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Here's to February

2012-02-02T20:46:00.000-08:00

My name is Vivian and I suffer from chronic bitchface.

I've been told that my normal facial expression looks like I'm perpetually dissatisfied with the world, which, I want to clarify, is definitely not the case. (I'm only dissatisfied *most* of the time.) (Just kidding. I actually do consider myself to be relatively happy for a pessimist (I prefer the term "realistic"), but I dunno, I just don't smile that much.)

The end of the semester is tomorrow (pushed back a week because of that snow storm), and I think these last few months have left me evaluating my high school years more thoroughly than before. I know I've sounded pretty sentimental about these years in my last few posts, but it's now or never. When else am I going to be living out the great suburban cliche?

One of the things that I wish I had done more of was become a part of such a close knit group. I'm doing the yearbook page for this pretty exclusive string chamber orchestra at my school, and the description and pictures that one of my friends who's in that orchestra sent me makes me kind of wish I was a part of something like that too. Debate is clique-ish like that, but I don't think I ever really feel like I'm part of a team. Debate is too competitive; we're all in it to win it. It's just so easy to be caught up with yourself, especially because at the end of the day, the collective team doesn't really need to cooperate like a sports team or something. I'm not saying that the environment is necessarily hostile, but debate is a personal thing. There's a special kind of bond that you form with your debate partner that makes you feel like it's the two of you against everybody else, and the competition can make it hard for those teammate bonds to form.

I like debate, really, I do. I like how I know more about so many things I wouldn't have known otherwise, like US foreign policy and social services and space exploration. I like how easy it is for me to talk with people and to read out loud in class. I love how my English teacher appreciates the points I make about an argument's failings when we discuss arguments in class, and I especially love my ability to be able to give good debate speeches. I love what I do, and even though it doesn't come across the way it used to, I do appreciate the skills that I've gained and the experiences I've had.

There's still a lot of room for improvement for me as a competitor, but I've also learned now that I have everything that I really needed to gain from debate under my belt already. And now I just wish I had focused a little bit more of my time doing other things rather than just debate, so I could have become a more "well rounded" person earlier.

I think one of my biggest regrets of my high school years is that I didn't choose enough team or group activities to be a part of. I envy the sort of intimacy that groups like the orchestra has, because I want to be a part of something as intimate and supportive as that. Even though I'm an introvert, I like doing group activities in class, and I especially like doing group activities with people I'm not best or close friends with. There's such potential in that: bonding over an experience of teamwork and a shared goal, and to a deeper extent, a chance to make new friends.

Maybe I just want to make new friends and have those "team bonding moments." I don't often feel like I'm missing out on the "ideal high school experience" (let's not even start on how many of those high school parties I've obviously been invited to, or how many dates I've been on), but I do wish I had one of those little cliques of friends outside of my usual best friends, because as great as my friends are, I want to have another group of people to surround myself and be comfortable with too, you know?

Oh well. At least this month has already started out fabulous! I watched the 100th episode of Gossip Girl on Tuesday (which I guess is still last month technically...whatever), and even though I've seen/heard a lot of complaints, I thought it was great. Happy endings are terrible, because that means the end of all things interesting--and is it bad that I like toying with the idea of Dair? (Obviously I'm a Chair shipper, but Dan's funny and Blair always has the best comebacks. They're fun to watch together.)

My birthday is also next week! I will be turning young, but that's okay because my free Starbucks coupon came in the mail, I'm getting more free Red Mango, I got two free Fresh Sugars from Sephora and an excuse to ask my mum to buy me some cake.

Cakeeee

And I'll try and start doing some outfit posts this month when I'm in Berkeley! Debate has been my excuse to dress up, because I don't have enough clothes to wear well styled outfits every day of the week ;) Normally I dress kind of schlubby for school, so I use debate as an excuse to dress up, and four days of it in the gorgeous Golden state is as good as any.

(I swear, I really am excited about all of this! You just can't tell that by reading my facial expression.)

xoxo, vivian

Dear Stanford,

2012-01-28T17:28:00.000-08:00

I want to be your friend. No, I want you to want me to be your friend. I want this feeling to be mutual, because I don't want to be your biggest fan, or you mine. We're both better than that. We're capable of being real people with each other, right?

Before that night, I really had no idea what you thought of me, or if you even thought of me at all. I didn't know you listened to and remembered the things I said. I thought I was the only one who paid any attention, but I'm glad I'm wrong about that.

You surprised me a lot, and I'm glad I let myself be surprised. I want to thank you for it: thank you for talking to me when we were both probably comfortable with silence; thank you for being honest with me, even though I struggled to tell you what you wanted to know. I was afraid to tell you the whole truth, because if I said it, the illusion I've so carefully construed would collapse. I think I did break when I told you what I did on 92nd Street, just a little. That was my wall of distance, of space, of casual. I've never told anybody that before.

I want to be friends with you, because I want to be able to challenge your perception of me, and to show you that I am more than just the numbers that define me. I want you to challenge me too, and I want this because I want to know you.

You don't need to hear this from me, but you're going to be so successful someday. I wish you the best, and I'll see you around.

xoxo,
Yale

Not a love story

2012-01-24T16:44:00.000-08:00

Hi there! I'm so sorry I haven't been blogging as much as I have in the past as of late. The end of the semester is coming up, and I've had my hands full this entire month. February looks pretty busy too--speaking of, we're officially guaranteed to go to Berkeley--the tickets and reservations were made today. The total cost comes out to $450 though, and that's not even including food, which, based on my coach's preferences, is going to cost at least $100 for the four day trip if we go to places like the iconic Cliff House in San Francisco and this restaurant that serves garlic everything (Stinking Rose? Garlic Rose? The team members who went there two years ago when I didn't get to have been raving about it since).

Aside from a hectic academic life, relationships have come up a lot lately. I've noticed a substantial increase in the number of friends who have come to me for relationship advice. Me! I don't consider myself a romantic, although I guess I might be to a certain level. I'm not good at this kind of stuff--I'm far too logical and realistic about romantic relationships, which, I guess, is one of the reasons why they come to me so they can hear me tell it like it is.

The whole idea of high school relationships is over-hyped. I'm not necessarily opposed to them, but my belief is that people put too much stock in them. It's not something specific to this generation either, although it's probably even more evident now with social networking sites like Facebook and Tumblr where teens are free to express their every thought to the world. But even based on the media pre-Internet Age, the vast majority of books, movies and TV shows set in high school focus or at least toy with the idea of a high school relationship. Think about it: how many can you name that don't? I'm drawing a blank.

I've seen so many of my friends and peers lament over not being in a relationship or being in a bad relationship or being in a "complicated" relationship; at what point is it too much? I think the real problem is that they dream of that storybook perfect life, the ones in books and movies and TV shows. Everybody likes a love story, and the fictional world makes us believe in to a type of obsession.

Maybe we all want to have the perfect "high school relationship" that has the landmark moments: that moment when you look up in class and catch the kid you've had your eye on staring at you; that moment when you're alone with the boy you like after a first date, in the car, or maybe the front doorstep, and you fall silent and give each other that look; that moment when you get asked to prom with roses and a charming smile; that moment when your lips meet--all those moments when you feel that spark pass through you. We're taught that these sorts of moments can happen to anybody, whether your the school heartthrob or the painful geek or just another ordinary girl. So sometimes, when the bar of expectation is set that high, reality becomes a disappointment.

That's when kids my age start to ask themselves: what am I doing wrong? Is it because I'm not pretty/funny/smart/flirty/appealing enough? Why doesn't anybody like me? Why are those people in relationships and I'm not? Am I just not good enough? What's wrong with me?

What if high school isn't a romantic comedy though? What if it's just a place to learn about history and language and science and math? What if it's a place to interact with people your own age, and to bond over the experience and shared interests and an education? What if it's meant to prepare you for the rest of your life, and to set the foundations for you to discover who you are? There's just so much more to high school than finding "love," and I wish more kids accepted this.

I'm not against high school relationships; I think they can be as worthwhile and fun as the next person. But at the same time, I don't believe that the perfect high school experience should be defined by relationships and romantic moments. Of course those things are nice, but no one should tell you that you need a romantic relationship to be happy, especially as a teenager.

Sometimes, I feel like I am the only girl in the world who thinks like this. I probably am.

xoxo, vivian

Snow days and high school

2012-01-17T14:38:00.000-08:00

It started snowing on Sunday, and they canceled school today because it started snowing again at around four or five this morning. The snow hasn't stopped since, so I'm pretty sure school will be canceled again tomorrow...but in the mean time, I can catch up on a couple of things I've been meaning to get to.

So I want to know: how have you been? I'm sorry I haven't been posting as frequently as I have in the past. I keep telling myself "okay, I'm going to blog about this, this, and this the next time I get on the computer" but it somehow never seems to translate into actual posts. *sigh*

I have a couple more projects/assignments to do before the end of the semester coming up at the end of the month. If it continues to snow like it is now for the next few days, they're probably going to cancel my last debate tournament for the month of January. At least February is going to be a busy debate month: we're hosting a tournament the first weekend, going to Spokane for the second, and Berkeley for the third.

One thing I'm really looking forward to is going to Berkeley again. I know I've been kind of pessimistic about it a lot in the last week, but I've decided there's not really any point to looking at it as the hell that it might be. I'm not going to deny the fact that it's going to be awkward and tense given the circumstances, but come on. I'm going to be in California for four days seeing friends I haven't seen in a year, eating delicious (and hopefully inexpensive) food, and taking lots of pictures of the (hopefully) sunny weather. (Then again, it's Northern California. Last time, it rained almost every day.) Why not take advantage of the opportunity and at least pretend like it's going to be the best time of my life?

The week I come back from Berkeley is also the same week we're hosting another Ghanaian Culture Night. If you don't live in the area, feel free to donate; it's a great, entirely student led non-profit organization dedicated to helping the Ghanaian youth in West Africa. (Yay advertising! Haha.)

I will probably also know whether or not I'm going to be yearbook editor for next year by next month. I know it's hardly a big deal, especially in my school, but I think it's cool to be able to make the book that people are going to have to show their grandchildren someday. (That sounded really cheesy, but I guess you have to be, if you're in yearbook. Make them feel like their high school years were some of the best of their lives! Heh-heh.) For someone who's borderline OCD and meticulous as me, it's going to be both fun and stressful. If I'm the editor next year, I'll do my best to make it good. ;)

I've been having a lot of fun doing things outside of debate lately. Even though it's been a stressful school year, I'm glad I decided to do all of these activities. It's nice to be able to have things I can throw myself into, because I really do feel that doing all of these activities have (as cheesy as it sounds) enriched my high school experience. I feel bad for those kids out there complain about high school, and see it as a "only the people who are popular in high school like it because it's the best time of their lives" sort of thing, because (and I'm clearly not one of those popular kids) it's a great opportunity to discover new things you probably didn't know you'd like.

(Cheesy/sentimental tone over.)

I think I'm going to go eat some mochi now. I love how there are so many Asian supermarkets on the West Coast--they have the best snack foods!

Lychee or strawberry? Decisions, decisions.

xoxo, vivian

Close to you

2012-01-13T19:48:00.000-08:00

I don't even know where to begin to describe this week. It's just been so overwhelming, and not necessarily in solely good or bad ways. Someone asked me the other day when my birthday was, and it just made me feel so...young when I realized that my next birthday is coming up in a month. I don't know why, but I've always felt older than I actually am. At this rate, I'm going to be turning into that cranky little old lady wearing two toned Chanel ballet flats and glaring at people who laugh too loud in public areas.

We were semifinalists in debate this last weekend, and I may or may not have excessively humblebragged about it. Honestly though, I expected our good luck to have run out by now. My partner and I sure as hell don't deserve it: we never even work at it or try too hard. Maybe it's because I'm just a little bit scared to succeed, after all of this time and struggle of hardly ever succeeding. Even though it's a little bit justified to have bragging rights now, I can't get over the fact that I used to suck. Deep down, it makes me feel like I have and always will suck at debate, and that right now my debate life is twisted. I'm not good, and I'm not good enough.

School's been alright, and not that stressful. I had to make up an APUSH unit test from Friday on Tuesday, and then I just had the semester final yesterday, so I spent a lot of time this week studying for history. I have a physics test and a Spanish test this upcoming week, but at least I have a three day weekend sans debate tournament to study for them. (Our coach only took competitors in certain events because of budget reasons)

One of my best friends has been going through a tough time in the last few days, and it's been hard for her. It's affected a lot of the people around me too, including myself, and I'm really worried about her. A, I know you read this blog sometimes, and even though I know I suck at making people feel better, I'm here if you need me. And to the rest of you, I'm here if you need someone to rant to or talk to too.

I know how much it sucks sometimes when you just want someone to talk to, but you don't know who to turn to because everybody else is absorbed in their own lives. (Why do you think I talk to the internet? I'm just kidding. Sort of. You know, I realized that when most people say "just kidding," they mean it, at least to a certain extent. Otherwise, why would they have said it to begin with?) So, because I'm here, on the internet, talking to the internet because I need a place to get things off of my chest too, I might as well say that however hectic everything else around me seems to be right now, yesterday still made me laugh and smile.

Let's be friends and go on an adventure again.

xoxo, vivian

Let's watch the stars

2012-01-12T02:15:00.000-08:00

credit

"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars"~Oscar Wilde

Studying late at night is reminiscent to the late nights I stayed up every day at debate camp; it's not normal for me to be up all night. But there's something about the quietness, the way the stars and the cities light up at the invitation of darkness. Then the noise starts to fade, and then the lights in windows, and eventually the LCD light of the TV, the computer, the cell phone, the music player. There's magic in darkness; it has the ability to cover you in a blanket of security, protecting your secrets and clouded thoughts. It's a place where dreams are illuminated with hope, and rather than shedding light on all the imperfections, we see only the incandescent stars.

I don't see the stars very often, especially in the winter when the days are dark and cloudy. But when I do, I try and look just a moment longer, and remember, and think about them for just a moment. Sometimes, I get lost in how many there are, and I wonder how many of them are still there. How many of them have disappeared. How many of them have not yet appeared, for although light travels at great speeds, we are incapable of knowing the exact fate of an exact star at an exact moment in time.

Sometimes, it's so, so hard not to get lost in it all. But what's harder, is not letting the small parts consume you. I guess the teen years have a way of magnifying everything--you can blow up just the tiniest thing, and it could be the biggest and most important thing in your life. It's hard, finding the right perspective, finding perspective at all when everything is out of proportion. How do I know what's important to me now is going to matter ten days from now, ten months from now, ten years from now? How am I going to know I spent my time right, or that I missed the mark completely? How am I going to know if I said the right thing, or if I should have said something to begin with?

Maybe the secrets are written in the stars. Maybe it doesn't matter if something happened, because maybe all that matters is what happens next. Maybe the gutter isn't always so bad, because the stars are always there, watching you, watching them. Maybe it's because we still have that last bit of hope, thinking that one day, when we're all "grown up," we can always go and look for what we lost in the night sky again.

xoxo, vivian

Unspoken

2012-01-05T20:29:00.000-08:00

Hi there! How are you? Me? Oh, I'm alright. [But I kind of miss talking to you.]

Hey, it's me again. [Do you miss me?] School's been...stressful. There's just so much to do all the time, and I feel like I never have enough time. [Then again, maybe we all go through periods in our lives feeling like that, when the colors are too bright and moving too fast, and everything blurs and you feel lost and dazed and you don't know what you can possibly do about it until you just about burst, and then all you can do is hope that when you do, you can do so gracefully and beautifully, like a million stars falling from the sky.]

I can't wait for San Francisco again this year. It's going to be great! [But on the other hand, it also won't be the same. That time...I feel like nothing will ever compare. Have you ever had a great memory at a certain place? Doesn't it break your heart when you go back to that place, and see just how much more beautiful it was before, and that it was the perfection of the memory that made it so great?]

Remember that time it rained? No, not that time. No, that other time. Okay, so maybe it rains too much, and it's hard to pinpoint exactly which time I'm talking about. [Maybe I'm talking about all of those times though. Maybe the rain isn't so dreary. Maybe it's because you expect less from a rainy day than a sunny day, so when one pleasantly surprises you, it's just so much better.]

I won't lie, but sometimes I really miss the "old" days, even though the years are still young. Something about rereading old memories and seeing things through that nostalgic lens, the one that makes you see only the good of everything, makes me linger on what could have been if, if, if...

...but there's no time to look back anymore. [It's time to move forward.]

xoxo, vivian ♥

Resolutely flexible

2012-01-03T16:59:00.000-08:00

Happy new year, all!

I decided this year I'm not going to do the whole resolutions thing for a number of reasons, but the main reason was because I failed miserably the last time I did it: write 10,000 words a month? I think I barely wrote that much in the entire YEAR, and that's after the fact that I recycled at least 500 words in "Facing the Music." Even reading books turned out to be too difficult for me to accomplish; I didn't complete a single book in the month of December. (Not even The Scarlet Letter. Sorry, Ms. Russell.) And I think it's pretty clear how 4, 5, and 6 turned out...*cough*Facebook hiatus*cough*

So this year, to save me from tears, (I'll give it to someone special) I won't be making specific "new year's" resolutions. Why make resolutions on a yearly basis? Life's too volatile to wait for the first day of the new year to resolve to do something. Stop making excuses for when you're going to finally start taking action and just GO DO IT. Procrastination is a terrible, horrible idea, because it only gets worse. (Or maybe that's just junior year getting to me.)

School started today which means the end of waking up "late" and getting enough sleep for about...seven weeks. (I'll get to that in a bit.) Just when the dark circles underneath my eyes are starting to disappear...back to falling asleep in physics, designing yearbook pages, doodling outfits in APUSH, and seeing my friends again.

Speaking of friends: my social experiment/dare/forced-upon-myself-hiatus has been relatively successful for the four or five days so far. I've been spending less time on the internet, but not by too much. At least now I feel like the time I spend is more worthwhile, like watching community channel (SO FUNNY. I want to be Natalie when I grow up. If you don't already, you have to go watch. Now.) or watching movies I've been meaning to see, like (500) Days of Summer. (I'll blog about that soon--so good, it gets an entire post!) The emails from real people have, for the most part, stopped, and while no one is ever on Gchat/Messenger/etc. when I'm on, I can live without being in constant contact with the kids I'm going to be seeing the next day anyways.

Now that the first day back from break is done, I've resolved to study better and harder for the rest of the semester (and the next semester too, obviously). Sounds relatively easy in theory, but I also have debate tournaments every weekend for the next seven weeks...*dies from exhaustion* It'll be okay though--I'm already guaranteed to go to Berkeley and state, so at least there isn't any stress to debate anymore. I guess my partner and I have this mutual agreement where we try as hard as we can with minimal effort--it's worked out pretty well for us so far, hasn't it?

Laziness isn't a great habit to get into, but at the same time, I'm glad I just don't care about it as much. I can just show up to a tournament knowing that even if we lose this round, even if we don't break or place, I still got everything I really wanted out of it--Berkeley and state. Even though debate feels effortless as of late, I still know that I'm lucky to have gotten to where I am right now. Compared to where I was last year at this time...I guess I've really gotten better.

I know I've said this before, but I'll say it again: I don't think I'm going to go to debate camp again this summer. I used to wonder in my novice year how so few people stayed in debate all four years of it, but now, I've come to understand. It's rewarding, sure, but it's just so...so much. My "high school experience" is more than half over, and I still have so many other things to try my summer before senior year, like a foreign exchange program, or yearbook camp instead.

But who knows? The year has just begun.

xoxo, vivian

Why I deactivated from Facebook

2011-12-30T20:38:00.000-08:00

Done, done, and done.

I'm not on Facebook anymore, at least for the time being. I don't think this is going to be a permanent leave--I mean, I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye! (Then again, isn't that how real life works?) And if I did try to say "bye, I'm deactivating," I'd probably find some reason or other to stay. (Been there, done that, so 2010!)

I know the question of "why" is burning on your tongue, and the answer to that is quite long, if I can even manage to form coherent and logical thoughts. I guess I'll start chronologically, and hope that this doesn't turn into too big a mess by the end of this post.

I first made my Facebook account in October of 2008, back before most of the people I knew had Facebook, and only for about two reasons: the first was because I had received two email invitations to join, and the second was because I played this Playfish game, Pet Society (don't judge), with my friend on her Facebook account a couple weeks earlier. It was about the time I started to wean off of my fanfiction addiction too, so naturally I had to find something else. (And there's only so much of one over-hyped series that I could take; not to sound pseudo-hipster, but I liked that series before it was uncool.)

So in the beginning, my time on Facebook was spent dressing up my Pet Society pet, visiting my friends' pets (to earn money so I could buy better outfits for my pet, obviously), playing around with the endless stream of applications that ranged from virtual gift giving to personality quizzes, and occasionally IMing my friends at the same time on Facebook chat rather than Yahoo! Messenger. (Does anybody still use that anymore? Besides me?) For a middle school girl with nothing better to do, Facebook seemed pretty fun.

Because I was in this magnet school type of program that had a total class size of about thirty five kids in my year, my Facebook friend list was relatively small. The majority of them didn't even have accounts until spring of 2009 or later. If there was something that I wanted to know about one of my peers, I probably would've heard it in real life first, considering the fact that I had the exact same class schedule (including electives) as eight other people. Even though that sort of closeness felt suffocating, I guess there was a little bit of charm to it, and the gossip wasn't very interesting. (Then again, it's the eighth grade. What about middle school is particularly noteworthy or interesting? Nothing.)

Sometime (or I guess the entire time) between 2008 and today, Facebook went from being a source of entertainment to an inescapable part of my life. The more "friends" I added, the less frequently I updated anything. My live news feed became cluttered with posts I didn't actually care about, like a status updated from a person I met two years ago dyeing her hair, or a picture of an In-N-Out burger from someone I've never talked to in real life. The longer I was on it, the more impersonal it felt. But at the same time, I found myself wanting to soak all of this random crap up. It made me feel like I knew a little bit more about these people around me, even though I didn't actually know them.

How many of these hundreds of "friends" did I actually feel like I was friends in "real life" with though? And how many of them did I actually talk to more than once every six months or something? I know; there's always the option to "unfriend" all of those extraneous Facebook friends of mine, but that doesn't exactly solve the main problem at hand: I was wasting my time doing nothing productive.

(And while you could probably make the argument that blogging/tweeting/reblogging is a waste of my time too, I have semi-legit sounding reasons to counter you. This is what debate does to a person.)

I'm not saying all my time spent on that site was wasted--in fact, I've had a lot of meaningful conversations with friends, found out due dates for upcoming homework assignments, and generally been pretty satisfied with what it's had to offer me. But I spent way too much time doing absolutely nothing and waiting. And waiting. And waiting, for something, for anything to happen. I hated the anxiety that I felt whenever the person I'm chatting with didn't respond immediately. I hated the sick thrill of getting a new notification. I especially hated the timeline thing that they put into my news feed that showed me exactly who posted exactly what exactly when. As if I need a stupid reason to spend an extra five minutes scrolling through things I didn't need to know.

Because after a while, five minutes turns into ten. Ten, twenty. Twenty, an hour. Two hours. Three hours.

Gone.

Guys, I have no self control. And sometime between October 2008 and now, I became addicted to Facebook. It just wasn't worth it anymore.

The last month of this semester is starting again on Tuesday. I've got seven straight weekends of debate tournaments, finals and final projects in almost every class I'm taking, a fundraiser and a charity dinner to help plan and organize, books to read, projects to research, blog posts to write, outfits to dream of, things to do, and people to see. I don't want to spend my precious time sitting around in front of Facebook, at least for this upcoming month.

I know this sounds crazy coming from a girl who will give up Facebook but not Blogger/Twitter/other internet haunts/the internet, but I want to live at least a little outside of the World Wide Web. At the end of the day, do I really want to remember my teen years as spending endless hours doing nothing of any importance on Facebook?

It's been but a day since I deactivated, and I feel a little dead from the world already. I'm sure there are hundreds of new stories waiting for me to scroll through on my news feed, and I'm sure some of my friends have wondered what happened. If you don't have a Facebook profile these days, you risk being forgotten from time to time. I know I forget some of the people I know in real life who deactivated or never registered to begin with. But life happens, and for the most part, it happens outside, out there, where real people have real conversations and actually laugh out loud and get things done. I envy the people my age who can go without Facebook--they seem to be happier.

Maybe I'll do the things I want now. Maybe I won't. But deactivating gives me a reason to not log back on right this moment. I double-dog-dared myself that I could go one month without Facebook and try and be productive, and I'm not about to give up any time soon.

(Hopefully.)

xoxo, vivian

I found my love in Portofino

2011-12-25T12:20:00.000-08:00

Grand Turk, Osprey Beach in Turks and Caicos, from Conde Nast Traveler

Wouldn't it be nice to spend the winter holidays somewhere...warm? And sunny? Where, instead of the drab colors of rain, everything is bright and awash in color, so much color that the reflections seem to be playing tricks on your eyes...

Let's take a cruise vacation! You and me, darling.

