text message break-ups

October 5, 2012

So I tried to cut off Katrina the other night through text, for various personal reasons. But I’m thinking she caught on and won’t let it happen. She’s now interested in just about every facet of my life. But I don’t want that. She wants to continue being friends, except now she’s going to omit certain things, and I think that’s worse than not talking at all. Maybe phasing out will work better than cutting off. Going with her to see Perks tonight in Brea though, we’ll see how that goes.

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independence day blurb

July 6, 2012

Ok, best 4th of July ever. EVER.

Katrina Alaia, drive to Brea, closed favorite restaurants in Fullerton and Diamond Bar, Chickfila, Ontario Mills with Tita Cyn, plus Steph, Dan, Ron Tua, Barbecue, Vantage Point, driving through the streets of La Puente following the sights and sounds of fireworks and finding the biggest and most dangerous ones in the residentials (tha hood, haha), gangsta rap switched to KOST, 10pm ice cream trucks, dead battery ice cream trucks, jump starting an ice cream truck, getting free ice cream in return, and fireworks on the way back, all with amazing, amazing company. Good day, I didn’t even have to use my AK.

We all want to be admired in some way or another. Sub-thoughts and points regarding the topic jumbled in my mind; selfishness, self-glorification, motives for doing certain things, self-worth, just a lot of self — even in selflessness. Art and intelligence and eloquence and blog entries and work and possessions and missions trips and ministries and hearts and halves. And have-nots. Sorry, this is impossible to follow, foggy in my head, even worse on paper/keyboards/computer monitors, but I (kind of and don’t) understand. Just a little more observant, a little too judgemental lately.

I honestly don’t remember a non-cynical me.

Endless talks with Katrina lately consisting of just about every type of relational situation and this is me coming to grips with the fact that I might not be cut out for ANY such situation, even the superficial and unmeaningful ones. And I’ve always had this idea of myself in my mind: self-less and romantic and considerate and hopeful and chivalrous, and maybe I was once, or maybe it was just wishful thinking, or some kind of arrogance. Seems lately my only goal is to be less of a prick — and I’m failing at it.

What is this broken-ness anyway? It isn’t as if anything substantial or devestating has happened to me particularly. As of late though, mind has been blown over processing the ideals of friendships and love and the ending or struggles of both. And forgiveness. And maybe Katrina’s right and I’m just really empathetic.

And as much as I am cynical, or how I rant of loss of faith in people and love, and my own fears of being able to cope in certain situations, and this constant sense of discouragement — Do I have a genuine hope that that isn’t always the case? That there exists an unconditional love even in human relationships, with one another?

I really do.

And I’m scared that that’ll either make me indescribably happy in the end or shatter me completely.

crying over spilt milk (tea)

September 29, 2011

Looks as though Boiling Crab has made it onto on my list of weekly to-do’s, and it’s even better when I get to terrorize those delicious shrimp with amazing company.

Anti-social as of late but Katrina Alaia’s always been the exception. Blessed to have her as a friend, sister, confidante, listener, story-teller, and over-all entertainment. Conversations consisting of but not limited to business education, late-night/early-morning inappropriate laughfests about ridiculous situations, and heartfelt concern and analyzation for difficult ones.

Anyway, nights like this inspire, encourage, and help me feel alive more than you might know. L ya.

P.s. One key moment during dinner: Unintentional inappropriate mass text message from Steph. Gahahahaha.

she has been, and will always be — the entertainment of my life hahaha

note: phone conversation consisted of 90% laughter, 5% inaudible dialogue because of said laughter, and eventually 5% of our short stories being told

jellyfish

August 10, 2009

well, i wrote your name and burned it to see the color of the flame, and it burnt out the whole spectrum, as if you were everything. mine just burned gold, a normal flame. i am not anything. and all that i remember is the feeling of waking up. we were kids, i was the sun to which your eyes would not adjust. we were kids, you were a fountain; i could never drink enough. then came all the boys that swept you up, and played careless with your heart. and every night there was a new girl sitting beside me in my car. something dies when you grow older, but you do the best you can. i am glad, i am glad you found a good man.

http://www.odeo.com/flash/audio_player_standard_black.swf