vivo. rir. amor.

Locking myself out of this tumblr. I’ve done a lot of looking back, and I don’t need...

Mon, 06 Feb 2012 22:55:35 -0800

Locking myself out of this tumblr. I’ve done a lot of looking back, and I don’t need that. It’s definitely the last thing I need. I’m no longer waiting for my future, it’s here, I’m making it.

Photo

Sat, 04 Feb 2012 19:31:21 -0800

Photo

Thu, 02 Feb 2012 21:08:49 -0800

Photo

Wed, 01 Feb 2012 19:32:43 -0800

takes2totengco: hey grandma, you couldn’t just like the...

Mon, 30 Jan 2012 20:01:34 -0800

takes2totengco:

hey grandma, you couldn’t just like the album?

this. and my mom too.

kyle, why does she type in caps all the time?

RON WEASLEY?

Mon, 30 Jan 2012 19:59:20 -0800

RON WEASLEY?

kimmmber: pkatheryn When things in your life seem, almost too...

Sun, 29 Jan 2012 21:49:13 -0800

kimmmber:

pkatheryn

When things in your life seem, almost too much to handle,
When 24 Hours in a day is not enough,
Remember the mayonnaise jar and 2 cups of coffee.

A professor stood before his philosophy class
and had some items in front of him.
When the class began, wordlessly,
He picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar
And proceeded to fill it with golf balls.

He then asked the students, if the jar was full.
They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured
them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly.
The pebbles rolled into the open Areas between the golf balls.

He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar.
Of course, the sand filled up everything else.
He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous ‘yes.’

The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively
filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

‘Now,’ said the professor, as the laughter subsided,
‘I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life.
The golf balls are the important things - family,
children, health, Friends, and Favorite passions –
Things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, Your life would still be full.

The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, house, and car.

The sand is everything else —The small stuff.

‘If you put the sand into the jar first,’ He continued,
there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls.
The same goes for life.

If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff,
You will never have room for the things that are important to you.

So…

Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.
Play With your children.
Take time to get medical checkups.
Take your partner out to dinner.

There will always be time to clean the house and fix the disposal.

‘Take care of the golf balls first —
The things that really matter.
Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented.

The professor smiled
‘I’m glad you asked’.

It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem,
There’s always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend.’

♥

"He was a good-looking, sarcastic jock; I was a gawky, intense girl who briefly had delusions of..."

Fri, 27 Jan 2012 20:47:00 -0800

“He was a good-looking, sarcastic jock; I was a gawky, intense girl who briefly had delusions of grandeur.”

- Gorgeous - Rachel Vail

My leg 24hrs later; pics for the lawyer LOL. Mr. Cavanagh...

Fri, 27 Jan 2012 20:39:22 -0800

My leg 24hrs later; pics for the lawyer LOL. Mr. Cavanagh insists I sue. It’s so sore, hurts like crazy. I didn’t know it was so bruised until 3rd period today, holy asdfjkl;.

"Living is like tearing through a museum. Not until later do you really start absorbing what you saw,..."

Fri, 27 Jan 2012 20:33:32 -0800

“Living is like tearing through a museum. Not until later do you really start absorbing what you saw, thinking about it, looking it up in a book, and remembering - because you can’t take it in all at once.”

- Audrey Hepburn (via todayithought)

since i know you don’t wanna know, i’ll tell you...

Thu, 26 Jan 2012 22:48:00 -0800

since i know you don’t wanna know, i’ll tell you anyways! this is my leg right now. it hurts like a asdfghjkl. the neighbor’s dog decided it would take a bite. got back from the ER a few hours ago. yay.

“We’re trying to figure out if I might have PTSD from my...

Thu, 26 Jan 2012 01:48:00 -0800

“We’re trying to figure out if I might have PTSD from my mom’s…accident.”
“You have PTSD from your mom tripping?”

