Bring Your Meatshakes!

Anything Goes...

Mon, 05 Feb 2007 12:30:35 GMT

“I am thoroughly amused meeting people who can concoct the most potent version of themselves on a profile – the masquerade of a wild or profound personality behind the monitor… but can barely speak up or prove a point to be quite the party-girl during an in-person encounter. Interesting tools online… truth of the matter is that it creates the ultimate, dazzling facade. That’s why I never cared much for social aspects of the internet. It is amazing how much it has contributed to the nuisances and rudeness of modern-day society. Do you really ever know what to take seriously? It almost becomes an art, figuring out what to NOT believe. Everything posted becomes anyone's property. What’s even more tragic is how commonplace it has become, to now depend on what used to only be the ‘information freeway’ as a primary source of acceptance, friendship, dating and moral support through multiple photos, blogs and the like. Its pettiness may be comforting to some. I’m old school. I’d rather see a girl laugh or cry or fight because of something I said to her face rather than something I typed up in an animated pop-up box. Its meaning is worthless until noted from the unbeatable effect of the eyes, the voice, the posture... because the body never lies. But I guess you don’t worry about integrity, this is the internet – anything goes.”

Mon, 03 Jul 2006 00:41:33 GMT

Monday, June 26
"hello lover"

Excuse me miss, but i really miss you. It's monday
night right now in ---, and now i am
finally able to talk to you. my mom used her email for
20 min and i was busy fixing my cousins computers
before then. We have it so easy here in america, as
you know. Today was a real eyeopener for me. I have to
learn to appreciate all that has happened to me.
Including you, the most wonderful of them all. I can't
even imagine going 18 more days without you. You're my
entire heart, and i shudder to think that 3 weeks are
never going to go by fast. I have to hurry up because
they're talking about me. But i really love you and i
want to come back to you right now, or until i get
tired of my cousins, whichever i don’t know. I miss you
love you can't wait to see you. I'll come home soon and
see you again. I love you

"help me."

i have been trying for the past half hour to come up with a great way to start an e-mail to you... start off on a bright note, tell you some sort of enlightening experience

but i could find nothing. if that were to happen, it would be feigning my content.

i don't think i've mustered a smile within the past 3 days, until i read your e-mail; then i started making that really odd face where i'm about to cry and shed my tears, my lips starting to tremble, hiding all this from my roommate. all because i haven't been able to communicate with you, or hear you, or touch you. writing this e-mail makes me tear right now. my heart is silently screaming with joy, with sadness, with everything love is supposed to scream.

i bet you weren't even expecting that. sometimes i wish i never hid emotion from you from the beginning. actually since saturday night, i've been writing; keeping a personal account of everything i've been feeling. observing and making theories on relationships. i'm not sure if you would want to read it, it's heartbreaking. since saturday night, i've been waiting with desperation for a call, an e-mail, a text, a page, anything from you. i still try with a false sense of hope that i would sometime reach you; without noticing i still dial your number, comforting and not so comforting at the same time.

i'm so happy to hear that you're making the most out of your vacation. i really am glad that you still have the spirit to help your family out and you've got that inspiration to appreciate all that you have... you are such a wonderful person, with such a compassionate heart; you're right in saying that you are a fortunate individual, with so much understanding of life; even if you do get depressed on occasion, but at least you know why; i want you to not worry about me, but somehow think of me, because here, i'm all alone.

i don't know what i'm doing to myself, what the hell is happening to me... my body is being abused by horrid weather, UV rays of the sun deeply tanning my delicate skin, chain-smoking; i haven't eaten since my dad left me here; i wish you could take care of me right now, like you always do; it's frightening how dependent i've become on you; i just hope that doesn't scare you away; i'm the selfish one, this is so unfair, i miss you way too much. nothing is the same. i've completely forgotten how to interact with adolescents. my only acquaintances have been college undergrads. a frat boy named Keith offered to take me back to his home in Amsterdam to be his drinking buddy. i just don't see how i can mingle with kids my own age anymore, and i know it's unhealthy. a lot has changed since last summer. every one of them is hyper and girl/boy-crazy. i used to be one of them. now i don't want to be reminded of them. i'm going to hit the next person who passes me with a hair straightener or a skateboard in hand. and i think they know that.

you can tell my writing is serious when i use all these periods and semi-colons. oh, and actually i started my menstrual flow just this morning. it's cramping hell.

i keep on trying to think about how incredible it will be when i see you again, but this is mere suffering; i think i've become a brokenhearted emo poet; i need you, fall asleep to your breathing... and to think that i was the one who was saying it was "only going to be 21 days"; i'm usually the expert - a grand master at not letting things get to me, keeping busy so i don't spend too much time reflecting on my own, but that's exactly what has been happening. i'm surrounded by desolation. farmland. gorges where people commit suicide. depressingly ancient buildings full of extensive knowledge and information that doesn't pique any interest in me. it's disturbing.

i am trying with so much of my strength to forget about all of this, to relax, to just think that these dispositions aren't genuine, that it's all only a result of my period. but i only think about sharing everything of myself with you. i'm oh-so-tired of the casual but looks and pick-up lines. i've switched off my natural seduction, and now this is what i am. i only want to stare into your loving eyes.. no one can see who i am anymore, except you, not even me... my mind is going numb

i am so fucking lost without you. i'm sorry if this seemed like rambling, but i have no other way to let it out. never have i written anything like this. i love you. wow, so even i can go crazy. i'm actually praying that you would find a way to make me feel better soon. some of my friends are coming up to visit on my last weekend; i would hate for them to see me like this

love,
your girlfriend

p.s. send my love to your family as well.

Thursday, June 29
"be okay"

hey you,

i'm gonna write this with care because i just rented
this computer in this computer place for the mere
price of .62 cents a minute. after reading your letter
i feel my heart hurt because i can't to anything to
help you there. you seemed so depressed that i can't
even imagine what it must be like over there with no
one you know. here it's different i have my family and
they are getting to know me more now. i'm sitting next
to my cousin who is so shy to talk to me that she
just smiles and nods even though she knows that i'm
making fun of her. she goes to --- and she’s showing me
around campus. she’s really smart and i keep on talking
about you. i was showing everybody the pictures of you
on my phone (not the personal ones) and the ones on my
ipod and they all say that you look like ---.
i think that you are more beautiful than she
is, and i can't wait to see your face again. that
beautiful face of yours. i love you more than anything
and i can't take it that you are hurting right now
while i am enjoying my time with my family. how is it
over there? is it really so terrible? are the people
treating you ok? you know, if they give you a problem
you know that i'll take the first boat back and give
them hell. no one hurts my alyssa and lives to tell
about it. in many ways i'm happy to hear you so sad. it
shows me that our love is true and that it hurts to be
away from one another. same here. sometimes at night
when i listen to my songs i think of you. i imagine
what it's like to have you again. it would be the most
exhilarating experience for me and you.
i miss your warmth even though it's so
friggin hot here. i miss the way your body caresses
mine. don’t worry about your emotions, everybody cares
differently. i am happy that you care so much. but
please understand that distance wont matter as long as
we know that we love each other. i love talking about
you, you know. please stay with me. i love you with all
my heart.

your squirrelnest

"exhilarated..."

there i went again. silently i let the tears build up in my eyes and let them fall, slightly damping my clothes. i'm in the library again. the dorms are un-air-conditioned and depressing. so i go to the library for at least 8 hours a day. the ones who go to the library everyday as well noticed me crying. the others remained uptight and studying.

inexplicable how your response has brightened my day. yes, the beginning really was so terrible; you should read what i've been writing to myself, it's horrendous. especially as my period was a legit excuse to how shitty i was feeling. i hated everything and everyone. the desolate atmosphere wanted me to be lonely, which causes you to be in my mind not only before i sleep - but constantly. i'm not even in the mood to read the books or watch the movies that help me know i'm not alone. no one has hurt me, and i don't expect them to (i'm hurting myself.); they're just being dirtbags, which sadly i'm used to. men kept asking me if i was from new york city (those were good ones. "you're too gorgeous to be from around here"), whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean. still up to now, people only judge me on the outside; times are rare and fleeting to get to know someone around here. i was like an alien. i was so alone.

i still am alone, but my heart doesn't feel as heavy. you'll read the specifics of my random encounters later on; they'll make you smile and frown. these e-mails are way too general in comparison to what i've written, they're pretty deep - emo-deep. and i won't be modest, but the way i write makes my own heart wrench. so between your responses, i've been writing; reading your 4-month christmas letter; i've been keeping in touch with people from home: iha, my co-workers, even --- has helped me along the way. some friends from previous summer camps IM me as well, which got me thinking that i was so easy to make friends then, why can't i just do it now? it is possible to have a boyfriend and not be a social outcast at the same time. i just never known how because i never cared for someone this much. trust me, i'm actually trying now, but one hindrance is the work that's is surprisingly difficult; i really devote 3-4 hours each night to reading and studying. so hey wait, maybe this place just makes us all uptight and studious.

last night i got my work done early and spent a lot of time outside. it was a beautiful day yesterday. i lied down on a concrete stair at 1am and stared into the sky, wrote, smoked, stared some more. that was around the time you were writing to me. i do all these things without much thinking, i don't know how. something is urging me to work hard, quietly reflect, and be hopeful. until i fucking figure myself out here.

it was just a horrible shock being completely cut-off from you. we spent so much of the last 2 weeks together, and suddenly you're gone. can't even speak to you. i was selfishly wondering why you never got your phone to work, but there are always distractions. i'm happy to hear that you're having a good time with your family, and i half-heartedly wished i wasn't too much of a concern. i was hurting that i replied within the same night as your first e-mail, but never heard from you until 3 days later. i should understand that technology is quite disadvantageous for you, that you're in a country where computers are hardly as prevalent as here, where i get 24/7 wireless internet (if i didn't, i truly would go insane. there was a problem with my machine as soon as i tried connecting the first night, apparently i was a "threat to the online community" and i didn't rest until it worked.) but it was because i quickly glanced the first sentence of your letter today that i rushed to lecture with a gleeful bounce. just today, my period and the weather are somewhat subsiding. i'm eating a little more.

you were wrong. you can do something to help me, just by communicating. that's all.
please respond to me whenever you get the opportunities. this isn't and hasn't been exaggeration.
you, as well, were all i really talked about with the *2* people here that i regularly talk to.
somehow i'm also considering that this distance has benefited our closeness; realizing that it's a wonderful thing that i think of you, and only you.

i love you. i miss you.

