dream of EPIC proportions (loaded with mind-blowing historical allusions)

Think of the Holocaust/Final Solution...taking place in Northern Virginia.

In a little center named Eden Center, yes. It exists in reality--it's a center filled with restaurants, bars, nail salons, etc. all run by Vietnamese people. The whole center runs in a semi-circle whose opening is indicated by this traditional Asian arch-thing. That was where my dream took place.

I was in one of the restaurants with my family. It's strange because I was just at this restaurant with some of my family Saturday afternoon. So in my dream... ALL of my family was there. My dad, my aunts, my mom, sibilings, uncles... everyone. In the dream, I sensed something was coming, so I ran outside the restaurant (or tried to) with a saw (non-eletric, the type you'd use to saw wood). Don't ask me where the heck the saw came from.

There's one sole hallway that is very narrow that leads out to the one door to the restaurant. As I made my way through the hallway, I noticed a man in a forest green uniform coming into the door. A black beanie with holes for the mouth, eyes and nose was pulled over his face. I immediately ran back into the restaurant where my family was and yelled, "THEY'RE COMING!" to which everyone in the restaurant panicked at. In a matter of seconds, the men in the uniforms and black beanies came bursting through the entrance and err...shot people. It was really...realistic? in a sense. So I quickly ushered my entire family into the hallway that leads outside to make sure they didn't get massacred in there. But when we got out, I noticed that the whole plaza was filled with people (all Asians, but not surprising since usually only Asians, esp. Vietnamese people, go to Eden Center) running to the rght. But that wasn't the interesting part. Everyone was either wearing a dark green shirt, a dark blue shirt, a dark red shirt, or a pumpkin orange. All the shirts had one black letter emblazoned on them, but I couldn't distinguish what it was. I was wearing the dark green shirt.

So like I said...everyone was running for the right, which snakes around and takes everyone to the entrance to the whole plaza. So I run and follow the crowd, separated from my family, saw still in tow. There's someone near the entrance that is giving out yellow tickets with red letters. Everyone in front of me takes one, so I follow suit and take one from the person as well. We're getting even closer to the entrance and I see people running towards a man (who reminds me of Nguyen Ngoc Loan, the South Vietnamese officer who appeared in the infamous photograph from the Vietnam War) who seems to be guarding the entrance, giving him their tickets. The people who are wearing blue, orange or red shirts get to pass and run away into this highway that's outside of the plaza that splits four directions. Those that are wearing green shirts--I found it very strange in the dream. If the Nguyen Ngoc Loan look-alike fancied, he shot some of the green shirted people and let other green shirted people go. It was like he was deciding their fate at random.

REALITY CHECK: Okay, remember I told you this dream took place in Virginia? Well, in reality, Nguyen Ngoc Loan moved to Virginia. SERIOUSLY. And what's more is that in my dream, he was shooting people. In reality, I best know him for THIS ICONIC PHOTOGRAPH by Eddie Adams. Connection, anyone? Also, I think I know why this man from this photograph appeared in my dream. It's pretty crazy. A long time ago, I came across an internet article titled, "5 photographs that changed the world." And I looked at it, and this photograph was one of them. The other was that photograph of the sailor/Navy officer kissing a woman during World War II. But recently (within the past week), I read another article stating that that woman from the photograph had passed away. So my brain apparently made the connection between this woman and the other photographs that I first encountered along with it on that one article, which included Nguyen Ngoc Loan.

BACK TO THE DREAM:
So as it was almost my turn to go and give him my ticket to "Freedom" so it seemed, I turned and ran back and (accidentally?) threw my ticket into the wind, very afraid because I had a feeling he would shoot me since I was carrying a saw. Plus I was one of those wild cards (the people that wore green shirts). But as I was running back...

I saw a woman with olive skin and black hair who was kneeling on the ground (against her own will) before the guard man. He was laughing at her, and I think I screamed her name because she was my lover. (WHAT?! I DON'T KNOW, IT'S A DREAM!) The weirdest thing is that 1) I've never known such a person in reality. 2) In the dream, it was the first time we had met, but we instantly became um, lovers even though we didn't even talk to each other. It's hard to explain, but I guess it was an unspoken understanding.
I can't quite distinguish her name, though. I think I said, "Katalia."