I get it. You didn’t hear her scream. You didn’t hear the pounding on the door. You didn’t open the door and see her sprawled on the sidewalk. You didn’t watch her labored breathing, barely coming out through her mouth. You didn’t call 911. You didn’t talk to the operator. You didn’t take her pulse. You weren’t shouting her name. You didn’t have your hands shaking as badly as your voice. You didn’t see her try to move. You didn’t see her try to reach the phone. You weren’t holding her hand. You weren’t whispering “I love you.” You weren’t worried that these were her last words. You weren’t the one not knowing if she was about to die in your hands. You didn’t hear the sirens. You didn’t watch the gurney roll in. You weren’t running to find her purse, her medicines. You didn’t talk to the firemen. You didn’t watch the firemen treat her like an idiot. You didn’t talk to the paramedic. You didn’t watch three little kids standing there crying. You didn’t have to scream what to do. You didn’t hear her mumbling. You didn’t talk to a shocked husband on the other side of the country. You didn’t see her try to pull off the neck brace. You didn’t make the rush to the ER. You didn’t wait for eternity in reception. You didn’t see her in a hospital bed. You didn’t see her a mess, covered in vomit, leaves, and braces. You didn’t have to meet the rude nurse in a dire time of need. You didn’t see her hooked up to dozens of leads and IVs. You didn’t spend the night in absolute shock. You weren’t completely alone in a life or death situation. You didn’t have to repeat the story hundreds of times by noon the next day. You didn’t wake up the next morning deprived of any feelings. You weren’t put into the most real flight-or-fight response of your life. You didn’t spend over two weeks without sleep. You didn’t spend days in the ICU. You didn’t see her brain scans. You didn’t see her scars. You didn’t see her fracture. You didn’t see her skull. You didn’t monitor every condition. You didn’t deal with emotions of hundreds of other people. You didn’t spend nights in the hospital. You didn’t talk to dozens of nurses. You didn’t hear her vitals mentioned every couple hours. You didn’t stand by her bed for hours just watching her and holding her hand. You didn’t give her medicines every 4 hours. You didn’t have talks with her until 3AM. You didn’t set up a bed in her room to keep watch on her. You weren’t yelled at when you were doing your damn best. You didn’t have to nurse her for weeks because she wouldn’t let anyone else. You didn’t walk her to her bathroom, down the hall, around the house, around the hospital. You didn’t hate yourself for feeling completely responsible for nursing her and feeling like you’re failing.
You don’t have nervous breakdowns because you feel like you can’t do enough. You don’t watch her mood swings. You don’t think about it every damn day. You don’t worry about her every time you’re not around her. You don’t have nightmares about her getting hurt, and not being able to help. You don’t feel worthless every time she gets upset. You don’t see her crushed skull, bald and flat. You don’t feel the need to cry every time you remember. You don’t see the sidewalk where she got hurt and cringe. You don’t make the walk she made before it all, and rethink it all. You don’t hate yourself for not being there sooner. You don’t cry every time she says that she doesn’t think she’s lucky to be alive. You don’t worry every day that she might relapse. You don’t go day by day, week by week, counting how long it’s been. You don’t remember the time it happened and get scared that time every day. You don’t have the story you repeated hundreds of times etched into your memory. You don’t have the details so scarred into your mind that you can recall it perfectly, three months later. You don’t feel that it’s still October 20th.

I get it. You didn’t, you don’t. But don’t you dare say all that happened was that my mom “tripped”.

Junior Year

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 23:48:35 -0800

1. SATs on Saturday! :O

2. We were looking at colleges during AP 11 today. Did you know CalTech’s SAT 25%-75% range is 770-800 in math? Fordham, NYU, Colombia, U Chicago, and Boston U & College FTW.

3. ACTs in 3 weeks!

4. PROM UGH TOO MUCH I DON’T WANT TO EVEN BOTHER.

5. Prom royalty nominations tomorrow!

6. Work overload!

7. Meetings everyday afterschool; not getting home until 8/9 every night…not good.

8. I still cannot get over that we are in our second semester of JUNIOR year. Wow.

PS: WHAT IS FAN MAIL? OMG.

So I've figured out how I'm going to ask this guy to prom.

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 23:18:00 -0800

I’m so freaking excited…you don’t even know.