Sunday, July 2
"response"

hey loser face,

this is your boyfriend of 10 months 19 days soon to
be 11 months in 11 days and 1 year in 42 days. (that
is if i'm doing the math correctly and also i'm in a
different time zone, so don’t hate me if i fail). i'll
be home on the 4th so i'll call you as soon as i get
back i hope. don’t worry because there is no way that i
will let us linger on much longer without hearing each
other's voice. i really wish i could call you but
calling you would cost a substantial amount of money.
getting to a computer is pretty hard here. and you
have to pay for all the times you use one. im happy in
a sense that i've actually sent you three emails.
that’s a great number i feel. but none of them can seem
to wipe that look off your face. the look that you
must be having right now. i am forever sorry that i
can't call you and that i'm so far away from you. if it
was my choice i would take you with me to ---. i
would steal you away from your bed before you went to
that smart people camp, and then bring you to ---
where we could have our own room, our own
everything, our own time and experience together.
i would be able to show you so much
about my family, my heritage, my life here. i wish
that i could take care of you right now. it's at these
moments that we truly realize what kind of people we
are, and who we are for each other. i'm not as good a
writer as you are, but please know that words cannot
express the feeling i've been having about you on this
trip. again, it's easier for me to cope with my cousins
always being with me. yet, at night i feel that urge
to call you and the restriction on that puts a real
damper on my life. i'll come back on the 4th and you'll
hear my voice again. i love you so much and never
forget that.

your lover

"response to... response."

that's funny. you actually bothered to figure all of that out.
don't worry about your writing or your math. it was perfect. you're perfect. you've been perfect in my mind

i wanted to respond last night, but i was so exhausted. exhausted from doing absolutely nothing. i never get bored, but this place has managed to do it. i don't realize how much i walk each day. i've taken much pleasure in long walks right after sunset, when it gets cool and breezy.

my confidence is still at an all-time low. when some intimidated fool attempts to speak to me, my voice doesn't express its usual self-assured splendor, like the moments when you're next to me. sometimes i get startled when i'm alone.. and i usually love strangers, playing with their minds. strangely enough, i'm actually looking forward to class for that sense of belonging. people listen to me in discussion groups. i made close acquaintances with chicks in my class but all they ever want to do is whore around. sit in the sun and rub suntan lotion on each other. put on a show for the boys until they come over and start dry-humping in the grass. they're always looking to mack it with each other, i'm pretty sick of it. they influence me to go mack it with them.. you can't satisfy everyone. i told you i grew up much too fast, otherwise i'd still be doing that same thing. i forgot that this is all kids want to do these days. (now i'm one of those people i used to make fun of...maturation makes liars of us all..) a committed relationship portrays a sense of advancement in life.

i apologize. i learn a lot by observing.
and there aren't many people here who cater to my maturity.

your flowers are still alive, and i'm glad they've stayed with me until now. i take a whiff of them every time i get a chance. i fall asleep next to your bear, "John", every night. i haven't utilized your boxers yet. these reminders make me happy and sad simultaneously. the moment when i hear your voice again approaches so close. i look forward to your gangster thug-like mannerisms; "nigga"s, "chyeah"s and ''word''s. no one here even appreciates "The Juggernaut Bitch" video. very few of these suburban-folk really have never seen a good time - never been on their own. it's like a different planet. these kids like to believe that this is genuine college life, with a 12am check-in curfew and everything. disappointing.

what you described was exactly what i was thinking. what upsets us most is that we're in completely separate worlds right now, going to bed every night alone, at moments where it would be so easy for us to be together if we were actually there. our time would be so worthwhile in each other's arms. attachment is scary, but it has its rewards.

this'll probably be the last e-mail; you might even be home by the time you read this.

so welcome home... it was hell without you... i'm glad you're back, i'm sure it was a stellar trip
i'm even happier you still took some time from your family to e-mail your emotional girlfriend.
i missed you. i still do. i love you. call me. right after you read this e-mail. even if we just spoke.
i want to make sure you're here for me and won't leave me for another week and half without me hearing your voice.
one week down, two more to go

love always.

p.s. there have been squirrels here who have been unobtrusively harassing me as i walk. they're part of your tribe, tell them to stop.

Monday, July 3
"Re: response to... response."

Dearest Alyssa person girl,

How are you still able to write these friggin long
emails? Why aren't you having fun away from me? It isn't
fair that i'm having all the fun and that you are the
one who has to stay inside and melt away. i wish that i
could be there to wipe that sad look off your face yet
distance is the only thing that keeps us apart. trust
me when i say that i would hijack an airplane just to
bring you some scope. i dont know what came over me. i
really wish that i could have brought you with me. i
need you with me. it's going to suck so bad when i get
home because at that time i am going to have to deal
with the fact of "normal" life without you. i hate it,
being so far away. i take solace in my cookies and
cream. i look at your naughty video on my phone a lot.
you look amazing. and i would be so happy
to be filled with your warmth again. those brothers of
mine are having fun harassing you i guess. tell chief
squirrellanttan that i am happy that he has watched
over you when boys have tried to grab that ass that
belongs to me. all of you belongs to me, and i am so
happy for that. i have someone to call on and think
about. i love you and your long emails with the big
words that i have to guess what they mean. i am so
proud that they call you --- looking. i tell
them that you are so much smarter than me, but my pop
tells me that i can't let that happen because i have to
be the head of the household. i really don't care. i
would do whatever you ask of me. no matter what, i
would be here for you and would strive to make you
happy. i hope i email you tomorrow, but if i don't, know
that i love you and i'll call you when i get back.

dirtbag: i've had a bump for so long.. it's killing me
and stretching out my pants
lover: i'll take you off your feet and take care of
every part of your body

i love you
-nigga squirrellantakatan

"i like the name of your tribe"

you should see what i've written with pen and paper. now that was a lot of time on my hands.
today i learned that i was a "maximizer" - someone who feels the need for total satisfaction, constantly looking for opportunities; someon who, in writing, finds the most perfect way to word simple things with several drafts; no matter what they do, tends to have impossibly high standards for themselves; whenever faced with a choice, tries to imagine what all the other possibilities are, even ones that aren't present at the moment...

and i told you. i'd rather not pretend i like to distract myself with the opposite sex. that would be conforming with every single high school soul here.
plus, having nothing else to focus my attention on... i received a 92 on my first Cornell University college-level psych test. second highest grade in the class - oh how accomplished i am. proud?

recently i have been getting out more often. pulling off obnoxious antics that only the people i befriend of my nature would find amusing. some buddies are making it a point for me to eat, dragging me to the dining hall at least once a day. my TA made me retreat to the vending machine to consume something during a discussion session last week. it's okay. and i'm beginning to lose my coherent sense of time. i'm not melting anymore.

i don't see much success for our future household, considering the case of emotional instability within both of us. oh well. we'll find some way to make it pleasant.
and i'm not too sure what that mini-dialogue at the end of your e-mail meant. are you supposed to be the dirtbag with a bump in his pants? i love when your boxer-tent erects itself. it looks as if it were about to take over the world

i sense a breakdown coming on when you call me for the first time in 12 days

see, i can help my maximizer tendencies. short and sweet.
i'm about to watch fireworks. love you.
-mrs. squirrelnest

Tuesday, July 4
"squirrel"

dearest mz. squirreltantakantantan,

i'm watching nothing today on this nice fourth of july
because i'm gonna be spending it on an airplane. My
mother actually was stopped for the second time by
airport security today. this time it was because she
was carrying a pair of cuticle scissors. last time she
had a box cutter. go figure? so now that my mother is
officially a terrorist, i can continue my email. it
took me about 10 minutes to figure out how to write
this email because for some reason i wasn't able to
read whatever language this is. it took the help of 2 people to
understand how to convert to english. i'm using a free
internet cafe in the airport. what don't people
understand about 30 minutes maximum? i swear i was
waiting outside this place for over an hour wondering
when i was going to be able to hear your sexy internet
voice. oh yeah, i'm really proud of your psych test. and
we would be an awesome pair i think. why wouldn't we?
never doubt that. even though i act like such a big
baby at times, don't believe that i don't love the
everloving shit out of you. i can't stop talking about
you and your beauty. i'm proud to be your boyfriend. i'm
proud that you are mrs. squirrelnest. never before have
i had someone like you to talk to. i can only wish
that i get back early so i don't wake you up with an
obnoxious phone call at 2 in the morning. we'll be
talking all night long. anyway. i love you and i love
you again. i'll see you when you get home. i miss you
darling.

your squirrelnest.
he doesn't go a minute without knowing that you are the
warmth he needs.