REALITY CHECK: Yesterday on Tumblr, I saw this post that said, "Which Axis Powers Hetalia nation are you?" So I think my brain somehow meshed the word "Hetalia" (whatever that is) into that person's name (maybe Katalina?) to make Katalia.

I can't quite remember what happened, but all of the sudden I was back in front of the restaurant I had started out with, and I saw my mom and an aunt. She rushed to me and asked why I didn't run away (out of the entrance), so I told her that I lost my ticket. And she shook her head and gave me that disapproving look. Plus I told her I didn't know what direction I should run in (North, West, or East). A couple of strangers with yellow tickets, which were actually these paper charms, opened them up and revealed another set of red words, and those words actually had directions telling you which direction to go...
A series of events (which I can't recall) happened.

The last thing I remember is that I am bound with ropes and kneeling on black, marble-tiled floors in front of a huge wooden dining table. At the head of the dining table sits a fat man who is a supposed leader of the Holocaust-like movement. He looks and sounds exactly like Don Cabeza (from the movie The Mission, which I watched in AP World History recently). He is sneering at me... and the woman beside me, who is "Katalia."

REALITY CHECK: Like I said earlier, I watched The Mission (a 1986 film regarding the cruel massacre of the Guarani, a native tribe of South America, by the Portuguese and Spanish colonists). Don Cabeza was one of the men who ordered the slaughter of the Guarani. See the connections?

......I feel like I'm forgetting something very important. But that's all that comes to mind right now.

By the way, I don't recall killing or drawing blood from anyone in the dream even though I am pretty sure I had to defend myself against some of those uniformed men with my saw. Does this relate to the fact that in reality, I fear the sight of blood, and fear violence in general?

Wow. Maybe the best dream I've ever had, in terms of HISTORICAL ALLUSIONS.

MIND-BLOWN?

All my literal dreams are related to two categories. Guess?

Lately (i.e. this whole month), all my dreams (when I'm sleeping) and nightmares go into two categories (sometimes they overlap).

Fashion. And journalism.

That has to tell you something.

I've had countless dreams about being backstage filming and shooting the models during rehearsals...

I had a dream the night before that the actual article I helped out with for The Washington Post didn't credit me. One of the seniors on TPT said to me in the nightmare, "Miranda. I saw the article you did in The Washington Post, but they didn't credit you. I'm sorry about that." Geez, talk about nightmares!

And then I had a dream I was looking at this really colorful fashion editorial in a magazine. Just flipping through the pages. That was my dream. And soo many more.

Also, I had a dream that I saw Chanel Iman walking in this outfit she actually wore once--in a photograph! So basically the photograph of her I saw in reality became a video in my dream. Cool.

Random tidbit: My dreams are really cinematic.

And they truly only involve either fashion or journalism (or both combined). That has to be a sign, yes?

[fashion] Boys from Milan S/S 11

Oh my god.

Highlights for me were MARCEL, DEMI, CHRISTIAN, JAMES, TOM, AIDEN and BASTIAAN.

Marcel is definitely my favorite. I've seen him around longer than most of the other guys, but he has this really awesome vibe to him, in addition to his fucking good looks and long locks.

the visitor(s)

 My cousin's uncle and aunt arrived at my aunt's doorstep at 10 p.m.

I was mourning earlier because I was unable to take photographs of the moon because my aunt believes a ghost will show up if I take photographs at night.

But when the visitors showed up... one of them being my cousin's uncle turned out to be a huge photography enthusiast. And he managed to convince my aunt to let me go outside at late 11 p.m.--almost midnight, to take photographs of the moon! 

Ah, I can't even begin to explain how delighted I was.

And what's even more amazing is that he brought along two of his cameras: Leica M6 and Leica M8! They're both some of the finest rangefinder cameras ever, and I couldn't believe my eyes!

Plus he gave me two rolls of Fujicolor Superia Reala 100 film, too!

And he even said he'll lend me the Leica M6 to take with me on my trip to DC tomorrow!

AHHHHHH.