Isn't this just the PERFECT time for a cruise vacation though? Although I shouldn't really be complaining, considering that I went on a Mediterranean cruise just last summer.

Villefranche, France is one of the most gorgeous small towns/port cities I have ever been to.

And Monaco looks a little like Portofino, does it not?

But I think the most important underlying reason why I'm dreaming of sunshine right now (other than the fact that I live in Seattle, where it seems to be perpetually cold/overcast in the winter) is because I am so in love with the Dior Cruise 2012 collection. If I had an infinite amount of money to my disposal to buy clothes to wear, the first things I would buy would be this entire collection.

Happy winter holidays, mes chéris!

xoxo, vivian

I wanna be Tumblr famous!

2011-12-22T11:48:00.000-08:00

"Isn't it the truth? Whoever we are, we might be princesses somewhere else. Or writers. Or scientists. Or presidents. Or whatever the hell we want to be that everyone else says we can't."
~The Carrie Diaries

If you haven't already heard of Tumblr already...well, I don't know what to say to you. I mean, it's easily one of the most popular social media websites out there, not so far behind Facebook and Twitter and all that jazz. I mean, even I've had an account since July 2010. Where have you been? Just kidding. I've only recently (read: yesterday) started to use it properly, what with liking and reblogging posts that I think are kind of cool. But you should probably know that I'm not leaving Blogger any time soon.

I'm not entirely sure when Tumblr became so "cool" in my grade. Maybe it's because I go on maybe only once or twice a month when I have a fashion post I wanted to "advertise," but suddenly, I noted a lot more personal blogs of people in my year. Wait a minute. Since when did so many people in my grade blog?

If you can call tumblelogging blogging. I don't want to make any big, sweeping generalizations about the types of posts on that site, but I don't believe reblogging photos and posting three line rants about your personal life is real blogging. Instablogging, sure. It's sort of like Twitter, except with way more pictures and very little text, with a dash of Formspring-esque "ask" boxes to satiate the need of reader curiosity.

Perhaps what puzzles me most about Tumblr is why so many of these aforementioned peers would keep their "blogs" a "secret." Maybe I'm just a really creepy super sleuth, but almost all of these personal Tumblr accounts that I've stumbled upon weren't linked through Facebook, the king of friendly stalking. How do you find out more about a person? You click on the info tab of their Facebook profile, and hope they have something under "website" in "contact information." (Where do you think I get the most "referring sites" hits from?)

Just last week I overheard one of my peers talking about how she set her Tumblr to "private" (which, to my knowledge, you can't do) so that no one can find her "blog." At first, I didn't get it. Isn't part of the fun of having a personal blog having friends to share it with? But after my Tumblr escapade yesterday, I think I get it now.

It's the perfect medium to express yourself. Something about the internet compels people, especially teenagers, to express themselves in ways they never would have before. When you reblog something that relates to you, be it something that looks delicious or a quote or saying that pleases you or something beautiful, you're free to express your dreams and your secret desires. And underneath all of that, you hope that someone else, a stranger out there, or someone you weren't close with before, understands and likes the same things as you do.

Maybe, in a world of misfits, we all hope and dream we will one day fit in. And if I don't fit in, then goddamnit, I'm going to attempt to be something extraordinary. I know I grew up thinking that nothing is impossible--this is a world where everybody can make it, and everybody can be a rock star/supermodel/astronaut/princess/stinkin' rich. All you had to do was call the number on the TV screen and you could win a sweepstakes package to stay at a fancy mansion with your three best friends! (Does anybody else remember those commercials on Cartoon Network? Or Nickelodeon?)

At some point in time, we realized we couldn't all be rock stars/supermodels/astronauts/princesses/stinkin' rich. We grew up, and saw the near impossibilities of life. It was too big for our dreams, and somewhere along the lines, we lost sight of what we used to want with what we think we need. Empty dreams go unfulfilled, and the darkness of the real world becomes too much. And when that happens, when the world outside of this fragile world wide web built on big personalities and personal niches becomes too real, we retreat into our anonymous internet personas.

Maybe, after the years of childhood make-believe has disappeared, the internet gave us that last bit of hope for our unsubstantiated dreams, where we could one day be famous and have a group of followers who think we're cool/fabulous/gorgeous/interesting, things we never seem to be enough of in the real world. Or maybe we just wanted a secret world to escape to once again, after our imaginations failed us, where everything is a sugar spun fairy tale.

Keep dreaming, mes chéris.

xoxo, vivian

Ballet couture

2011-12-20T16:27:00.000-08:00

"Is there a surgery that will make me a ballet dancer?"
~White Girl Problems

Sometimes (but mostly the time period not long after I watched Black Swan), I wish I still did ballet. Then after thinking about it for two seconds, I realize that it isn't really the dancing part that makes me want to do it again, but because I just want an excuse to own dance-y clothes, like pointe shoes with leg warmers. A totally ridiculous notion, because pointe shoes are supposed to be even more painful than four inch stilettos, and there's literally no reason why I would wear pointe shoes if I'm not going to walk on my toes in them. (Not to mention how strange that would look in everyday life.) But ah, if there's anything I miss about those years of ballet lessons, it was seeing that poster with the entire recital's costume pictures.

Me, in second grade. I was supposed to be a Russian painting. Can you tell?

I took ballet lessons at the local dance studio in first, second, and fifth grade. I don't really remember why I did it for so many years; at first, it was part of the usual repertoire of suburban Asian-American extracurricular activities (along with piano, art, tennis, golf, and horseback riding), but it later became just another part of my weekday activities. I was never particularly very good at it--by the time my fifth grade semester ended, I realized one of the reasons why I sucked was because I could never memorize choreography (partly due to the fact that I was also the only kid in the class who never practiced).

Every once in a while (but usually only in yoga or when I randomly break into a pirouette (one of the few ballet steps I remember)), I still get asked whether or not I still dance. I'm flattered, and while I only wish I had the grace of a ballerina, I do kind of want to be back in dance again for the tulle and the satin and the velvet...

Maybe I'll just settle for dressing like a ballerina. Like the J. Crew Russian ballet photo shoot from the September catalog!

xoxo, vivian

A fashion love affair

2011-12-16T20:58:00.000-08:00

This is the most accurate picture I could find in a quick Google image search, but sadly, this is not the one I'm talking about. I mean, it's not even a guy's jacket!

For the last four days, I've been lusting after this boy...'s jacket. No, I'm serious. I really have been lusting after a vintage caramel colored leather jacket that I saw this kid sporting at the debate tournament last weekend. I'm not entirely sure why, but ever since I started to notice it, I haven't been able to get it out of my head. Have you ever had that happen to you? You know, when you see something you like, and in that instant, you know that that's exactly what's missing from your life? That's what this jacket is like for me. A great leather jacket would complete so many of my imaginary outfits!

But not just any leather jacket--I mean, a nice, fitted leather jacket would be pretty great too, but it's not the same. As much of a fan I am of clean, sleek lines (so Armani! Very European rock star, like Kingsley Martin or something), anybody could pull off something flattering if they knew what to look for; but in the face of fashion, what does a trendy piece have on a piece with *personality*? (Like that jacket that I saw last weekend.)

I've been really in love with the idea of oversize sweaters and outerwear recently, a stark contrast to my usual preppy clothes. But they actually go great with an amazing pair of dark wash boot cut jeans, or even a chiffon A line ballerina-esque skirt. Like this gorgeous oversize wool poor boy sweater from the early nineties that I found in one of my mum's closets--it's cream and purposefully giant, but not shapeless like many cheap, oversize sweaters these days. (This is why authentic vintage is imperative!)

The vintage sweater! Ignore my facial expression. And my hair at the end of the day when my waves all but collapsed.

Word of warning: there's a fine line between looking good and looking homeless [when it comes to wearing things that don't fit]. First: always make sure there's a balance of ups and downs; if you're going to wear a large sweater or sweatshirt, dress it up with a pair of nice jeans (that fit) or a designer handbag or great shoes (or all three together); and second: you also don't want to be completely drowning in fabric. There are limits somewhere, and it's not infinity. (If fashion was calculus, the limit as an outfit approaches homeless-status is f(amount of material.))

One of the best oversize outerwear looks is guy clothing on a girl. I've always loved that look--the rumpled linen oxford button down worn over something girly and minimalist, the motorcycle jacket that smells faintly of cigarettes and mischief paired with chandelier earrings, the worn the beat up boyfriend jeans with patent pumps--how could you not look stylish mixing it up? (Point of clarification: when I say boyfriend jeans, I mean boyfriend style jeans, not actual guy jeans. But for pretty much everything else, wear real menswear!)

*sigh* What I would do for that jacket...I'm actually considering whether or not I should ask the kid if I could try it on the next time I see him in it. Or maybe I'll just tell him I love it, and then chicken out of actually requesting to try it on. Oh well...I'll work on it.

xoxo, vivian

the late night survival checklist

2011-12-13T22:19:00.001-08:00

The seattleite fashionista ♥ stay up late regimen:

•Kiehl's avocado eye cream: because I'm too poor to buy the real thing, I asked for a sample of it at the Kiehl's counter at Nordstrom. At least it keeps my eyes hydrated when I'm rereading the same paragraph in my physics/history/etc. textbook!
•spicy ramen: I read somewhere that spicy food keeps you more awake and alert. I currently have Nong Shim Shin noodles or their Bowl Noodle brand in Kimchi in my arsenal of late night foods (how Korean of me!)
•spicy jalapeno chips: like spicy ramen, but crunchy.
•cold water to drink: since I don't have an ice machine, this is the closest I'm going to get to...ice. Water keeps you hydrated when the studying just gets too intense.
•Calvin Klein parka: maybe it's because my home's heating turns off around eleven, but I start to slowly freeze from 1. no heating 2. lack of physical activity 3. mental stress
• timer: It's like having a drill sergeant staring you down until you start focusing, except not as scary...or efficient. But I set it to beep every countdown time so I force myself to work by freaking myself out at the amount of time that I wasted in the last [insert time here]. I'm a debater--what do you expect? Properly allocated time slots are vital to success.
•the usual homework supplies...but that's boring. You know what to do there.

Happy studying! (as if that's possible. The word alone is 'student'+'dying')

xoxo, vivian

Stop the clock

2011-12-12T20:50:00.000-08:00

I only wish I look like Zhang Ziyi. I've been told I look like her since I was eight. Do you see any resemblance?

Have I mentioned lately how stressful junior year has been? I wish I had more time to blog, to study, to rest, to stop, and to do...nothing. But I can't stop--once this is in motion, any attempt to stop would throw me off balance, and getting back on would be infinitely harder than if I didn't try to stop to begin with.

(Yeah...that was my attempt at poetically explaining why I haven't been blogging with my usual frequency as of late.)

(I probably should be studying instead of blogging right now, actually, considering the number of tests I have in the next seventy two hours...but I think I'd go insane if I don't blog. It's become so deeply ingrained into my system that I start to need to. I'm not sure if that's healthy or not...)

I'm running the debate Secret Santa again this year; I don't know if I'm going to do it next year though--I find that I have some pretty terrible luck when I'm the one organizing the thing, like having the person who draws me not showing up until it's over, or having the person say he/she won't be able to come...(I'm pretty sure there was something grammatically incorrect about that sentence, but at this point, I don't really care.) (And yes, I know I sound incredibly selfish for someone who doesn't even really technically celebrate holidays, but still. It's the idea of getting a physical present when everybody else gets one that counts.)

And speaking of debate--I judged this weekend at Auburn-Riverside, like I did last year. My outfits this year were pretty generic: American Apparel hoodie, J.Crew sequined tank, bootcut jeans and black bow flats on Friday and Abercrombie & Fitch ruffle top, magenta-ish cardigan and Citizens of Humanity dark wash jeans, rose pink scarf and the same black bow flats on Saturday. It was nice to take a break (ha--who am I to talk about taking breaks from debate? I've competed at two tournaments this entire season! That's practically nothing.) It was a pretty amusing weekend though. Especially when the novices are saying things like, "the 9/11 bombings were because the Muslims hated the Jews, right?" It even beats the time when I was accused of being politically clueless (yes, this has happened).

Another thing that's sort of relevant but not really: I wrote these letters a while back, each "anonymously" to different people I wanted to say things to, but didn't actually feel it necessary to tell directly. I was hoping that once I got it out there, I would be done looking back. So then why do I still feel like I want to go back to some of the old days with some of these people? Why is it that I still hold some false pretense of hope that things can change, even though I know it to be true that there is no going back? *sigh*

Well, I'll blog more later this week--please try and hold me accountable for this.

xoxo, vivian

I'm a fro-yo enthusiast with plans to travel the universe

2011-12-05T19:40:00.000-08:00

We're in Europe! (Just kidding, it's just the University of Washington campus.)

I debated at the Becky Galentine Memorial tournament this last weekend at the University of Washington, and...won something. Again. (I know. It feels kind of weird.) It's only my second tournament of competition this year too, even though the season has been up and going for almost two months now.

But you all know that I only went this weekend for Yogurtland, right? No, I'm not kidding. That's literally the only reason why I went: I've been waiting for this for TEN MONTHS since I left Berkeley. And you know what? It was soooooo worth it. (And in case you were wondering, I got over one and a half pounds of the mango/strawberry swirl and cran-raspberry tart with fresh strawberries, fresh mangoes, mochi and red bean, which is almost ten dollars worth of yogurt. And then my friend gave me the rest of hers, which was a random assortment of different flavors (she has a hard time making decisions. She's also a bit of a compulsive shopper.) that didn't quite go well together...but it's FROZEN YOGURT. And what's better than that? Nothing.)

Okay, aside from the insane amount of fro-yo I ate in one sitting, I also had this AMAZING pizza at MOD Pizza (my new favorite!) and also went to Dick's, the Seattle version of In-N-Out. I think they're about the same--but I'm not much of a burger enthusiast, nor do I have an insane Californian passion for In-N-Out, so who am I to talk? Either way, it was a pretty great gastronomic weekend.

Oh, and the debate part was alright too I guess. We were 4-2 in prelims, broke to sort-of-semis, and purposefully dropped because my partner and I only came for the food/wanted to go home. Because even if we won that round, we would have to debate another, and without the incentive of a trophy (I'll get to what I actually got in a sec) or the motivation to actually try for an okay tournament, there was really no reason why we wanted to stay. See, last year, my ex-partner and I would've been thrilled at not going 3-3 (it was a bad season), but this year (for this tournament anyways), I literally could not care less. Debate's just a part of my life now, and even though I do admit that a part of me gets excited for it, another part just...isn't anymore.

Somewhere along the lines, I just stopped caring about debate the way I used to. There was a point where I was just so dedicated and into it, that I couldn't imagine my high school life without it (I know, it sounds so dramatic), but after going through a hellish season last year, even success at camp and success this year doesn't feel as good as it should feel. I guess I'm just over it.

And even though I'm in a better place now (that sounds like I'm dead and in heaven. Lemme try rewording that..."And even though I'm doing better now"), I still remember the days when I could barely name one person who believed in us/me. It's a little like a fat person who loses a lot of weight; even though I'm a "new and improved" version of myself, I still feel like the old me, the one that no one believed could ever amount to anything.

Isn't it a little case in point when not only one but TWO people who have been in the debate community for many years admit that they both thought I was pretty much useless in debate last year compared to this year? The first was from a former coach/judge I've had a number of times in the last two years, who, up until this point, judged rounds where I've done exceptionally bad in. But for the first time, he told me that I had improved immensely and that he liked my aff--the best compliment a 2A like me can get, especially because I cut it myself. Even so, the "I used to wonder what was going through this girl's head" comment stung.

Imagine though, having your own debate coach telling you that he didn't expect you to do well this year. That stung a lot more, because he plays favorites, and while I've been playing that game for years, I've always lost up until now. What kind of world is it when your own coach and team members expect you to suck, and when you finally don't suck as much as you used to, you get noticed?

To top that off, even though I won a speaker award and made it to the sort-of semifinals, all I got was a metal water bottle that keeps chipping and a "map of the known universe." Okay, the map is actually kind of cool, but it's not a trophy, and no one other than our trophy-loving coach is happy for us. (I know, aren't I part of a great and supportive team? All but one friend literally just up and left when my partner and I had to debate our semifinals round.)

Well, I don't know about you, but I'm already starting on my survival kit for my trip to Europa. Or maybe I should go somewhere outside of the Milky Way Galaxy? Andromeda sounds nice, right? Anywhere but here.

xoxo, vivian

Save it for a rainy day

2011-11-28T14:01:00.000-08:00

The weather forecast says rain. (What else is new?)

xoxo, vivian

Recent reads (November 2011)

2011-11-26T16:22:00.000-08:00

Hey, you. I haven't read many books lately, what with school and debate and the like, and we aren't starting The Scarlet Letter for at least a week (our first novel as per our English III curriculum; I'm still waiting for Gatsby, which I'm sure will be my favorite school required novel because it has one of my favorite subjects: rich and fabulous people.

However, the following books that I have read recently that I've enjoyed contain neither rich nor fabulous people. The characters in these are mostly ordinary people (not the book Ordinary People, which I read last year for English), and even though I don't typically stray far from my usual tastes, these books have made it among my (mostly fluffy fiction) favorite books.

The first is Across the Universe by Beth Revis
This book is SO GOOD. I saw it at a bookstore over the summer, and I had it on my "to reserve at the library" list for months before it finally arrived. It's the epitome of a stereotypical sci-fi: giant spaceship, space travel, Earthlings and exoplanets. (I think the space topic for debate is making me use weird terminology.) It also has romance, murder, mystery, and sacrifice; other than fashion and rich people, what more can I ask for from a book? It was thought provoking and suspenseful, and deep in the best ways.

I think what I'm trying to say is: GO READ THIS BOOK. :)

I also recently read Looking for Alaska John Green
And I know I'm probably the last person on the planet to read this (I've heard references for at least a year and a half), but this book is pretty great too. (I'm not very good at giving book summaries without giving away key bits of the plot, so you should click the link for a more accurate description.) The humor is spot on, the plot is at once simplistic and complex and unforgettable. The Culver Creek setting reminded me of debate camp (un-air-conditioned dorm rooms and lectures, anyone?) and Alaska reminded me of a girl I once knew, with her cool demeanor and tragic past. Even though I don't think this novel was meant to be relate-able, it was, to me at least.

So if you haven't already: go read this book too!

xoxo, vivian

Black Friday Facade

2011-11-25T19:09:00.000-08:00

I went [Black Friday] shopping today, like millions of other Americans across the nation. I didn't, however, stay up all night and wait outside doors at midnight. Nor did I get up in the wee hours of the morning to get to the mall for those "early bird special" sales. Instead, I woke up around six (a little earlier than my usual school hour) and got to the mall around seven fifteen or so; too late for the midnight shoppers (midnight! What madness!) but too early for even Nordstrom to open. (Maybe it's because Nordstrom knows its good enough for people to wait for it. I don't think they had any particular Black Friday sale.)

While I did buy a couple of things, I realized that none of my purchases were Black Friday special deals. I mean, I did look to see if there was anything good in the stores that advertised specials, I really did. But none of them caught my fancy; they seemed to be flimsy facades of great deals rather than actual great deals. Sure, fifty percent off everything at Abercrombie and Fitch sounds nice, but the only things that were on clearance in that store to begin with were shirts with 'Abercrombie' emblazoned on the front rather than their wool plaid pleated skirts (I want one of those. SO BADLY. But I think they ran out of stock, because I couldn't find it anywhere in the store other than on the mannequin.) or their cardigans which NEVER SEEM TO GO TO CLEARANCE. (Because full price for Abercrombie just isn't worth it!) And then there was Forever 21 (yeah, I know, such teenager taste. But I live in suburbia and I don't have a job. Don't judge.)--BOGO on sale items! What could be better?

Um. A lot? Considering that the sale items were blatantly polyester, gaudy, and not worth owning, it was kind of a let down. The only Black Friday sale I thought might have been worthwhile was the Godiva Hot Chocolate for $5 (according to the email, anyways), but they ran out before I got there! They only had the big tins left, which cost $35 for 3...I decided it wasn't worth it. (That, and I don't think I had $35 in my wallet.)

I guess Black Friday was just my first excuse to go shopping in a really long time, because the sales that I went to were a little disappointing. But at least I got a gorgeous, Mulberry-esque wool coat, an American Apparel hoodie, and a pair of Joe's jeans today!

In other news, we had a Thanksgiving party for the first time in probably four years yesterday. (I don't have any relatives that live on this side of the Pacific Ocean, so all of the Thanksgiving/Christmas/New Year's/etc. party attendees for these kinds of events for me are other Chinese families in the region who don't have extensive families within a reasonable distance either.) We even had turkey--although it was store bought. And not from an American supermarket: we got ours from Ranch 99, a Taiwanese supermarket chain. The turkey was kind of dry because they didn't put any butter and used soy sauce instead of salt, but at least it came with a giant side of chow mein. Ahh, another typical Asian party.

I also watched The Thing, Horrible Bosses and a couple of episodes of The Office (US version) for the first time yesterday as well. By the time the evening ended, I've almost completely forgotten about that Thing ripping apart humans and morphing into this flesh eating monster. Almost.

What a lovely image to end the post, right? I thought so too.

xoxo, vivian

Once upon a dream

2011-11-22T16:00:00.000-08:00

"Maybe all of us...had little secrets like that—little private nooks created out of thin air where we could go off alone with our fears and longings." ~Never Let Me Go

Sometimes, I wish I could just go off to someplace where everything is beautiful and dreamy, filled with roses and ball gowns and soft lights and ruffles in muted colors. Maybe it's just an escapist fantasy, but all I really want right now is this web of a dream world, an ideal world.

xoxo, vivian

Junk Food Love Affair

2011-11-18T17:22:00.000-08:00

It's rather unhealthy how much I love junk food. (heh-heh. Double entendre!) I mean, okay, healthy eating at home is unavoidable for me because my mum is super into...healthy eating. I've had friends stare at me in shock when I start to recite the laundry list of foods my mum doesn't believe in, like ice cream or butter or bread of beef. (I know.)

"Junk food" is my forbidden fruit. (Except, of course, fruit is on my list of accepted foods. I just can't eat it in excess, like a pound of blueberries in one sitting or more than three tangerines at a time. The Chinese believe in balance, (where do you think the concept of feng shui came from?) and too much of one thing, even fruit, is bad for one's health. Wait. I'm getting side tracked...) My Edward Cullen, if you will (sorry, I couldn't help it). Other normal teenage girls drool over hot boys in class. I drool over hot (or cold. Or room temperature) food boys and girls alike snack on in class. (It's very distracting.) Once in English, this boy who sits in the general vicinity was eating a pack of graham crackers, and I must have looked really hungry when he caught me staring at his food, because he turned around and sort of laughed and offered me one. And then later that week in APUSH, a girl who sat next to me offered me a handful of her Goldfish crackers; needless to say, it was a good week.

But what I hate is how people assume that it's "okay" for me to eat junk food just because I'm skinny. I mean, it's not like I don't know that I "can stand to gain a couple of pounds," but that doesn't make "unhealthy" food any better for me than everybody else. I just hate how people immediately jump to the conclusion that I should be "allowed" to eat as much junk food as I want because I'm of a certain weight.

Let me make this crystal clear: it's not any better for me to eat junk food than anybody else. While I won't necessarily gain weight if I constantly ate junk food, I am still familiar with the immediate consequences of poor eating habits; I think it's safe to say that I'm more familiar than you with those immediate consequences. Being healthy is important, and while I sound like the biggest hypocrite ever for advocating healthy eating and then cheating on it with my love for unhealthy food, I probably (for the most part) care more about eating right than most dieters.

To me, junk food is like a love affair; it's not good for me, it's not right, but I want it anyways. But why does healthy eating feel so wrong too? Why can't I ever win? Even though I consciously try and be different and irreplaceable as much as possible, there's still that subconscious desire to fit in, and food is one of those differences that isn't respected. Society places such a big emphasis on weight and food in relation to weight; if you're skinny and you eat small portions, you're automatically accused of being anorexic. If you're skinny and you eat a lot, you're a humble bragger or a skinny beeyotch who's secretly bulimic. If you're overweight and you eat a lot, you're a pitied fatty, and if you're overweight and don't eat too much, you're a pitied dieter. Where are the healthy people?

Sometimes, it seems like it's almost a taboo to be healthy and skinny; people just assume that it's not right, and try to justify it by saying that skinny people with healthy appetites are secretly sick. Whenever I show up with a ton of vegetables and whole grains on my plate, I get this look of contempt, which is commonly followed up with a borderline snide comment about why I don't eat more unhealthy food.

Believe me, I do want a milkshake or a side of fries. But I know that it's not good for me, and even if I tried to explain that it doesn't have anything to do with my weight or waist size, I'm going to be stuck in this stereotype that I can't have my cake and eat it too. People would categorize me as one of *those* girls, the ones who determine their eating habits based on how they'd look. Even though I love food, I often feel like I'm not supposed to, because I eat a lot of healthy food and also like junk food.