"see you soon."

i'm so sorry to hear how you've been hassled with technology for the past week. really, there's a computer and wireless internet everywhere on this campus. it isn't hard at all to find access. besides, i love e-mailing you. it's a different form of communication we never really trekked until now.
i'm gonna spend all of this day in my bathrobe. i bought a new red bathrobe because i forgot mine at home. it's sexy and ridiculous.
don't worry about watching anything for july 4th.
when you see me in person again (and because of what we're gonna do...), you'll be seeing fireworks.
(yeah, i just totally tried to pull off a dirty line)
your words and meaning have helped me through hell and back. i'm grateful to be yours.
i don't care what time you call. i'm looking forward to a good cry.. a good talk.. a good anything with you
and we'll piss off my roommate together

love.

fundraisers are nifty

Tue, 20 Jun 2006 15:13:30 GMT

courtesy of aissa and shel.

Florence is just popping up everywhere, shit

Mon, 08 May 2006 00:29:51 GMT

I am sitting behind my teller window, eating a well-deserved TV dinner when a gangster (self-explanatory) walks in, heads for the deposit/withdrawal slip table with his own blue ink pen. There are 2 other tellers open, but noticing me as the youngest and probably the most incompetent, he saunters my direction and interrupts my foodtime. "Hey, how ya doin, need a deposit?" he dirtbagishly quips. "Glad to", I respond. He twiddles with the Mr. Coinhead marker and glass birds on my counter. I notice that he is making a deposit into the account of a woman named Florence, and procedure is that we are allowed to make deposits from any person into any account without requiring any form of ID if there is no cash given back. He then whips out Florence's checkbook, writes out a check to him/herself, and smoothly slides it closer to me. "May I see some identification, a driver's license or debit card with PIN, please?", I ask willfully. He points to the checkbook and says, "This is MY account, I need money from MY account."
"Well yes, Florence, but this is for security purposes, we're only looking out for the safety of your money."
"WHERE IS YOUR MANAGER? I WANNA TO SEE YOUR MANAGER."
(nudges bigblackMuriel who conveniently resides next to me)
"Hey, Muriel, this is Florence who wants to speak with you. Florence, this is my operations supervisor."
"Oh ok... I forgot my ID in the car................."

Now when account fraud happens, I thought we push the discrete alarm triggers underneath for the police and all... no. You must act in a timely fashion and write up a description of what the customer looked like, how he/she acted, clothing, and other pertinent detail. Then you send out the e-mail to managers, assistant managers, ops sups, corporate security, and obnoxiously massive Microsoft Outlook company distribution lists to other financial centers in NJ regions to warn other WaMulians of the self-assured quack. I was psyched, my very first fraud! We get several of these each day, overwhelmed with how ridiculous people can be, printing them out and initialing them... but my turn to shine:

-----Original Message-----
From: Prieto, Alyssa M.
Sent: Wednesday, April 26, 2006 4:46 PM
To: Thomas, Davina L.; Lombardi, Steven R.; Macchiarola, Doreen A.; Jones, Muriel
Cc: DL FCNJ01; DL FCNJ02; DL FCNJ03; DL FCNJ04; Brady, Michael J.; Thomas, Davina L.; Francis, Sylvan L.; Restaino, Carole A.; Alvarez, Anthony M.; De Luca, Betty M.; O'Halloran, Kathy
Subject: FRAUD ALERT - EMERSON 4-26-06

Good afternoon.

We had an unfamiliar “customer” walk into the Emerson branch at 4:13pm: tall, baggy clothing (white shirt, denim shorts), pierced ears, BLOODSHOT eyes, 20-25 years old. Appeared to be of Hispanic background and claimed to go by the name of Florence. The male somehow obtained a female customer’s checkbook and deposited 2 transit rent checks (one for $900 and the other for $1,200), endorsing both checks into the account of Florence Fiorritti, a 52-year-old woman living in Haledon, NJ. He then wanted to cash the on-us check for $500, and when asked for ID, said he left it in the car. Customer became irate and asked for the supervisor, who also informed him that he must have his ID. Man took off in a white car, parked away from the building.

Restraints have been put on the account: 440-318737-4

Alyssa M. Prieto
Washington Mutual Bank - HIP Intern
FCNJ7409 - Emerson, NJ
201-225-0825

"You get the best out of others when you give the best of yourself."
~ Harry Firestone

My, how quick we work:

Attached is a photo of the individual from Emerson. Please remain alert.

Michael J Brady
Washington Mutual
Corporate Security N/E Region
1401 Valley Rd
Wayne, NJ 07470
973.628.5795

And without further ado, Florence:

I really should not be posting Florence's shit up publically; its use is specifically "for internal usage only". and I could face noncompliance of not following confidentiality as source of being fired, but hey I've figure out I ain't naming MY son Florence anymore.

Last week I read a USNews.com editorial on the importance of real-life job-setting experience. An excerpt:

"Job recruiters won't care how many beers you can down in an hour — we're all hung over from hearing that. What may be notable to you is that they also don't care how many A's you can amass in a semester.

What they do think about is whether you can do what they're going to hire you to do.

Let's say you want to work for the people who make Tampax tampons at their headquarters in Cincinnati - and who doesn't?

Well, the human resources person there — we'll call her Florence — is looking at your application and that of one other person for a marketing position.

She's got you and your 2.75 GPA, and some other nerd and his near-flawless transcript. Fear not, because you did that summer internship at a marketing firm last year and your resume with that experience is going to stop Flo (with Tampax) in her tracks.

I've interviewed countless hiring managers and experts with job locater services and they always parrot the idea that experience trumps good grades any day.

Simple, right? Well somehow I still see people whose resume reads like a haiku:

I went to classes.
A's were all I ever had.
That is all I got.

And believe me, I've known some people who were totally dedicated to school but never seemed to get out in the sun and get their hands dirty in the field they want to make their career after graduation.

Then, of course, there are some who get too much sun.

These people are more content adding color to their skin than they are adding color to their resumes. Besides, unless you plan on starring in Corona commercials the rest of your life, you need to get used to doing more than sitting in a lawn chair all day.

The irony is that the people who write those commercials for Corona probably didn't lounge away while at college. Those advertising geniuses worked summer jobs in advertising, worked in the ad staff at their school's paper or anything else to gain invaluable real-world experience.

But even knowing that, there will always be people who choose to waste away."

Spring Break! is so over.

Mon, 24 Apr 2006 00:57:25 GMT

12 days disturbingly fleeted by a little like this:

- using the lanky japanese pushover of a waiter to our advantage by experimenting with cold sake (Little Bear: "Give me some SAKE.")
- a one-time occasion of consuming crap food served to Columbia undergraduates
- witnessing squirrelnest and buddies own a flock of 10-year-old black kids at an uncivil game of basketball
- workworkworkworkworkwork... while a roof next door set on fire!
- quarantining the bank - spreading my turn-of-the-season cold/cough ailment to customers and fellow tellers through money and other various negotiable instruments. Big-MommaMuriel did the damn thang and sprayed the entire place down with pleasantly-scented Lysol disinfectant
- intoxicating my body with unnatural doses of allergy medication
- in addition to recurring post-nasal drip
- but still being able to have a fabulous weekend. we're an old married couple fornicating on bunk beds. i love that.
- celebrating 4-20 in a most unusual manner
- making a scene at *2* separate diners and that mall
- flowing menstrually
- 4am run to a Dunkin' Donuts DRIVE-THRU (?!?!)
- abusing a newly bought and well-anticipated copy of the 2gether DVD
- appreciating that Cady Marielle D'Ambrosio will forever be my mental love and life-saver, to whom i dedicate freakishly random nights... and mornings-after...
- coughing up mad germs and disease upon my SAT tutor (never befriend your tutor. it's impossible to be productive)
- scared shitless slaving over parallel parking between a Benz and an Audi. the only determination was not to get my ass kicked by the owners/parents. i mean it's actually fun watching me struggle
- blowing off an entire history project because i have shamelessly procrastinated and now have 1 hour before it is due

(you made it all worthwhile)

Big week coming up after this.
Monday, May 1 = 8am road test; a.k.a. 17th birthday
Tuesday, May 2 = convincing a spanish co-worker... or possibly even one of my illegal immigrant customers... to switch lives with me for an AP Spanish exam
Saturday, May 6 = driving myself into a wall after an SAT exam

best of luck and my regards,

this was already a year ago?

hey we should learn how to swing-dance, seriously

Mon, 03 Apr 2006 05:16:04 GMT

good word of the day: Heffer

they made us do the "Banana" too (sounds vulgar!)

avoid a stub from that asian's fierce heel. so full of grace.

what's with us and playgrounds

we really do have way too much fun at that park.

i like Quick Chek breakfasts

Sun, 05 Feb 2006 15:15:42 GMT

good word of the day: hash brown (so it has been a tendency of mine to be unnecessarily airy and random since junior high. it's fine, everybody's doing it now. let's see how many times i can incoherently confuse myself & others without spending too much time dwindling; come, thoughts! enter freely..)

oh, how early. then again, when's the last time i was ever allowed to sleep in. an hour and a half before having to teach those 3rd grade faggots about Jesus and The Church.