[diary] last day of school

• I took 35 birthday punches from 3 people: Ariana (qty: 1, took mercy), Radhika (qty: 17), and Reva (qty: 17), the enforcers of birthday laws. Yay for red and tender arms.
• Went to watch Toy Story 3 with 2 people: Ariel and Cindy

Ariel Kao, loved your outfit. Très chic!

Winson, Neha and Ariel

Alice, haha!

Lindur and her lovely Ray Bans

Ziomara and her cousin

Stefanie signing my yearbook

 Chrissy. You look adorable when you smile.

Toy Story 3 credits - taken in the movie theater

Ariel - love that outfit.

Ariel, Cindy, and me in front of Regal cinema :)

productivity came at the unlikeliest time of the year

Wow. I don't have any core finals left to take, even though there are still two more days of school left. And, for once, I don't have anything to do that's related to school. It seriously feels very strange.
And what's even more ridiculous is that, because the lack of work seemed so strange, I decided to print out my summer Pre-Calc assignment (it is 7 pages and has 100 questions) and did 90% of it (the last few problems I couldn't remember how to solve) a little while after I got home! Yay for productivity--but it came a little too late for this school year. If only I was like this during the entire school year.

Sigh. 

JUNE 21 - Summer Solstice

This is so weird. This sort of "coincidence" always, always happens to me.

I was bored because I came home from school at 11 AM (because we have finals and it's the last week of school! so we have short days). So I went over to my gigantic bookshelf, the one I was so proud of as a young bookworm, and just picked out the book, Love, Stargirl (by Jerry Spinelli) because I had asked my dad to buy it for me many, many years ago. I think, when I was in sixth grade. So that makes it about four years. And the strangest thing is that this is the one book I've never finished reading out of all the five hundred books on my bookshelf (not an exaggeration).

I think I got tired of it halfway through. I didn't understand, as a child, why Stargirl had to mull about Leo Borlock all the time, how she could just stand on a hill and what was so magical about it.
But now I do understand. Reading this book makes me realize how far I've come from that little sixth grader.
Stargirl was probably and still is one of my favorite books of all time. But the reason I initially liked it so much was because I thought of her as a hero, someone fantastical, magical--someone that didn't exist on earth. But now I like the book and character for a different reason. I understand her. I know why she stands in the Enchanted field by herself, why she wore ball gown to watch the sunrise on top of the hill, what she was talking about exactly, how she felt when she watched that sunrise.

Which brings me to what I was originally talking about.

Today is June 21. The first day of summer. The summer solstice. The longest day of the year.
I picked up and technically began reading Love, Stargirl again, well, from the beginning today, June 21. And in the book, I read,

"Summer Solstice. When you woke up this morning, dear Leo, the sun was directly above the Tropic of Cancer. You will never find it any farther north. This is the longest day of the year. From now until the Winter Solstice on December 21, each day will be a few minutes shorter than the one before. Today is the official beginning of summer."

It blows my mind.

In the book, it is June 21.
Today in reality, it is June 21.

IT BLOWS MY MIND.

Definitely not coincidence. Nothing ever is coincidence. I know it.

But do you understand--just---what happened? Oh my god, oh my god.

And for a second, after I read that excerpt, I started to scold myself for not remembering or realizing that June 21 was the Summer Solstice (because I thought today was June 22, because my time system is whack).

SO NATURALLY I'M GOING TO WATCH THE SUNSET LATER TODAY. The sunset of the longest day of the year. Also the first day of summer.

WHO'S WITH ME?

W magazine

So...we've probably all heard that Stefano Tonchi is taking over W...

It feels like there was an earthquake or some supernatural occurrence of massive magnitudes that just flipped over the magazine. I doubt that W will ever be the same anymore, since Mr. Tonchi said that his plans for W were “still very open,” but he wanted to make it more accessible, “probably to just make it more of a general-interest style magazine, and less of a fashion-obsessed publication.”

I must confess that that this new approach saddens me. The reason I loved W magazine so dearly was because of its clearly fashion-centered scope, unlike its other fashion magazine counterparts. But that was just my reason for falling in love with the magazine. Whether or not the shift in scope is a good or "bad" matter, I have no say in. I'm just surprised that there are so many changes in one fell swoop. But we will see how things go with W, which was one of my favorite magazines.

