2. summer is also the time for magical connections between two people that would usually not be made otherwise. opportunities and situations present themselves on those hot days and nights that would never arise in the other nine months of the year. you find your summer-self behaving in ways that your fall-, winter-, and spring-selves would either shy away from, sneer at, and avoid completely, respectively.

say, for example, you’re at the house of a friend of a friend, enjoying a cool drink inside their well air-conditioned den. your friend and your friend’s friend are hitting it off and having a great time all on their own. you, too, are enjoying yourself, watching reruns of a favorite show while sitting next to the friend of the friend of your friend. he offers you a sip of his imported beer, and, seeing the big drops of condensation slowly sliding down the crystal clear glass, you can’t help but lick your lips in anticipation of the rich, dark refreshment. even though the air-con is on full blast, you realize that you’re still pretty stuffy and maybe it’s a little cooler outside. so you take the offered glass into your own hand and, while the glass is being transposed from one owner to the next, your fingers brush against his. you raise the glass to your lips but then realize that you’d much rather be outside. so you get up from your seat and head for the door, hoping that the friend of the friend of your friend follows behind you. when you open the door, you breathe in the sweet, night air and feel the cool breeze wrap you up. behind you is the friend of the friend of your friend. he shuts the door behind him and watches you as you finally take a sip of the indian pale ale he is so graciously sharing with you.

as you sip from the tall sweating glass, he says, “man, it’s hot out.”

finishing the sip, you reply, while looking down at your exposed toes (because you’re wearing sandals), “sure is.”

you look up at him, he smiles, and says, “uh, you’ve got a little froth-stache.”

embarrassed, you raise your hand to your mouth, ready to wipe the offending new accessory. before you can do the job, though, he grabs your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours. “wait,” he says. so you become this subservient version of yourself for a moment. with his free hand, he places a curled forefinger under your chin and uses it to tilt your face up. you think that this is the part in the movies where the girl gets kissed underneath the cloudless night sky when you can see so many stars, but then you feel that he’s really kind of just kissing that funny spot between your upper lip and nose, your cupid’s bow. and then you realize that’s perfectly fine because that part of you never gets properly kisses so you’re not going to complain.

“thanks,” you say as a hot flush creeps across your cheeks.

“no problem,” he replies.

when you realize that he still really hasn’t moved away and he’s standing a little too close, you look up at the sky because you can’t really stand looking into his eyes because you’re sure you’ll fall right into them and never get back out. as your heart rate slows, you decided to try to look at him. he, too, is looking up at the sky, at the stars, at the endlessness of it all. you see the taut skin that stretches over his adam’s apple, and you can’t help yourself. you bring your lips to that esophageal protrusion and get to know it.

after you get walked to your side of the car later that night by that nice young man and after he kisses you goodnight, you drive away with a warm feeling in your stomach that has nothing to do with the weather. there is some magical force that is pulling up the corners of your lips, whether you like it or not. then you realize that had it not been for the warmth of the summer breeze or of the position of the moon and venus in the sky that night or the freezing air inside the house or the shared pint of beer or that feux-froth facial hair, perhaps you would never have done any of the aforementioned. hypothetically, of course.

but that’s just what summer is known to do to people.

3. about three halloweens ago, i dressed up as an electrical outlet. silly, i know. it was a total diy last-minute costume and to kind of spice up the whole ensemble, i donned a long black wing with blunt bangs across the forehead. stupid costume aside, i thought i looked pretty cool, and it was mostly because of the wig. so that night, i kinda decided that i wanted to have my natural hair just like that. long, dark with bangs. fast forward to last summer and my hair is getting pretty darn long. i have never had successful bangs but i put on a brave face and head to the hairdresser’s. with me, i take my bff zooey deschanel (a picture of her anyway) and say, “i want those layers and i want those bangs.” she looks at me. “please,” i finish.

when i walk out of the salon, i feel awesome. that wonderful cathartic feeling that comes with shedding some hair buoys me for a good week. the next couple of months, however, are filled with me complaining about my goddamn bangs and how annoying they are and how they’re always in my face and some days i wake up and they’re just being totally uncooperative and now with these bangs i can’t skip out on washing my hair because then they get really oily and it looks like i have nasty grease hair and whydidievergetthesestupidbangs???

it’s been about a year since i got the bangs and i’ve grown them out. mostly. i can almost completely tuck them behind my ears and i can pull them up if i want to have an alarmingly high bun or ponytail. i miss them sometimes because i think i looked pretty okay with them.

now, though, my hair is kind of long. as in, down to my waist long. and i don’t know what to do with it! i’d love to do bangs again but they’re more trouble than they’re worth.