I wish I didn't care so much about what society thinks. I guess it has something to do with being a teenager--you never really feel confident about yourself, even for things you have no reason to not be confident in. I don't need to be told that I'm skinny; I just want to not be judged by the food that I eat.

xoxo, vivian

Life is sweet, but Yogurtland is sweeter.

2011-11-15T16:45:00.000-08:00

So I competed at my first debate tournament of the season this last Friday and Saturday, and the weird thing was, I won stuff. (This isn't sarcasm; I think I won a whopping total of maybe five trophies last season, whereas I just won two at my first tournament alone this season.) Like a STATE BID IN POLICY DEBATE. *cheers*

I forget if I've explained it before or not, but going to state in policy is kind of a big deal for me. Each school can send a maximum of two teams to state, and in order to go, our district's rules require that you qualify at either a bid tournament or the qualifier tournament. And in order to get a bid at a bid tournament, you have to be the top team in your district that doesn't have a bid already and you have to trophy; our A team already got the bid the weekend before, so because we came in second, we won the last state bid that our school can stake out in policy!

Other than Berkeley, state is probably one of the best tournaments we go to. Almost all of the best teams in Washington state go, and when it's over, my team goes to the Lobster Shop, this cute four star seafood restaurant that's right on the water in Tacoma.

Oh, and what's better: we get paid $42 to debate and miss school. (It's $21 meal money per day, funded for by the WIAA I believe) And my partner and I getting our state bid this early in the season (and being first seed undefeated before finals) pretty much guarantees that our coach will take us to Berkeley again. Life is sweet. (And so is Yogurtland!)

Speaking of Yogurtland, and because I'm already on the subject of debate, the University of Washington tournament is coming up, and I recently found out that they just opened a Yogurtland in the U Village! *excited* I've missed Yogurtland so, so much...and if I still have room for more sweet treats, there's always that cute bubble tea place too! (I swear, I think about food too much.)

So yeah, that's what's up in terms of debate para mi right now. Junior year has been hellish in general, but at least I'm not at that point when debate sucked for me like last year. Even though I have far too many things to do, I think I'll be just barely able to manage. I can't believe it's been almost three months since I last went shopping though! I feel as though Black Friday will be one of the first and last times I'll be able to go in a while...ah well. Winning debates for once is a tradeoff I'll accept.

In other news that has to do with school...we're bringing back the teddy bear drive for Hugs for Ghana soon after the new year, as well as planning another Ghanaian Culture Night; I'll tell you more about that when the time comes. And Red Cross Club met today; it turns out that I'm a part of the only Red Cross Club in Washington state! I really want to organize the Valentine's Day flowers thing we talked about; you know how some schools sell roses or carnations around Valentine's Day? That's what we're thinking of doing. (Our school currently only sells Crush soda, which is not nearly as cool as flowers!) I mean, as typical high school-ish it sounds, the money raised will go towards the Red Cross!

I'll keep you updated soon; I love planning these sorts of things--maybe I should become an event planner when I grow up? Haha

xoxo, vivian

breathe...

2011-11-09T17:33:00.000-08:00

One afternoon in my neighborhood, summer 2011

I'm usually so preoccupied with wanting to "get out of here" that I sometimes forget how beautiful the Pacific Northwest can be. I've lived here for about twelve years, but every once in a while, I stop and remember that this place really is kind of pretty. I mean, I can see the Puget Sound every day, for chrissakes!

I try to remind myself every once in a while that I'm really lucky to be where I am now. Sure, it's nice to dream, but (and excuse me for sounding really cheesy and Hallmark-card-y) sometimes it does a lot of good to just take a pause and maybe breathe and realize how pretty everything is. (I say, after losing hours upon hours of sleep due to procrastination and stressing/freaking out over inconsequential things. Don't you find this kind of ironic?)

*Sigh* Maybe I should go take a walk again and clear my mind...

xoxo, vivian

I'm not crazy, I swear!

2011-11-07T20:59:00.000-08:00

Although I guess that if you read Facing the Music in a "the author's a teenage girl who's never written anything else of much importance" sort of lens, and don't expect a girl like moi to research a side "for fun" project for seventeen months, you could assume that my story of madness and music would be semi-autobiographical. (Maybe.) Oh, and the fact that I dropped it off and didn't come back for three weeks (I know, I'm a coward) might not help with the "no I'm not hiding anything I'm really not crazy!" thing...

I explained most of my musings for the story here, but I should probably also explain that some of the themes, like the daddy issues and just the stress and expectations placed upon child prodigies came from this article too. And an NPR broadcast earlier this year about a woman living with schizophrenia. And Sailor Moon S: Hearts in Ice (the part I'm referring to starts at 6:26, with Kekeru and Himeko; Kekeru was the inspiration for Josh's character and Himeko was the inspiration for Penelope), one of the anime movies I grew up with. So you see, there's method to my madness. I just spent too much time researching inspiration for my story.

Okay. I'm done rambling about the story I wrote many months ago. Is it bad that this wasn't the only time in the last week that I got the "you're crazy/insane" look? I spread (debate lingo for "speed read") in class a couple of days last week to try and sound like a policy debater. Apparently my peers haven't heard people read at 200 words per minute...(just kidding. I probably only read at like, 180 words per minute.) (Because that totally doesn't sound like I'm crazy either. I can't even type at half that speed.)

But seriously. I'm not crazy. I mean, "we're all pretty bizarre. Some of us are just better at hiding it, that's all" (The Breakfast Club). I just happen to suck at hiding it.

xoxo, vivian

ughhhh homework

2011-11-02T16:38:00.000-07:00

I try to not complain too much on here (because if you've met me, you would know that I'm already an expert in the art of how to say "ughhhh homework/[whatever else I'm complaining about here]" in as many different rephrasings possible), but the stress of midterms is getting to me. So ughhhh homework. and ugh, tests. And also, WHY CAN'T WE GO TO THE WHITMAN TOURNAMENT THIS WEEKEND?!

I'm pretty sure you don't want to hear about how stressed midterms make me (very), so I'll keep this short: I'm behind in physics, I still need to do extra credit for Spanish, Thoreau both angers and bores me to death (I wanted to throw Walden across the room today when I was reading about how he thought fashion and clothing was frivolous and bad for our souls or something. I'M A FOOL WHO LIKES GUCCI, OKAY? SO GO BACK TO YOUR LOG CABIN AND LET ME TAKE JOY IN THE MATERIAL THINGS IN LIFE.) (You can tell how stressed I am by the increased frequency in things written in caps lock), I'm just a big pile of suck when it comes to calculus AND THE TEST IS ON FRIDAY, I have a history paper to write tomorrow, I'm completely clueless as to how you make a yearbook page on InDesign CS5 and I have five different debate projects to be working on all at once. *rips hair out of roots*

Okay. Deep breath. So, uh, how's your week/month/year/life going? Wasn't Halloween a couple days ago or something like that? Oh, that's cool. Well, since you asked (let's pretend you asked me what I just asked you, because that's what you're supposed to do in a polite/awkward/"we're just acquaintances, but let's pretend we're friends" situation, right?) mine was rather uneventful. My family doesn't really celebrate holidays, so for the last nine or ten years, we've camped out at the back of our house and turned off all the lights so trick-or-treaters don't come a-knockin'. But not having candy to give is a legitimate excuse, right?

So yeah, I didn't do anything this Halloween. I didn't even eat any candy. You know, I always thought it was funny when we were kids and everybody used to think dentists hated Halloween because a bunch of kids will get toothaches and cavities and stuff. I mean, shouldn't they be happy to get more business? (Yeah, totally irrelevant, but I think I started talking about this because I wanted to tell you that I've never technically been to the dentist's office for a normal dental treatment. Which sounds totally rebellious until someone points out that my mum works in the dental field, so I'm really not that quirky after all.)

And I'm not even going to the debate tournament this weekend--at WHITMAN, no less! I mean, I spent three weeks of my life this summer there, and it's the best tournament in the region around this time. Pretty much any of the cool teams in the Pacific Northwest go to it (which roughly translates to: my team is not cool). It's like, the only opportunity I have to see at least a couple of my debate friends, AND I would've missed my calc test if we were going. I'm so sad about this, I could go and eat myself a Gotta Have It! size ice cream at Coldstone to ease my sorrows if I could. (That's saying a lot, because I'm broke! It says something about me if I would sacrifice going into the red for ice cream because of a debate tournament. What exactly that says, I'm not sure.)

I think what this pretty much amounts to is that I wish it was last week. Or summer. Or break.

xoxo, vivian

Crocodile and pumpkin guts

2011-10-29T04:33:00.000-07:00

It's been a long week. I think I say that every week now, because I always seem to have a test (or two. Or three. Or eight.) that I have to study for, and no time. The feeling that I'm constantly fighting the current never seems to go away completely. But this week was a lot more fun than the ones prior.

For one, I went to the Village Net African Dinner Fundraiser on Wednesday with the student-led non-profit I'm a part of, Hugs for Ghana. (The actual website hasn't been updated in MONTHS, but yeah, that's me in the "Meet the Board.")

It was my first official charity dinner, and even though we were one of the only group of "young" people at the dinner (other than the dancers), I had a lot of fun. I mean, they had this Chinese flowers green tea! And lemon ice water! And homemade cheesecake! (I realized that sounded like I was only in it for the food. Obviously, I was in it because I needed an excuse to wear this cool vintage blazer I found in a closet in the guest room.)

Hugs for Ghana is seriously my favorite extracurricular. At first, I joined because I wanted out of debate class; as the meetings progressed, I'm starting to love it more and more. We have weekly meetings to discuss fundraiser ideas, and we're currently accepting school supply donations and sports equipment, as well as money for a potential trip to Ghana this upcoming summer or the one after that. We'll be hosting our own charity dinner some time in February too.

I love the group of people in Hugs for Ghana too--it's a nice break from being around the same debate people and group of friends that I've been with forever. (Even though like, three other people in there are in debate with me and one person I've been friends with since kindergarten.) I think the reason I had so much fun at the Village Net Benefit was because of the group of people I was with. We've long since past the uncomfortable unfamiliarity--the weekly (and formerly biweekly) meetings have helped with that. That's one of the great things about high school extracurriculars (and why I'm in like, five of them)--after a while, you start to feel like you belong someplace, and it gives you purpose to get up every morning and hope to do something for the betterment of mankind.

Speaking of purpose and extracurricular activities: I'm also a part of the executive board for my school's National Honor Society (I'm Historian), and yesterday a group of eighteen or so of our members participated in the pumpkin carving we have with 5th graders at Columbia Elementary School (my alma mater! Wait. Does it count if elementary school isn't technically "higher learning"?). Unfortunately, because I'm also assigned the NHS page in the yearbook, I had to take pictures instead of help the kids carve an actual pumpkin.

That's not necessarily a bad thing though, right? I mean, I've never carved a pumpkin before (I don't know how I consider myself American either), and it looked a little challenging to cut it with a tiny plastic thing. Nonetheless, they turned out pretty successful!

Group photo! I would be tilting my head for no good reason at all. And my hair was curly in the morning...

It's things like this that I secretly look forward to. Even though it isn't really "cool" to look forward to school stuff, it gives me incentive to be a part of my community. I've been feeling a little empty lately, and it helps to be among people. I guess that's how I felt about debate in the beginning, which was why I loved it so much.

Well, I'm actually judging today at the Gig Harbor Invitational and I've got a busy week ahead (what else is new?), so I'll bid adieu to you for now! Happy [almost] Halloween! :)

xoxo, vivian

I ♥ Kingsley Martin!

2011-10-26T15:49:00.000-07:00

"His name was Kingsley Martin, and he was a junior. The female populace at Duchesne agreed: even his name was sexy...It didn't hurt that he was what the girls called a knee-trembler. He was devastatingly handsome. The kind of handsome that combined Hollywood glamour with European sophistication and a trace of mischief. The new boy looked fun."
~Masquerade, Melissa de la Cruz

I would give up food if Kingsley Martin was real. Really, I would. (Or maybe oxygen, because I like to eat too much for my own good.) I mean, this guy is sexy as Hell! (Oh yes, pun definitely intended.)

I've only been in love with Kingsley Martin since forever (hint: 2009). It was The Van Alen Legacy that started it. I mean, sure, he was charming in Masquerade and Revelations, but all he was to me was a pretty face, nothing more. He was two-dimensional and to be admired (or feared--after all, he was an assumed traitor and potential antagonist) from afar--too ambiguous for me to really like him in those first and second impressions. Third time's the charm though, right?

I became an obsessed fan girl shortly/immediately after reading TVAL. This is a Facebook note I wrote before I had this blog that partially explains my love for Kingsley. (If you can help it, please don't read it. It's TERRIBLY written and I sound like a major ditz and, well, don't say I didn't warn you...)

The kid's got style though. Even though his show stopping first appearance at the assembly in Duchesne was all later revealed to be a facade, his mysterious glamour was inescapable; Schuyler, Bliss and even Mimi were caught off guard by his smooth talking and wicked grins.

"I'm the same as you..."
~Masquerade, Melissa de la Cruz

Good looks and serious crime busting aside, he's also got a heart. Although he looks and acts like an arrogant jerk who always got what he wants when he wants it, he has a sweet and sensitive side too. After all, he did sacrifice himself for the good of humanity, even if it meant breaking the heart of the girl he's loved forever (many millenniums!) and never seeing her again--just when she finally starts to love him back.

"She looked at him in silence, and in her eyes, he found forgiveness and understanding, the two things he hoped for the most and expected the least. In Rio, Kingsley felt he had taken advantage of the situation a little bit--they had been so tired after their trek through the jungle, she couldn’t have been in her right mind when she’d knocked on his door that night, when she had sought comfort in his kisses. That was why he had kept her at arm’s length ever since."
~"The Venator's Tale", Melissa de la Cruz

The Van Alen Legacy was definitely my favorite. Although Lost in Time comes close to being my favorite now (and I'm sure you can guess one of the major reasons why I ♥ it), there are just so many chapters in TVAL that I read again and again because of the Kingsley parts. Although "The Venator's Tale" isn't in TVAL (it was the Target excerpt exclusive at the time, but it's now a chapter in Keys to the Repository), it's one of my favorite chapters in the series of all time.

Then, for two years, multiple casual mentionings, and four books in or related to the series, I waited for Kingsley's return. Or rather, I waited for my favorite protagonist to go and rescue Kingsley from Hell, because as much as I would want to keep him for myself, I love him with Mimi. I would say it was a match made in Heaven, but that would be incongruous, because the real matches made in Heaven never really seem to work out. (Yeah, I amuse myself with my little inside jokes.)

It was a long two years. Sure, I had school and debate and reality to keep me busy, but every once in a while, I would think to myself (or out loud) and wonder how Kingsley was, and what he was up to and what his eventual fate would be. I would secretly be sizing up real boys to Kingsley, but I knew that finding a "match" would be impossible. He's just too good for reality!

This summer when Mel tweeted and emailed out sneak-peaks to Lost in Time, I would light up at every mention of Kingsley. After Misguided Angel, I was 98.6% sure that the following installment would be even more satisfying.

(It was, by the way.)

I only fell more in love with Kingsley after/while I read Lost in Time. I loved the nightclub scene, and I loved his cool demeanor. I loved how he saw hope in the lone red flower in the underworld, and I loved him even more when he finally broke down and said the words I've waited to hear for so long. It was so beautiful and so perfect...*swoon*

"She cupped his face and looked deep into his eyes. Gone was the arrogant heartthrob, the smooth crime boss, the ageless Venator, the immovable Duke of Hell. There was only Kingsley Martin: just a boy in love with a girl."
~Lost in Time, Melissa de la Cruz

xoxo, vivian ♥

"You're a stone fox"

2011-10-20T21:23:00.000-07:00

"In the end we had pieces of the puzzle, but no matter how we put them together, gaps remained. Oddly shaped emptiness mapped by what surrounded them, like countries we couldn't name. What lingered after them was not life, but the most trivial list of mundane facts: a clock ticking on a wall, a room dim at noon, and the outrageousness of a human being thinking only of herself."

My film obsession of the moment is the Virgin Suicides, which I watched for the first time last week. There's just so much about it that I love--the clothes, the soundtrack, the hauntingly beautiful cinematography--that I can't get it out of my head.

The movie takes place in a sleepy Michigan suburb in the 1970's, and is narrated by the neighborhood boys looking back on their last year before they committed suicide. Even though it's been over twenty years since, the boys are nevertheless fascinated by the mysterious deaths of the beautiful Lisbon sisters. Because the story follows what the boys know, we come to understand only bits and pieces of the short and tragic lives of the Lisbon sisters, and are never given a full explanation for what happened.

Through the glorification of the sisters by the narrating characters, the focus on the trivial details--from the shots of Cecilia's journal to the inspection of the dying elm trees--add so much depth to its haunting beauty. The cinematography was gorgeously paired with the soundtrack, filling it with nostalgia and melancholy. This is one of those films that leave you thinking and reflecting upon long after it's over, and even with it's high school cliches and predictability, it is still a spectacular, underrated movie.

xoxo, vivian

Dear Text,

2011-10-15T16:53:00.000-07:00

I don't know what or how it happened, but it did. Initially, I was shocked. As in, so shocked I didn't know what to do about it at all. Then, after processing my shock, I started freaking out. But hear me out, please.

Here's how this story goes: I was a jerk, you were a nice kid, and I am sorry for being the jerk that I was. Now that I've had time to sort this through in my mind a bit, I feel like it's time to resolve some of my thoughts that I've left hanging for a while.

First, I want you to know that you're not really the reason why I freaked out. What I mean by that is that it wasn't you, specifically. (I don't want to say "it's not you, it's me", but that's the cliche that comes to mind.) It was because I'd never been in such a situation, and the...suddenness of it threw me off. I don't know why I reacted the way I did; looking from a logical standpoint, I should have been flattered. My friends were confused why I was freaking out too--I think they secretly wanted me to be normal for once.

But like the blundering idiot that I am, I couldn't get myself to act normal. The surprise element didn't help either. You see, I'm not like other people (as if you haven't already figured that out already!). I honestly wasn't looking for and didn't even want anybody to "like" me. I didn't know what to do in such a situation. Actually, I still don't, but at least now I know one thing not to do.

In fact, there have been times in the past where I've actually purposefully tried to make myself as cold and aloof and "unlikable" as possible. I don't want to be bothered with things that aren't high on my priorities list, and unlike the majority of the adolescent girl population, boys hardly ever make it past "I wonder when the next time I can go shopping is" on my List of Important Things to Ponder. So really, it's nothing personal. That's just how I am.

That's not to say that I'm not flattered, though. In fact, I admire your bravery in attempting to get to know someone you didn't know. I'm sure you're a great person; I'm just sorry for being a really bad example of how people react to a kind gesture of interest.

I'm not asking for a second chance or to be friends. I feel like that boat has already passed. Nonetheless, I wish you good luck in your endeavors. Maybe we'll cross paths again, but probably not.

ttfn,
Chat ♥

UES girl problems

2011-10-12T20:10:00.000-07:00

Holly Golightly, all dressed up with nowhere to go. Oh, how I wish I had her woes!

Hey, you! I feel like it's been forever since I last blogged, even though my archive is telling me otherwise. Sometimes I think I don't sound like me, which is ridiculous because how can I not sound like me? Maybe it's because I sometimes try and take on a different tone for some of my posts. It really depends on my mood and what I'm blogging about. Like the letters that I've been writing people. I try and write them as sincerely and truthfully as possible, and because I have different things to say to different people, I sound a little different in each one.

So...this week has been hectic. I shouldn't be blogging (or do anything on the computer, for that matter!) right now, because I've got an overwhelming amount of work to do before this weekend ends, like studying for day two of the calc test or for the physics test or the PSAT or read War and Peace (more about that later, like when I finish it) and maybe save the world while I'm at it. But my excuse for myself is that if I don't make time for myself to blog or go on Twitter or read something fun, like Rookie or Thought Catalog or the latest Vogue at the library, I'll go insane. (Or I'll end up more insane than I already am.)

And on top of all of that school stuff, I realized that I have nothing to wear to the charity dinner I'm going to next week! *panic* Yes, I know. An event where the tickets are $75 per person with hors d'oeuvres and live music and a ton of ADULTS. *more panic* I mean, this is the kind of stuff I read about the Lily van der Woodsens of the world attending (if Lily van der Woodsen was a real person), not sixteen-year-old public school kids who's biggest claim to fame was Christian Louboutin retweeting her tweet. *cough cough*

Unfortunately, I don't have time to go shopping this weekend, so a new outfit is out of the question. I'm going to have to make do with what I already have. The problem is that I'm drawing a blank as to what I could possibly wear, which is very bad news to me, because I can usually visualize exactly what I want in an outfit and what I have to make it work.

The dress code, as I was told, was "semi-formal" which means I don't have to break out a sweet little dress (if I owned any sweet little dresses). However, semi-formal is too much for any of my skirts, which tend to be on the slightly short side. (They're from Forever 21; what else is new?) That leaves me with pants. Jeans are a no, with the possible exception of my dark wash boot cut Citizens of Humanity pair. I also have a pair of Calvin Klein Riley trousers in black, except the inseam is thirty one inches and it's a size larger than what I should wear, so they're slightly too short and too loose on me, even when I wear ballet flats.

The good news is that both black trousers and dark wash jeans go great with just about everything. The bad news is that I still can't figure out what top to wear. I tried on a couple of options yesterday, and I've narrowed it down to a flowy, watercolor floral, sleeveless top, a sleeveless, silk, button-down blouse with a ruffly collar, a Nine West blouse with a nipped waist, a vertically striped Ralph Lauren button-down blouse also with a ruffly collar, and a thin, navy blue Banana Republic off the shoulder knit sweater. Sounds like I don't have much work to do with this whole outfit planning right?

But there's this thing called "the weather," which in Pacific Northwest speak, is roughly translated into "cold with a chance of rain." I get cold very easily and am known to actually shiver in school or the library or at home, even when I wear warm sweaters and it's sixty degrees Fahrenheit outside. So unless if I want to freeze to death, I'm going to need a jacket or something to go over this outfit.

I found this gorgeous vintage blazer in one of the closets in our guest room the other day, and it fits! I was pleasantly surprised to find a jacket from the 80's that didn't have massive shoulder pads (everything else, from shirtdresses to knit poor boy sweaters have them. I'm still a little scared to don giant shoulders to school on a normal day, but the fashionista in me is eagerly awaiting the day I do), and I was thinking of wearing the blazer, but I don't know if it will work with the rest of my outfit options...

I also have this other navy blue cropped blazer (from Forever 21) that has dull, brass buttons at the sleeves and one button at the front...but it's cropped, and I'm worried that it isn't [semi] formal enough...

Any thoughts? Comments? Suggestions para mi? You know you want to ;)

xoxo, vivian

10/17/11 EDIT: So this event that I'm going to is actually on the 26th, not this Wednesday...which means I started outfit planning a little too early. Oh well, at least I don't have to worry about it as much this week!

flooded

2011-10-10T15:50:00.000-07:00

I was beginning to wonder when my good luck would give out on me.

I'm starting to see a pattern--I must be pretty predictable, as far as these things go. When I read the blog posts I wrote from last year around this time, give or take a month or so, I realized that I felt the same way then. In a sense, not much as changed. So why did it take so long for me to realize that?

For someone other people think is smart, I'm really kind of stupid.

No, really. I'm not saying this to fish for compliments or words of reassurance; I honestly think that I am stupid. Today is case in point for my legitimate lack of intelligence. After all, what kind of smart person would allow him or herself to sit back and relax the way I do?

I'm undisciplined. Lazy. Unorganized. I procrastinate at every chance I get, and hope for the best when it's too late to do anything else. The problem is that this method has worked for me for far too long. I get good grade after good grade for mediocre work, and I spend less than half the effort of the people around me on too regular a basis. In the end, I grow conceited and think that hard work and studying is beneath me.

Then, I fall.

I want so much to be that girl, the one who gets everything effortlessly. If I can't be the pretty one or the popular one or the one with the boyfriend, can't I at least be the smart one who has something going for her? Maybe I was that girl, for a while, anyways. When my friends begrudgingly tell me that they're jealous (because I have the type of friends who would never outright compliment someone else for being smart or doing well on a test), my ego flares to epic proportions.

It's really too tragic that I didn't know that such a girl only exists in fictionalized stories.

Even though it's only mid-quarter, I'm already overwhelmed with school. It's like I'm submerged underwater, a flood of expectations and requirements are trying to pull me back under as I'm struggling to get some air.

But no one will rescue me. I don't exepct anybody to try to. They have their lives to live, and I shouldn't expect anything from anybody except myself. I need to get my act together.

xoxo, vivian

Dear Illiterate,

2011-10-08T19:14:00.000-07:00

I remember what was probably one of the first times we talked, you admitted that you didn't read much. Yeah, I know. Of all of the things that I could have started out this letter with, I chose what was probably one of the most insignificant and forgettable things ever. While you don't remember, I never forgot; not this, anyways. Because right before (or was it right after? Perhaps my memory isn't as good as I think it is), you said something else that I really liked, and you said something that had been troubling me for the longest time so perfectly that I couldn't help but to tuck the memory away in my mind.