But I also read from fashionologie that Terry Richardson is back with shooting for W again. Honestly, I frown at that.

...We'll see his 17-paged editorial in the July issue and go from there, I guess.

TPT: THE FINALE (FYEAH) MEGAPOST

It is the end of this year, I think.

The back room was cleaned and vacuumed. The result was pretty epic.

But the most noticeable thing was the seniors (or lack thereof). They said their goodbyes and left after a while. One, on the other hand, came running back (as Shannon said--"So soon?")

I'm still in too much of a daze to even process their departure. I think it'll fully hit me sometime soon.

 But here's a recap on the last few days of The Purple Tide ('09-'10):

 Kristen using the ghetto vacuum cleaner. I've never seen such an awesome vacuum cleaner before, seriously.

The wall is EMPTY, devoid of posters and all, can you believe it?

Matt cleaning the back room.

Joe Sko and his tree, I guess.

Editors in Chief union

Online Editors in Chief union

Hala and Shannon

Future editors minus a few

Gina and Lindsey... and Astrid! (lulz)

Kicking ass

Chloe

They speak ze French

And eat popsicles. 

 Sup Deets?

THE END

对不起

My dad just came in and asked me if I would like to accompany him to visit my grandparents in Taipei, Taiwan during the week of July 4. It will have been the first time in at least 10 years that I've gone to Taiwan. I of course said yes without hesitation even though I am not sure that my father and I will get along during the trip. But the reason I said yes so willfully has to do with my grandfather's situation.

This, I hesitate to say. He is not well. I will not say the unspeakable.

The grandfather/grandparents I speak of are the only ones I have, as far as I'm concerned. They're from my late mother's side of the family. My father's side--I never had the chance to meet them since they passed on already.

But because my mother passed away, my grandparents probably have little reason to linger around me. Their only ties to us were through my mother, who I myself never met. So to say the least--I don't really know much about my mother's side of the family (my grandparents). They only visit during the summers. They spend the rest of the time in Taiwan because that is where their medical expenses are covered. It gets harder each and every year for them to make their annual trip to the United States for the summer. For the past few years, each time they've expressed that they might not be able to take the trip. Yet, every time, they end up painstakingly arriving here. But this year, it really does seem doubtful.

Every time I tell myself that the next time I meet them, I'll ask them things and try to converse with them better in Mandarin, I can't bring myself to do it. I'm at a loss for words. My grasp of Mandarin is not enough (my home tongue follows that of my father's side--Cantonese).

And what's worse is that both my grandparents are very ill. My mother's side of the family has had hereditary heart problems. That was the reason she died at such an early age, and that is why my grandparents suffer so.

I don't want to think that it is too late for me to start to reach out to them more. It's not that I don't love them. I'm afraid. I can't articulate well enough.

I want to ask them the questions I've always kept in my heart. I want to ask them, what was my mother like? What did her voice sound like? Could I listen to a tape recording of her voice? What did my mom seem like as a teenager? As a young woman?

I want to ask them if they've ever blamed me for mother's passing.

I want to ask them what their favourite food is, what they think of life, what they were like as teenagers.

And beyond these infinite questions, I want to tell them things.

I want to tell them that I regret so many things, that I wish we could know them better.

I want to know their life story.

I want to take their portraits. Infinite portraits.

I want to tell them that it breaks my heart every time I see them cry when my family leaves after our visits.

I want to tell them that I love them very much even though we've only met a handful of times in all my fifteen, almost sixteen years of life.

But how can I do that when I don't even know how to speak eloquently with my grasp of Mandarin? How can I tell them these things when I've never asked them these sorts of questions before?

[fashion] Liu Wen Splashes Out - NOWNESS

        
Speechless.
        
     

[fashion] Emily DiDonato

via The Fashion Spot

Emily DiDonato? Oh my god! Despite starting out in 2009, I'm putting her right up there next to all my other favorite models (Anja, Freja, Abbey, etc.) seriously. I have a feeling that she will eventually rise to the top ranks of the modeling industry. She is so stunning.