4. so this is potter-tastical year. in two days, it will be the 1-month anniversary of universal studio’s wizarding world of harry potter theme park. my brothers and i are planning a short vacation over to the park next month and we’re all stoked! the park was completely designed with j.k. rowling signed on as a consultant so everything’s got her stamp of approval. even the butterbeer is supposed to taste exactly how she imagined it. in her mind! j.k. rowling’s mind! butterbeer!

later this year, in november, the seventh installment (and part 1 of 2) of the film series will premiere. harry potter and the deathly hallows should be an amazing film and i can’t wait for it to come out.

5. i’ve come to the conclusion that ever july, i go into a mini-depression. luckily most of my friends are away for school or visiting family or something that takes them away so i’m allowed to sulk at my own leisure. this month i’ve been missing my younger brother like crazy as he’s currently on an epic road trip with my dad. one of my bffs is flying up east to visit her family, another is in california doing some crazy internship at a hippie school. another bff just got married and moved to florida and another one is in spain. i miss them all terribly, but this allows me to kind of feel sorry for myself and also really concentrate on my class and get an a+++.

+1. if i don’t update for the next month and a half, enjoy the rest of your summer and remember to free yourself to all opportunities!

readers, feel free to leave a comment with a phrase that you absolutely hate.

010. “It truly is”
009. “That type of thing”
008. “Talking out of my butt”
007. “It’s complicated”
006. “Whatnot”
005. “Basically”
004. “You don’t even want to know”
003. “Well, when you put it like that”
002. “Don’t worry about it”
001.”Trust me”

one:
a couple of weeks ago, i went out of town to go see these bands i really like in austin. since this is a four-hour trip, i decided to take two days off of work. just two. i hardly ever take days like this off of work, so i thought they would be understanding. i told them i’d be gone wednesday and thursday, and that i’d be back the friday before halloween. so i went to the amazing concert, had a great time in austin the next day, and friday i was back at work. at first, i thought everything was peaches and cream, but then my supervisor called me into her office, and that’s never good. apparently, several of the people i work with had banded together while i was gone to tell my supervisor all the fuck-ups i’d committed over the past year or so. when you put all these little things into one big list, yeah, it sounds fucking awful. so right now, i’m in some sort of probationary status which totally blows. i haven’t spoken to these other women who i thought i was somewhat friends with in a while. it’s kind of a bummer, but that’s why it’s work. you don’t go to make friends. you go to make money.

two:
i attend a university and, within this university, i’m studying my major in the arts & sciences college (aka the humanities college, the liberal arts college, etc). in a lot of my classes, professors are constantly urging us to discuss the course content between us. in one particular classroom discussion about two weeks ago, a classmate made a particularly irrelevant and asinine comment. now, i’m not that brash that i point out people’s stupidities to them immediately. no. this girl has been a thorn in my side since the beginning of the year when i had her for two classes in the spring semester. since then, i’ve noticed that she seems to relish in making remarks in class that she, in some vague way, feels pertain to our discussion. she will constantly mention things about her family or the house her family is building or her boyfriend or her ex boyfriend and it’s not appreciated by me at all. finally, she said this one thing recently that i really couldn’t stand. everything went in tunnel-vision, and, before i knew it, i was making some snide remark about where she learned these things. a week later, my professor was emailing me to please visit her and it was to address this incident. this classmate of mine was truly hurt and instead of confronting me, she went to the professor and demanded that i publicly apologize to her in front of the class. hah! i told the professor that i would not do this, but i knew that i had lost control which was in poor taste on my part. while the issue has been dropped, it still feels shitty.

three: i think i’m a pretty level-headed girl. however, there is one aspect in my life in which i totally fucking fail at. i’m constantly losing things: clothes, gadgets, homework, personal belongings, etc. recently, though, it feels like i’m particularly good at losing my identification/drivers license. in the past two years, i’ve gone through about four different IDs. it sucks hard. especially now that i’m twenty-one and i should be able to go out to bars. anyway, last week, a good friend of mine invited me to this bar to go see his really cool band play. knowing that this bar sometimes has asshole-y bouncers, i took with me my provisional paper license, a birth registration card, and a student ID to prove i was the person on the first two credentials. even with these three documents, the bouncer did not let me in. i was turned away and i couldn’t even let my friend know in person. i was pissed.