If you don't remember what it was, that's okay. You don't need to remember, because there's no need to dwell on the past. What I really wanted to do was to clear up some misconceptions, because I know you have them and while we probably both stopped caring a long time ago, it'll give me peace of mind if I do.

Let's start from the beginning; there's not really much to it. I only started to talk to you because for the first time in my life, I had a lot of things going on in my life that I wanted to say. I was forced to choose sides for a tough decision, I had just started to settle in, and I wasn't entirely sure who my friends were. I didn't know who to turn to and tell my thoughts to, because all I really wanted was to get the weight lifted off of my shoulders of saying it out loud for once.

Why you? Well, because I knew you would understand, at least a little bit, because you had an idea of what (who) I was talking about. You were a part of that community too, and I figured you seemed like someone who would get it. Looking back, I'm sorry for all that and putting you through my mess; it seemed like a good idea at the time. Maybe it was a good idea, because we were friends for a while.

I think I needed that. I needed someone who I could talk to, someone who was objective enough to not add to the problems at hand, but also involved enough to actually say something that showed you were listening and understood. Talking felt natural, something I didn't do a whole lot of in those days.

Then high school became high school. Things happened, and a lot of it was highly unnecessary. But kids will be kids--what can you do about that? It all seems so silly in retrospect. Let me tell you this, though: you're wrong. You know what I'm talking about--I know you thought I liked you, but the truth is, it was never more than as a friend. Because we were nothing but that, if at all, and if you paid attention in those days, you would have seen my hints at liking someone else entirely.

I don't blame you if you didn't, though. I'm hard to read, and like I said, I know you're not a reader. We fell out not long after. Once our common ground was gone, we didn't have much to talk about. Maybe we talked a couple of times after, but somewhere along the lines, I realized I didn't need you anymore. I had found other means of figuring things out by myself, and I'm glad I did.

Even though I'll probably see you again, this feels like a goodbye of sorts. So thanks for the memories, and have a nice life.

Oh, and try and read some more books too.

Sincerely,
Literate ♥

Girl Who Reads

2011-10-04T16:52:00.000-07:00

"Don’t date a girl who reads because girls who read are storytellers. You with the Joyce, you with the Nabokov, you with the Woolf. You there in the library, on the platform of the metro, you in the corner of the café, you in the window of your room. You, who make my life so goddamned difficult. The girl who reads has spun out the account of her life and it is bursting with meaning. She insists that her narratives are rich, her supporting cast colorful, and her typeface bold. You, the girl who reads, make me want to be everything that I am not. But I am weak and I will fail you, because you have dreamed, properly, of someone who is better than I am. You will not accept the life of which I spoke at the beginning of this piece. You will accept nothing less than passion, and perfection, and a life worthy of being told. So out with you, girl who reads. Take the next southbound train and take your Hemingway with you. I hate you. I really, really, really hate you."

~Charles Warnke, "You should date an illiterate girl"

This excerpt is from one of my favorite essays of all time. (Go read the full thing!) There is so much about it to love--from the first four paragraphs to the reasons why the girl who reads "sucks" and ultimately, the conclusion. The essay, especially this last paragraph, is just so terribly romantic.

I'll admit, I'm no literary snob or aficionado. I try and read as much as I can--but even then, I feel like I'm not reading nearly enough to be considered well read. And even though I do know that I read a lot more than most of my peers, I'm still embarrassed by the size of the list of "classics" that I've completed. Nonetheless, this essay really spoke to me--I identify myself as a girl who reads.

Perhaps that's just me romanticizing myself. I'm always dreaming, dreaming of things even better and more beautiful than my life right now. I know, from the books I've read and the words of wisdom I've heard that it gets better; that's why I'm okay with everything right now. That's why I'm content with having literary crushes instead of real ones, and that's why I'm fine with daydreaming of a better life ahead of me. I'm so keen to move forward and move on, because I know that someday, my dreams will come true.

My friends don't understand why I throw myself into a fictional world so willingly. They don't get why I like fictional characters so much, and how I can be so obsessed with a book after I'm done with a particularly good one. "It's just a story. It's not real," they'd tell me. Yes, I know it's not real, but sometimes, I'm scared that life is too real. I'm scared that if I don't find something to escape to, my high expectations will be met with disappointment. I read because stories are bigger than me, and once in a while, I can live vicariously through someone else's lens and someone else's world.

I read and I write because as much as my friends don't always understand me, I know that somewhere and someday, someone out there will get it. Someone maybe already gets it. It gets better, I know it does. I won't give up now and I won't give up ever, because I know I will live a life worthy of being storied.

xoxo, vivian

Teen dreams really do come true!

2011-10-02T20:52:00.000-07:00

Hey, guess what I did today!

(*Pause.* *Waits for you to answer.* *Gives up, even though it's only been two seconds, because I can't contain my excitement.*)

I WENT TO GO SEE ONE OF MY FAVORITE AUTHORS EVER ON TOUR IN THE SEATTLE AREA FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER! (You see, I was/am still so excited, I have to talk in all caps. Also, please excuse any incoherence you find in this post. I may look calm on the outside, but really, I'm jumping up and down like a kid who was fed far too much sugar on the inside right now.)

Melissa de la Cruz and I. I forget how Asian I look in these pictures. But the picture still turned out really well, don't you think?

Today was the Northwest Book Fest in Kirkland today for the Smart Chicks Kick It Tour, and I came just in time for the second author panel at three. Melissa, along with a handful of other young adult authors, answered questions from the audience for the hour, ranging from writing advice and the writer's life to random "lightning round" questions, like what SAT scores they had in high school and favorite Harry Potter characters. The authors were all very funny and smart--it was really fun to hear from all of them!

One of the other activities during the author panel that they did was "shag, marry, cliff," a variation off of "kiss, do, kill" (or at least that's how I've played it) with the characters of the author panel's books and other popular TV shows. The audience got to participate too; in fact, there were two people who talked about Blue Bloods (one of my favorite series ever, if you haven't caught on already). Except...they answered with Jack for the shag and marry, AND they voted to send Mimi and Kingsley off a cliff! I was offended. I could just tell that I would not get along too well with these people who disliked Mimi and Kingsley. (I'll get into my little fangirl rant some other time. And that's a promise.)

You see, I really wanted to answer that question, but I had no idea when my parents were coming back so they could take pictures, so I sat quietly and waited for the signing. For the record, my answer is shag Kingsley (duh!), marry Kingsley (or maybe Oliver) and cliff Jack and/or Schuyler. Depending on if they're a package deal or not.) Really, there's no question about it ;)

Me, waiting in line to get my books signed. I only have Mel's books, and the limit was three books per person per author. It's a good thing I already have The Van Alen Legacy signed and bookplates for Blue Bloods, Masquerade, and Revelations. If that doesn't show my borderline unhealthy obsession, I don't know what else would.

I brought The Fashionista Files (my favorite non-fiction/fashion book EVER. And trust me, I've read tons), Misguided Angel and Bloody Valentine with me to get autographed. This was my first book signing ever, so I didn't know what to expect. The line was really long, but the authors were all super cool and nice--I even got their autographs on bookmarks and other goodies to take home!

When I finally did get to Melissa and got my picture taken, she kindly signed my books for me. She even said I was a fashionista, in reference to my outfit and book of choice! ♥

My favorite autograph. Finally, someone who understands me and my love for Kingsley Martin! ;)

I only wish I had more time to talk! I guess I must have felt too starstruck/crunched for time to say/ask the things I wanted to (or maybe it's because of my complete inability to talk in general--you'd think debate would help), but I hope Melissa comes back to Seattle soon so I can get future books (like Lost in Time, which I just won from Laura's Review Bookshelf the other day) autographed too.

All in all, I'd have to say this was a pretty great weekend; I got to read, I won the book, and I got to meet one of my favorite authors of all time (and she called me a fashionista)!

My life has been made. :)

xoxo, vivian ♥

Lost in Time!

2011-09-30T20:53:00.000-07:00

The stakes have never been higher for the young Blue Bloods of Manhattan. After their brief yet beautiful bonding ceremony in Italy, Schuyler Van Alen and Jack Force depart for Egypt, desperate to find the elusive Gate of Promise before Jack must face his twin, Mimi, for a blood trial. A blood trial that only one of them can survive. But everything Schuyler thought she knew about the gate turns out to be a lie, and they soon find themselves ensnared in a deadly battle against the demon-born. Schuyler and Jack take up arms, only to realize that there is a much graver threat simmering in the Kingdom of the Dead.

Meanwhile, determined to save the only vampire she still loves, Mimi has followed Kingsley Martin into Hell. With the help of her new human Conduit, Oliver Hazard-Perry, Mimi makes a bargain with the Queen of the Dead that she may soon regret. When the time comes to choose between love and revenge, both Mimi and Oliver will learn the true meaning of sacrifice.

Confronted by danger, betrayal, and loss at every turn, the Blue Bloods must find the will to fight—and love—another day.

DISCLAIMER: The following Lost in Time book review may contain spoilers for this book and books prior to this one, as it is the sixth book in the saga. Reader discretion advised.

Oh my goodness. This book has left me dazed and disoriented in the best way possible. For those of you who don't know this already, I've been reading the Blue Bloods series since 2007, and I've been closely following the series since. My excitement for the series has gotten to a point where the book birthdays of the latest installments are far more exciting than my birthdays.

I finally got my hands on a copy of Lost in Time today when I went to the bookstore to read it! I practically ran the entire way (this probably got a couple of weird looks from cars whizzing by, but that's okay because I GOT TO READ WITHIN A WEEK OF PUBLICATION), and it was more than worth the effort.

The novel is organized in the same way as the first four books; alternating third-person omniscient narrations for Schuyler, Mimi, and Allegra. Their stories are almost all independent of each other until the dramatic ending(!).

The first is Schuyler's story, and her search for the Gate of Paradise and Catherine of Siena, the keeper of the gate. She and Jack set off for Cairo to look for the gatekeeper, and run into and join forces with a group of familiar characters who are searching for the gate as well. They discover more secrets about the Nephilim, the Silver Blood and Red Blood bastard children, and the gate to Hell itself and why it's so elusive.

The second (and my favorite) of the three stories is Mimi's; she and her new Conduit, Oliver go to Hell to rescue Kingsley Martin. In Hell, they are met with temptations Homer's the Odyssey style, a false paradise and demons of all sorts. At the end of the day, Mimi has to make a sacrifice, and is left doubting and questioning what her priorities are.

Allegra's story is a little incongruous with those of Mimi's and Schuyler's; her's is a story of the past, and her relationships with Bendix Chase, Schuyler's human father, and her twin, Charles Force. It's set in the late eighties and early nineties, and provides answers to many questions that sprung up from the earlier books.

There are so many twists and surprises throughout the novel--there was never a dull or boring moment. The ending has set the stage brilliantly for the final installment set for publication in January of 2013--my final year of high school! I can't wait until I get my hands on my own copy so I can reread it again and again like I have for all of the books thus published. I've practically grown up with the Blue Bloods saga, and I'm going to see the author, Melissa de la Cruz, on Sunday! I'll tell you more about that soon! =)

xoxo, vivian ♥

World in Technicolor

2011-09-28T19:05:00.000-07:00

Below is the memoir that I had to write for English class, and one of my friends read it and told me that I should publish this on my blog. At first, I hesitated, because I don't want the world to think that I'm giving up, because when I wrote this, I felt like admitting that I want to do what makes me happy would be like admitting defeat. There have been times over the years that I've thought about what I really want out of life, and sometimes, I feel as though I need to be put back into the right perspective. I want to try and remember this as much as possible, and I hope that when the time comes for college and the rest of my life, I will choose to be happy.

“World in Technicolor”

It was one of those rare sunny days in the Pacific Northwest. For once, the breeze was faintly perfumed with the smell of sunshine and the world was in Technicolor rather than shades of grey. My friend and I were aimlessly wandering around the deserted campus when she suddenly asked:

“What are you going to do if you don’t get into your dream school?”

Perhaps she asked me that because we were on the subject of college, or perhaps it was because we were at that point when the future became the not-so distant reality instead of a far-off daydream. Even though it was summertime, college and the idea of our future lives never left our thoughts for long.

“Die inside,” I said dryly. I meant it as a joke, but I knew that that was a pretty accurate description of how I would feel if I didn’t get in. I was expected to be perfect—I expected myself to be perfect.

“Why would you die inside? College is just another part of your life.”

As if the sky could sense the shadows of doubt that began to flicker over my thoughts, the clouds overhead masked the sun. The colors of the world around us dulled, and although the forecast said it would be sunny for the rest of the week, it looked as though the weather had a mind of its own.

Because college is more than “just another part” of my life, I thought to myself. It’s my most tangible escape, my surest ticket to getting out of here. Getting into the school of my choice is the only way I know of to prove doubters wrong and to be taken seriously.

Up until this point, I’d tried to shove my doubts to the far corners of my mind, because I knew that if I convinced myself that there wasn’t a doubt that I would get what I want, then I would make it. But for the first time, I was forced to stop and think about the “what if’s.”

“I’d be disappointed if I don’t, because I’m mostly sure that I can get in,” I explained. In theory, there was really no reason why I wouldn’t be able to achieve my goal. In practice, I knew I would have to work hard for it every step of the way, and even then, there was still a chance that I would fail.

Failure was not foreign to me: I have set my sights high and in the end, I have fallen short of my expectations. I didn’t have the naivety of having never failed. Even so, I couldn’t let myself think that I would fail this time.

Then, my friend said to me:

“I really do hope you get in. but just remember that you need to enjoy whatever life throws at you. So if you don’t get in, it’s not death or the end of the world. If you don’t get into that particular school, that’s okay because whatever college you go to will be awesome and fun regardless if it was your first choice or your last choice.”

How wise and true her words were! Would it not be the end of the world? Although plenty of successful people didn’t graduate with designer diplomas, and those who have such are not guaranteed success, I had it in my mind that I couldn’t succeed if I didn’t graduate from a prestigious school.

“Don’t worry about what other people think,” she continued. “Just focus on yourself. Like for me, I know I’m not going anywhere amazing, but I’m okay with that because it makes me happy. I know other people will do better and think of me as not amazing and not smart, but I don’t care because I have my own path that I wish to follow. They’re just mailboxes and pebbles that I will run over on my way to greater things.”

They say that happiness is the predecessor of success—how else could success be measured, if not personal satisfaction? Sure, going to an Ivy would make me happy, but would going to a lesser known school with just as great of credentials make me necessarily unhappy because it wasn’t my top choice? What if that school offers me a better program for what I want to study than in an Ivy? Would I let my stubbornness get in the way of enjoying my college experience—of enjoying my life, afterwards—because of a prejudice I had?

Rays of sunshine started to peek through the clouds, and the world had color once again. Happiness isn’t limited to a certain set of rules; it’s multifaceted and boundless. That day and for days after, I wondered if my goals and their potential outcomes were really end-all. Then again, in the grand scheme of things, nothing really is.

"I thought you died!"

2011-09-27T16:41:00.000-07:00

When I was in fourth grade, I got accepted into this advanced program for kids in my school district who scored in the ninety fifth percentile on some standardized test I vaguely remember taking. The problem was that I had to switch elementary schools for it.

Up until that point, I've never been the new kid in school. I guess that's not saying much, because I'd only been in school for five years, but it was a big deal for me to go to fifth grade on the other side of town. I went to the same school with the same group of kids at Columbia forever. When someone in my grade moved away, they're never heard from again. (At least not until a half a decade later when someone who was once in your second grade class friends you on Facebook.) When I found out I had to switch schools, I might as well have just disappeared off of the face of the earth for all my peers knew.

So my first day of the last year of elementary school was at a new school. I found myself surrounded by at least six other people who went to my old elementary school who I thought had moved away, along with one of my best friends. Of course, I knew she was in this program (she got in the year before me), but because this was before I had email even, I hadn't seen her in almost a year. Suddenly, I was absorbed into this new world of new people. And almost everybody in this group of kids knew each other from the previous year. I was the new kid in town...only not really.

To this day, I'm not entirely convinced that everybody that was in this program was necessarily smarter than the kids at my old school, but our community was definitely secluded. The program continued in middle school, one on the complete other end of the school district. We were "special": we took more advanced classes than other middle school students, including high school courses, like honors algebra and honors biology. (Honestly, I think the only reason I stayed for so long was because I wanted the extra science credit.) And by the time eighth grade came around, there were only thirty three or so students in this select group.

Then came high school, a.k.a. back to the real world. I saw so many people I once knew from elementary school, but I felt like the new girl once again (only not really, once again). Did they remember me? Us Summits ('Summit' was the name of the program I was in, although I like to say that we were Summitteers) banded together--my best friends to this day were the friends I made in Summit. (It helped that we all ended up in debate class too.) I wasn't expecting to fall back into old friendships--we'd all grown up and apart for so long. I knew that the people I grew up with grew out of the easiness of elementary school friendships too. Years separated us--we were strangers, with memories of a childhood past.

Today, I was talking to one of my former best friends from third grade in Spanish class. I'm surprised she still remembered hanging out in grade school. I was afraid of bringing it up first, not just to her, but to old, former friends in general for fear that they forgot but I never did. I was relieved when she did remember, and although there isn't quite the same ease as before, it's still nice to know that I wasn't forgotten.

xoxo, vivian

Dolce & Gabbana love

2011-09-26T19:26:00.000-07:00

Photos from Vogue.com

As I'm waiting for the Gossip Girl Season Premiere to air (funny, considering that I technically don't get television channels), I've decided to start on my Fashion Week Spring Season 2012 perusing. Right now, I'm loving the Dolce & Gabbana RTW collection. Those bright, fruity colors make me miss the sunshine and seeing the world in color.

xoxo, vivian

Le bal des rêves

2011-09-24T15:23:00.000-07:00

One of my biggest dreams of all time is to attend a ball. Like a real ball, not just some dance. Although my high school's common area is pretty gorgeous as far as public schools go, with its high ceilings and columns, I wish we had it in a fancy hotel ballroom, with the stuff that fairy tales are made of.

Have fun tonight, mes chéris!

xoxo, vivian

Hooray for...homework on homecoming weekend?

2011-09-23T17:18:00.000-07:00

Best part of this upcoming weekend: no calculus homework! (We had our first official test today.)

Worst part of this upcoming weekend: a TON of physics homework, a brand-spankin' new memoir for English (because the one I wrote for my first draft doesn't even sound like a memoir), reading/reviewing for US History quiz on Monday, and yearbook caption/headline writing. (And I thought there would be less to do because teachers are sympathetic on assigning homework during homecoming week! HA. HA. Funny...*get crushed under the weight of the amount of stuff on my to-do list*)

Why do I still have so much homework?!

(Okay. I'm done talking about school now.)

(Not really.)

I can't believe September is almost over--although it might have to do with the fact that it's currently about 78 degrees Fahrenheit and SUNNY. My grande white chocolate mocha Frappuccino with raspberry syrup melted on my 0.5 mile trek from Starbucks back to school when yearbook ended about half an hour early...

It was so worth it though! (Obviously. I probably wouldn't say that if it was cash out of my own wallet, but I had a five dollar gift card for Starbucks that I got for reading three books at my local library, so a broke person like me can still "splurge" every once in a while.) Although in hindsight, I feel like I should have saved it for a "rainy day" (or a rainy day). I mean, I had about seven mini Danishes and three mini shortcakes on Tuesday (Red Cross Club), at least a handful of candy on Wednesday (homecoming parade--all clubs had to hand out candy and make a float), and two donuts yesterday (Pre-Med Club)...a little ironic, really, if you take into consideration the fact that I ate junk food at Red Cross Club and Pre-Med Club.

I feel like I should be the size of a house or something with my outstanding abilities to eat...a lot. But (thankfully) I'm not. (That's what fast metabolisms are for!) Maybe I'll just eat less sugar next week...

Ahh, next week. Monday is the premier of Gossip Girl, and Lost in Time is out on Tuesday! I've been obsessed with this series (Blue Bloods) since 2007, and every book birthday in that series is more exciting for me than my actual birthday. And I don't have any school on Friday the 30th, which means that I can read it on Friday! *excited like you have no idea*

xoxo, vivian

Falling for autumn

2011-09-20T17:12:00.000-07:00

As the leaves turn from gold to vermilion and the last of the sun's rays shine through the crisp air, it's time to fall in love with autumn all over again. Proper lace dresses, tweed and peacoats, fisherman knit sweaters, and small flashes of brilliant, almost tropical colors only add to the season's appeal.

Happy fall!

xoxo, vivian ♥

Dear West Coast,

2011-09-17T19:45:00.000-07:00

I don't know you well enough for this not to seem just a little bit creepy, but I've heard a lot about you. Don't worry, I mean that in the best possible way. After all, the only things I've heard about you are all good. So good, that it makes me die a little inside when I hear someone else singing your praises. Just a little bit. So if you haven't figured this out already, I'm actually a little jealous of you.

I was especially jealous when my friends started defending your honor instead of mine. So either you're just so good at academics that you're the talk of the town, or my friends are jealous of me and want to use you as an excuse for why I'm not worthy of their jealousy. (Yeah, that actually happened. As soon as the words "I had a high grade in--" left my mouth, they immediately started telling me how you had a higher grade than me.)

But like I said, I don't really know you, so I'm going to try and not be creepy by talking about the "gossip" (if you will) that I've heard about you. Would it even be considered gossip if they're just...facts? About academics? And EVERYTHING is good? They're not even real rumors...okay, I'm getting side tracked. My point is, I have to admit (very reluctantly) that you deserve for your reputation.

I've observed (okay, that sounds creepy. Just pretend it's not, because I don't mean for it to be) that you are (or at least appear to me to be) pretty humble. Last year, when we had tests in the class we shared, you never proudly boasted when you did well. Other people did that for you, because they were proud of you. They expected you to do well. And while plenty of people expect me to do well, you never seemed to bask in the glory of acknowledgement or say things that seek out more praise. One of my biggest problems is actively seeking praise/acknowledgements for when I do well, and I wish I deserved my reputation like you do.

Then again, who knows? Maybe I'm completely out of the ball park, and you think that I've completely romanticized my notions of you because I don't actually know you well enough to make accurate assumptions.

But just so we're clear: I'm your [not-so] secret rival. The fact that you are pretty stellar inspires and motivates me to want to be a better, studious student myself. And what's wrong with a little friendly competition? ;)

"That kid,"
East Coast ♥

PS: Please hold the door open when you leave classrooms. It's not because I think it's chivalrous; I just don't want the door closing in my face when I'm walking out with an armful of textbooks behind you. (Yes, this has happened on more than one occasion.)

There's some truth in a Hollywood cliche

2011-09-16T19:38:00.000-07:00

I wish homecoming was this weekend instead of next, but mostly because I could really use a homework break. (Teachers at my school are slightly sympathetic to the fact that Friday and Saturday will be occupied with the game and the dance, which really works to my benefit.) It's been what, a week and a half of school? I should *not* have this much homework. Even though I have twice as many AP courses, it's still ridiculous. And this is before I even start to attempt debate prep or having a life outside of school (although we all know that the former will cancel out the prior, because debate eat up my Fridays and Saturdays).

So, homecoming. I don't know about you, but I feel like I'm living the great American cliche, what with your typical homecoming coronation/court, the big game, the dance...it's the sort of stuff that oozes overdone Hollywood box office productions. And cliches. Except it's real. And sometimes it feels like I'm living in one big rom-com movie.

Except I'm not the star of the movie. I'm not even really the best friend, because I'm not the one giving the advice this time around or actively participating in the "ugh how do I get him to ask me" discussions. (Instead, I'm the one organizing post-it notes or reading Vogue or writing a dramatic interp while partially listening to the chitter chatter about other people talking about homecoming.) So from my standpoint, it's really just a comedy.

Yeah, I know I said last year that I'd go to homecoming. But I still have another year, and this year, I'm broke. (Well, I'm actually kind of broke all the time mainly because I don't have a source of income because I'm an overachieving student who can't drive, but that's beside the point.) And I technically never promised specifically that I'd go this year, so I didn't break that promise.

Another reason upon all else is because I sort of hoped that someone would ask me. ('Sort of' being the operative word.) That's not to say, however, that I would want to be asked. Or that I would say yes. But I think (and I'm speaking generally) that there's a part of *every* high school girl that wants to be asked to the overpriced school dance just because it's high school. They want a boy--the boy--to give them flowers and look slightly timid and to be wanted. It doesn't have to be the most popular kid who's the star of [insert sport here] like the movies tell us. It doesn't have to be the best looking guy either. (Actually, I'd beg to differ, because I don't know anybody who would want to go out with someone totally hideous. But like the cliche goes, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, right? So maybe the kid is the most attractive boy in your opinion.)

Maybe it would be nice to be asked. I wouldn't know--I don't really count being asked anonymously on a test as the same thing. Then again, who needs a date anyways?

