea. I have developed an affinity for tea. Blame whatever you want, blame my asian culture, blame my previous employment at a tea company. I just enjoy the experience. So I made a product: A box of 8 teas in the formation of a color wheel. 8 flavors, 8 experiences. Showing is better than telling, but I should wait until I retrieve my product. I had hoped to teach that color is not just a shade to apply, a hue in the sky... color is a mood, color is an experience. Why is McDonald's red and yellow? What is red? What does red taste like? Now color is more than just a tint, color is a state of mind, a consciousness of the environment, an experience, a meditation.

And I made everything. I made the teabags, I made the 8 different cases for the tea bags, I made the box, I made the instructional pamphlet. I spent well over one hundred... and there is more ink on my fingertips as opposed to the box itself, the bags were glued, tape is keeping it together... in my mind: a great idea, a piece of shit.

But by the graces of fate, i receive nothing but praise from Herb Peterson. Odd... unexpected... weird.

Why do I do this?

I stay up late, I spend thousands, I don't sleep, I rack my brains out for one idea because I love it.

Design and everything about it. I love it.

Sure I can't find the square root of a quadratic equation, sure I can't sew a wound together, But i know what I like, what works for me, and I have a happiness doing what I love. In the end, I'm not working for the rest of my life.

Find something you love, and do it.

On late nights

2009-03-11T01:37:00.000-07:00

Bittersweet.

I love what i do, really, I can't complain.

but i never get sleep.

And it may be a small price to pay for doing what I love,

but sleep is definitely a worthy price,

no matter how small.

I have two design finals due on Thursday. I've done my share of work, but the actual carrying-out the task and the commitment is quite a hassle. I tend to procrastinate. But I have reasons...

1. My best work is done late at night.

2. There exists a particular thrill to 'racing to finish the job.'

3. An immense trust in ability and fate is necessary.

4. It is the only way I can force myself to do something.

Here's a story--

The Design program at the Ohio State University is quite the catch. Hundreds of students in every rank and state apply during winter break. Six weeks are given to each student to tasks of immense feat. After the basic informational questions, such as grade point average, rank and extracurriculars, the actual process begins. Two questions are the same for every student, questioning planning, process, execution and final product to two very specific but very vague problems. The next dilemma is based solely on the aspect of design. Three sectors pose very different questions, Interior design, Visual Communication design and Industrial Design.

This year, the first question was to design a pamphlet instructing first time voters how to vote,

i have never voted.

The second question was to create a graphite composition of one organic object, and one inorganic object.

An apple and a tea strainer. Two random objects within reach.

The third question related to the Industrial approach...

re-design a shopping cart.

You know those stories of students told to students. Yeah, the ones meant to discourage students from procrastination. Ours went like this:

"Don't wait until the last night to do it. You won't get in. This is your life, your future. Do the best and plan it out, because it will show if you do it in one night."

A part of me wanted to test that out.

Yep, I am the discouraged exception to that rule. Still I tell you, don't be like me and wait until the last night. You won't be up at 4:49AM in the morning with bloodshot eyes and lazy limbs.

but if you need a helping hand,

you know where to find me, and a monster can of ROCKSTAR.

peace.

On Mondays

2009-03-10T00:09:00.001-07:00

Technically, it's not really monday.

But it's 3:00 AM and I've been up. So I consider it monday. Worthless, I know.

As usual, my communication class failed to keep my attention, so I opened my browser. Reading the posts of one of my favorite sites, You The Designer, the article read:

"Ways to make your name known," and underneath:

Post a blog.

Done.