Nyk

End of an era

2009-01-07T05:22:28Z

I resolve to make 2009 full of adventures.

Job #3

2008-11-17T01:33:52Z

This is where I work.

luck_overdue @ 2008-11-08T23:38:00

2008-11-09T04:39:29Z

I write lists of what to accomplish, what routes to take. My brain is wired in a never-ending circuit of charts and graphs, of indecision and regrets. I close my eyes, fast forward time and I see scenes from prospective futures flickering as quickly as my heart beats. Sometimes I see myself in a dead end job, sometimes I'm dead, but most of the time I see myself mulling over whether I should change careers, move away, or break someone’s heart. Hesitancy is endemic to my core, contaminating my veins and arteries with ambivalence. The cure is passion, sure, but I’ve fallen in love with hypothetical scenarios, leaving me to face the reality that I will never be what I want to be. Out of the numerous hypotheses proposed, the dead end job scenario is the most conclusive.

I’ll be 21 in a few days. But I won’t be anything.

A Mother's Sonnet

2008-04-28T16:15:49Z

I’ve navigated through constellations,
and swum past the deepest strata.
I’ve lived through centuries of devastation,
but I will shape your existence into a mantra.

I’ll write you a minuet in a never-ending trill,
but I can pluck your nerves like I’m playing pizzicato.
I’ll stop earth from spinning and make time stand still,
and prevent your future from faltering like staccato.

For you, I would stave off the apocalypse,
shield you from the tempest with my armor.
Or we could leave nothing behind, but a legend, a myth
and restart time to craft humanity with ardor.

If time dissolved into particles and life made sense
It’s because of you, the root of my existence.

Almost

2007-12-06T04:25:58Z

I'm so stressed out with school, my two jobs, and my non-existent social life.

Penny for your thoughts.

2007-10-11T23:53:20Z

I love the way you say good morning.

2007-10-05T19:03:04Z

I wish I was capable of describing how his every exhale feels like the birth of a universe. I wish I could suitably explain how he makes me feel, how…when we lie there, I prepare myself for the moment when he’s gone. I look at him and I think about how this will be over in seconds, days, years. There will come a time when his face will fade like the green during fall. All I will remember will be his freckles, his voice, and how his shy smile has the capability to jumpstart every comatose part of me. There will come a night when he won’t be here, when the warmth he radiates will become frost, when he finds a prettier girl who he will fear losing, a girl who makes him feel the way he makes me feel. I study his freckles as if they were constellations, as if he were a god trapped in the heavens. It suits him, his freckles, his constellations, because every crevice and curve his body makes is seared into my memory. I look down at our bodies and notice the way we lack jagged edges. We are complete curves, as if someone had written us out in cursive, as if we were music notes on bed sheets, as if we were boundless like waves that never reached ashore.

Finally

2007-09-16T01:11:12Z

Despite the fact that school is about to get ridiculously stressful, I'm really happy right now. I love my job, and it totally reaffirms what I want to do in life. :)

Gone

2007-08-20T23:15:47Z

This past summer has been filled with stress, regret, heartbreak, stress, and most importantly - realizing the importance of that whole "fork-in-the-road" metaphor. I have yet to figure it out, but I'm pretty sure the road I'm taking will have a series of detours along the way.

The Making Of

2006-10-10T18:46:00Z

(Neng Neng)

Fall break: I slacked and binged on Woody Allen films and infatuations. I'm not living up to my potential, but - good news - I don't care anymore about self actualization. It's all kind of trivial, this whole growing up process.

Life, it taught me to die

2006-08-18T20:12:23Z

Life is funny.

I think of all the opportunities I’ve been given and how many of them I discarded as if they were disposable. I think of all the children who never had a chance at anything, who were disillusioned by poverty from the moment they were in their mother’s womb. I think about how someone else could’ve lived my life better than me.

I think of medicine and how my intellect is lacking. I think of art and how my passion is lacking.

In retrospect, I have legally grown up but was psychologically and intellectually left behind

My mom was talking about the subject of death, she told me that I don’t understand because I’m young and where I’m at, I should think that I’m going to live forever. I don’t. I think of death as my shadow, as something that keeps me company whenever I begin to feel immortal, which isn’t that often.

I wish I could write more, I wish I could tell you everything, every reflection formulated and every breath exhaled, but it’s been getting really hard. I really wish I could just sit a random stranger down and tell them, this is what’s wrong. I want them to make me tell them more, to force my inhibition to dissipate and make room for courage.

The world watched you fall in love.

2006-04-28T05:38:26Z

- I'm excited about my fall classes, about Liberia after graduation, about the Roots concert! My cousin and I stayed up late last night listening to the music that represented his era, the beginning of my era. Most of it consisted of him clutching his heart in an attempt to siphon his nostalgia.