(props to Thilo)

so, first entry of 2006. i was just discussing with Sophia how much that thing called track consumed my life and astonishing how 20 hours of running a week was gratefully replaced with 20 hours of a "reputable" job (however i'm becoming physically unfit like no other). nonetheless, buckled down with a kick-ass SAT tutor (seriously), middle-aged menopausal nurses, and 0.36 points from not making honor roll.. 'twas a freshman/sophomore-in-high-school-life that seemed so distant. yeah, i talk like i've completed some 180-degree personality turn, from badass into.. well, less badass. but up to now i can't figure out if i was more carefree then or now. i don't even know if i really try hard not to care (which is a sad thing), or if i'm just indifferent to every single thing in general and afraid to face that's the best i could ever do (which is actually sad too). either way, i'm comfortable with maturely saying i don't have a life.

and i can't stop smiling.

it's not about parents, or proving to others anymore.. just hear me out, under the blunt sarcasm is a lot of truth in what i say. there was a quote that went something like "Show me a man who doubles my work, and I'll kiss his feet", vindicated when i say, we'd all be kissing each other's feet.. everybody would be kissing yours.. fact is we've all got shitloads to do, and what ends up happening is that suddenly they become selfish; too concerned with their own needs to impress, then forget the importance of showing plain respect for others (so why ever go the extra mile for them? it's all superficiality. get me now?). next time you're on a city street, take note of the incredible diversity of people and situations around you. there are people who are confident enough to know they are unconquerable, and i guess these types of thoughts would never cross their minds. i only wish i could be that, instead of my occasional foolish silence (the most powerful scream.) as you can clearly see these absolute moments of my life are easy to drive me completely crazy. but i'd like to think that for me, looking at things in a more simple perspective, the small and commonplace keep me sane. work. a book and a Netflix movie. boyfriend. even psychological sessions with a chemistry teacher. it's amazing to think that my own psychologist got into a car accident and won't be able to meet with me until March, but i can care less. i know about breaking the spell of the "psychiatric drug"; it's true that after a while they can't help you, you have to help yourself. you can't change other people, you can change yourself. in fact, now that i'm thinking about it it's pretty useless for me to even have a psych because apparently each person i run into listens to my problems with a sympathetic heart and cooks up a solution along with me (my bitching and moaning is lyrical). and this i've been told where else - it's funny being a bank teller. between that narrow, black marble teller-station crevasse, customers/small-business owners trust me with their money, so they trust me with their secrets, perhaps some facts from their personal lives, which reaffirms my notion that money makes people crazy. it's all about gauging "emotional intelligence". also, yes it has taken so long for me to realize that people will treat you the same way you treat them. it was an appreciative issue; i was hostile to people i did not appreciate, a.k.a. those who were rigid and didn't know how to have a good time. life isn't always a party; granted, we've had our share of uncalled-for outings, but that was back when we wanted to prove we were motherfucking animals. some chicks would never understand that while guys were brought up with the "go-forward, you-can-do-it" mindset, we are unfortunately but naturally brought up with the "be careful, or you'll get hurt" mindset, and yeah, we try to rebel against that. and who knows, maybe the full, mind-numbing dependence on their husband is what their future holds. being honest, that's all it is. (look at this, i'm sixteen years old and i'm already an elderly wise ass, making conclusions on life. respect with adults was always mutual for me = why i adjust well at work.) just give them time, besides high school is the stage where you subconsciously learn those valuable skills of maturity, moving out of the bitter and self-absorbed stage, to appreciate what and who is around you and being comfortable with the fact that wow yes, everyone suffers differently; live your own fucking life and don't fully realize it until after college. jealousy makes you immobile, so stop it. there is so much to see and do, sometimes you can't get the best experience of everything being shitfaced or obsessive over sex - which is wonderful but sadly and truthfully causes the amateur to feel depressed when they are deprived of it. Mr. and Mrs. Vargas spent the last week and Rome and as she spoke of all the ancient sculptures and art with a breathtaking tone, i regretted not paying attention in 10th grade western civilization because of a marijuana-induced headache. a more demure lifestyle allures me. not that the thrill of illegality has become tedious, it's okay. now i only do drugs for the surreal reason of "not feeling". really i can't even smoke as often because of my frequent post-nasal drip (ironically my lungs and liver knew how to handle abuse better when i was an athlete.)

on a final note, maybe i am a hypocrite, only because i think and feel multiple thoughts and dispositions every single fucking day (that's why i have such a ball looking back and reading these things) and i would never be a legitimate opinionated figure because of my ever-constantly-changing views (which is not a "stress of high school" thing, i constantly feel pressure but am too daft to even remember how i was feeling after a few minutes.) i say life is a joke, but people who mean that are only failures (which i can be. see, hypocrite); rather, i just laugh at people. sometimes a condescending laugh, but most times a "wow, that makes my day" laugh.

more importantly, waking up to the warmth of his body in his bed and sneaking out to Quick Chek at the break of dawn before his parents wake doesn't seem sketchy when you finally admit to being in love. so maybe my social-life has turned into, for lack of a better word, a "love-life".. February 13 marks the 6-month anniversary.. when you've been with someone for half a year (especially for someone such as i), it has its effects. really does.

i think i've unknowingly taken part in a Superbowl bet or "pool" of some sort because big black Muriel has forced me into it. $10 gone. oh well.
i reminisce the days of Superbowl Parties. i'm still smiling without them.

Lying = Yes!

Fri, 23 Dec 2005 05:56:17 GMT

good word of the day: "Light Rail"

mmm another thought-driven entry. what happened to funtime? photos of drunken fiascos? (well, after the "Alyssa Loves People" slideshow, i've got no dire need for surprises/rude awakenings for people any longer. plus, mother took it with her to the philippines until the 29th, yeah she's gone for christmas, yeah she's gonna wreck this camera just like the other 2 we've had in the past.)

plus i don't exactly put much effort into writing after moving down to a non-honors english course, i find this a way to boost my confidence. SNAP!

mother's been gone since last wednesday, she has absolutely no means of contacting us except through a pay-cell-phone (??WTFFF kind of country..?!?!). naturally, you think to yourself, it's party-time. and yes it's wonderful, YES, actually to make it crystal clear, 3 out of the 4 members of my own immediate family have lost 75% of any trust/respect they ever had for me. me being the 4th, and i have yet to lose trust/respect of myself. oh but what's the friggen point, every single thought (especially for our too-proud-for-our-own-good Prieto-family) stems psychologically from childhood.. example: it's not our fault mother would not trust her two daughters with any boy/man, EVER, because she has lost complete trust in her own husband, my father, when he had his ongoing affair with a woman at his previous occupation in JVC.*

so now here are the little intriguing questions that like to form in this tiny brain of mine: how far back can you remember lies? (yes mom, i used the lunch money for lunch.*) to parents? (boyfriend squatting in a shower, butt naked, 3 feet away from an oblivious father.*) to family? (i'll always be there for you! i can send you money in the mail from wherever i am in the future because i'm a success and you're not.*) to friends? (i'll always be there for you! BFF until i steal your boyfriend and promise not to tell.*) how early did you start? (i stole a nail kit from Rite Aid when i was 6 and refused to open the coat under which it was hiding, and told them i felt too cold.*) to what degree did you fib? (in 2nd grade, i pretended to be a lesbian with a 6th grade black kid named Lawrence.*) how horrendous were/are you willing to go? (i would want to touch myself in my room or watch porn until i felt better, but told whoever was at the door that i was changing. since i was like, 6.*) how much has it affected your present life? (in 6th grade, i attempted to steal 3 designer shirts from Macy's, then got caught by security for shoplifting and had to get written up while father was called into the office. currently, every other day, we get a call from the law office looking for me and my name. and sex-fiends rock.*)

Let's start with today's lie:
- I didn't even have work. so I spent my off day taking the 165 bus from right outside the Emerson Quick Check to Port Authority, then from the Port Authority 126 bus to the Hoboken train station, made friends with a ticket guy, then took the Light Rail into Exchange Place and walked aimlessly around Jersey City to find him at St. Peter's Prep. in boots, so it made it seem like i was at work all day when dad/sister pick me up later on. (wouldn't have to deal with this shit if i drove). then spent 2.5 hours driving back involving traffic, apologizing to his nuts while on the road, deficit of filipino bakery items, and finally, heartbreak. imagine if we were just 15 minutes earlier!
wait now, that was no lie.
here: i spent all day at the garden state mall with him.*

Lies about who/what/where/when/why/how you did
example:
- I went with cousins.*
- We were looking at glow-in-the-dark paintball stickers.*
- We were only in town at the movie theater.*
- We left right after school.*
- Yeah we walked all the way there. On foot!*
- Everybody else was doing it.*

Lies about age
example:
- This is a first-generation unphotoed driver's license.*
- I left my Legal Resident Alien card on the subway.
- I'm 12.*

Lies to make you seem a greater, informed, more interesting person
example:
- I know that song/love that artist.*
- This college is good because ----.*
- The subway/bus/train/taxi is this way.*
- A whale can shoot out its sperm at 25 miles per hour.*
- I don't have a Myspace.*

Lies that only make you seem lesser person to gain their attention and sympathy
example:
- I have arthritis/acute bronchitis/dyspnea/angina/some other ailment that would make people simply wince after said*
- I still wear my retainer.*
- I want a PSP.*
- I haven't showered in x-days.*
- I have a Myspace.*

Lies to get you out of deep shit
example:
- But I'm unconquerable in bed.*
- (Family Member) told me to do it.*

Lies told to screw someone over
example:
- I'm cool, I'm okay to drive, really.*
- (Family Member) told me to do it.*

Smaller lies told in lieu of BIGGER, hidden lies
example:
- We only used the pipe ONCE when the 18-year-old actually bought it on South Street in Philadelphia they let us test it out.*
- Those flavored condoms were from when Muriel and I stuffed Gary's cashbox with them until it overflowed when he opened it.*

Lies told to make someone feel better
example:
- I love you.*

Lies told to make someone feel worse
example:
- I'm in love with you.*

Lies told to protect the innocent/immature mind
example:
- God is Love.*
- a MILF is like a little female elf.*
- Sex is like being tickled.*

Lies told to corrupt the innocent/immature mind
example:
- God is Love.*
- I like DILFs.*
- Sex, like a drug, is addictive and feels great, so do it.*
- We picked up that mannequin hand off of a colored-bum on the street who used it to scratch himself.*

Lies to break the ice during awkward silences and randomness
example:
- Errrbody in the club gettin' tipsy.*
- What a sex-bomb.*
- I have AIDS.*

Lies just for the hell of it
example:
- I just stole a jar of pesto sauce. --no wait that wasn't a lie

Group Consensus Lies
example:
- No one was at the house unsupervised over the weekend.*
- There were only 3 boys in Applebee's.
- We were only posing with things in those pictures.***
- We love dance choreographers named Sonni.*

(*source: real-life examples of lies told. mind the validity.)

moral of the entry:
Lies are everywhere! Never tell the truth to people who actually matter.