four & five: these two are actually really pathetic reasons, having to do mainly with guys and how stupid they are and the demeaning effect they have on my personal confidence. i won’t waste my words.

i love you guys.

almost a whole year ago, in december of 2008, a friend of mine invited me and another friend to a party. it was early in the month, the school semester had just ended, and a celebration of our temporary scholastic liberation was in order. the party was a combination of occasions: there was a december graduate as well as two birthdays (we got invited for the graduate). the party started off great: no one we knew was there, it was a totally different and nice crowd, and there was just a very good vibe in general. just being with two of my best friends was great. that drinks were a-flowing and people were kind were just added bonuses. the three of us were laughing and smiling and dancing.

another surprise came that night. i’ve always said that i have the most beautiful friends, and these two girls i was with are no exception to the rule. the girl who got us the invitation was flirting and getting friendlier with the guy whose invitation we were riding on as the night progressed, and the other friend i was with had, if i recall correctly, at least three guys all vying for her attention. they both got asked to dance, and while they were out on the dance floor, doing their thing, i headed over to the open bar to get a refresher. as i leaned against the bar to wait for my new drink, i people watched. one group of friends in particular caught my attention. they were all arranged in a circle and dancing. one guy in the dancing ring caught my attention as he looked a bit silly, trying his hardest to keep rhythm with the pumping bass of the music that was pulsing through the room. i couldn’t help but stare! he looked so silly. i watched him for a while as he did this weird knee-bending, shoulder-rolling dance move, but i had to turn away from him to get my drink. when i looked back to the group of friends, i noticed that he was missing and was ready to go find my girls. however, i was distracted from doing this when i noticed that the lame dancer was actually standing in my way.

worried that he might question my totally obvious staring, i avoided his gaze, hoping he would just go away. he didn’t however, and i finally had no choice but to look at him and awkwardly smile. the following is my best recollection of our conversation:

him-> hey do you want to dance? with me?
me -> uhm, no thank you, i don’t really dance.
him-> well, you saw me dancing, right?
me -> er…
him-> come on.. you can say yes.
me -> well, yes, i suppose i was watching you a bit.
him-> it looked kinda like you were making fun of me…
me -> oh, no way. i would never.
him-> it’s okay, i know i’m not that great of a dancer.
me -> i, uh, i really wasn’t.
him-> well, i still think that in order to be able to tease people about their dancing, you have to show off your own dancing skills in order to prove that you are better.
me -> oh, no, that’s not–
him-> no, come on, show me what you’ve got.

at this point, this very bold stranger takes my arm and leads me to where everyone else is dancing. when i’d told him earlier that i didn’t dance, it was the truth. i am quite okay with the fact that i’m a rubbish dancer. truly. i’m awful at it. i blame it on having no grace. or poise. or rhythm. but there i was. standing way too close to a stranger who reminded me a little of the author’s portrait on the inside of the dust jacket of neil gaiman’s The Graveyard Book. when he noticed that i was a uneasy with the prospect of dancing, he smiled and did his best to teach me the secret of his bending knee, shoulder rolling prowess. he made me laugh, and each time i made eye contact with my busy friends, they gave me looks of encouragement. we danced and laughed and joked the rest of the night and when time came to wrap things up, i actually felt bummed. time had passed quickly but, sure enough, when i checked the time, i realized that we were closer to morning time than we’d realized. we sat down to talk for a bit, and i told him i had to leave and just as my friends were rushing me to get a move on, i leaned towards him and i gave him a kiss. it was a short, sweet thing, but it was nice. just like him.

a few weeks passed after this and i didn’t know anything about him except for his name. i turned twenty-one, celebrated a new year, started a whole new semester of classes, saw another guy, and went on spring break. during spring break, i went out with a school friend of mine for a cup of coffee on her birthday. i walked into the café and i spotted someone who looked like my lame dancer of three months prior. one of the friends who i’d gone to the party with was with us and i asked her if she thought that was him. she said no, he looked too old. naturally, i disagreed. he looked just like the guy. granted, i’d spent hours with this guy in a dark room, so how good of a look did i really get? i tried to convince her that it was him, but i noticed that he was getting ready to leave just as we were arriving. he walked up and looked in our direction, and we made eye contact. he looked away to put something away in a bag he had with him, and i walked past him to find somewhere to sit. as i looked back to catch another glimpse of him, he also turned and we shared another look. and that was that. he walked out and away.