Not going has it's benefits; I like being able to take a step back and watch this dramady unfold before me. (I've decided it's a high school dramedy set in suburbia rather than a rom-com.) I mean, if I were to actually go to this shiding, I would probably be freaking out over where to go to dinner or when I'm going to order a corsage/boutonniere (dependent on having a date) or whether or not that kid can take a hint and ASK ALREADY (capitalized to highlight the frustration boys not asking causes girls all around this stressful time of year) too. But I'm not, so I'm spared that particular ordeal for the time being.

xoxo, vivian

"It's a fashion thing"

2011-09-13T17:44:00.000-07:00

I've got my priorities pretty straight, don't you think? Believe it or not, this is the FIRST EVER copy of Vogue that I have ever owned. I figured my first has to be something meaningful, something epic, something worth my the cover price I'm paying; and what's better than the September issue? (The answer is nothing, by the way.) There is really no other magazine more worth the cover price (this month)(that I know of) for a girl like moi. It's 758 pages of pure gorgeousness--have you seen such good photography? Such gorgeous clothing? Such amazing spreads? Such pure, unadulterated fashion?

If you've seen me at all in school in the last two days, you'd know that my copy of Vogue has been within three feet of me, but usually a lot closer. I've been pouring through the articles and the ads every free moment I could get. Even when I'm [supposed] to be doing school work, it's there, sitting on my desk in all it's beauty. Yeah, it's safe to say I'm just a little obsessed.

But it's also a social experiment in and of itself. I've had more than one person ask me why I have Vogue with me, at least four people who have poured over it with me, and even two guys who understand what the significance the September issue has. I even overheard someone say to their friend "...that girl with the giant magazine. You know, Vogue? It's a fashion thing."

Other than my obsession of the moment, this school year is already incredibly hectic--and it hasn't even been a week! I've had three tests already, homework in at least three classes a day--every day, executive board meetings for extracurriculars, and not nearly enough time to blog properly or read consistently or write myself out of a rut or LOOK AT THE FASHION SHOWS FOR SPRING 2012 COLLECTIONS YET. And I probably won't have enough time in the foreseeable future--probably not until the night of the actual homecoming dance (next Saturday) to get to any of those things. For now, I think staying on top of that growing pile of things to do should be more than enough to keep me on my toes.

But at least we'll always have Vogue. ♥

xoxo, vivian

Dear Sneakers,

2011-09-10T20:52:00.000-07:00

I feel like I owe you an explanation, even though I think you already kind of know. I think you expected it just a little too, otherwise you wouldn't have reacted the way you did. But who knows, you can never really tell how people take things with the internet. Maybe that's why I did it the way I did, because I wasn't sure how to in person.

My intentions were there though. I really was going to tell you that day that I said I was going to, but the plans that never materialized fell through. I knew my decision almost immediately after the opportunity presented itself, and I already waited a month to say anything at all to you, regardless. Honestly? The reason I didn't tell you right away because I thought that the delay could preserve the already distant reality just a little longer, and that we could go on the way we used to for a little bit. Sometimes, I think I get too caught up with looking back and how great it was before I can finally see how things really are.

I really did enjoy my time with you when we were together though. We had fun, something that I don't know for sure I'll have this year without you. I hope you understand that even though I'm sure of my decision, I don't think it's a perfect choice. I still lost. If things were different...if you wanted the same thing as me, and if you wanted to work for it, if time weren't an issue...if if if.

I really miss being friends. Best friends. I miss and loved your unfailing enthusiasm and support for my endeavors, and for letting me ramble when I needed to. I hope that this doesn't mean the end of all of that, although after these past few months of drifting apart, I wonder if things will ever be the same again, and I wonder if you want it to be like before.

I'm not sure if you read this blog anymore, but I still remember when you would come up to me and gasp over a post. I miss having you as my biggest fan. My favorite supporter. It made me feel like it--this, writing, all of it--was worth it, because someone out there cared. You cared, and that made me smile.

Yeah, I know this sounds like a pathetic love letter written by some unromantic fool. Which I guess in some cases it is, so whatever works, right? Anyways, I realize that I've never properly thanked you for everything. So thanks. You know who you are. I miss you. Let's go back to how things were, but only if you want to, 'kay?

Much love,
High Heels ♥

Obligatory thoughts on school

2011-09-09T15:56:00.000-07:00

First [half] week of school, check. Physics homework, English homework, and yearbook test studying (wait, what?), unchecked. (For now. School just got out like, half an hour ago or something though.) It may only have been three days, but I'm already starting to question what my priorities are. (I'll leave that to you to figure out what I mean.)

Well, I feel obligated to talk about school now that I've been back for a couple of days already. I actually kind of like physics, surprisingly. I don't even care that there's daily homework--and I'm the kid who avoids homework like germaphobes avoid public places. Spanish isn't so bad, and even though I'm in my fourth year of it, I still don't consider myself fluent enough to even say I "know" Spanish. (One of my biggest pet peeves is when someone says that they know some language just because they're in the class. Contrary to popular belief, barely knowing a foreign language doesn't actually mean you know it. Then again, I know people who have a hard time grasping their first language, so...) How can I "know" a language if my English in Barcelona was more helpful than my Spanish?

English is (still) hands down my favorite class of the day. Nothing new there--but predictability is good. Calc on the other hand...well, let's just say that I'm glad it's the weekend and I'm glad I don't have homework for it for now.

US History is okay: I like the subject and I like the teacher. That's about it. (Here's a hint: I miss being in the underdog class. And I miss having a personality.) But the class that has the most potential? Yearbook. God, I wish they offered this class when I was an underclassman, just so I had more than two years to do yearbook. It's a combination of photography and graphic design and writing witty (and sometimes cheesy) headlines and captions...anyways, point is, I think I'm going to really like this class.

Am I going to like this year though? I hope so, I really do. But even the first few days of school have left me distraught. There are way too many things on my mind, and even for someone who seems to have it all together all the time, I'm falling apart. I just don't let on. At least, I try and put a cold, brave façade. It's so much easier to pretend everything is alright, when it really isn't. But I guess it's my own fault, because I either tend to burn every other bridge I build, or the bridge lacked a strong infrastructure to begin with.

Some things just need to be compromised, I guess. Bring it on, school year of 2011-2012. Here's to making it out alive.

xoxo, vivian

Fighting evil [homework] by moonlight

2011-09-08T19:54:00.000-07:00

First week of school, you guys. This marks the start of another year of artfully dodging homework, eating lunch in second/third/fourth/fifth period, frantically printing out a brand new random debate aff on the day of some tournament, and begrudgingly walking in the rain to the library because it rains in Seattle (a lot) and because I don't have any other mode of transportation. But let's not focus on that right now--I have until June to talk about school.

So for the past two weeks (instead of doing my summer reading homework!--I should do that soon), I've been watching Sailor Moon, one of two animes I've ever watched. I remember watching it ten years ago (wow, I feel old for saying "ten years ago") on the Cartoon Network. It brings back so many memories, like reading the books in the bookstore (yeah, I've been going to bookstores and reading books since then.) and playing "Sailor Moon" with my friend on the elementary school playground. Oh, childhood, where did you go?

Thankfully, one of the great things about the internet is that you can find almost any TV show uploaded somewhere in the world wide web. But even after procrastinating a bit, I still did not have enough time to watch entire seasons at a time. So I did what any strategic anime watcher would/should do: I looked up all the episodes on Wikipedia and chose episodes that sounded interesting to go and watch. (I ended up watching about twenty select episodes in season one, two episodes from season two and at least half of season three, just fyi)

Season three is the best. I vaguely remember watching some of those episodes from ten years ago, with the creepy mad scientist professor Tomoe and some epic battle of good vs. evil. Now, after I've re-watched it, I like it even more.

Professor Tomoe kind of scares me. I think it's the maniacal laughter and the fact that his face in the dark only has eyes and a mouth.

The main story line is about the the heart-snatchers, Daimon demons concocted by Professor Tomoe that set out to snatch pure heart crystals that are necessary to the destruction of the world. The Sailor Scouts duty is to stop these Daimon demons to take the pure heart crystals of innocent people, and usually end up saving the day. The twists in this season's plot are the most interesting--especially with the new side characters, like Michiru (Sailor Neptune), Haruka (Sailor Uranus), Setsuna (Sailor Pluto) and Hotaru, the sickly child of Professor Tomoe. Plus, the bad guys were great, like Mistress 9 and the Witches 5 and Kaorinite. I always love a pretty villain

I've always liked the side characters more than the actual main character. For example, of the original Sailor Scouts, my favorite was Sailor Venus, or Sailor V.

When I was a kid, judging a favorite character had a lot to do with who had the best hair. I used to wish I had blonde hair like Aurora in Disney's Sleeping Beauty, and I'm pretty sure I liked Sailor Venus the best because she had the best hair. Plus, she liked fashion!

Of course, my personality is nothing like hers. I'm more like Ami.

She's the bookish one/the one that studied all the time/stereotypical model Asian student. She's cool too, but alas she did not have as great of hair as Minako.

Hey, speaking of studying...maybe I should go study for the calc test that I have on the THIRD DAY OF SCHOOL (way too early to be having a test in any class, especially calculus).

xoxo, vivian

Forbidden

2011-09-04T20:06:00.000-07:00

Forbidden, by Tabitha Suzuma

I've never cried after watching a movie before. Not Titanic. Not The Notebook. Not Romeo and Juliet. Not Gone With the Wind. Not any other generic tear-jerker, or any non-generic tear-jerker for that matter. I've never cried after watching a TV show before either. And I've never, ever cried after reading any book (and I've read hundreds, maybe even a thousand books since I've learned how to read)...

...until now.

It was actually kind of embarrassing, because I was reading in the Barnes & Noble café when I started to tear up. You know, with a ton of other people around me, drinking coffee and working on their laptops and such. It wasn't like, obvious, loud, throaty sobs or anything. Just a couple of tears rolling down my cheek. Which for someone like me is already an incredible feat, because I *never* cry at books. Or movies. Or anything, really. Not many things are capable of moving me to tears--but this novel did just that.

Forbidden is one of the best books I've read in a really long time. The story is beautifully written, with prose that subtly enhances the delicacy of the matter at hand: incest. The novel and the subject matter is at once challenging, daring, and provocative. It practically begs the question of how could something so wrong be possibly right to anybody at all?

The characters aren't particularly special--they're just ordinary teenagers forced to deal with the bitter realities of finding out that life isn't fair at too young a age. At only seventeen and sixteen years old, Lochan and Maya have to take care of their three younger siblings and deal with their absentee alcoholic mother on top of school and friends. Although it sounds a tad over-dramatic, the details blend into the story seamlessly and add to the intensity of the climax.

This story not only explores the moral and social consequences of incest, but does it in such a way that leaves you questioning your own beliefs of morality. There is so much depth to the story: the underlying problems that drive Lochan and Maya together and eventually caused them to love each other as wholly and deeply as they do, the societal norms that tear apart their own consciousnesses and their unrelenting struggle to make it against the whole world.

No matter how uncomfortable the concepts and ideas of this novel may make you feel, I dare you to read this book. I dare you to not help but to hope that things work out for Lochan and Maya, even though what they want is wrong. I dare you to open your mind and your heart to embrace this story, because only through the lens of two innocent, beautiful people can you see how societal prejudices ought not stand in the way of those who fight against it, even though it does and it shatters their world.

xoxo, vivian

Dear Snail Mail,

2011-09-03T19:06:00.000-07:00

It was your birthday last last Wednesday. Even though it's been almost four years since I last heard from you, I still remember. And I still have all of those letters that you wrote to me, I kept every single one. I even kept the majority of the envelopes too, even though some are missing the stamps and I still don't know which envelope goes with which letter. But seeing my address handwritten and knowing that it was sent to my mailbox still makes me smile, even though the letters stopped coming almost four years ago.

I tried to write to you in 2008. It had been almost a year since I last heard from you, and I wanted someone to talk to. I had so many things to tell you about, and I wrote to you in a gel ink pen just like I had been doing for years. I was sure to send it to the right address, and double-checked it with one of the letters you sent me in the past. Even though I had it memorized, I still wanted to make sure that my letter got to you.

It didn't.

I got it back a week later, with "WRONG ADDRESS" stamped on it. It was my letter, the one that I wrote to you in my gel ink pen and the stamp that I put there. Did you know, that in my years of writing to you, one of the only birthday presents I got was a set of stamps? I asked for them just so I could write to you, because you were my only pen pal at the time. When I ran out, I would pay 39 cents (the price of a stamp at the time) out of my very limited pocket money so I could write more.

I missed you. I missed getting your letters. I missed having someone to talk to. But eventually, that started to fade away. I moved on. And you moved on before I did. Even though we lived probably less than six miles away from each other, not once in our years of letter writing did we meet up. I waited at the middle school you went to school at for my bus to my middle school every morning, yet I never thought to look for you. Other than third and fourth grade memories, we didn't have much in common at all. Except for the letters.

I found you on Facebook a couple of months ago. I wasn't looking for you, but I guess you were looking to reconnect with people after you moved away. (I heard about that, and I figured as much. We were supposed to be go to the same high school.) We have a couple of "mutual friends" if you will, and I could tell that you were the one who added them.

You didn't add me, by the way. Maybe you forgot, but honestly, I don't think you really did. I think you willed yourself to forget, and decided that you didn't want to look back any more. And I forgive you for that. I forgive you for letting it--letting me--go, even though your letters were one of the best parts of my dreary middle school years. I guess it's all for the best. We've gone our separate ways, although I wish you didn't go the way that you did.

I'll admit I did look at your profile, to see what you were up to. I was shocked at the person that you'd become. I was shocked at the things you did, the way you talked, the way you blatantly disregarded your present and your future and even federal law. This is not the person that I knew.

But people change. You changed, I changed. I know you're not going to get this letter, just like the other ones that I've periodically written to you but never bothered to send, but I just wanted to let you know that I wish you the best. Thanks for the memories. And regardless of everything, I miss you, the person I knew, anyways.

Forever your friend,
E-mail ♥

Rome, school, letters, fashion, blogging

2011-08-31T18:26:00.000-07:00

Last year at this time, I believe I was in Rome. And it was the first day of school for the kids back home. My school district has this thing where they start school on the first Wednesday of September, regardless of when Labor Day is. So I've got another week. I kind of wish that school would start already though.

Wait a minute. Did I just say that? I am SO going to regret I ever thought that once school actually starts. Especially once I start having to do homework. Especially once I have to start studying for my first tests. Gone are the days that I can just do it all in AP Bio, because we literally did nothing in that class. I actually have to do my homework before school starts now, because even though I have the last lunch, the only class I have after that is yearbook, which is probably the only class I have that doesn't have homework.

I wish our school had a block schedule. More classes, more time to do homework, but less classes in a day. Plus more in depth coverage of the subject. Then again, we all want what we don't have, right?

For example: I really want to go back to the bookstore and finish the book that I started. I'll talk more in depth about the book in a future post, but the suspense is just about killing me right now.

Speaking of this blog--I've started a new series of posts. Look for the label "with love seattleite fashionista," which will be updated every Saturday.

And the "fashion" label will be updated with fashion posts periodically, although how frequently is still up in the air. I hope I'll have time to do more fashion blogging and someday update with pictures of my own outfits, but after Lingering summer days, I realized how incredibly time consuming it is to find style inspirations when you have something in mind but you don't know where to look for them, exactly. Hopefully I'll get more sophisticated with creating and crediting and formatting and all that jazz. I even changed the format of my blog partly because I wanted to make fashion blogging easier to read/to look at the pictures I choose.

Here's a question: why do I even do this? Why blog at all? Who reads and cares what I have to say anyways? I sometimes ask myself that, even though I mostly know the answer. Originally, I started seattleite fashionista ♥ for myself, so I could get whatever I needed to say out of my system. This web log was so I could remember what was going on in my life at a certain point in time, what was on my mind. Blogging is like writing a journal and leaving it out for the whole world to see--the question is, do you want people to see it?

I didn't put the link on my Facebook. I didn't tell anybody I even had a blog until two or three posts in. Yeah, I know, I caved in easily. But I was just a freshman who wanted a little bit of attention. I tried what I called "Facebook blogging" (or "fflogging", failed-Facebook-blogging) for a while by "blogging" my thoughts on a Facebook note. It was somewhat successful, although I hated that sometimes I felt like I had to tell people to look at it. I still hate forcing people to read my blog: you don't have to read it if you don't want to. I just wish you want to.

It must be human nature to want readership for your blog, if you are a blogger. I know I do. But just like the people who self-promote on writing community websites (been there, done that. Hello, inkpop, I'm looking at you), it annoys me when bloggers do it. Like book bloggers, who hold giveaways for "[insert number of followers here] Followers! (note: you have to be a follower and leave a comment etc. in order to participate)." I did follow a blog and leave a comment for someone holding a giveaway like that once, out of desperation for winning that book. (I didn't win, in case you were wondering.)

Did I want to follow that blog though? No. The reviews weren't descriptive, the grammar and spelling sucked, and the blogger sounded like a sellout with the "I'm only giving away the book to a follower who comments on this post." What happened to the days of quality over quantity?

For someone who doesn't act like I care, I sure care a lot. *sigh*

xoxo, vivian

Lingering summer days

2011-08-28T19:39:00.000-07:00

The first few weeks of September always feel like an Indian summer, especially here in Seattle. Our summer days don't hit the mid-eighties until August, so it's hard not to keep hanging on to the last rays of sunshine even after the first green leaves start to change color.

This is the perfect time for crisp white button down shirts and tan neutrals. Maybe a splash of a couple of muted colors, like an olive green or a burnt red-orange, but only a little bit, and only when it's necessary. The lingering traces of a bright and vibrant hazy afternoon is the perfect backdrop to be sitting in the sun and reading a book or sipping iced tea. The breezy last days of summer should look like this. September is a transition month--you can't jump right into regal jewel tones and tweed jackets just yet. After all, fall doesn't begin until the equinox.

xoxo, vivian

Dear Banana,

2011-08-27T18:02:00.000-07:00

Oh boy have I missed you. But only because I have a handful of memories that were--and frankly, still are--important to me. After all, you made me smile just when I needed to and said all the right things at all the right times. Those are the times that I remember, and those are the memories that I think of, every time I see something that reminds me of you.

I'm pretty sure I wouldn't miss you so much if I saw the whole picture and saw you for everything, as opposed to a few perfect moments. I probably wouldn't get disappointed either, especially when I remember the many times that you actually did let me down, even though I believed that you wouldn't. Maybe that was part of the problem: I had too much faith in you when deep down, I knew I shouldn't. How does the saying go? "Don't make someone your priority when you're only their option"?

I loosely based my final Josh in Facing the Music off of you. It's something that I've never directly told anyone, but no fiction is entirely fictitious. Almost everybody who has read my story has told me they love Josh, so take it as a compliment. I tried to capture the good and subtly bring out the not so good--like how Josh let Annabelle down and made promises that were too good to be true.

A couple of people told me that Josh was two-dimensional. Other than the artistic purposes of trying to highlight the Annabelle-lens, I think I see you as two-dimensional too. I spent too much time imagining you to be better than how I should have seen you, as just an ordinary person not so much different from everyone else. It made you too fake, too much like a paper cutout.

But maybe I liked the paper cutout you, because that one would tell me that I'm a good writer and that I'm stylish and fashionable and compliment my outfits (♥) and for not only seeing but saying that I have potential and oh, I was so flattered. I still am flattered, and I take your words to heart because like I said, they mean a lot to me.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is this: thank you for everything, I'm sorry I never met you half way and for putting too much faith in you, and I'm not going to look back anymore. I'm throwing out these rose tinted glasses that I've worn these past few years. I didn't think they went well with my outfit either.

Much appreciation and forever yours,
J. Crew ♥

Facebook ruins lives.

2011-08-25T19:46:00.000-07:00

I spent part of yesterday morning with a friend who doesn't have Facebook. Of course, the conversation at one point did eventually drift to Facebook, and I commented on how Facebook ruins lives. For me, the damage has already been done--I spend far too much time for my own good idly trolling my news feed from "friends" when I could be doing something productive or actually fun, like reading a book or something. My mini tirade ended up convincing the Facebook-less friend to not get one now (or ever). It makes me kind of wonder why I'm still even on Facebook.

I thought about deactivating my account. School is about to start, and I'm going to need as much time as I can get to study and balance extracurriculars and do things I actually like, like blogging or something. Facebook is such an easy way to get sidetracked. So why not just get rid of the problem all together?

The thing is, I kind of like Facebook. I like staying in touch with some of the friends that I've made, and Facebook is one of the few ways I can do that. Yeah, I know, there's email and instant messenger and whatnot, but Facebook makes it so easy. It's one-stop shopping compared to a scattering of stores that aren't even guaranteed to have what you want!

But...FACEBOOK STILL TAKES UP TOO MUCH TIME. (As I continue to try and engrave into my consciousness.)

I wish there was a way to stop me from going on so much and wasting time. And I also kind of wish that I had more of a life so it wouldn't (and shouldn't) be this hard.

What's that? You know how I can solve this problem? What? Discipline? Self restraint? I'm sorry, I don't quite believe I know what those words mean. Nah, it's okay, I'm not interested in learning more about them. Thanks for the suggestion though.

xoxo, vivian

mid-august updates

2011-08-19T19:01:00.000-07:00

Two weeks of summer vacation left para mi. This summer went by so fast, but maybe it's because I feel like I haven't done enough studying yet. Oh yeah, speaking of. There's that English AP summer reading project I have to do. I hate how I have to type it up: based on simple math, typing=me+computer. Not bad, right? But then computer=Facebook, and Facebook=wasted time, so via the transitive property, typing=me+wasted time on Facebook. (It's amazing, how the stuff you learn in 8th grade honors geometry applies to *real life*!)

Anyways. I changed my blog layout. Hopefully the dark text on the white background is easier to read. They changed the Blogger template customization from when I last used it, and I cannot for the life of me figure out how to change the font for the blog description (Coco Chanel quotes; I don't like them in Arial, but I can't figure out how to get them to be the font I want). Oh, and if you click on one of the pages, it has the page name at the top of the page, which wouldn't irk me as much if I could at least change the color to a dark burgundy. (Of course I would get caught up in the little details.) So if there are any HTML hacks out there reading my blog, wanna help me out? :)

Worst case scenario I go back to my old layout, right? I even downloaded the template and saved a copy-paste version of the HTML codes in a word document, just in case.

xoxo, vivian

Day 13 — Never Let Me Go

2011-08-16T20:53:00.000-07:00

"I saw a new world coming rapidly. More scientific, efficient, yes. More cures for the old sicknesses. Very good. But a harsh, cruel world. And I saw a little girl...holding to her the old kind of world, one that she knew in her heart could not remain."

I cannot even begin to explain how much I love this book. It's the sort of book that's so good that I don't want to recommend it to anybody because I don't want to have to share it, but I can't resist because I absolutely *have* to talk about it. So then I end up going on and on about the book to whoever I'm talking to if books or movies or anything remotely related to this book and its contents comes up in the conversation, and hope to persuade them to read it. Or at least watch the movie, because most of the people I talk to are not book people.

I watched the movie before I read the book on the airplane to China. I had no idea what to expect; the description was vague, but the trailer was intriguing. After I was done, I couldn't stop thinking about it--the plot, the characters, the dystopian world. I couldn't get it out of my head, and I knew that the first thing I had to do when I got back to the States was to read the book.

Which is exactly what I did. The first place I went after dropping off my luggage at home was the library. (That's also the first thing I did when I came back from debate camp. Except that time I went to the library *before* I even came home.) The reviews on the back cover made me even more excited to read it. I hardly ever read books that get such good reviews from such respectable reviewers. It felt almost intimidating, to be holding such a respected book.

I absolutely loved it. I loved the way that Kathy narrates the story; typically, stories narrated in first person irk me a little. Maybe it's because most of the narrators in the first person books that I've read (which are typically young adult fiction, so that probably explains it) just don't have an appealing voice to me. I hate stories about "ordinary" or "normal" people. (I guess I just don't relate well to "normal" people.) And even though Kathy is plenty "normal," the wistfulness and nostalgia in her voice pulls you in. You want to know her, you want to hear her story.

It unfolds like a mystery. She tells you bits and pieces, not always in chronological order. There are bits of old lingering memories of Hailsham to the more recent memories of Kathy's life as a carer, all seamlessly blended together. There are pieces missing, but eventually, it all falls into place. You also know from the way that everything is described that something about this world is not quite right. Not necessarily in a bad sense, but there are times when things feel off. The characters are too proper; they seem like such good kids, the way they talk, the way they act, the way they are.

I loved the concept behind the story too. I really like biological sci-fis (I'm pretty sure that's not a real phrase, but that's how I would categorize it, genre-wise), and the idea of a world just like ours, only with a few biological advancements, like in genetics or other parts of the medical field. Maybe it's because medicine seems the more fascinating and real to me than an alien invasion or space travel (wormholes! Warp travel!) or other science fiction genres.