And it IS possible to cheat your way through life. that's why you should talk to strangers, strangers are awesome. you can make up an entire life-story and they'll believe you. anything you say to them doesn't count. and then you can get them into bed in a snap.

well everyone's out of school by now.. next WEEK we'll lie and get plastered like always, no doubt bitcheszzz. (28TH, WHAT UP?)

it's 1am, you'd think i'd be a little delirious? looking forward to seeing you in the office. it will all just mull over like everything else, YOU don't make sense.

We proudly present the soon-to-be relatively famous...

Mon, 14 Nov 2005 05:09:37 GMT

Alyssa Prieto
Ms. Sartoga

US History I H

13 November 2005

“Delightfully tacky, yet unrefined”… are the words iron-pressed onto the tank tops of each Hooters-Girl, as well as printed on the cover of the restaurant’s menu. After reading excerpts of the blatantly-written Hooters Employee Handbook, one can only assume that applying for such a position is a last-resort occupation. The idea of any competent young woman strutting around in white tank tops and bright orange spanky-pants tight enough to suffocate does not portray any sort of positive representation of females, far from a “wholesome look” (paragraph 2, page 5), and in no way contributes to a civic life that the women’s rights previously described. Especially with this crudely depicted dress code, it will be a snap for libidinous men to make a move and blame it on their hormones. No matter how innocent the pick-up line or how harmless the accidental slap on her buttocks, the way that the public distinguish these women is thoroughly degrading. It is reminiscent of how men merely used their women for sex as means of producing a family and frankly, this concept of the “domestic sphere” is outdated because that is not even the main concern of how women are taken advantage of in this day and age. Believe it or not, that classic discrimination has pushed women into more immoral, modern-day potholes such as prostitution, pornography, and inappropriate cosmetic surgery. And what is it all for, merely to please the man? A woman with a more respectable job could in fact stand up and not set herself up for the humiliation of teasing men with her body, instead she would develop a sense of moral strength to use in healthy relationships with others. It is obvious that when the Hooters uniform comes off at the end of the day, these women are not intent on entertaining an audience of drunken individuals, “playing the role” (paragraph 4, page 4) of a stereotypical, suntanned cheerleader who enjoys giving her body as a source of eye-candy. Just as Elizabeth Cady Stanton herself said, “Self-development is a higher duty than self-sacrifice.” If a Hooters Girl can spend two hours smearing on makeup and styling their hair in such detail every single work day (paragraphs 5 & 6, page 4) and genuinely care about their white slouch socks, they are capable of bettering their lives and taking on a real profession.

(Flipping the argument):

Susan B. Anthony once said, “The fact is, women are in chains, and their servitude is all the more debasing because they do not realize it.” A woman should be granted the liberty to choose whatever occupation she pleases, and when she can slip on a Hooters uniform without feeling the least bit ashamed, they have severed those chains. The Hooters Girl is no different from a telemarketer of a consumer product, in the aspect that the telemarketer sells the features of her product while a Hooters Girl sells the food and clever merchandise of her company. So what if Hooters has the advantage of flaunting a uniquely feminine “look” (paragraph 2, page 4) as a key part to assist them in selling their products and inspiring their customers to come back for more? Modern society today sees this marketing plan as an ingenious success in the restaurant business, hence seeing the Hooters Girls as the frontline of that success. The women’s rights movement is a defining moment in history where light has finally been able to shine on a lady’s naturalness, beauty, and most importantly her sex appeal; Hooters is the stellar example of no denying that it sells. Sexual innuendo in a joking manner has become common in a pornographic world of salacious looks and desire; it is no longer disturbing to come across a young child wearing a T-shirt that exclaims, “Forget milk, gimme Hooters!” Without this appreciative breakthrough of women feeling confident in the body they model, they would still feel secluded in their “domestic sphere” of family-raising and housework. Furthermore, it is not as if the restaurant is selling sex itself; nowhere do they state how to adjust their cleavage visibly in a particular way, and they are aware of when to draw the line in their Non-Harassment Policy explained in the Hooters Girl Contract (paragraph 1, page 45) and go on to designate their uniform’s limits to minimal jewelry and manicured fingernails to emphasize a “wholesome look” (paragraphs 1 & 2, page 5). A man has the right to gain pleasure in spotting a happily smiling and foxy lady bending over with a hot plate of chicken wings because that lady is comfortable in doing so. The public can only sit back, watch the show, and accept that looks are indeed an effective selling tool and cannot criticize their premise. It is comparable to someone saying that they go to an amusement park just to watch the rides operate; without these women, this innovative scheme of a restaurant would not have been dubbed the beloved “boobs-and-beer emporium.”

(Pertinent Visual Aide):

chicks suck.

i miss these guys.

Mon, 07 Nov 2005 00:12:54 GMT

well, yeah we've been hot little asian performers ever since

and yeah, i was always the biggest asshole when you messed up
(even back then was a whole striving-for-perfection-thing)

four sweet-sixteens within an 8-month span.. this past march was just the start of anticipating the events and suddenly it's all over, whoa!

this goes without nostalgia's sake saying that it is within those 8 months my love for you guys has grown. regretfully i drifted away from your six-ness, never making the time for any of you prior to that, wishing the realization hadn't come only now.. i don't have to pretend to be assholes with any of you because we're assholes to begin with. plus, our gossip is always the best. what else would you expect from girls you used to take showers with. mere reminders of how simple and great our childhood was (equipped with that rebellion-attitude of "who the fuck cares what the big kids think"), up to now, throughout all these years how great it is being able to count on those who are so close to being family.. i frequently forget i'm not at all blood-related to either of you. and i say this now, because frankly my speech for you at my party was intoxication-induced-shit, obviously. when i say i miss ya'll, sure, it comes from the heart..aww. means something for me, especially for someone who isn't able to uphold a "best-friend"-ship with anyone for longer than a single year. emotional at 1am is so worth it.

it looks like my hands are abstractly pleasuring their unmentionables, love the faces

i wonder... where has this one been

break down, old train. break down.

Sun, 25 Sep 2005 23:42:08 GMT

good word of the day: scrambled porn

where has Alyssa been.. not here. withering away like an old lady somewhere

i miss people. (irony)

and shit, son it's been exactly 3 whole months since.. can you believe it because i sure as hell can't. seems like last weekend. even that just flew by. remember those genuinely-thought-out thank-you cards? just kidding.

so what the fuck is new, besides me complaining the hell out of how busy i make myself, allowing the pressure get to me, signing up for more than my little asian body can handle, which is entirely under my own predilection, and blahhhhhhhhhhhhh AHHHHHHHHHH. jesus christ, the only thing i ever do lately is bitch around while putting fires out everywhere. (and please, forgive me for that. watch, it doesn't and won't pay off. what is it all for? COLLEGE? pwish. by the time we attend college, it'll be the same applying to any demanding grad school or job, expecting you to do exceptionally well in everything. a bachelor's degree is diminishing into the same status as a high school degree, the system sucks.) honestly, when's the last time you asked me how i was doing, and i didn't answer with "god, i'm so exhausted. (exasperated sigh), i've grown tired/burnt out" or something to that level (i do a fucking swell job at numbing myself and keeping more of the abhorrence within the safety of my own mind.) actually, becuase of these past few weeks, i do have a reason to complain.. although my sickness may have been brought upon myself (taking my health AMPLY for granted this entire summer, holy motherfucking shit.), i still get kicked in the ass by a 2-week case of acute-bronchitis (and still counting). as a young, avid smoker for three years (EMPHYSEMA!), sure, my lungs have been shot to hell. i've become a walking health-hazzard. and now it (and possibly all things i've done within that blur i call August 2005.. but i have no regrets whatsoever. i've done enough living until the end of high school, which makes up for the fact that i honestly have no life anymore, let's face it.. "welcome to adulthood" i can't even sleep in on the weekend) bites back by making me accomplish less-than-satisfactory work at the start of my junior year in the ever-so-personally-hated private catholic all-girls high school (you should just see the look on my face every time i recite that. i wonder what life would've been like if i wasn't asian at that Bergen Academy interview. enough rejection) that brainwashes you into thinking that your future is everything. hey, maybe it IS, but i can't bare to think about it anymore, too many people are depending on me to do well in life, and who cares about what they think.. i want to disappear. i always write this type of pretentious, nostalgic, talk-like-a-fortune-cookie entry at the beginning of every school year