shortly after this mid-march week, i flew laterally across the country to the great state of minnesota for a literature and rhetoric conference in minneapolis. i was gone for about a week. the very day i fly back, i met a friend at this same coffee shop that i’d gone to before, and i saw the guy again! this time, feeling so confident after successfully presenting a paper of my own creation to a panel of my peers and professors, i decided i would say hi. i walked right up to him and said, “hello, do you remember me? i met you months ago.” we had a good chat, and, while i began to say my goodbyes, he asked me for my phone number. i felt amazed. how could a funny, cute, older guy like him want my number? i gave it to him and weeks, weeks passed and he never called. i was kind of upset. however, as i have mentioned before, i always have several crushes, so i wasn’t too devastated.

easter came around and i met up with three of my best friends at this very same cafe. soon, i noticed that there he was again! sitting quite close to the four of us. this time it was he who engaged me in conversation. after all, he hadn’t called me and i wasn’t going to waste more time with him again. we spoke with each other as if old friends and, once again, he asked me for my number! i will make mention that both times, he simply wrote my number down, and never actually punched into his phone. whatever. i gave him my number for a second time. for a second time, i waited for weeks for a call and did i get it? no.

that was april. fast forward through the rest of spring, an insane summer, and i find myself in october. a friend’s significant other mentions to me that he’s working at the same place where i could swear that this man had mentioned to me that he worked. i ask the old boyfriend if he knows anyone by this name and the  answer is yes! i am pleasantly surprised. i ask questions and learn some insignificant but charming details about him, and i satiated.

then tonight! tuesday night! i go to this very special cafe and there he is! i see him and say hello, but just walk straight on through. let it be known that i was at this coffee shop today with the same two girls i was with the night i met this guy. when we’re getting ready to leave, i decide that i’m going to say a nicer say hello to him, and i approach him. he’s polite as ever and we’re talking about halloween and his work and i compliment him and he’s graceful and i tell him i’m going to austin tomorrow and i wish i could be there for halloween and then. then. then he says that i should go to austin. and i would be more than welcome to stay in the apartment he has there. WHAT. i know.

the only better thing i could have heard him say would have been, “will you marry me?” i mean, seriously. an invitation to stay at his place? i say that i’ll think about it, and this time he changes things up. he asks, “do you want my number in case you do decide to go to austin?” i tell him that yes, i would like, but i left my phone in the car so if he could please write it down, i’d appreciate it. he says, no, he can just call me from his phone. so he asks me for mine (for a third time), and i give it to him. this time, he does save it in his phone! and he calls me! i tell him goodbye and that i hope things work out and i’m able to go to austin. i practically run to my car to get my phone, and, sure enough, there is a missed call from his 512 number.

i’m still floating, but i know i probably won’t get to go to austin for halloween. talking to him was good enough, though, and should keep me in the clouds for a good while.

over the years, we’ve been able to discuss books both of us have read and we’ve also gone to midnight premieres of lots of movies. we also have been to a few concerts together. we also share likes as far as clothing goes. we both really like the sister company of abercrombie, ruehl (that will soon be closing down due to insurmountable financial loss), and we are crazy about the online clothing store, alternative apparel. while i do wear a different size than her, i have on occasion lent her clothes that she’s been able to rock into amazing outfits. we have the same item in our respective closets, but in different colors.
in one thing, i have noticed, that our tastes differ greatly. guys. while she usually is attracted to fun-loving, carefree very cute and funny guys fairly close to her age, i tend to gravitate towards surlier, brooding, devastatingly handsome men that usually run a bit too old for me. her guys are music-centric, and i fawn over those who like to consider themselves writers.
not too long ago, though, we had a bit of a weird situation. she started crushing on this guy, and i started crushing on his best friend. these two guys were practically brothers. it was i that was changing tastes. he was much closer to my age than any guy had been in a while, and he was very easy going. totally different than my usual “type.” the four of us are all still friends, which should tell you, obviously, than nothing seriously romantic came of our respective crushes. both of us crushing on those two close buddies was a very interesting experience. we were able to talk about these guys all the time and (sort of unfairly to the boys) compare their personalities and actions.