Acqua di Gioia CM shot by Nick Knight for Giorgio Armani

Emily DiDonato for The Block

Backstage

World Cup

The World Cup seriously took the whole school by storm. Shevy showed her uh, support for Mexico very openly by announcing it and hooting about it through the microphone in the cafeteria. The rest of us folks supported South Africa. But I was seriously stunned by how quiet and intent every seemed during lunch time. I've never seen people so absorbed in a school lunch environment. There were crowds around the flat screen TVs all around the cafeteria. Classroom TVs were tuned to the World Cup. There was a constant buzz regarding the latest World Cup news. I didn't know high school kids, especially in America, watched the World Cup like this. It was pretty darn impressive.



And I am totally a dork to say this, but it makes me very um, happy? Proud? Something along those lines, when I see how unified people are, how universal shared passions are. If that makes any sense. 

tpt in the motions of... pt. 4

The senior prank made my day. Now, it would've been way better if they had informed me of the plan earlier so I could've captured better footage, but eh. Shevy, I can't believe you still danced with Ms. Lynch right in your face, haha! Very kickass.

And more senior-prank-goodness:

by the way, was it Hanna who choreographed it?

 Wera & Emily

Danielle & Sarah

Joe 

Aww. Everyone is so cute :D

Lyzan

Kodak Professional 400 TX black and white film that Lyzan gave me

[fashion] Chloé F/W 10 backstage

I officially affirm that Chloé as my favorite fashion house.

Miranda's Dream Theory

I had a dream (a literal one--the type you get when under REM sleep) just now when I took a what--four hour nap in the late afternoon? (I only woke up at 10 p.m.)

Here are the fragments I can recall, along with my usual dream analysis.

Now, this is as scientific as I can get: I have a theory (well, one out of millions) about what dreams are.

The brain compiles recent memories--images, sound, movement, anything we can see, hear, and feel--and processes them in our dreams. These memories and senses might have made a particularly strong impression/impact on us--but not necessarily. Anyway, this is what I call the Dream Theory. (Or should I call it the Miranda Theory? like those scientists we always hear about in science class...) Don't get it? I'll illustrate further:

For example--(I'm using a real-life example): one day in math class, I accidentally dropped my eraser (because I was bouncing it around on my desk), so it landed beside this kid who sat in front of me. I barely know the kid, and I always thought he was kind of a jerk (he was in my gym class the year before and would snicker at some classmates), but he picked it up and said something nice. Or something like that. That night--I had a dream, and for some strange reason, he was in it.

I think the Dream/Miranda Theory also satisfies the question of why sometimes completely random people show up in our dreams. Haven't you ever wondered how they ended up there? Often, I find that it's because those random people that showed up in my dreams did something in real life recently that I took note of, even if it wasn't that significant at the time. I believe that the brain often tends to just take in certain phenomenons and processes them in our dreams if they caught our attention in any way whatsoever. 

Here's the actual dream I had earlier in the evening. I'll be doing dream analysis in italics. (That's one of my favorite things to do).


The setting of my dream was an uptown-like place. Kind of reminds me of Paris, or what I imagine of it. In my dream, it appeared that I was already out of college and actually working. What kind of career, I couldn't quite identify. All I know is that the building/office (UGH, right? but then again, it actually looked quite awesome for an office--very upscale) I worked in was located on and overlooking a corner of an intersection where the sidewalk only stretched a few feet away. It was raining when I was in the office.
Here, we see that water is once again a recurring theme in all my dreams. Also, perhaps it was raining because the past few days have been rainy? That's only a conjecture, though. In this dream, and in most of my dreams, I am extremely attentive to nature. My dreams tend to have a cinematic quality to them--my perspective and the 'camera angle' often changes multiple times in dreams. For example--at first, I was viewing my office and the street below it from a third person perspective--I could see my figure in the dream. But then, when I was outside of the building, on the sidewalk, I was suddenly in a first-person perspective: I was viewing my dream from my eyes and I couldn't see my figure anymore, if that makes any sense. Anyway. I took note of the details of the brick sidewalk and an extremely large puddle in the middle of a road with a huge pothole. I can't remember if I could see my reflection in the puddle, but I did notice tiny specks floating in it, and I did see the reflection of my building in the brackish green/brown water.