and so it begins, an emotional downpour of bullshit i can read again the next week and laugh at the disturbed wretch who wrote it. yes, this is a livejournal an awful lot about about ME, it's going to involve much about ME, get used to it. call it selfish. my weird way of gaining peace of mind. you'll know what i'm thinking of when i give that blank, far-off expressionless face of mine (at least it's better than.. well, i've already gotten, "stop looking like you always wanna go out and beat someone up." or paren'ts having a firm belief that i'm under the influence of, well what's the most eloquent way of saying heavy and uncommon club drugs (thanks Gary.), uh-oh. what can you expect from a young girl who turned morally corrupt to invite her young'n dirtbag friends over while being home alone in 4th grade.. hey, i still have young'n friends) it's only 7:30pm, i'm not delirious yet. one of those things where you just throw a whole lotta shit about life lessons out there without thinking - i love these, man, because it's fun trying to figure out what the fuck i'm really trying to say under each differently implied/contradictory/esoteric sentence. it's all right to admit to insecurities (how long it took me to learn that one) during some well-deserved alone-time. additionally, this may very well be the most honest i'll ever be

confidence sucks. self-esteem sucks. (monogamy SUCKS! morality SUCKS! this can go on..) time-management and procrastination cause mass amounts of my luridly-red hair to fall out. minor-OCD could be getting worse. ok, but i also should NOT hold grudges that only i inflict upon myself, putting myself down with every godforsaken breath. (i say this and the deprivation of sleep and the whole "optimistic outlook on life" crap in every babbling entry.. as with most everything else, it's your experience that force you to attain a more mature view on living anyway. glad to have figured out the world amidst being an adolescent.) i am very well aware that nobody is fucking perfect, but i can't even live up to that label of being "naturally intellectual" as i used to do so admirably. it nauseates me how much i have to keep up with my work in order to maintain my status. sometimes i wish i didn't have such unusually high expectations.. hey, i'm not smart and it kills me. just like that one i wrote last year.. "i laugh it off as an attempt to masquerade how painfully true it is".. (that was awesome.) by far, the favorite quote of the week by my own mother, "You grew up too fast. You're in the dark." i'd love to be braindead by the time i'm 30. (that's heinous) so THIS is my mid-life crisis...

i absolutely loathe kids who say "school owns my life", and what a hypocrite i am. well sure, take a fuckin look around. as if i did have any motivation to make me at all interested in remotely anything else. like i'm trying too hard to stray away from being "ordinary", and what's the consequence, someone can glance at my résumé and automatically infer that i get bored too easily. i wanted to be someone who had a single passion for dance, or playing music, or computers, or soccer, or running, or paintballing, or cooking, joining the army, WHATEVER... yet, the one characteristic necessary of prospective med-students is being well-rounded. everything is a mutable ambiguity. but no more of what do they want, what DO i want.. three words are accurate in the way i should manage: SUCK IT UP

and the self-discipline fails again, because i obviously should be doing schoolwork, but resorted to this. every minute that goes by reading this is precious life wasting away. maybe then i wouldn't need to pop any caffeine pills. maybe if you did more time studying, less time complaining... like i procrastinate and i don't like to start things because i know i'm not the best at it; and when i do start something, meticulousness/fastidiousness kick in, wears me out, and i become ridiculously weak, physically and mentally.. why couldn't i realize that. (it gets the best of me. hell, i was late 10 minutes to my own sweet 16 party because i put off writing speeches and CDs until last minute.) maybe why i dropped EMT training (what kind of doctor will YOU be?!). that NHS consideration form already appears to be so bare.

besides, i was never that person who would spend their friday nights on ambulance calls. i will, in the future, but after this year that is supposedly going to be more rigorous work. what a lazy bastard. people who know me already know what a huge mess i am. people who think they know me then read this, never knew how much of a huge mess i am. people who don't read this, which is the majority, have no idea what a huge mess i am. but it's so few who actually know me. and i'm starting to think that i do such a fantastic job hiding it all. for now, i live for the days where the only solace i can achieve is through a Subway sandwich or allowing myself to fall vulnerably during a nightly call from the love of my life. and i think even he's starting to figure me out and can see straight through every false notion i expel. (they have a way of doing that. positive changes that are visible in a person such as a profuse smile, or a better reason to get up in the morning, etc. despite any tears from everyday pressure, it's a comfort not to feel so alone at night. "hello, meet my emotional baggage" who cares? i do) it can't be pride, because i am far from proud of who i am. i don't think of myself superior to anyone. i'm not even good at anything i do anymore. i do too much for me to excel in one thing. i'm too helpless to try; it seems like i do a lot, but really i just end up being that passive asian contributor at leadership seminars who sits back and spectates the public. you know who i'm talking about.

another biggie, both my psychologist and boyfriend agree, that i apologize way too much. saying sorry for things incoherently related to me. (check it out, i even apologized in the first set of parenthesis in the beginning of this entry. YES, look at all these parenthetical statements, i feel like Chaucer's blunt sarcasm in the Canterbury Tales.. can someone say ADHD - type 2, subtype C.. i'm able to write well, but this is why i can't even compile a competent scholarly essay on the new SAT, my jumbled thoughts + awkward wording.. fuck. no joke.) i figure i'm such an immoral being, it's plausible for me to generally apologize, for merely being born. it's also a way for me to support that adamant feeling that i must please everyone. and let me explain this one, because it's taken much of my 16 years to understand it. i don't PLEASE everyone, like with sexual gratification. (there WAS a phase...) it makes me happy seeing others satisfied, which is ironic because i hate people (it's also a female-thing, it makes women hot knowing that they get to please their man during intercourse.. kind of relates to that whole mother-being-a-hospitable-host, happy to welcome guests into her home.. it all branches from being a woman. chicks suck.) like now, i would rather bitch on myself than give a piece of my mind and bitch on others. again, ironic, beacuse i love seeing people who are still happy as a result of not having to please others. kind of a "why can't i be that way.." thing.

i only tell people what they want to hear. adjusting myself to a different level every single day so as to make friendly conversation the bit more interesting, putting on some sort of artificial act whether these people are my dirtbag parents, or those dirtbags i'm with everyday at school, or those loveable corporate dirtbags at work, or those balding & aging dirtbag EMT trainers, or those dirtbag 3-West patients while volunteering in the nurse's unit at the hospital, or those dirtbag third graders i teach every sunday, or an autistic girl who chose to come sit next to me and ask if i like the SIM card in my phone. (notice how everyone's a dirtbag. except, of course, that autistic girl.. because that's not a joke, i guess. seriously, last night, man..) might have to do with a guilty conscience. reason why i can't sleep at night. that was in like, Macbeth, yo (funny how much sophomore English still haunts me). Mark Twain once said, "If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything".. why does my brain process life through quotes, quotes suck

one simple analogy. life is a stage; it's simple to manipulate your audience. after a while, you mature in understanding the true nature of every type of person. (time to come full-circle) do i enjoy being constantly on edge? (that's another thing about being someone who gets bored so easily. stress is like a sore spot you get, say, after an injection.. touching it would make it worse but somehow you enjoy the painful sensation.) other than contributing to increased risk of high heart rate and blood pressure, i ain't seen no reward.. but more importantly, maybe that's what being a well-rounded person does to you, you learn. so maybe i'm grateful for being capable of doing some things right. i've learned to give them time. feel alone, but know that there are so many feeling just as shitty. a simple laugh makes anyone's day. then look past a fake smile and realize that you can get away with just about anything when you know how society functions. (you've heard me say that one before. if you know me you're familiar with how i like to repeat certain things. i overexaggerate. so what.)
or i see it now.. New Jersey is officially depressed.!

i haven't come full-circle yet. frankly, it's gotten to a point where i am so many separate personalities, i can't even possess a solid one anymore (just as most jersey kids are). not that anyone would ever have a concrete personality, but when someone asks, "Who ARE you?"... i can't even provide a straight answer. not even my name. has childhood crushed me so much, urged me to lose my soul, as if i don't even know who i am, but why would it matter? i won't lie, people love me, ultimately until they hate me. ("i'm not cool, i just get mad respect." in this world of ridicule, it is acceptable to lie and cheat your way through everything) and it's the people you love most that make you cry. but it sucks, because more people shouldn't be afraid to be a bitch to my face (on a moral note, i'm great at advice, despite the way you may think i live my reckless life. you should never be afraid to get personal with someone under the sole premise that you think they're superior to you in any way.. equilibrium takes patience.), maybe then i wouldn't be such a narcissistic asshole. then, as with every other event in my time, boredom inevitably overwhelms the spirit and the life that i often say i am absolutely in love with is put under for a closer look and it's a never-ending cycle they have to understand.. i hardly want to be me anymore

Brian: "Do you even listen to yourself when you speak?"
Peter: "I drift in and out."

didn't mean for it to be that freakishly long. all has just gone completely over my head, who THINKS like that? you end up throwing rocks at anyone who does, i know i would. (LORD OF THE FLIES!) never ceases to amuse me. i've got such a diverse audience here. showers tend to put you in a contemplative state

Man, are Sweet Sixteens gay!

Tue, 28 Jun 2005 04:15:43 GMT

walking around in a gown and 27-bobby-pin-hairdo heavier than i am for 5 hours makes me weary.. but enough rest. begin WaMu training on thursday. hoped to get the few that ended up on my own camera in before i get plowed with work.. and NYLF.

only 3 good cocktail hour/skyline photos i have obtained thus far (props to AJ)

the two that make me want to love life

(drunken) Father / (drunken) Daughter dance

OLD-SCHOOL

TOO MUCH GOING ON HERE

IHA = chicks that the guys wanted to hit on the most

jizz in a cup?

roses and stripper-dust

sorry i just had to throw this one in here, since it didn't make the slideshow

Cady's boobing herself in the background!

fake smile.. and Jesse looking a little sad, even after i told him i was digging the new hair

hot cousins

official pick-me-up crew

Frank!..was that his name? Frank?