I hope you read it (or watch the movie, at the very least, because the movie is very good too), because I loved this book so much. I still love it, and I wish to someday write something as good and inspirational and heartbreaking and beautiful as this.

xoxo, vivian

♥ me, ♥ me not

2011-08-12T20:53:00.000-07:00

It's been a week since I was at debate camp, which feels more or less right. I've already fallen back into old, bad habits, like eating everything in sight (regardless if it's healthy or not) and not organizing the emails in my inbox. Actually, I haven't even been reading my email (how uncharacteristic of me!) unless if it's from a real person and not some computer-automated program (that's not saying much, considering that the majority of my inbox is comprised of automated messages). I guess this is just case-in-point that Facebook has taken over whatever internet communication life I used to have.

Anyways. I wrote a one-shot the other day. It's for a competition hosted by Teen Vogue and Figment--champange and blackberries. I know that pessimism is bad and I shouldn't give up hope just yet, but the prospects of me winning aren't looking so great right now. That's the thing I hate about competitions where the writing community on the website (Figment, in this case) votes for the finalists. Teen Vogue will only read the top five most popular and then choose from there who the winner is.

I don't mean to sound conceited or anything (wow. First pessimism and now a demonstration of faux-superiority? I'm on a roll here), but I think my story is more original and better written than some of my competitor's stories. So why do they have an edge over me? Well, for one, they uploaded and entered before I did. But I'm okay with that. What I don't think is fair about how they got their "likes" is the shameless self-promotion they promised that whoever "liked" their story will get a "like" back. Then again, who said life was fair? And who am I to complain--I made one of my friends create an account on Figment just so she could "like" my story.

Do I "like" my story? I don't really know. (But I'm my own worst critic. Nothing you can say about my writing can be as bad as what I tell myself on a semi-regular basis. You might say I'm hard on myself, but that's just how I am. No wonder why I feel hopeless sometimes...) It's not my best work, and I feel kind of bad that I used one of my favorite names for the character (there's a story behind the origins of "Olivia Scarlett") for something that I'm not totally in love with. But I could always recycle the name for a later project. Who has to know where and who Livvy has been? I'll keep it a secret if you do.

xoxo, vivian

This town used to be a pretty place to stay

2011-08-07T19:06:00.000-07:00

The duck pond. Is it just me, or is the sun so bright that even looking at it makes your eyes squint a little?

Walla Walla is the epitome of a "small town." Suburbia doesn't even come close to feeling like a cliche.

But at least it's one of those nicer small towns. One of the best, according to some magazine or other. I mean, it is in Washington wine country. So it beats "nice small town in the middle of nowhere" (even though that's what it felt like)

The duck pond is so picturesque! My cellphone camera doesn't do it justice

So I'm back from debate camp for good, and I promise I'm not going to talk endlessly about debate now that I'm stuck in the suburbs once again. It feels like my summer just got started, even though I spent the first two weeks in China, a week of interlude and three weeks at debate camp. I wish I had somewhere to escape to this month. Brief bits of freedom taste too sweet right now, and I'm craving more.

xoxo, vivian

Winners Win

2011-08-05T01:25:00.000-07:00

What it means to win debate (lecture notes from the final lecture at the GDI in 2010, taken by moi)

[Winning debate is] special because you belong in a community—the debate community
[It's] special because you can’t even explain how amazing it is, [to] find a place like this, where [you] belong, [it's] rare in life. There’s nothing quite like it
You have to love what you do; otherwise, you won’t do your best
It’s all or nothing
Debate doesn’t last forever—so don’t leave any regrets
Its all about the will to win—after all, there’s no shortcut; you have to work harder than those you’re debating against
no debate is over until the judge signed the ballot
Never be afraid to fail
debate is about persuasion—[there is] no guaranteed way to gain points; so confidence is key, [because] people sense fear—so don’t be afraid!
debate can be very hard and frustrating, [and] you don’t always succeed; it’s made to be this way
[It's] not about being the best, but the process of becoming the best
It's about how you finish, not how you start

It's my last night at the WNDI, and I just lost a battle to the vending machine. No, really, it ate my $1.20, and wouldn't give me my change back. It also wouldn't give me a drink either, so now I'm thirsty and $1.20 poorer. I called the guy you're supposed to call if the vending machine is broken, but I didn't see him when I went at the designated time, so I guess I'm not getting my refund. But I leave tomorrow--or technically, today--so I suppose the honorable thing to do is to move on.

We ended up winning quarters and dropping in semifinals. Yeah, I know, it sounds an awful lot like history has a tendency to repeat itself, but this is the good kind of repetition. We lost to the team that won the tournament, if that's any consolation for my ego. Besides, I haven't had such quality debates in...ever. It's a good learning experience to have partners that are better than you are, even if you feel like a let down when you do badly. (I'm sorry!)

I'm still trying to wrap my head around this "leaving tomorrow" thing though. I haven't started to pack at all, which is something I should probably do (or at the very least, start) tonight. This isn't the dramatic, fun, let's-make-the-last-moments-count sort of end that I guess I was expecting, but it's better that way. Goodbye won't be so hard, because I was never attached much to begin with. I had a fun three weeks/19 days, and all in all, it was worth it.

I also realized that there's about a month until school starts. Which means that my summer is more than half over. Where did the weeks go? I swear, I was just in school the other day writing a stupid classroom based assessment...and now, here I am, sitting in a freshman dorm on a college campus somewhere past the middle-of-nowhere Washington in the sweltering heat of August. I haven't seen any of my best friends since mid-June! It felt good to be the one that's too busy this summer. If there's anything I really hate, it's boredom.

Good thing I have debate research to do when I get back home! (Disclaimer: I am not to be held accountable for any claims that I will do work before the season. I will, however, be held accountable for packing and making sure I don't leave anything behind.)

Stay classy, Walla Walla!

xoxo, vivian

This is gonna be a good life

2011-08-04T01:52:00.000-07:00

Well, it's been a while since I last posted. It's not so much that I haven't had a chance to post (I've had plenty of chances); rather, I was sort of hoping that I'd get a different response--note, that means A response--to the last post. Oh well. You probably don't want to hear my "I have to finish this train of thought even though it's hours past midnight just because something someone told me made me feel sort of deep" moments anyways. So this time, I'm going to promise you that this post is not going to be deep. Breadth outweighs depth, right?

Tonight is my second to last night here in Walla Walla. I don't know if I'm sad or not that I'm leaving--on one hand, I'm really missing the 60 degrees/overcast weather, the book list awaiting me and seeing the Puget Sound again. On the other, I will miss being around people, eating non-Asian food, and yes, the debating. I know it makes me a dork for even talking about debate camp, but it was a fun experience.

I've talked about this a lot recently, and I'll reiterate it once more: I'm glad I came and didn't bring my best friends with me. I'm glad that I let myself be someone a little different, but still mostly the same. I'm glad that I forced myself to do this, because I honestly do think that this was an even better debate camp experience than the last.

Soon, when this is all over and new friends are added on Facebook, the wave of nostalgia for this moment will hit. And maybe I will look back and wish I did a little more of this and a little less of that, and paid a little more attention that one time when something happened. Or maybe I won't, because like I said, this was all pretty great.

I will miss the people that I've met at camp, but not quite excessively so. After all, this isn't the end--the season has yet to begin. Besides, I have to claim the Berkeley award when I go back this year, don't I? And I got what I hoped for, even though I never really dared to let myself believe that I could be so lucky.

I got so lucky to get such good partners at camp this year. I didn't dare to hope to get to place third seed at the prelims and then go on to semis, and yet somehow we did. I didn't really think I was much of a help (I can't flow to save my life), but somehow, we did it.

Tomorrow is day two of the second camp tournament. While my current debate camp partner and I aren't doing as good as we should have, we did manage to beat one of the best teams/favorites to win the entire tournament. I couldn't help but to smile at the admiration I saw in some of my friends' faces when they found out we won.

We got lab awards today too. "Shortly after we realized that she was pretty much clueless about pop culture references, we found out that she had an insane knowledge of fashion. We weren't sure if we could take her seriously. Then we saw her debate. The lab was suddenly scared of hitting her in round," was a paraphrasing of a description of yours truly. What a great way of being remembered! Now if only I could be fashionable and a little scary/intimidating in every day life... =)

Well, it's almost 2 AM, and I still have to debate in the morning, so I'm going to bid adieu to you for the time being. You know you want to hear more about me ramble on about debate camp, right?

xoxo, vivian

Flawed Flawlessness

2011-07-30T02:49:00.000-07:00

"You are the authority on what is not possible, aren't you Irene? They've got you looking for any flaw, that after a while that's all you see." (Gattaca)

“I am not dangerous. Only the stories are dangerous. Only the fictions we create, especially when they become expectations.” (Dash & Lily's Book of Dares)

"I'm afraid of time. I'm afraid of not having enough time...not enough time to understand people, how they really are, or to be understood myself. I'm afraid of the quick judgments and mistakes that everybody makes. You can't fix them without time. I'm afraid of seeing snapshots instead of movies. (The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants)

"We all complete. Maybe none of us really understand what we've lived through, or feel we've had enough time." (Never Let Me Go, movie)

What is it about human nature that makes us judge so quickly that we don't take the time to look beneath the surface? Why do we give so much face value to appearances and outside personality and stereotypes that we stop looking for something meaningful, something unexpected inside someone else? How come we close our hearts towards others so quickly and yet expect them to open up and let us in because we're curious for curiosity's sake?

Why do we tell ourselves that no one understands us, when in reality, we don't even truly understand who and what we are? The world is full of surprises, and for the most part, we don't like to be surprised. While we're taught that imperfection is beauty, we only almost always will see perfection as beauty, and that for many things, only the ones that fall under the narrowest ranges what this perfect beauty is are acceptable. Then, we go through the painstaking effort to cover up whatever imperfections we have. That which plagues and agonizes us should be hidden and unspoken, even if it means throwing a giant cloth over the elephant standing in the middle of the room. After all, I sure as hell am not going to want to talk about the uncomfortable creature, so you shouldn't either.

We're all told that no one is perfect and we all consciously believe it. Yet somewhere in our subconscious, we can't help but to hope for such a perfection. It takes one to know one, and I know that I am no one to be the judge of anything, especially not of you. But because I know that I will go on and judge you anyways, I also know that you will go forth to judge me as well.

Why don't we talk about the elephant in the room? Why can't we say something about it, and why does it have to be a taboo? Who's going to judge us for being judgmental; me? Or you?

So tell me, why is it just so damn hard to admit that I have flaws? Why do we avoid the fact that you have flaws? Why do we scoff at the notion of everybody having some kind of flaw? And why is it that even when you do everything you can to fit in you still can't hide that stupid elephant?

They've got you looking for every flaw, that after a while that's all you see. So I'll ask you this, and answer me truthfully: do you see me? Can you see me? Or do you only see part of the story, and only the part that you want to?

How could you possibly know the whole story? How is it possible if all I ever wanted was to get away from the whole story? What if the stories we create and tell ourselves about ourselves are simply escapes from the cold, hard truth, and what if reality is the only break we have that allows us to do so?

I am not dangerous. Only the stories are dangerous. Only the fictions we create, especially when they become expectations. It takes patience as well as understanding and empathy to even begin to comprehend what we have lived through, and what that could possibly mean for someone else.

But maybe you never really knew, because maybe you, like me, were too quick to jump and point at the elephant. And maybe, in hindsight, you realized that all you ever saw were the snapshots instead of the movies, the scenes instead of the play. Maybe you feel remorse, because you didn't take the time to try and see past the superficial surface, and maybe you would have done it differently if you had known sooner.

In the end, isn't this where our hubris pins us down? We are all subjects of time, pieces on fate's game, and masked beholders of the inevitable raw human quality that makes us want to continue this masquerade ball and hide from the world that you have created in your head. Is it really so bad to have judged someone for their face value? Is it okay to admit that we didn't see the truth until now, and would it be okay if I wanted to say that I'm sorry and that I admire that you never let the elephant betray your strength?

They had me looking for those flaws, and I hope that you want to see that I too am more than my flaws. I hope that you see that stories can be dangerous, and that you take the time to really try and understand, because you never really know how much time you have and what that time meant.

xoxo, vivian ♥

Golden Puff Love

2011-07-29T02:54:00.000-07:00

Yup, this is another one of those very early morning/super late at night posts that will probably end in an incoherent mess. Usually, I start a blog post with a general sense of where I want to go with it, but the rules don't after midnight and before eight in the morning. So if you're reading this (and when I say if I mean because you are reading this), consider yourself warned that this post is probably going to take off in many directions at unexpected times.

First: we won our fifth round this morning, which means that we broke to quarters (were of the best eight teams) based on our record. We won that round too, and lost in semifinals. Essentially, we were either third or fourth overall, depending on seeding and all that. It was kind of exciting that we made it that far--I honestly wasn't expecting to do that well. Then again, maybe I underestimate myself a lot. I've definitely gotten faster and more proficient. That's what camp is for though, right?

Today was also the last day for the two week campers. I myself am going to be here for another week, but five out of the eight are not, so tonight was our goodbye for now. I had tons of fun playing glow-stick hide-and-seek tag and salad bowl with you guys today, and I had a great time in lab. Honestly, I think I had a better time in lab this year than I did at GDI, but maybe it's because we bonded more this time. I've said this a bunch of times before, but it's really nice to be away from your usual clique and force yourself to bond with other people. Besides, we've had some great memories in lab, haven't we? =)

Tomorrow (or I guess today, because it is officially Friday) will be a nice break from the two days of tournament. In the meantime, I really should take a break and sleep.

xoxo, vivian

Let Go and Live a Little

2011-07-28T02:17:00.000-07:00

It's midnight. Do you know where your roommates are?

(It's okay to admit if you don't. But you probably should, because curfew checks are in twenty five minutes)

So I've been here at the WNDI for almost two weeks now. At least that's what they're telling me, since the two week program ends...tomorrow, because it's technically already July 28th. But I mark the beginning of a new day by waking up to it, not by midnight, so I'll pretend that it's two days from today-aka-July-27th-in-my-mind.

But that means that it's also more than half over. We had four rounds of the camp tournament today--ahem, yesterday, by normal people standards, and it turned out...a little different from what I expected. I know this sounds crazy, especially coming from someone who can be as smug as me, but I'm almost afraid that I'll end up doing too good. We're 3-1 right now, and I could have been undefeated if it wasn't for a huge screw-up in my last rebuttal. I guess that sort of checks doing well?

It's almost a relief to find out that I'm not as bad as I thought I was. We've beat some pretty legit teams, and almost all of the debates I've had here are better in quality of the clash than back on the Western Washington circuit. If we win one more round tomorrow, we're going to break to elim rounds for sure. It feels almost a little surreal, being here. It's at once so much different and so much the same as my debate camp experience last year.

I bet you're probably sick of hearing my debate stories by now. I'm almost sick of them, especially when I start off by talking about Berkeley or how the GDI compares to the WNDI. (Here's the Reader's Digest version: WNDI better food/dorms and fewer files/people, GDI better lectures and more files/people. I've liked the labs for both, I don't have any particular biases so far. Well, with the exception of the times that we sat around and did nothing productive in neg lab...) I have to say though, I'm glad I came.

It's been such a different experience--while there isn't the comfort of being surrounded by your best friends, there's the comfort in knowing that they're only a Facebook chat away. And when there isn't the familiarity of debating with your regular debate partner, there's the familiarity in finding the same common interest as your camp partner: winning rounds!

I feel more free here. No, that's not quite it. I feel different, but like I've discovered a little part of me that I didn't know I had before. I need to get out more--after all, I'm the one here saying that debate camp has changed and shaped my life. On the other hand, it's one of the few places that I've been lately where I could be someone other than who I normally am, while still essentially being myself.

Let me back track to a couple nights ago. I was at a little mini party of mostly good teenagers (it was in my dorm room, after all), and even then I felt so incredibly out of place. I'm the girl who goes to bed at nine on a normal weekday and considers a night with just a good book to read a "fun Friday night" (yeah, I don't get out much. Or ever.) Even so, I had fun playing silly teenager games, like I Never and Truth or Dare and watching the others borrow some mattresses from other rooms for a sleepover in room 323.

Sure, it's a little out of character for me (a little? HAHA you have no idea), but for once in a long while, I lived a little. I've learned a little more on how to let my guard down and let people in. Too often I feel as though I'm constantly trying to shut people out, secretly hoping they don't like me too much in case if I don't like them myself and not being able to accept things the way they are. I am the epitome of someone damned by security--I live my life trying to keep the door closed, and not letting anyone in that it in turn just dooms me to live afraid of the world around me.

And that, my friends, is how the security K links to real life.

xoxo, vivian

(7/28/11 9:00 pm update: I'm sorry if that didn't quite make sense to you when you were reading it. It didn't quite make sense to me either when I reread it.

8/5/11 EDIT: The last part is what probably doesn't make sense. I don't know why I said that.

Somewhere between zero and hero

2011-07-24T01:55:00.000-07:00

My short story, Facing the Music

I know I've said I want to be a writer, but am I one already? I just started going back on inkpop on Monday or Tuesday, and I've pretty much gone from zero (okay, ranked 1040 out of 12,228 isn't exactly zero, but you know what I mean) to hero since then. After a couple of days of offering to "swap read" other people's projects, it feels...strange to be ranked this high. The top five each month get read by Harper Collins and they decide if they want to publish you or not. I'm not actually sure how many who's projects have been read have gotten a real deal down, but isn't just the thought of being published sort of...thrilling?

Okay, okay. So I'm still pretty far off, and it gets harder and harder as the climb to the top gets steeper. Breaking to the top 100 feels like an accomplishment already. And I'm already behind in swap reads--I think I have four or five right now that I still have to return, and that was as of yesterday. I probably have even more after today. I really don't want to check right now.

The comments have been great, for the most part. One person even told me that it moved her--wasn't that my goal oh so many months ago? To write something beautiful and haunting and to move someone? So why am I not as extremely happy about this as I ought to be?

I guess a sort of realization dawned when I read this article, about teenage writing. I want to grow up so fast and so soon, that I surely don't take enough time to just...live. (Oh god, I almost wrote "be." Stupid Heidegger. Stupid seductive kritik jargon and abusive arguments. Stupid me, for falling for the K in the first place. Anyways, moving on.) I talk and over-analyze my story, figuring out the last detail and silently refuting my reader's logic in my head, thinking that I have it all figured out. But in the real world, this place outside of my head, what do I really know about anything?

There must be some kind of void in my life, one that I feel needs to be filled that makes me feel like I need reassurances and ego boosts. (I think there's a name for it. Big-headed-ness, perhaps? Or is it just Being a Teenager?) The comments I get make me happy, but not like they used to. I remember when I used to write and publish online, people read my story because they wanted to, not because they promised they would.

Right. That's another thing. I read mostly YA fiction, and I've been paying attention to this for a while: a lot of the stories that I've read on inkpop have plots so very similar to the books I see on the shelves of Barnes & Nobles and Borders. Almost all the narrators are sarcastic, sort of quirky, there's-something-special-about-her-but-I'm-not-entirely-sure-what sort or characters. They're all in first person, a confessional of some kind. In fact, it got to the point that some commentators even suggested that I write the story in first person. Me! Write in first person! It's a personal stylistic thing--I like to write in third person omniscient, and I am not going to change out of conformity. I think, based on my own experience with writing, that coming up with something original is hard. I get that you'd want to write a story that's sort of similar to your favorite books. But whatever happened to imagination?

There are so many aspiring writers out there, plenty that are the same age as me, and sometimes I wonder how far I'll make it out there when the time comes. I don't doubt that I'll make it--that's something that I'm pretty sure of. What I question is, how much do I really want this now? How much do I really want this right now?

One of the pieces I used in researching for "Facing the Music" was an article about this child prodigy writer, and how even though she was a genius, her life didn't let her shine to her utmost full potential. (That's not to say I'm anywhere near being a genius, but just go with this analogy right now.) I wanted to write Annabelle as being that, as someone who is at once lonely and responsible, innocent yet mature. But in so many ways, her story was tragic from the beginning, even if her father didn't leave her, even if the story didn't end the way I ended it. She had already lost so much--things like her youth, things that everybody else takes for granted. She never got to be a teenager with a crush on a sweet musician, and her life was lost in a blur of pain and loss.

I didn't want to be Annabelle, but I wanted to understand her. I wanted someone else to understand her, too. Subconsciously, I was trying to figure myself out, because Annabelle was me to a certain extent. Lost in the world, even though there's a bright future ahead. Maybe she's all of us, and maybe we're everybody.

All I know is that I'm going to push forward and live a little while I'm at it. And hope to read some more lovely reviews. :)

xoxo, vivian

PS: I'm writing this blog post at 1:53 AM. Yes, there is something wrong with me, I am aware of that now. Thanks for reminding me to go sleep!

When life gives you lemons, squeeze it into ice water. Or play Lemonade Stand.

2011-07-23T12:44:00.000-07:00

Royal Caribbean Cruise, August 2010

I'm a trend setter. Except it wasn't really my original trend. I actually copied it from these two British ladies I met on the Mediterranean cruise last summer, and I'll have to say, ice water with fresh lemon juice is delish. I later found out they did the same thing at the spa on the cruise, along with a cucumber slices in water, so I've dubbed it "spa water." (Although let's face it. Cucumber water just can't beat the freshness of lemon water. Try it some time. Or if you don't drink water, try squeezing lemon into Coca-Cola. Which probably sounds weird coming from someone who doesn't even drink Coke, but it's pretty good too. Okay, I'm sidetracked.)

I did the same thing at state debate when we were at the Lobster Shop for state debate. Then four people around me requested lemons from the waiter too to squeeze into their water. Ever since I found out there were lemon wedges (sort of limp lemon wedges anyways), other people have started to do this too. What can I say, I start trends!

So in the quest to try and find interesting post titles about debate, I've resorted to spending time to talk about different ways to drink water. Debate camp is...debate camp. The majority of conversations that you hear walking past the dorm rooms are about debate, our dinner (and lunch and breakfast) conversations about debate, even the gossip that goes around is about debate. I don't know if I said this last year, but I was told by someone I know that debate camp means that you live and breathe debate. (Count how many times I said the word 'debate' in this last paragraph. Oh, and whatever answer you get is debatable.)

I love and hate that it makes me have to think. On one hand, I've gotten much better at debating in the last week--of course, this is in comparison to the week before, when I couldn't have processed anything, I'll bet. But on the other, thinking is good. Being around people is also good. The days between going to China and debate camp were drearily lonely, consisting of me, myself, and I (and Gossip Girl episodes and a minuscule pile of books). I have a feeling that after I leave debate camp, I'm going to go back to being surrounded by a much larger pile of books.

So it's almost lunch break, and I have two practice rounds after this. I should pay attention, huh??

xoxo, vivian

It isn't very windy at the WNDI, aka I talk too much about weather

2011-07-21T00:20:00.000-07:00

You have no idea how exhausted and dead tired I am right now. I just got done with four rounds of debate today--too much for the first time that I've debated in four months. At least let us warm up, right? Or push us into four debates mostly back to back when we don't know anything about the topic and have barely read our affirmative case. That's cool too. (Or in the case of me, not read through it at all. Then, when it comes time to give the 2AC, find out that it probably would have been a good idea to read it through maybe once, so at least I know what arguments I'm claiming...hahaha...)

Oh, and let's not forget how many times I've done/said stupid things in the course of the last four days since arriving in Walla Walla. (I like throwing the name of this devastatingly small town around too, because it's fun to say.Walla Walla. Walla Walla. Walla Walla. Okay, I'm going to stop now. See, I told you I was tired.) You'd probably get a rough idea if you've seen any of my latest Tweets. If you haven't, you're not missing much. They're more or less variations on the theme of "Since when was I this bad" and "What the heck was I thinking/Was I even thinking when I said/did that?"

It's probably because of the lack of sleep. I swear, I'm going to bed progressively later as the days go on...but that's probably because I have more work to do and more things to tell my friends who go to bed long past midnight on a regular basis. But at least the weather's not as hot as I thought it would be. (Why am I always talking about the weather? How boring of me!)

So I should probably go to bed before I start going crazy, since I've got about a total of 14 hours of sleep since getting here on Sunday afternoon, shouldn't I? (Pretty sure that I butchered up the grammar of that. But I'm too tired to care. And the fact that I've been excessively using parentheses can't be good, because that means I'm thinking about too many things at once.)

xoxo, vivian

Shanghai, Dior references and traffic lights

2011-07-18T07:58:00.000-07:00

Doesn't it remind you of the hotel hallway in Lady Blue Shanghai?

I was actually really happy that it was an overcast day, because at least it wasn't 36 degrees Celsius and stiflingly hot.

The Oriental Pearl Tower (is that what they call it? I only know it by its Chinese name) during the day. I didn't know it was pink until I saw it in person!

City-scape!

It's like online dating, except not online. (Okay, I need a better example. It's like...match.com, except not online. There we go.) I can't believe people actually do this...

The park was pretty though. It's a nice break from the hustle and bustle, even if there are a ton of people hustling and bustling in the park too

Is that blue sky I see? I remember it raining around that time.