I dressed like a businesswoman. I've always liked business suits, and it just so happens that today/yesterday, I was looking at photographs of people in business suits. And I was playing LBP and thought it'd be nice if I could garb my character in a tweed blazer or a pantsuit or something.

For some strange reason, my dream transforms into a different setting. Well, I'm still at the office, but it seems that there's an office-party being held. It also seems that time has not changed since the previous scene (the puddle scene) and it's still the afternoon. I'm inside the office, I vaguely remember seeing my colleagues (I guess?) toasting thin wine glasses with each other, and I'm in my black power suit (blazer, skirt, heels) when I notice that my aunt (I don't know why she was in my office, but I can guess why she was in my dream--she is always in my mind) is hurriedly exiting. I decide to follow her since it seems that she looks very troubled, and I can see that she's chasing after my cousin and his girlfriend (wtf?). My cousin and his girlfriend would be categorized as the random people in this dream, I suppose. I rarely ever see this cousin, but I have a feeling I know why he was in my dream. read on.

We arrive at an indoor parking lot, and I notice my cousin and his girlfriend hopping on his motorcycle. They put on their helmets and are about to drive away when my aunt says, "Stop! I'm getting on with you guys." And I'm just standing there, staring at the motorcycle and my aunt skeptically. She repeats what she was saying, so I said, "But you can only seat two people on a motorcycle." My cousin said something that I can't remember and drives away. In a flurry of events/motion (quite literally), I suddenly find myself sitting on a half car/half motorcycle vehicle while my aunt is driving an actual car. How does this relate to real life?

Real-life connection:
On Thursday, during Chemistry class, I was looking through science/technology magazines when my classmate showed me a picture of a red, Transformer-like, three-wheel motorcycle and asked if I thought it was cool. I snorted and told her that I didn't find it cool though she seemed quite enthusiastic about it.But apparently my brain took note of it and decided to process it in my dream, according to the Miranda/Dream Theory.

Anyway. Here's the rather hilarious part of my dream:
So we're driving out of the parking lot (well, I'm attempting to). Apparently, I haven't learned how to really drive even though I've already graduated out of college and am a working woman in my dream. But anyway, the weird thing is that I'm not stepping on the gas pedal at all, but the motorcycle is moving on its own. I'm confused in my dream because I'm pretty sure I need to step on the gas pedal for the vehicle to move, but I have no time to process that when I reach the opening of the indoor parking garage. It opens out to a busy street like New York City, and before I have any time to fully analyze the functions/how to drive the weird motorcycle, I locate the gas pedal and step on it, and I'm propelled right in the middle of the street and am about to collide into this other car because it's perpendicular to me. I barely manage in the nick of time to grab the uh, handlebars and steer it in the right direction, narrowly avoiding T-boning a silver SUV, lulz. That was pretty exhilarating even though it was a dream. And it was pretty realistic.

Now how does this explain what my cousin/his gf have anything to do with it? Well, I've always had an impression that my cousin has a fascination with motorcycles. For a while, he actually owned one. And he always had posters of motorcycles plastered on the walls of his room.

Back to the dream...

All of the sudden, I'm transported to The Valley. The usual place where I take photographs of nature. You should know it if you go through my Flickr. When I am at The Valley, it's raining rather heavily, but I tear across the muddy, marshy field anyway, to a particularly flooded portion of it. I don't know why all of the sudden I decide to throw myself on the muddy, swampy ground, but that's what I do. And my head hits something rather firm. But I stay lying on the swampy ground with a side of my head/ear pressed to the ground, just watching the rain fall, hitting tall blades of lush, green grass. Yes--my dreams are that detailed, and yes, in my dream, I literally plopped myself down just to watch the motion of rain falling and touching grass. That's totally me.

It's only then that I hear flapping sounds--the sound of the slapping of water in an unnatural way. It doesn't sound like rain hitting puddles or grass. Then I saw motions. It was a fish--a flounder. Yes, there was a flounder on land (though it was swampy land).