(definitely not mine) "smells like sex"

this should be a school yearbook cover-photo or something

glow-in-the-dark-tits T-shirt while still achieving that fake smile

time to vent.
Pictures are worth a thousand words
in my case, they're worth

(what an asshole kid i was

(kind of looks like Chewbacca)

...a little idea of how it should've gone. because these pictures in particular will never be pertinent to any other slideshow put on by me (wow, i really do love my dog..)
even though this won't compensate for my "damage", it's here. plus, everyone loves an old family photo.
how Andrew's bowl makes it up on the screen, but my baby pictures don't?... what can you do.

Disaronno shots + swigs of J.D. + tequila sunrise = CRAP SPEECHES

and the unwise decision of putting on "Alyssa Loves People".. a sensation of dizziness, being incredibly shaky, repeated quotations, slurred speech, and definitely not being able to read off the laptop screen. what a mess!
wreckless, yes. but i'm allowed to exploit myself in public like that; i'm a horrible person, i really am. obviously preventable.
they may sound like excuses, but i've realized they seem more like a cry for help (rather than attention), to see how pathetic Alyssa Prieto truly is. a party that was meant to impress the family, in fact, disgraced it, within 3 hours. although... half of the incriminating photos went by unnoticed (i was watching the entire unedited video-recording. the crowd was mayhem on only about 4 of them), since my family is a whole bunch of dirtbags to begin with. the bigger shock was probably the fact that i had the balls to display to them what i, a studious(?)-asian-catholic-school-girl who rarely speaks up at all during family functions, do with my life. this only leads to bottling up more of the emotions and beasting work for the rest of my high-school career. they never really liked me in the first place anyway.

i am more terrified to speak up in front of my own family/relatives than i am with a group of friends/strangers.
goes to show why i turned out the way i am. is that even right?
that is why i have to get out of here in 2 years and go farrrrr away

personally, my only regret for this party is that i didn't even thank everyone enough for anything. i hope the family had a good time, because that's what would've made me happy... to know that they enjoyed. i've never known to put myself first in anything before, and that's why my feat of pulling off a self-planned soirée as an homage to 16 years of me, failed. (again, is that even right?) i don't need anyone's sympathy because it's not even a formal apology, or mockery, for that matter. i need them to understand me, without any hasty generalizations of what kind of person i am (RUDE AWAKENING!) as of now, i feel like i can only depend on my own non-related FRIENDS than family (because i already know they had a good time). i wished that this party could have changed that, to be able to gain their respect and have them as the ones who've got my back, but i was obviously mistaken, and like i foolishly said for every candle but plausibly meant it, "i can only hope for more of the best in the future"

for those of you dedicated to a candle, i'm hoping you've vaguely forgotten those spaced-out minutes of awkward, impromptu speeches.. you probably wouldn't believe me if i said i've been writing random things down in a document about every one of you since maybe 6 months ago, about little things i would've wanted to share with an audience about how much i enjoy your presence. those who do believe me that i've been doing that would even understand if i called them up and lit a candle in silence.. it wouldn't matter because they know how much i love them (still, i'm pretty sure my own classmates have never even seen me freeze up like that). i hate how i have to prove this shit for someone by a public candle-lighting ceremony (and being rushed by the fucking DJ). take Donny's speech for example, whose key words, seriously, only included "awesome", "summer", and "$70 worth of drinks at Porky's", and he still loves me like a brotha. i wasn't able to convey my full appreciation on the spot, considering the shaky premise.. and hope that my love for you comes from the mere memories of me "pre-party". i was expecting a night of artificial smiles, hugs, kisses, and words.. i just wasn't prepared for it

the case is always this
the more you plan something, or the more you anticipate an event
the worse it turns out to be
and gets shot to hell
(especially when you have a family who doesn't support anything you do)

god, since when do i get so damn "sweet" and apologetic.. my fucked up emotions on this party are mixed. everything was perfect.. the night, the weather, the food, the look, the feel, the mood. but not the heart. i don't care if anyone is morally shattered. no one has "morals" anymore. hell, we didn't even bother to snap a family portrait, and that opportunity was before the slideshow. don't think i don't hate myself for what happened.. i'm absolutely in love with several moments from 4 nights ago.. but i hated it. i hate how i need to have reasons for everything.. there are so many things in life that don't even have an explanation, that they just happen, and people try to make the best of it.. this is one of them. geez.. will i ever be happy...

look for thank-you cards and professional photos in the mail next week
and i guess the next party (ha..) will be better. promise

yeah, this one needs to soak in.. i won't be writing "up in here" for awhile
(oh man, the video totally shows us pulling up and blasting DMX.. you could see dad's deathly stare from the back of his head. thankfully he doesn't recall what happened.)
what he said was right, though. there were 2 kinds of personalities that night.. those who weren't affected at all, and those who actually were. those who were need to take a good look around them
(or for all they know, we were only "posing")
"they're only pictures." doesn't matter, it's the same monotonous look in every picture.. but man, do i get tired of that meaningless smile

stop it i don't even know what i'm saying anymore

Harking Back

Sun, 19 Jun 2005 23:01:14 GMT

good word of the day: New Jersey Turnpike, exit 14-B

excerpt from Blurty (dated approximately 2 years ago):

what an asshole. and you wonder how kids fall into illegal substance-abuse this day and age.
don't worry, i'm not that much of a melancholic bastard anymore..

despite having my summer prolonged for an additional 2 hours (it wasn't me who fucked up exams this time!), there is a noticeable decrease in my bitching and complaining.. and peaceful moments where nothing, at all, runs through my mind. it's nice.

but i should get a move-on
until Friday, then.

Tue, 17 May 2005 05:05:44 GMT

how convenient it would be to have this image screen-printed on a T-shirt

HAPPY B!

Mon, 02 May 2005 22:29:30 GMT

may 1

1:13 am

1:30 am

6:34 pm

7:14 pm

9:11 pm

my ultimate hero

7:28 pm

i always wake up with a missing earring

my spray-painted shapes are better.

who picked lime?

Mon, 18 Apr 2005 01:09:37 GMT

11:23am - discovering the sad attempt of a jell-o shot concoction to CONGEAL

gin = busted window screens

one-page essays on Karl Landsteiner suck too

Tue, 12 Apr 2005 00:16:04 GMT

good word of the day: Pious Ejaculation

caffeine has started to have a reverse effect on me.

i don't even know anymore what i make myself preoccupied with or why (oh, that bright, distant future, right.) it feels so unnecessary. just like that asshole lawyer in the Canterbury Tales. but they also say you're never too busy to get what you want. maybe that's wh

who gets the exact same average of an 89.43 (believe it or not. i swear it's devilwoman-Malone's way of teaching me my lesson.) for two consecutive quarters? any kind of reputable connection or character i had with IHA's faculty has been permanently shattered. there is a noticeably higher risk for me cutting class ("they WATCH me like a HAWK"). if i were to kill myself, i would etch the heinous face of our beloved 50 into my wrists with a bodkin beforehand.

i believe i always whip up this type of fruitless entry whenever there's 2 ounces of blood slowly flowing out of my system. girls are gross. i have pure sympathy for those who have to deal with our bullshit and monthly surges of FSH/LH/estrogen hormones (yeah, little bio for ya). i bet a scorching case of hemorrhoids is more tolerable than the average menstrual cycle.

unfortunately, rather than getting ill-tempered and belligerent, i appear to be inanimate and slothful. which sucks, because i should be off reading 100+ pages of Wuthering Heights & writing a LOG before 36 hours (starting now) are up. i would prefer shouting at the pages in aggression much more than falling asleep with book at hand in every attempt.

in junior high i would clear the 400-page Ender's Game within 12 uninterrupted hours and kick major ass on those tasks & exams. and last year's 500-page Jane Eyre & diary project (with the exception of my sketches) in 2 nights. but i guess that's the difference between public and private schools (and quite possibly, the difference between a genuinely intelligent person and a wannabe-smart-ass-slacker). i just can't seem to pull it off anymore. i miss insomniac all-nighters from 2 school years ago. deprived sleep (sadly) is finally catching up to me.

get back to me in approximately 2-5 days

my Adult-Swim, Maddox-loving..

Fri, 01 Apr 2005 06:28:14 GMT

iknowimrussian (5:51:57 PM): so i was coming home yesterday from new york
: i ask my friend
: to stop at those rest areas
: on the side of the road
: so we stop
: the rest of the guys go for refreshments
: i go to the bathroom
: as i go in the washroom the first stall is taken, so i got in the second stall
: i sit down, and then hear a voice from the next stall, saying, "Hi there, how is it going?"
: i don't usually strike up conversation with strangers in rest rooms on the side of the road, but i didn't know what to do
: so i say, "Not bad..."
: the voice says, "So, what are you doing?"
: talk about your stupid questions
: i find this a bit weird, but i say, "Well, just going to the bathroom, then going back to connecticut."
: then i hear the person say all flustered, "Look, I'll call you back, every time i ask a question, this idiot in the stall next to me answers me."

iknowimrussian (11:02:21 PM): did you see the hairy fire truck

iknowimrussian (5:55:06 PM): wednesday my brother comes home from college
: with his friend
: we chill
: watch some retarded james bond movie
: then my bro's like, "Go get the bowl."
: and i'm all excited
: and then his friend comes back with a bowl of chips
: i was like, "Double you tee eff mate!"
: and they started cracking up, and said that they were kidding
: so we smoked up to a james bond movie

iknowimrussian (10:41:58 PM): i love college
: they had this long ass bong
: and a little one that's all zig zaggy
: and an R2D2 hookah

iknowimrussian (7:09:18 PM): i swear to god
: my brother is like that gonorrhea puppet from dave chapelle show
: he's like, "I get so much puppet ass, it hurts!"
: i saw him in a "menage a toi"
: like an hour after this party started

iknowimrussian (11:59:37 PM): i'm suspended
: some kid threw a ketchup packet towards our table and got my homework
: i got pissed
: so i got an apple and chucked it at his face

iknowimrussian (10:39:43 PM): that's the most hillbilly thing i've ever known anyone do
: i love that homely feeling
: when somebody's foot is in your ass
: and you're crammed into a little subaru
: smelling like cookies, burgers and weed

iknowimrussian (11:23:04 PM): get me some catholic school girl ass

hooray for DeadAim

classic Nikita.

it's already April

jamming with The V

Thu, 24 Mar 2005 03:46:12 GMT

are you ready for this? (kaitlin is.)