I was told that this is one of those "uncrowded" moments in the Shanghai subway.

Reminds me a bit of Times Square. Shanghai is gorgeous. And enormous!

I remember really wanting to get the traffic light into the shot when I took this picture. :)

The Oriental Pearl Tower and the many tourists that come and see the night life

Postcard worthy! :)

xoxo, vivian

Day 12 — Nostalgia is tickling my fancy

2011-07-16T17:24:00.000-07:00

So today is the day before I start what is probably going to be my second and last debate camp experience. I'm not saying that I'll absolutely never go back to debate camp again, I'm just saying that's what it looks like for me right now. And perhaps a small part of me is sad that I still am not completely able to do what I wanted to do last year when I was a camp, but a larger part of me feels like this is the real beginning of the end for a somewhat significant part of my adolescent years.

Oh, how much I've changed since my first debate camp experience! I remember the feeling of leaving my first year of debate, excited to learn and hang out with some of my best friends from before high school at a camp five hours away from home. I remember that excitement of being the best at my game, or at least being better at my game. Maybe it was because I had a mostly eventful season--twelve physical trophies and a half a dozen near hits that didn't come with a souvenir to look at over the years, but memories nonetheless. And let's not forget, I almost got to go to nationals. But how naive I was! I didn't know what it was like to stay up until the wee hours of the night, or to cut evidence or to be out of my usual element. How could I have been someone else, when I was surrounded by six other people from my school, four of them being my best friends that I've known forever?

I thought about it a couple of times while I was at the GDI and a couple of times afterwards. I don't consider myself a very deep person; in fact, I'll admit that I'm pretty shallow the majority of the time. But what I realized I wanted was to see who I could be if I weren't held back by friends or assumptions that people have about me. I hate how once you get to know somebody, you start to assume you know them. But could other people assume to know me if I'm starting to realize that I may not even know myself?

I remember there were a couple evenings after round that I walked with my opponents/fellow lab members and talked a bit about our circuits and arguments that we usually liked to run and all that. (Or maybe it was only one night, I'm not entirely sure.) The point is, I remember feeling...different. Free. Liberated. I could talk and not have to worry about if I "sound like me" or something. Okay, so there wasn't really *that* much substance to the conversation, but it was more of the...idea that I could be more than what I feel like I usually am, you know?

And then there was that epiphany, the one that I had going to dinner on July 20th, 2010. I had one more speech left, and then after that we were diving right into another debate. I remember thinking to myself, what is security (in the context of Heidegger and Dillon), and what does it really mean, outside of the debate world? What does it mean to be radically free, to be insecure but free from the dangers? I don't know where it came from; like I said, I'm not really a "deep and thoughtful" person. But somehow, my 2AR, my last speech before the tournament sparked the hour-long lecture that really changed my experience there. In fact, I'm willing to bet it changed all four of our experiences in that room that night, and how we looked at debate.

But what if there was more to it than that? What if it applied to life in general anyways? I chose Whitman for debate camp this year because I wanted a bit of that freedom. I wanted to be away from my friends, who would not only make the experience fun, but also hold me back from making something of it myself. Hopefully I can get it this time around.

That's another thing. This might just be my last debate camp ever. I don't think I'll be back for it next year, because like I said, I'm not the naive little girl I was one year ago. I don't have great expectations for this year in debate. No, I'm not being pessimistic. I'm being realistic. Practical. Commonsensical. (At least that's what I'm telling myself.) I don't have the passion for debate like I once did, and I'm willing to admit that now. Maybe things will change, maybe they won't. And if they don't change, maybe some things like this happen for a reason, so I can see that there's more to it than just going through the weeks and months drifting through tournaments where my heart is not at.

xoxo, vivian

My, what large eyes you have! All the better to prove you wrong, my dear

2011-07-12T11:16:00.000-07:00

So one of the things I did when I was in China was get my picture taken. And no, I'm not talking about the kind where you stand in front of some landmark and smile cheesily for the camera saying "eggplant" in Chinese (you know how Americans say "cheese"? Chinese people say "eggplant," or 茄子). (Which I did do a couple of times too). What I really mean by "get my picture taken" is get it done in a professional studio sort of like the ones in the US. But also not really the same. And I've wanted to get mine done for about the last decade (okay, nine years. But "decade" just sounds cooler than nine years. Same diff.), ever since I saw my cousin, who's thirteen years older than me, in giant picture frames hanging around in my aunt's apartment that she took when she was my age. And when I went back to China in 2008, I wanted to do take them after seeing the wedding pictures that she took at the same studio.

Anyways, they do your hair and makeup for you. While wearing the right foundation color that blends into your jawline is kind of a big deal in American makeup (as if I haven't read that enough times in magazines!), there was only one shade of foundation at the studio. And not an inch of bronzer in sight. Actually, I'm pretty sure they don't even sell bronzer in China, because of how unpopular it would be. After all, being tan in the summer in China is sort of like being pale in the summer here--untrendy. It's a pretty common site to see people walking about the streets with parasols, or umbrellas with 100% UV protection (I bought one of those this time! For the uh, rain here. I'm pretty sure I'd be considered more crazy than I already am if I used it in the sun, considering that we hardly have enough sun to get burned for most of the year). The ads in magazines and TV for skincare usually go along the lines of advertising the latest whitening lotion. Whitening in China (and probably other countries like Japan and South Korea) is not exclusively for teeth--it's about as natural as self-tanning tips. (The one thing that the East and West have in common though--the huge stress on wearing sunscreen! It's been done to death so much that even my grandma was telling me to wear sunscreen religiously.)

The makeup took FOREVER. I think the majority of the time was spent on my eyes, which is another beauty obsession for them. And for me. To be honest, this is one of those things that I care about infinitely more than my other Asian American friends. Stereotypes and stereotyping is my biggest love/hate relationship. I love challenging traditional stereotypes people might have about me--I sometimes go out of my way to take them on, even. But the reason I do it is because I hate them. I hate how people classify other people into categories and expectations. Even so, I'm a hypocrite for it. I stereotype and judge people too, but in the end, I guess we all do, just a little bit anyways. My point is, the size of my eyes is sort of a sore spot for me. I don't want to fit into the belief that Asians have small eyes. I absolutely hate it when people comment on the "chinkiness" of having hooded eyelids, as if all Asians have small eyes. Okay, so maybe there is some truth to the claim. But part of the reason why it bothers me so much is that I'm jealous of the Asians I know who do have bigger eyelids than me. (That sounds really weird. Please pardon the weirdness, if you think I'm weird. Which I'm sure you do, since I'm rambling on about the size of my eyes.) I wish I had larger, visible double hooded eyelids, because then, that would be a direct challenge to the stereotype, right? In fact, it would go very well with the idea that Asians are supposed to be short, because I'm taller than the average American woman. If only I could have the large eyelids to prove them all wrong...

And I did, at least for an afternoon. One of the options for getting the effect is surgery. I took plan B: special tape to keep my double hoodedness in place. See, I already have double hooded eyelids. The problem is that they're the kind that eyeliner would only make look smaller, because then it'll just make my eyes look "chinkier" because it would only emphasize the heaviness of the hooded part of my eyes. Tape, however, solves the problem, because it enlarges the overall size effect and thus makes the eyeliner and false lashes show up without looking scarily spider leg like. Although I wish I could have eyes like I did that afternoon (minus the heavy makeup and false eyelashes) forever, it felt good to be pretty for once.

I also got my hair curled for the first time in my life! I've always known I'd look better with hair that had more volume--with a narrow face like mine, naturally stick straight hair (my usual 'do) just doesn't cut it. I wish I had a hair curler, but my parents won't let me use any sort of heat products (curling iron, styling iron) hair products (other than shampoo--I don't even use conditioner) or chemical products (such as dyeing it or getting a perm). So my non-straight hair is the result of a twisted bun or braid 99.8% of the time. The only thing I didn't like about my hair was the amount of hairspray that went into it. I guess virgin hair like mine isn't well suited for heat.

In China, getting your portrait taken is sort of like a real, magazine type photo shoot. After hair and makeup, you wear the outfits selected for you from the large costume closet. Then, the photographer chooses a backdrop for you and tells you how to pose. I don't know how many people have ever wanted to be a model some day--probably not many, from my guess. (I always was a part of the crowd of few)--but this experience is probably the most like what models go through on a regular basis. I remember in middle school, when we used to have to get 3000 steps on our pedometers in PE class, that I'd walk across the gym to the beat of whatever pop music was blasting from the speakers. I never really told anyone this, but I used to pretend that I was a model walking on the runway, when in reality I was just walking back and forth in my middle school gym getting steps on my pedometer. I was secretly pleased when the occasional person told me I walked like a model--head held high, one foot in front of the other, right to the beat of the music. I know I'm not quite cut out for the catwalk, but it still gave me a sense of pride that maybe I could pretend I oozed confidence or something and that I looked good in clothes.

They told me that I should be a model at the shoot too. I'm pretty sure it was out of politeness or because I was skinny and tall, because I've seen the pictures from the shoot. I'm a lousy poser (this is after their directions, mind you), and I only look good when I smile. So unless if they meant for a toothpaste commercial...and let me remind you, this is after the airbrushing. I don't look like this in real life, and not just because I was wearing a crap ton of makeup. So take it from me--they really do "erase" the imperfections on the models that you see in magazines. Nobody is perfect, as the cliché goes.

xoxo, vivian ♥

Beijing, the north city

2011-07-08T19:24:00.001-07:00

There's this park across the street from my grandparents' (mom's parents) place that thousands of people walk through every day. (Because a couple thousand isn't really that big of a number when it comes to Chinese people.)

It looks so calm and serene because I'm a good photographer. Haha just kidding. It's really because it was like, six in the morning. Jet lag causes people to wake up really early, and this was already after sitting around for a few hours and eating and stuff.

And I guess some places just don't have roads to walk on. There's this huge sign (it has English too!) about all the things that you can't do in the park.

See what I'm talking about? =P

It rained later that day, which explains why the air was so heavy that you could actually see it. The haze is neither bright nor golden, but some of the flowers are.

Because you don't see markets like this in America. (Pike Place Market doesn't count--it's a tourist destination! They have these little markets everywhere in China. Or at least everywhere I've visited.

The department store across the street from my grandparents' residence has a flag raising every morning at 9. Uniforms, national anthem, the works.

It got so dark right before (or is this during? I forget) the thunderstorm. Thunderstorms are a rare occurrence in Seattle, even though it rains a lot here.

Ah, wet sideways. A familiar sight indeed. (My poor shoes.)

The train station. It's almost 9:00. So of course there'd still be people everywhere, waiting to board the trains with beds. (Much more comfortable than airplane travel.)

*More emphasis on the fact that there are a lot of people in China* *Also point out the shining golden arches of McDonald's in the train station* The shops and eateries in the Beijing train station reminds me of Termini in Rome.

A restaurant we ate at when we came back from the South. (More on that later)

There are reminders everywhere that the Communist party in China has been around for 90 years. TV showing of the gala festivities, commercials, bus stops, the walls of parks...

Clear, blue skies. Now that I'm back, this "clear blue sky" stuff doesn't look that impressive, but this is a rare occurrence in the summertime.

The sun color when the sun sets is especially red, even on a smoggy day. This picture doesn't do it justice, but I think that's because you're not suppose to take pictures of the sun or bright lights in general. (I can't resist! Sometimes sunrises and sunsets are too pretty. I'm not like Mimi Force, who's bored by a pretty picture. [Did you get the reference?])

Shanghai and Suzhou pictures to come! Maybe Zhenjiang, but I don't remember taking many there...

xoxo, vivian

Being Asian is harder than it looks

2011-07-07T19:51:00.000-07:00

Long time no post, no? I just got back from my sixth trip to China. I'll start photo blogging sometime within the near, pre-WNDI future. (Speaking of. That's in less than two weeks. Yikes. Advanced apologies to whoever I'm partnered with for my lack of ability to spread, research, think, and pretty much just not suck because I've been avoiding anything to do with debate for as long as possible.)

I've been thinking lately, about this trend of "Asian." Maybe it's because I happen to live and go to school with a bunch of Asians (there's at least 500 ethnically Asian students at my school of about 2000. The majority of them are Koreans or Vietnamese, some Filipino, a few Taiwanese and a fewer non-Taiwanese Chinese and Japanese here and there; the large group of Chinese people in the Pacific Northwest are situated in Bellevue), but it seems like being as "Asian" is sort of like a friendly competition.

But of course, being "Asian" has nothing to do with what percentage of whatever ethnicity you belong to. I know people who are of 100% European descent that are nonetheless "Asian" in ways more so than I, the 100% ethnically Han Chinese one who's ancestral homeland is located within the heart of modern China and earlier dynasties. No, being "Asian" is a new form of popular culture, where the more "Asian" things you've done/you currently do, the more "Asian" you really are.

I guess with many first generation-ers, heritage is important, but pop culture and fitting in is even more so. East Asia is not like the East Asia that it used to be--places like Shanghai, Tokyo, Hong Kong and Seoul are now hip and modern and cool. Korean pop music (dubbed "K-pop") is about as popular as Lady Gaga with some groups here. And haven't you noticed the increase in the amount of Asian girls with Facebook profile pictures with their fingers in a V-for-victory sign? (What's up with that anyways? That's actually one of the things I really don't get.) Suddenly, there's a double entendre to wanting to identify with the places our parents or grandparents immigrated from: to preserve some of the Asian traditions and to be a part of the new wave of change of the "Asian" in crowd.

I'm not particularly a conformist in styles and trends. I prefer to do whatever suits me: when it comes to the typical Seattle gear, I'm more of the knee high boots girl than the Ugg boots girl. The trench coat sporting type rather than the North Face jacket type. The umbrella user, even though I've lived here for most of my life. (Folks around here don't really use umbrellas. My friends sometimes laugh at me for opening my umbrella at the sight of rain, but hey. My umbrella only fits one person underneath, so if it's pouring, at least I won't be the hypocrite who looks like I just stepped out of a shower with all of my clothes on. Just saying.) I've been told more times than I can count by my friends that I'm not "Asian" enough. I've even commented that myself, just for the sake of conversation sometimes.

But what constitutes being "Asian"? I'm still figuring that out. I know it means that :

1. you've had pho before (a Vietnamese noodle soup--and nope, I've never had pho),
2. you miss eating "real" Asian food after two weeks of camp food (I actually liked eating "white people food" for a change, thankyouverymuch),
3. you listen to K-pop (I don't really listen to music, period. And why would I listen to music that I don't even understand the language to?),
4. you drink more bubble tea than Starbucks (I actually really like bubble tea, but there's nowhere inexpensive and easily accessible for me to get it, because 1. I don't have a car 2. I don't have any money 3. Starbucks gift cards can only be used at Starbucks),
5. you get good grades (okay. So I'm guilty of this one. But that doesn't really count for much, considering all the points I'm losing on the things listed above),
6. you take pictures of you and perhaps with your friends with your fingers in a V-for-victory style, always next to your face (non-conformist. WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN??),
7. you used to be obsessed (or still are obsessed) with anime, manga, and/or Korean or Taiwanese dramas (while I did read mangas in elementary school, it was a brief phase. And I've never had the time to watch Asian dramas),
8. you're sort of proud that you're parents don't speak English as fluently as you do and you talk to your parents on the phone in their native language (pffft. I'm proud of the fact that my parents CAN speak English with me. I mean, they've been here since the 80's and have professional degrees here and all that jazz. Plus, the majority of my mom's patients are American anyways. Although I do admit to talking to them in Chinese on the phone just to show off to my friends a little bit, so they don't think I'm completely culturally white),
9. you get into competitions with your friends to see who has the strictest parents, especially when it comes to dating (Oh. My. Gawd. Can you guys PLEASE stop telling me that you're parents aren't going to let you have a boyfriend until you're in college/after you graduate college/never? Okay! I get it! I've gotten it since your first secret boyfriend! I'll admit that my parents are not as stringy on some things like yours are! NOW MOVE ON),
10. you're short. (I'm not. I'm taller than the average American, even. Everybody likes to tell me that I'm tall and skinny. Thank you, Captain Obvious. So I don't fit your Asian stereotype. Well, I guess I'm just not Asian anymore, now that you point it out.)

Maybe I should just fill out forms checking "Caucasian" as my ethnicity from now on, because I'm not Asian enough, huh?

(Just kidding! I mean it. I mean no offense to anybody. I just get a little peeved once in a while when I'm told I'm not Asian for whatever reason. Because I am. 100%. And I speak standard dialect Mandarin well enough to fool anybody into thinking that I might actually be Chinese.)

xoxo, vivian

Get me out of here

2011-06-19T17:17:00.000-07:00

Villefranche on the Côte d'Azur, 2010

Sometimes, all I want is to go off to someplace fabulous and leave all of this behind. This being lonely, bored and broke in Seattle. Actually, broke in downtown Seattle wouldn't be so bad. At least there's window shopping and people.

School is officially out tomorrow, but I've heard they're not even going to bother with attendance. And debate camp has started for two of my friends already, while I'll still be stuck doing nothing at school. Oh well. It's not like I even want debate camp to start for me just yet--the last thing I want right now is to think about cutting cards and researching space policy.

But it would be nice to get out of here. Pronto.

xoxo, vivian

Everybody [else] is hipster loving

2011-06-18T21:14:00.000-07:00

Hey, you. I have a question for you. What's up with this hipster craze lately?

You know what I mean: those dorky thick black rimmed glasses, the obsession with skinny jeans, the purposefully faded pictures of people with the sun in their eyes...oh, the list goes on. Within the last year, the amount of exposure I've had to this word/trend has increased exponentially. And if you want to know my honest opinion, I'm not a fan. And I don't 'like' hipsters either. (Please get that that was a Facebook reference. You know, how it used you be that you "became a fan" of a page and now you "like" it...it's always awkward when you try and make a joke or be punny and no one gets it.)

This whole hipster thing has caught on like fire in dry brush. While there isn't necessarily anything wrong with the concept in itself (appreciation of art and individuality, rejection of "societal norms" and what have you), it seems sort of...well, let's just say that it isn't my thing. And it's practically a paradox: there are now people who are trying to reject fashion norms and be all indie and "deep" and cool to fit in. Guess what? Hipster seems to be the biggest craze in popular culture--making the rejection of mainstream the new mainstream. (Does that even make sense? Good. It shouldn't. Hence, paradoxical.)

I can appreciate what hipsterism stands for. After all, I am very much for individualism and art appreciation. But somehow, I feel like that's lost when the trend is so over-hyped. But that's exactly what it is right now--a trend. *sigh* Don't get me started on how much the fashion aspect of this trend gets to me...

...like the glasses. I don't get them. At all. What's so great about black thick rimmed glasses? They're not particularly flattering, and they don't make you look more intellectual. Deliberately trying to look like a nerd does not make you smarter or cooler. It's almost kind of costume-y.

Or the tight skinny jeans. I never really liked skinny jeans--they're only good for wearing with boots and are typically selectively flattering. You have to be of the right body shape for them to look decent. And even then, they have a tendency of making your feet look big. (As for my opinion of skinny jeans on boys? No way. Not unless if they're homosexual or *maybe* metrosexual. Although it would sadden my heart to see a metrosexual dressing like a hipster.)

Maybe I'm just too preppy to embrace this hipster thing completely. It seems too much like this generation's version of a hippie. Besides, I'm uptown rather than downtown. I'd choose Ralph Lauren over Urban Outfitters any day. I would never date someone who thinks that they're intellectually superior to me because I like and superficially want everything that prep schools stand for, from the Ivy League obsession to the lacrosse-over-football, cotillion-over-homecoming traditions. I love the prim and proper look of a preppy boy too much to like the starved "I don't care, but I really do" look of a hipster. (Isn't it better to just admit that you do care and get off your high horse of pseudo-intellectualism?) And I'm on the debate team, which was practically founded for the preppies of decades past...(let's not talk about how overrun debate is by Nietzsche-preaching hippie wannabes right now. Or maybe it's just Western Washington, where the locals have still yet to get rid of their leftover angst from the grunge era.)

But like all bad looks, this too shall pass. Hopefully.

xoxo, vivian

Confused in My Head

2011-06-14T17:00:00.000-07:00

"You carry around this [boy] in your head, who is exactly who you want [him] to be...And every [boy] you [meet] gets measured against this [boy] in your head...be careful what you're doing, because no one is ever who you want them to be. And the less you really know them the more likely you are to confuse them with the [boy] in your head."
~Sofia, from Dash & Lily's Book of Dares by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan

So another school year is almost over, and it's just as gloomily grey outside as usual. (I feel as though I talk about the weather here an awful lot. Now that I think about it, I talk about the weather a lot in general...does that make me a boring person?) Soon, I shall be darting through the streets of Shanghai and eating dim sum and getting my portrait taken and leaving my world of fresh air and evergreen trees. A couple weeks after I come back, I'll be heading towards Walla Walla Washington for three weeks of too much sun and not quite enough summer fun. (But we're going to hope for the best, right?)

Life moves on, and I suppose I'll (mentally) say goodbye to the boy in my head. Maybe I'll say hello to this figment of my imagination some day to write a story about it, or maybe sometime later I can wave my wand and sprinkle some fairy dust around and make a wish come true. (Metaphorically speaking, of course.) After all, what's there to say if there weren't words to begin with?

It's incredibly funny how watching Gossip Girl online has helped put this into perspective. I don't really know how to explain this, but it just has. Maybe it takes a ton of scripted dramatic moments, impossibly gorgeous outfits and hours that would have been better spent doing other, more productive things to help me laugh at how silly the things I freak out about are, and not over-dramatizing this whole thing has been. Heck, it even helped me forget why the CBA research paper thing was such a big deal. So if you're mad at the world, watch an episode of your favorite TV drama and laugh at how small your problems seem in comparison to these fictional characters' problems. It's nice not having to take life too seriously every once in a while.

xoxo, vivian

Inspire Me.

2011-06-13T20:04:00.000-07:00

It's been two months since I last wrote. As in short story writing, anyways. I know how I probably bore you to tears with plots that I've thought out in my head already for a longer project, but the last time I actually tried to write a long story, I got as far as the outline. Once I had everything outlined out, I realized that I didn't have a story to tell. Or maybe I had a story to tell, but I didn't want to tell it anymore.

Maybe my head's just been stuck in the clouds, going off on all this talk about wanting to write when I can't even bring myself to seriously pursue a novel length story. Heck, I haven't even been close to novella length before. I want to, but right now, I don't have a short story to tell.

Yes, I did have a couple of short story ideas a while back, long before I even started rewriting "Facing the Music," but those just aren't the stories that I want to tell right now, you know? I don't want to be another fluff writer. I have nothing against fluff--in fact, that's pretty much all I read--but now that I've written a story that isn't just lighthearted fun, I want to do that again. Maybe the real underlying thing is, I want someone to think that my writing can be smart and...I don't know, sophisticated. A smart, sophisticated piece. Yes, that is exactly what I want right now.

And it's not *just* my fragile ego at the moment that's getting to me. (CBA. Don't ask.) My fingers are itching to write a good story, but recently, I haven't had any good inspiration. Summer is fast approaching, and since I will be busy and gone for large parts of it, I wish I had something small to focus on. Something that could be spontaneous and short enough that it won't bore me, but long enough so I have at least something on my hands.

So go on, inspire me. Or at least talk to me and get me out of this writer's block.

Please? =)

xoxo, vivian

Day 11 — A photo of me taken recently

2011-06-10T17:42:00.000-07:00

Taken June 7th 2011. Which I'd have to say is pretty recent, considering that I hate having my picture taken. And I also don't have a webcam.

So I was at the library after school (as usual), and found myself at the computer amidst the study tables. I've been at that computer countless times before--I remember it being the one with the nice monitor but sucky keyboard, because you have to remember to hit the 'Num Lock' key before entering in your library card number, otherwise your 0's would end up being /'s. Even so, I never really noticed the webcam that was staring me in the face (literally) until Tuesday.

I first noticed it when I was staring blankly at the screen before me waiting for people to talk to get online. So in my state of boredom, I took this picture with the newly found webcam.

Anyways. I've found that I look a lot better when I can actually see what my face looks like when I take the picture. Candids of me aren't exactly flattering, which is why I duck out of sight whenever I see a camera within shooting distance. Is there a such thing as a phobia of having your picture taken? (Paparazzobia perhaps?)

xoxo, vivian

Day 10 — A photo of me taken over ten years ago

2011-06-09T20:00:00.000-07:00

If this doesn't say "I was born to be a fashionista" I don't know what does. :)

xoxo, vivian

The speech I didn't give and a Night of Ghanaian Culture

2011-06-08T09:00:00.000-07:00

08/30/11 UPDATE: I TOLD YOU I WOULD UPLOAD A PICTURE SOMEDAY. (This was the only one that I'm in where I wasn't 1. tilting my head 2. blinking 3. looking weird.)