- My mom wants to change my middle name to her maiden name, but then she's having her reservations because apparently I'm getting married soon (wtf?) I hope she's going to forego my arranged marriage to that chinoy, because his last name sucks.

Last Life in the Universe

2005-12-22T07:58:01Z

I love how this movie is based around a love story, yet the two barely say a word to each other. It's just known. The awkwardness and the silence is just affection. Oh my god, what a good movie. It’s calm and slow-paced and you have to fill in the vacant dialogue and tangible adoration. The plot is simple and basically non-existent. The girl is crazy and the boy is suicidal, yet the whole vibe of the movie makes everyone sane. It is sososo quiet, like eerily quiet, like that place in your head that you escape to after residing in this obsessive and chaotic world.

-------

In other news, a boy that rode my bus in high school died from alcohol poisoning. I never really knew him, and when I first read the obituaries I wasn't empathic or heartbroken. But I am now. I think it's the fact that he's supposed to be nineteen today, and yet he's eternally trapped in eighteen. Sometimes I visualize myself warping back to that one day when his arm was around me; I would tell him to sleep all day and all night on December 18th so he can wake up and get out of being eighteen.

my love will leave a skylight in the ceiling

2005-12-13T01:30:09Z

I can't stop listening to Matisyahu and Susie Suh. I can't wait till Idon'tknowwhat!

For some reason I'm really happy and content and I don't how to better explain it. I should stop regretting. Okay, I'm stopping.

luck_overdue @ 2005-09-24T13:23:00

2005-09-24T17:35:28Z

My Anatomy Professor: You can stay an extra hour after lab to study the muscles, or you can go home and play with yourself in the shower.

luck_overdue @ 2005-07-04T17:48:00

2005-07-05T00:48:36Z

Languages to learn: Tagalog, Punjabi, Portugese, and Spanish.

You know, one day.

Sigaw

2005-06-27T03:18:19Z

We spent all day watching Filipino, Korean and Chinese movies.

the moon in june stuff

2005-06-03T03:04:48Z

You know how everyone tries to define love? Like love is this tangible noun that you can see, this thing that has a color and a shape. Like love was something that was shown to you when you were an infant, something your parents taught you to avoid or embrace. I don't know. But when do you realize you love someone? For me, I know I love someone when I'll drink out of their drink. I'm a freak and I hate drinking out of people's drinks, but if I loved them, I stop caring. Because if they were secretly ill with something, I would like to be ill with them.

nancy boy

2005-02-25T00:42:33Z

I traced the outline of a singular vein that made routes and interstates along her arm. Destination: pulse. She blew wisps of hair from of her eyes and choreographed her fingers to the cadence of the thunder. I watched the clouds as they birthed minuscule teardrops, collapsing onto the windshield with so much strength that I felt my body quake. The dashboard provided silhouettes of the raindrops as they danced along to the decaying sunlight. The clouds clapped and her breath shook. I could feel my heart clamoring beneath my breasts and my hands trembling beneath my thighs.

Boy. Girl.

She was a boy. She wore a bright red scarf so tight around her neck that it's a surprise she didn't asphyxiate on her own breath. Or choke on her adam's apple. Her breasts were tiny hills, oddly shaped and padded along her chest. Her calves were pure muscle and her thighs paraded itself, an obvious come-on.

"I think I'm losing myself," she says. I smile. I've lost me, too.

"It's okay, self awareness is overrated anyways." I reassure her. Her lips mimic her eyes, agape and lost like a rogue recluse.

I closed my eyes and imagined the world melting away, streams and rivers and volcanoes melting and spilling into Antarctica, thus spilling off the earth like a broken water faucet. I imagined the car melting into rocks and sediments, the raindrops transforming into a huge waterfall. We'd be the only ones on earth. We'd be the only ones gravity adored.

"You know what?" I opened my eyes at the sound of her voice. I glanced at her, waiting. "My favorite color is red," she says. "Red for lips...blood...passion...anger...sex...roses...the inner walls of a cunt. Red is everything I want to be." She lifted her hand and placed a delicate finger to the cold window, despairingly trailing behind the vagrant raindrops. Suddenly she leaned forward and kissed the side of my cheek. Her pulse was so close that I nearly swooned to the beat and knowledge that she's alive.

I closed my eyes and imagined waterfalls and red lips.

I heard the car door open and it echoed and resonated as she exited. She stood there for a moment, the door ajar with stray raindrops flooding the passenger's seat. Goodbye, she'd say.

I'm going to watch the news tonight. I'm going to see her face plastered on the dusty TV screen, red lips and hate crime all in the same screen-shot. I'm going to cry storms. I will imagine her smiling red lips and her red nails. Whenever I drive, I will imagine the raindrops that were lost in the seat and I will imagine that it's her ghost crying.