Valeri, Joseph - Teacher
jvaleri@donboscoprep.com
Classes Taught: Band, Intro to Music, Music Theory, Piano (9, 10, 11, 12)
Room No.: J012 (music room)
Office Hrs: by appointment

"i'll bang you as hard as you bang those drums"

"Brought to you by the letter 'BONG'. And the number 'FUCK YOU'."

Tue, 01 Mar 2005 06:03:07 GMT

edit... because this makes my day

"I'm the poorest motherfucka on Sesame Street."
-Dave Chapelle

it's already March

Oops.

Fri, 18 Feb 2005 02:10:48 GMT

good word of the day: Parliamentarianism

that's a long word. along with TRANSUBSTANTIATION.

don't even read this.

so within this week of "Damn, sketchy son" and
no track practice = joyriding throughout bergen county in Sophie's car,
at the same time i've suffered more psychological pain than

who cares. i bring about my own misery. 2 members of the ever-so-wonderful IHA faculty have already strongly suggested that i throw myself into a deep slumber over the week-long break just 1 day away. (all right. whatever you say. because for me it's that easy.) i am mentally aging. (what an old lady.) and because my laptop has recently been picking up on my neighbor's LINKSYS signal and is repeatedly interrupting my wireless connection, i'm crouched down in a very uncomfortable position in a corner of my room where it does reach the internet bastard (secure your server, asshole.) hence inspiring me to compile a worthless and (literally) agonizing entry. again with the misery, just stop it. but hey, it's only an online weblog. no one pays any real attention to it.

i need to learn how to plan better.. and this road trippy to DC too

it's not good to dread your future
better to live in the moment.
it's not good to have people not know what the fuck you're talking about
it's not good to think of the perfect thing to say to someone AFTER you see them
it's not good to constantly think up ways of trying to improve yourself
it's not good to get too attached
it's not good to make everything a problem
it's not good to pretend to always be sad
because i can be happy.
it's not good to contradict yourself
it's not good to keep your feelings bottled in either

i'm ready to implode

i'm good at making things seem worse than they really are.
OVER-DRAMATIZING! delirious much..?

as if i did know what the hell i'm saying right now.
am i talking to myself?

show me drugs.
i've got Starbucks cinnamints that have a soothing resemblance to e-pills

Tue, 08 Feb 2005 02:33:28 GMT

"Your apple pie was delicious, Mrs. Salomon..

Sun, 30 Jan 2005 23:17:01 GMT

..thank you soooo much..(more incoherent "verbal diarrhea")..."

i'm so great.

the Shakespeare

Fri, 21 Jan 2005 02:34:54 GMT

"Cruel are the times, when we are traitors and do not know ourselves; when we hold rumor from what we fear, yet know not what we fear, but float upon a wild and violent sea.. each way and more."

fuckin right, son.

I want my backpack BACK.

Wed, 05 Jan 2005 17:48:28 GMT

good word of the day: that fucker's gonna die

"i don't wanna go on a rant, here.." but i'm going to take note of the things i will never see again. what do you make of this..

so we're at a 7-hour track meet in HACKENSACK's FAIRLEIGH DICKINSON UNIVERSITY, and for those of you who know New Jersey, this town is the ghetto county-seat of Bergen County. why they would choose a sketchy place like this, i don't know. we arrive at 3pm; i have placed my massive goose-shit-green Polo Sport bookbag next to my vibrant-green track duffle bag under the bleachers, where i see others have layed their bags there as well, such as a professional photographer's camera bag and another guy's leather coat/travel bag. i even make sure the "polo sport" part is facing the inside. i remember looking for pretzels in my bag around 6pm (i recall telling my parents, who were sitting on top of the bleachers, "yeah, we've been here 3 hours and i haven't even run yet.. sadly, my events are toward the end.") i return my water bottle to the bag and venture out on that long-ass line to the restroom, making it a 20-minute trip. we finally start warming up.. my friend and i step outside into the cold to become more awake. we walk inside, i take a glance under the bleachers, and notice that it's gone. it's 6:45pm. within an hour, all of this is gone:

************************************************
- goose-shit-green Polo Sport backpack
- wallet
credit cards (Capital One MasterCard, American Eagle, The Gap, Express, J. Crew)
$20 Sephora gift card
$14.90 Lord & Taylor gift card
$3.19 Robeks smoothie card
Subway SubClub membership card
Blockbuster membership card
Aura Science skincare card
Estee Lauder discount card
IHA student IDs
single sheet of rolling paper.
stainless steel credit-card-bottle-opener (damn it. i loved that thing.)
$2.50 NYC MetroCard with foldable subway system map (DAMN.)
business cards from interesting men/people
library card
Aetna Health Insurance card
state exam card that allows me to attain my driver's permit on May 1, 2005
movie ticket stubs since 2001 (i had Rat Race and The New Guy in there)
$40 cash
- $100 graphing calculator
- spanish dictionary, textbook, workbook, precious notes in notebook
- religion textbook, leather-bound holy bible, precious notes in notebook, white-beaded rosary (with missing bead in the 3rd decade)
with midterms in a week, this is not a good thing.
- pencil
- purple highlighter
- BIC sponge-tip smooth coverage white-out
- teal mini post-its
- light blue tissue from Ms. Rich's tissue box
- 2-month-old Sony Ericsson cell phone (125 contacts, genuine ringtones, crap-quality camera-phone pictures of "P'tit Bonheur" and other objects from my daily escapades.. all gone.)
- chapstick
- eyeliner.
************************************************

much insight into my life, eh?

they're gonna have a blast formulating parabolas, praying the rosary, eating Subway sandwiches and/or taking the NY Subway good enough for one ride, using my Phase 1 skincare line, and renting movies with late fees while blowing their nose with my tissue.

or they might've just taken the phone/wallet and throw the rest in a dump. even better.

for the rest of the night until 10pm, i wander around, distraught, making me perform terribly at the 600M I WAS NOT BUILT FOR RUNNING, which made me miss out on the 200M (i'm actually good at) that followed right after. i left and went back an hour later, after the meet was finished. on the other side of the gym, the blecahers that were totally opposite us, i spot my bright yellow peanut M&M "Go nuts. You're only young once." driver's ed folder, scattered amongst other things i recognized to be my own. he/she has left that with my:

- driver's ed quizzes
- recently-bought $4 Rand McNally map of NJ
- school agenda (the one thing i am thankful for.)
- plastic baggie of Vitamin C pills
- permission slips for ACT trips
- guidance office slips
- Western Civilization slip with my grade of "86"
- Vermont ski trail maps of the Okemo and Stowe mountain resorts
- rosary guide
- Pentel RSVP pen.

"thank goodness your iPod and Palm Pilot were in your track bag. you're fortunate enough not to lose those."
duh. but still, why wouldn't this asshole steal $80 running spikes & sneakers instead of critical school notes? i can replace shoes and an iPod. i can't replace a half-year's worth of carefully-taken notes. i am the most organized person i know. i don't lose things. i'm not supposed to lose anything. who else would actually remember all of that.. i don't have money, why take from me.

"what were you thinking, bringing all of that along with you to a track meet?"
that is exactly what is packed in my schoolbag everyday. if i knew that some poor sucker wanted to jack an inconspicuous ugly-colored backpack, i wouldn't have brought it. so completely random. i was actually very close to bringing along my laptop too. i figured i would be able to accomplish some of my work while wasting away at the meet. the real losses here were my phone and wallet.. and my notes.. and school textbooks, with booksox on them..

i'm not one to lose my head in situations like this, but obviously since i'm the one being affected here, i haven't had an outburst in a long time. (actually, i later learned from my mother that when my coach found out what was wrong, coach says, "oh, she always looks so stressed out like that anyway.") i informed people about it and soon IHAers were going around, fondling other strangers' bags. i found some chick with the same exact backpack, but i knew it wasn't mine. why didn't they steal hers, laying in the middle of nowhere, instead? "don't be flashing things around," says dad. i wasn't flashing anything around. it's the ghetto. i know not to do that.

"well these are just material things. at least it wasn't you who was kidnapped. you learned a lesson here."
shut up. i sure as hell did not learn a lesson. i can't bring a lockbox to a track meet without getting an ass-kicking. they figure any backpack would have a cell phone and a wallet in it, so they grab it. and they took more than materialistic objects. there is now a discrepancy in the knowledge i possess. "who was Nebuchadnezzar again? oh wait, that was in the religion notebook that was stolen in sophomore year." it wasn't my carelessness. it's my bad karma.

i didn't go to school today. i completely missed the listening part of the spanish midterm. i wasn't able to do all other work that was due today. i was busy cancelling my phone service/numerous credit cards, and we're going back to the university to attempt to look for anything else.

fucking sport of track, and its community-of-Harlem ways.

yep. back to the old Aeropostale messenger bag that scratches up my thighs.