——-

edit: So the idea is pretty much the Disney’s “Hidden Mickey”s thing; on objects that are inside jokes (tennis ball, copy of a project we’ve done, nickname-related things), I’d draw/put a Mickey Mouse logo on. Leave one in each of his classes (and make sure someone hints him where to find it if he doesn’t), so throughout the day he’d realize who’s asking him (though he already kind of knows), and the last one says “Prom?” :)

ilovecharts: Obama is great! -refrickdonk Yes! But...

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 23:05:17 -0800

ilovecharts:

Obama is great!

-refrickdonk

Yes! But “Misery Index”? Note to self: Finish post on Occupy Wall Street

Unusual Date Ideas

Mon, 16 Jan 2012 18:02:26 -0800

vandonnelly:

Am I getting ahead of myself? Yes. Do I care? Not really.

My Parents' Relationship, and the Phantom of the Opera

Sun, 15 Jan 2012 18:05:33 -0800

After I talked to my mom about my boy problems, I asked her about her relationship with my dad, since I never knew.

My parents dated for only one year before they got married.

And they were in a long-distance relationship.

My mom was in the Philippines. My dad was in New York.

How amazing is that? I actually started crying when I heard that.

My mom was in the Philippines, but it wasn’t like she was “plucked out of a miserable life by a ‘prince’”; she was already chief of OB/GYN, educated, a surgeon and physician. My dad was an RN in in the tri-city area of NY. She knew she was going to put her career first, no matter what. And she made sure my dad accepted that. She said they both discussed how “[she] would continue to have her career here, and he would do his thing in New York”. She “was never the kind to focus on ‘getting married and having kids!’” as to where I completely agreed, I’m not like that at all either. But at 31, my mom knew she was getting old, and “so hey, it all turned out all right. Better than all right.”

Even better, my mom said it also gave so much more meaning to the story/play/musical, The Phantom of the Opera. If you live underneath the cultural rock, in POTO, Christine Daae was in this love triangle; there was the Phantom, who was her “guardian angel” and singing coach ever since her father (legendary violinist) died. Therefore, the Phantom was the driving force for her career. On the other hand is this brand-new suitor, Viscount Raoul de Chagny, aka Raoul, who woos her and tries to pull her away from the opera, and her career. As my mom said, the story isn’t just about a love triangle, with one end being a brilliant but socially outcasted mastermind, and the other being a successful and handsome viscount, but also about your future, and the roads of career/love and lust/love.

My parents - the least sappy, least romantic, least cute couple I know - made a (very) long-distance relationship work. They put their own goals first. They finished what they needed to. They didn’t have to see each other all the time, let alone even close. I’m officially convinced, there’s hope.

Talking to my mom about my problems turns into legit psychotherapy. But on the bright side, I can talk to my mom about my problems.

Sun, 15 Jan 2012 17:11:30 -0800

I’ve been upset all weekend, and sadly, it’s been over boy problems. Ick.

And I think what is annoying me the most is the simple fact that I am getting upset over, yes, boy problems.

There’s my rational side, and then my emotional side. And then there’s over/under analyzing of all the signals. (Does it mean something if a guy is fiddling with something, like a key chain, while you’re alone talking? Or if he’s watching your face, when you’re next to him, while you’re working?) And then, there’s the nobody-can-read-him-at-all & total-pokerface factor.

Surprising part is that I’m not anxious/jittery about the whole thing. I just wish I knew, and that I could be assured that things don’t get awkward.

Back to the point, for the first time, I open up to my mom about a guy I like. At the end of it all, she hugs me and tells me, “You’re not in a bad place. Everything might not have gone as planned, and things might be awkward, but you’re still okay. And look. I think the best part is that we’re talking about this. That we’re talking about a boy! And not just any boy, he’s [blah blah blah if-I-say-it-here-you’ll-know-who-it-is]….”

annaliese-ah: This is true.

Thu, 12 Jan 2012 18:15:03 -0800

annaliese-ah:

This is true.

Photo

Sat, 07 Jan 2012 18:42:31 -0800