So. Saturday June 4th was probably one of the sunniest and warmest days of 2011 here in the greater Seattle region. I spent my morning doing my CBA (or attempting to do so anyways) while everybody else I knew was off taking the SATs, because I didn't know any better to register before the deadline. That was the boring, I-feel-useless, I'm-so-stupid-why-didn't-I-register-I-mean-I-even-get-the-emails-reminding-me-when-the-deadlines-are wallowing in loneliness part of my day. Luckily, by the time 3:30 rolled around, I forgot all about my annoyance at my own stupidity, because by that point, I was frantically searching for a black and white outfit to wear. For the first time in many Saturday nights, I had an event to go to!

I'd like to make a confession. I think I was the only board member who didn't give a speech outside of the "Hi my name is..." blurb at the beginning. And I also completely butchered that up too. All we had to do was say who we were, what our position was on the board, and why we joined. Somehow, I managed to add an abundance of unnecessary words into the first two parts and frantically made something up for the last part. "To show global compassion from Seattle"?? Did I really say something like that? I think having to impromptu in front of LIVE PEOPLE using a MICROPHONE freaked me out. You'd think that two years of debate experience would have helped with this whole public speaking thing, right? HA! I wish. But I can't talk in front of people.

As for the fact that I didn't give part of the scripted speech--it was an accident! To my defense, I was a part of the script: I was supposed to do the dessert auction bit. Except I thought that meant that one person served the desserts (which is what I went on to do) and the other person got up to the mike and announced the winners. It worked out fine, except I realized at the end that I was the only one who didn't speak. Oops.

So here's my "do over" of the speech I didn't really give on Saturday: I didn't join Hugs for Ghana because I'm a good person who wanted to make a difference. I didn't join because I wanted to be a bigger of a part of my community. No. I joined because I wanted to get out of having to go to debate class fourth quarter by doing something that would count as a legitimate excuse since Red Cross Club ended. (I sound like a horrible person, don't I?) But as the Tuesday/Thursday after school meetings continued, I started to enjoy being there. I liked volunteering to go around the school and collect school supply boxes. I liked planning and contributing to a sort of charity dinner. I liked the feeling of being involved in something that helped others. While I don't yet admit that I do feel the effects of how I've helped yet, I want to continue to help, solely because I know that someone somewhere in West Africa will appreciate it. And it feels good to be appreciated.

After cleaning up for the Ghanaian Night of Culture, the other board members and I stayed around at the end to reflect on the night and take pictures and talk vaguely about plans for next year. The other thing that was brought up was going to Ghana our senior year to truly see how what we've done makes a difference. My parents aren't entirely convinced that I should go at this point, but I think I can make it work. How could you show compassion if you only superficially participate? Maybe that's what it means to be truly altruistic, to be truly compassionate. Maybe that's what it means to belong, and maybe altruism and compassion is all that really matters right now.

Just don't give me the mike again, 'kay?

xoxo, vivian

Day 09 — Photos I took

2011-06-04T10:25:00.000-07:00

"There's such a lot of world to see" ~Moon River

Florence, Italy

Monte Carlo, Monaco

Villefranche, France

Naples, Italy

Barcelona, Spain

Florence, Italy

Rome, Italy

Home, Seattle, Wash.

Rome, Italy

xoxo, vivian ♥

Depressing documentaries and life

2011-06-02T19:30:00.000-07:00

You'd think that after the World History AP test we'd stop doing big projects and stuff, like in AP Bio, right? WRONG. Maybe it's because this is one of those classes that doesn't have any seniors graduating in a couple of days, because we have a huge classroom based assessment (referred to CBA from here on out) coming up and we watch around one depressing documentary a week about the ethics of resistance. (My WHAP teacher is also the person who runs our school's Human Rights Club and teaches the Philosophy class. Needless to say, she's into that kind of stuff.)

I feel like I'm always complaining about some imperfection in my life here and there, but in reality, my problems are so much smaller than the people we've seen on the documentaries. These people in Afghanistan literally have next to nothing, and here I am, complaining about how much homework I have or having to wake up earlier to go to an early morning meeting. What right do I have to complain like I do, when these children would do anything for an education? Why should I be concerned about whether or not I can go to the mall this weekend when millions out there don't even know if they can make it to see the next month, because they don't have access to food, water, medical care or live in a dangerous environment?

Sometimes, my life and problems just seem so silly when I take a couple of steps back and evaluate it. Maybe that's why you can go "wow, that was stupid" on something that you did (or didn't do) some time ago, when at the time it seemed much more dire and agonizing. Some things are easier to see when you look at it from a bigger picture, rather than scrutinizing the tiny details that won't matter in a year from now.

Now, if only I could apply this philosophy to my self-induced stress...

xoxo, vivian

Sickening Passion

2011-05-30T17:50:00.000-07:00

[Post content has been removed. Sorry]

My life sounds like a YA novel

2011-05-26T17:32:00.000-07:00

And by YA novel, I mean one of those general fiction types. The kind that's typically narrated by a quirky, sarcastic teenage girl who's living out a kind of funny story. You know what I'm talking about though, right? Where the sarcastic girl happens to be doing pretty swell, with the group of friends and mostly normal families. Then one (or two. Or three. Or four. *cough cough*) of the said friends get boyfriends and the protagonist feels left out of those boyfriend conversations because she has no viable input and those conversations are dull anyways. She ends up making new friends, doing something spectacular, unexpectedly falling in like with some gorgeous boy and maybe consoling the friends that come back to cry on this heroine's shoulder over a bad relationship and everybody eventually lives a somewhat happily ever after.

Okay, okay. Back track for a moment. First, I mean no offense for my buddies in their relationships. (See It's always about the boyfriend, isn't it?.) And second, I hope you've caught on to my sarcasm. I've been pretty bitter recently, and the truth is, I'm not as indifferent as I wish to come across. Quite frankly, I drive myself partially insane because of all the effort I put into this façade. And thirdly, I don't really know of any YA novel that sounds like what I described above. But those are things that sound like it might happen, right?

Those things that I listed for the protagonist to "end up" being is exactly what I want to do. Well, with an exception to the part where the friend comes back to cry on my shoulder, because I suck at making people feel better. In all seriousness, I do want to make new friends. I've been in pretty much the same clique since the beginning of middle school, and I feel like I ought to make more of my so called high school experience count by branching out a bit. (That, and all of my friends in my clique are in relationships. I've found that people in relationships who's favorite subject is to talk about is their relationship are boring to talk to. Chances are, your relationship isn't my favorite (or second favorite. Or third favorite. Or any favorite) thing to talk about.) Besides, I love the feeling of finally having things to look forward to that are not debate related. Maybe I'll soon have some semblance of a life? And fabulous-ness shall surely come soon.

But I know the reason why you read this far is to see if I would comment more on the gorgeous boy part. Right? Right? (If not, then I applaud you. I mean, as much as I disparage talking about such gossip-y things, I would have been curious too. Just a smidge.) Sadly, as I have pointed out many times before, such a thing does not seem to exist in my current reality. But we'll see.

xoxo, vivian

Day 08 — Photos that make me sad

2011-05-21T14:36:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about what I would put for Day 08 of the blogging challenge for over a month, because I could not for the life of me think of a picture that was both meaningful and sorrow-inducing for myself. I guess I could say I'm pretty lucky in regards to having all of the relatives I've grown up knowing are alive and well.

I've lost touch with my former best friend/pen pal, who wrote me these letters between 2005-2007. Yeah, I know, it's been a while. We started writing when I switched to a different school for "Summit," this program that our school district created for kids who got high standardized test scores in elementary school. At first, we wrote pretty frequently; there was one point where I got a letter every week, and I'd respond like crazy. But soon enough, the flow of incoming messages started to slow, and eventually, it stopped. I used to wonder what happened, even though I full well knew. We stopped writing, we never made plans to meet, we had different lives. We moved on.

Except that's not exactly it. For me, anyways. I don't think I've ever completely moved on, because I still really miss getting those letters. And the concept of what the letters meant to me. She was the friend I could "be normal" with. Later on, it felt almost like we were strangers, but maybe that was because we sort of were. We didn't really have mutual friends or new memories--only the letters. And even though I had my friends outside of my pen pal, it just wasn't the same.

You know that feeling of being lonely amongst a group of friends? When you don't know how to say what you want to say, because you don't know who to tell, or when to tell or even how to tell them what's on your mind? Or when you really really just want to get it all out, because you know that it'll make you feel better and get the weight of the burden off your shoulders? That's what it felt like to have someone to write my thoughts to.

Maybe that's also why I want to escape. Just so I can have a friend like that again; someone to talk to when I'm lonely, happy, burdened. I'm sort of (HAHAHA sort of? Who am I kidding?) socially awkward in reality, so I suppose writing has always been my escape. Maybe that's why I wrote letters in the first place. Maybe that's why playing games with paper and pen and passing notes are easier for me than saying it out loud. There's such certainty to saying something out loud. It just makes it more real, and maybe sometimes I don't want it to be.

Miss you and your letters, Zoe! ♥

xoxo, vivian

Contagious sunshine

2011-05-19T18:03:00.000-07:00

IT'S SUNNY!! It's been so long since there was a consistent string of sunny and warm days here in Seattle.

It feels like forever since I last blogged, even though I've been on Blogger every day for the last week. I did start/finish my "Fashion" page on my blog though! If you haven't seen it yet, it's in between my "Debate" and "Contact" tab, or, if you're feeling too lazy to do that, click http://french--vanilla.blogspot.com/p/fashion.html.

This has been one of the easiest weeks I've had in school in forever. I've had hardly any [incredibly tedious] homework all week, although that might be because we haven't had any World History AP homework, because we spent Monday-Wednesday watching Star Wars. I was one of two people in a class of twenty four who was a Star Wars virgin. (I would say I know what you're thinking, but I really don't. I'm hoping your reaction is something like "it's okay, I've never seen it either" so I don't feel like a freak of nature, but the most likely reaction is "WHAT?! YOU'VE NEVER SEEN STAR WARS?!" as my peers responded when I told them that I haven't seen it.) So how did I like it? I'm not exactly a fan, but I don't hate it or anything either. But at least I get a couple more of those pop culture references. And it's a nice break from doing something like, I dunno, work.

But I have been surprisingly busy after school recently. Monday I made tortilla con huevos, a fancy omelete with tomatoes, ham, and peppers with a friend for my Spanish party, in celebration of finishing our first made-for-language-learners novel, which was set in Puerto Rico. Tuesday I had a Hugs for Ghana meeting planning an upcoming charity dinner sort of thing, which is more fun than it sounds. Unless if you're like me and you actually like charity dinners and events. In which case, it's as fun as it sounds. (By the way, if you actually are really interested, the website only works in Internet Explorer. Sorry Firefox/Chrome/Safari users for the inconvenience!)

In other news, the zoo last weekend was fun. The flamingos say hi. (Even though they look like they're sticking their beaks up in the air.) At least it didn't start raining until after we left. Tomorrow's going to be nice, or so I've heard. Nice weather is contagious.

xoxo, vivian

I died and went to Mocha-Coconut heaven and other post-AP tales

2011-05-13T15:53:00.000-07:00

It's Frappuccino Happy Hour at Starbucks! I had my second Mocha Coconut today, and it is quite possibly one of the best things I've ever had. I was skeptical at first: I'm not a huge coffee drinker or coconut fan, and the only chocolate/coconut sort of thing I've ever had are Almond Joys, which are too sweet for my taste. But OH MY GOD that Frappuccino is good. I'm tempted to walk up that hill and wait in line just to get another one, because it's half off and I'd otherwise never spend such a small fortune on a coffee. (Unless if I have a gift card. But then I'd just plan out all the drinks I can have, sales tax included. I can learn to love math if it gets me more for my money.)

And AP testing week is finally over! What a relief. We watched Osmosis Jones in Bio, did nothing [of much importance/that require brain cell expenditure] in Precalc, WHAP and English, and spent half of Spanish watching a made-for-language-learner's TV comedy. We're also watching Star Wars in WHAP next week, and it'll be my first time watching it. I didn't really grow up in a movie watching environments--my parents are book people. (And by book people, I really mean non-fiction-but-not-the-interesting-non-fiction book people. Interesting non-fiction being like, a memoir or something *engaging.* No, my parents read books on the stock market or bonds or C++, a type of computer software checked out from the Microsoft library.) It probably also explains why I'm a book person too.

But the end of AP testing just means that all of the stuff I've put off has to be dealt with. It's almost all fun stuff though. Like the zoo tomorrow! Sure, the weather forecast says rain and the ticket's pretty expensive ($17.50+tax for the zoo? Really? The Woodland Park Zoo isn't even that big!) and it's another one of those "oh yeah, and my boyfriend's tagging along too" sort of deals, but it'll be good to get out of the house. It beats studying by far.

And then next Friday is the debate party. Fun. (Did you catch the sarcasm in that?) Apparently, we're not allowed to go to the mall, even if we get signed permission slips and have our own rides home, which is ridiculous. Last year at the mall was like, one of my best memories of the 2009-2010 debate season. Although truth be told, I think I had more fun shopping with the guys at Banana Republic than I did with the girls at Wet Seal/Love Culture/the usual cheap-fabric-teenage-girl-apparel-stores-with-those-bright-florescent-lights. Besides, I haven't been to the mall in over two months, because of debate and AP test prep. I've missed two free Godiva chocolates (one free piece a month with Godiva Rewards) and I still have the $5 for Red Mango that they automatically add to your account on your birthday. I wish they had Yogurtland where I live. It's so much better than Red Mango, and I'm only saying that because of my love for inexpensive fro-yo and the massive amounts of mangoes, strawberries and mochi I could freely add without the extra cost. (Yogurtland goes by weight, and I believe fruit is less heavy than the yogurt, per surface area, and Red Mango insists on charging by the cup size and then $0.50 for each topping, and only about two or three scoops of that topping.)

I can't believe that we still have over a month until school gets out though. Because of the snow days in November, we're out on Monday the 20th. It feels like the end of the school year already, but that's probably just because the really big tests are over. I've been really excited to move on with my life recently: do new things, avoid the old. (Old being debate.) In case if I never made this clear before, I HATE KRITIKS (you have to be a policy debater to get that. Or just curious enough to look it up on Wikipedia). But let's talk about that some other time.

xoxo, vivian

This week needs to end. Pronto.

2011-05-09T11:54:00.000-07:00

Just got out of the AP Bio test. Not allowed to discuss the free response for another forty-eight hours, and we're technically never allowed to talk about about the multiple choice. So all I can say is I f***ed this one up.

xoxo, vivian

Smitten

2011-05-06T11:48:00.000-07:00

It always surprises me how damn smart some people I sort of am aware of are. Namely, people I hardly know but have heard all good things about and are in my class, but have never talked to/had a conversation with (not even like, 'hi' or something). I guess I just assume that most of the smart people in my grade were Summits, like me. And the theory is mostly true. Except not in all instances.
I know I said that I wouldn't be blogging until after the AP tests, but I'm in English now (supposed to be typing up Lord of the Flies essay), and I felt that I *had* to post. Meanwhile, although the practice tests in both world history and biology have told me that I'm going to get a 5, I'm not confident enough about that. So Saturday and Sunday are ENTIRELY devoted to bio, which I have at 7:20 AM on Monday. *panic*
And world history. Ah, WHAP. You have no idea how jealous/awestruck/surprised/etc. I was. As if it wasn't enough to have fictional character characteristics. I'm thinking Jack Force from Blue Bloods, except not really. Maybe throw in a dash of...Dylan Ward?
You know something must be up when I start talking all cryptic. ;)
But I really should get back to that essay.

xoxo, vivian

AP briefing

2011-05-03T16:52:00.000-07:00

AP Tests next week. Bio on Monday the 9th, world history on Thursday the 12th. But I also have the remainder of my practice bio test and a precalc test tomorrow and a mock world history test on this Thursday, English essay topic/thesis by the end of this week, and I just lost one of my favorite earrings today. They're these gorgeous delicate antique silver feather-like earrings, and I remember admiring them ever since I was eight. Will be missed muchly.
Completely frazzled right now. Not sure what to study (EVERYTHING), and when to study (today, tomorrow, every breathing moment). So don't expect me to post until after Thursday the 12th, unless if I want to die.

xoxo, vivian

It's always about the boyfriend, isn't it?

2011-04-28T17:58:00.000-07:00

We all knew I was going to crack eventually. There's only so much of it that you can take before you start to feel the need to go into angst-mode and vent it all out. After all, what's high school without teenage angst?
But you know how it goes, when the people you typically hang out with choose to spend that time talking about their relationships. And how they want you to spend time with them--and casually mention that their said boyfriend is tagging along too. Or that they don't have time to hang out, because they're "busy." Or maybe you're not hanging out, but walking to class when the boyfriend suddenly becomes the subject of the conversation--when he's not there, of course.
Okay. I feel the need for a disclaimer: it's not that I don't like my friends' BFs, or that I don't like it that they're happy in a relationship and I'm [blissfully, thankyouverymuch] single, but I really don't feel the need to constantly be discussing boy drama. Or really, at all. Seeing as the conversation would usually go:

Friend: [says something about what BF said]
Me: Uh-huh. Cool.
Friend: [excitedly adds in about upcoming plans involving BF. May casually mention that I should come with.]
Me: Uh...I don't know...
Friend: ["But it'll be fun!/I promise I won't run off and leave you by yourself while I go and hang out with my BF exclusively/I need a cover so my parents don't get suspicious/etc." May casually mention that I should get a boyfriend or find another friend or a group to tag along with so I don't get lonely in case I do get left behind.]
Me: *dramatically raises right eyebrow (I can only do that on the right side) and gives a skeptical glance knowing full well that there will be a time during this excursion that I am indeed left out of this couple business (which I guess is good...for them. And that I don't need visuals.)*

Or maybe the conversation will only focus around what the BF said. Or what he did. Point is, the friend does all the talking, and I get to sit there mutely and listen. And appropriately say monosyllabic responses at the right times. Which is not a very enriching conversation, if you ask me.
At this point, I either get told that I'm a boring person to talk to, change the subject out of [hidden] annoyance, or the subject gets turned into why I'm a bitter, single girl.
Except I'm not bitter. I'm perfectly fine with the fact, because that means I'm free of stressing out about someone other than myself, and over-analyzing what they say, what they did, what happened, what's going to happen...
Wait. Actually that's not true.
I stress out about the characters in my head for stories I might someday write, but that's a different story. At least I never have to worry about how I look for them.
(HA. And you thought for a split second that I was going to say that I think about someone as in a real person, didn't you?)
Because that's the thing about fictional characters. They're always there for you, they're perfect in just the way that you want them to be. I think I have more fictional crushes than real ones, because no high school relationship is worth spending studying time for when there's still MY LIFE waiting for me afterwards.
Besides. Where, in Seattle suburbia, can I find a preppie, super-smart, good-looking, well-dressed boy that actually gets me?
Stumped? Me too.
(Ah well. Time to hit the books!)

xoxo, vivian

Facing the Music

2011-04-25T18:05:00.000-07:00

After seventeen months since the inception of the idea, I'm FINALLY done with "Facing the Music." *celebration* Read it? :)

http://inkpop.com/projects/103157/facing-the-music/

You have NO idea how good it feels to finally, finally finish it. Ever since Thanksgiving 2009, I've been meaning to write it. I thought it would be easy--"Christmas to Barcelona" took me only twelve days to write. But after I started delving into this story, I realized it wouldn't be that easy.

The story begins with "Christmas in Barcelona"; that was so much fun to write, what with Eliza and Nate. It was meant to be humorous, light, cute. But while I enjoyed writing it, I realized that I didn't want to be that kind of writer. I didn't want to be the type of girl who only wrote fun stories. I wanted to write something deep, something beautiful, something that could touch someone else. Something that could mean something and have some sort of significance.

And I didn't want to write something predictable either. You could so tell that Eliza was going to end up with Nate. (Sorry to spoil the ending--the writing's not that great. That, and I never got around to editing it.) Happy endings might be great, but I already knew I could write a perfect fairy tale ending. I wanted to challenge myself by writing this story.

Ever since I was eleven and read "Rabbit Starfall," a mini-manga at the end of Tokyo Mew Mew (remember: I was eleven), I wanted to create a story about a violinist. Before I started writing, I would create stories in my head before I fell asleep, or whenever I was in the car, bored. Creating stories is just what I've always done, I guess.

The early days of "Facing the Music" (then known as "A Time for Us") were bad. Terrible. I was still caught up in that C in B sort of world, where the characters were sort of sarcastic, sort of rich, sort of fabulous. While there's nothing wrong with that (I love stories about sarcastic, rich and fabulous people!), it wasn't what I was going for. So by mid-December 2009, I dropped the project.

I don't know how many times I picked up and then later dropped the project. Probably at least eight times, with a different plot every time. Of course, the general (very general) outline was the same: Annabelle, the violinist, learns something from a certain Josh. What she learned sort of varied by the plotline. Sometimes, it was the meaning of life. Other times, it was just the meaning of music.

But I could never get a good enough plot that gave me enough incentive to finish it until March 2011, which was when I started the final story. By this point, I had so many inspirations for the story. For who Annabelle was, for who the voice was, for who Josh was, for what their story was.

You know how they say "write what you know"? It's true. Well, it helps, anyways. I mean, I can't play the violin or the guitar, I'm not schizophrenic, and I've never waltzed with a boy to Sleeping Beauty. But I have been fascinated by other people, I have been comforted when I needed it, and I've felt like no one understands me before. And when I started to realize this, the story started to become a bigger part of me. I could relate to this story. I could write this story.

I found out that I'm not good at writing with an outline. I typically have the beginning figured out and how it ends, but the stuff in between is usually spontaneous. The dance "scene"? I wrote that after glancing at a Tchaikovsky CD. And a memory of acting. Memories, schmemories.

I researched a lot too. The schizophrenic part was new to this particular draft, but it came rather easily. I drew inspiration from a book I read, where a character was believed to have suffered from schizophrenia. And one weekend during my two month writing period, I heard a story on NPR about a woman who dealt with the condition, which also helped me learn and understand about it more.

And the music! I have to admit I don't know much about music, just in general. While I've never played the violin, I was a part of my elementary school's orchestra in fifth grade, and I played the cello. And I took five years of piano too, so I guess that helped.

I first heard A Time for Us by Nino Rota in a CD of violin music over five years ago. It was instant love--I loved the melody of the song. Then, last year in English, we read Romeo and Juliet and saw clips of the Zeffirelli and Luhrmann versions of the movie. I originally didn't want to write a love story about fate and lost love like R+J. It seemed too overdone, too cheesy.

But I guess I found a way to not overdo it this time. At least that's what I hope. The other songs in my story don't really have much of a story to go with it. Devil's Trill Sonata was a song recommended by a friend who knew more about string solo pieces, and I loved how it ended up working with the schizophrenia aspect of "Facing the Music." Moonlight Sonata and the Sleeping Beauty waltz were things I already knew; I played Moonlight Sonata during my piano days, and Sleeping Beauty used to be my favorite Disney animation as a kid.

I also made references to Phantom of the Opera. It's one of the few DVDs we have at home, and I watched it a couple of times this year already, and I love the story. My 'Angel of Music' allusion was from there. Speaking of which, I found out 'angel of music' has other implications other than just in the Phantom of the Opera reference. While it's most likely not true, Lucifer was said to have been the "angel of music" before he was sent to Hell, and I thought it was an interesting tie to Tartini's Devil's Tril Sonata's origin. (Explained a little better in the story)

Oh gosh, I've rambled a lot. If you've read this far, I applaud you. :) Anyways. I think the best part of finishing any story is finally being able to get feedback on it. It's one of the best feelings in the world to have a stranger/person I don't really know well to tell me that they like my work or leave a comment or something, because it means that the time spent working on it was worth it, that someone else bothered to read it and like it enough to tell me.

The thing is, I currently don't have a short story idea to write. Well, more of a short story idea that I want to write right now. After I posted it on Facebook last night, I realized that this is more of the type of story that I want people to read. People I know, anyways. Would I post something fluffy, that I wrote just for fun?

The answer probably would have been yes before, but now, I'm not so sure. I want people to think of me as being "deeper" than that. Like I said, I want to write something that could potentially mean something to someone, or to show that I'm not just another dreamer who doesn't actually take action towards it. I guess I kind of also want to show people that I am capable of writing something of substance, but by doing it in a way that isn't just another essay or rant. I want to write something respectable, something that makes people realize that maybe, possibly, I'm not just some fashion/debate/school obsessed girl you think you know, and that I'm capable of substance.

Not that my story was very substantial. But I do want people to see that I'm more than what they think I am. That maybe, possibly I could be a writer. Maybe it's just the fact that it's a rainy day and a Monday that's getting to me (yes, that was a Carpenter's reference), but I guess putting it out there almost makes me scared. I do and I don't want people's opinions about me to change, you know?

But they'll change, regardless. Things change, times change, people change. I'm glad I didn't just rush through trying to finish my story the first time I picked it up. I'm glad I picked it up and finished it too. I guess that's all that matters. I've met a personal goal of mine, to finally finish the story.

Maybe that's what writing's all about. Personal satisfaction, and the feeling you get when someone else appreciates it too.

xoxo, vivian ♥