i never thought we’d every be in a situation like this again, and we haven’t been! however, my friend and i currently find ourselves in an even more complicated scenario. what’s more complicated than one pair of best friends crushing on another set of best friends? i’ll tell you. a pair of best friends crushing on… the one and the same guy! in a previously mentioned bar, we met a very charming fellow. she might disagree, but i’m going to go ahead and say that it’s her this time who is straying from her usual taste in guy. he’s more than just a few years older than us. he’s moody and, at times, rude (not to us but his co-workers). but he’s really funny and smart. we have, so far, spent hours talking about him and trying to decipher everything else. like a very concentrated stoner who is cleaning out their weed, we try very hard to separate the (non-malicious) lies he tells us from the truth. it’s a fun little challenge.we also talk to people we’ve discovered who have any sort of acquaintanceship with him to find out anything about him. again, it’s fun and entertaining. when you are just a college student with a part-time job, you tend to latch on to anything out of your daily routine, like we have.

he’s a great guy, and we like to visit him and work and flirt with him. he makes us laugh, but that’s pretty much all it is right now. i’m going to include a very poor quality picture of him just because i we like him so much!

he’s on the right

after our supposed reading of beloved, came sandra cisneros’s the house on mango street. i have much less beef with this book, because it’s a much lighter read. whereas beloved is the lengthy story about a slave on the run who is now being haunted by the angry spirit of the 2-year old daughter whom she murdered, mango street is a short collection of vignettes by a tormented teenager with mexican heritage. while the narrator can sometimes be a bit whiny, i find myself relating to her situation in life. while my homelife is not as tragic as esperanza’s, i feel that sometimes i am a bit too harsh on my parents. i know that sometimes they cannot give me all that i wish i could have, but if they had the means, i know they would. it’s not like they’re holding out on us, their kids. but neither do my parents, unlike esperanza’s, have their heads in the clouds. pera’s mother spends her days at home wistfully sighing about the life she could have lead had she done one thing or another and how as soon as they win the lottery, they’ll finally start living the life they deserve. i do understand what that feels like, but never have my parents shown that dreamy, airheaded attitude.

before we started discussing the actual book, the professor told us about the author, sandra cisneros. she wrote the book when was supposedly twenty-four while in a poetry seminar for her master’s degree. we watched some videos about the author and her inspiration for mango street. in one particular video, she spoke about writer’s block. she said that writer’s block is not having a lack of something to say, but being afraid to say something that really means something to you.

“Writer’s block doesn’t mean you don’t have anything to say. Writer’s block means you are afraid to say what you really have to say.” -Sandra Cisneros

i am aware that too much time has passed since my last entry in this blog. in fact, the last thing i wrote about honesty, i wasn’t even happy with. it’s true. yes, it’s an important thing to me, but i couldn’t even be honest with myself to write something good. for the past week or two that i haven’t written anything, it’s not that i’ve had “writer’s block,” it’s just that i’ve lacked inspiration. my life, right now, is at such a stagnant point, there is truly nothing that inspires me to write. i am stuck in a routine that i won’t be able to get out of for another year or so. what does inspire me to write are completely vapid thoughts that i should have outgrown when i was wearing my plaid skirt and knee-high white socks in the eighth grade. things that are going on in my life are my classes, my job, my family, my friends, the shows i watch, and the men that i find myself “in love” with. i’m not saying that any of these things are unimportant. they totally are. without one of them, all that would be left would be fragments of a life that used to resemble mine (except maybe for the tv).

take today, for example. fearlesslydelicate has been in the back of my mind for the past week or so. i peel my eyes open for anything i can write about, but nothing seems worthy. the monotony of my life has left me with nothing interesting. today, however, i went to an art gallery with a friend, and it was nice, but things didn’t start to heat up -literally- until someone for whom i have very strong feelings walked up the stairwell and i turned into a mess. i say that things literally heated up, because at the moment, i became totally flushed, my body temperature must have risen about fifteen degrees, and i could feel a light sheen of moisture accruing all over my skin. all this over the mere presence of someone. that’s right. i didn’t even talk to this guy. i think i may have made the slightest bit of eye contact with him but it was totally dismissible if existent at all. i went home almost immediately after this scene that went unnoticed by everyone except the friend i was with. once i was home, all i could think of was writing a story in which a girl like me finally had the guts to say what she really wanted to a guy like him, but i couldn’t. and i guess that’s where sandra’s quote comes in.

i’m so scared of some unknown thing, that i can’t even find comfort in writing. one thing in this world that i should have absolute control over.