Real-life connection:
Earlier this morning, after I was done with the SAT II, I went to a grocery store I normally don't go to with my aunt. I peered into the tank that held fish--and saw flounder. It was the first time I really looked at one--a live one, nonetheless. Its eyes were so beautiful. So, so beautiful. There was an orange/yellow glow, no joke--it was like a fire in its eyes, and it was surrounded by a blue sheen. It was so ethereal. It was then that I told myself, out loud, "fish eyes are so beautiful." And I meant it. It definitely impressed me enough to appear in my dream. It was the very same flounder I found in the grocery store today. The strangest thing is that, in my dream, I also vaguely recalled seeing the flounder somewhere before. But I just didn't know it was reality. But I had that feeling.

And then... I realized that hard thing that I hit my head on was another flounder. I stood up and realized, all around me in the marshy grass were flounders flapping about. All of the sudden, a Hispanic man appeared. His voice was accented, and he told me, "We're going to fill this pool up."

Where the hell did a random Hispanic dude come in from?

In reality, today, my aunt's neighbor hired a Hispanic man to help fix their roof. So my aunt called him over and asked him if he could take a look at our basement and give an estimate of how much it takes to finish it.

See how my theory works?

the herd

When I got to the outer edges of Westfield High School today, I couldn't believe my eyes.
Rows and rows of cars cramming and raring to drive into the parking lot of the testing grounds. Traffic like I've never seen before. I would like the traffic of SAT morning to Friday night football games. Actually, the former might even be crazier than the latter.

It was my first time ever taking any form of the SAT. Well, this was the SAT II for World History that I was taking. It went alright, I suppose. Not exceptionally hard, but not easy either. But I'd say the AP World History exam was harder. Anyway, I was pleasantly surprised today when I saw that two classmates of mine from CHS were in the same classroom as I. You see, the school (Westfield) I went to for testing today isn't my home school. (The slots were filled for my home school by the time I registered).

The designated time to arrive by was supposedly 7:45. I got there by 7:45 but the traffic was so bad that I was a few minutes late. By the time I managed to literally get my foot/body in the door, I was met with another traffic jam.

A HERD of students were swarming every which way of the hallways. I had never seen such pandemonium and felt this sort of effervescence in a school setting. Plus, it was so early in the morning...

When I was first making my way through the hallways, I was hailed by one of my best friends (Kathy) with a "Hey!" as I meandered my way along a snaking line of students. I gave her a fleeting greeting and hurried on to the cafeteria where they supposedly give you a sheet that tells you who your instructor is/your classroom number. That doesn't really help when they don't provide you with a map and nobody knows where the fuck R116 is.

Anyway.

While I was getting that sheet I was just speaking of, a classmate of mine (very distant--I hadn't talked to him since 8th grade, probably) noticed me and decided to tag along with me to find our classrooms, since his was R119 (only 3 away from mine). It made me less nervous, considering there were probably hundreds (no kidding) of unfamiliar faces swarming all around. Somehow we managed to find our respective classrooms. We didn't say goodbye. I don't even know why I'm even mentioning this bit at all. But anyway.

I arrive in the classroom, find my respective desk, and sit down. It takes about ten minutes for the classroom to fill in. The atmosphere is eerily quiet for a classroom. Finally, the girl who sits in front of me, who seemed very peppy (she smiles big--and very often, too) and outgoing broke the ice in the classroom by exclaiming out loud, "Has anyone taken the SAT II for Math 2 before?" and suddenly people just started talking. Diagonal from me to the left was a junior I knew from 9th grade, when I was still in Orchestra. Nice company. And to the far left of the classroom (the opposite side of where I was sitting) was someone from my English class this year.

Yay. I didn't feel as anonymous and bored knowing I knew people.

The SAT II itself was okay.

Keeping awake was probably harder than the test itself, actually.

And throughout the whole day, I've been feeling rather nauseous and my head hurts. Probably because I've barely rested since this morning's "intense" testing. And I'm dehydrated.

TPT: final distribution '09-'10

Issue 8 is out! Hope you picked up a copy or checked online!

This is the last issue of the school year. I just felt as if I had to take photographs in TPT today to um, commemorate this day. There was something about seeing everyone (well, almost everyone) wearing their Reporter By Day, Superhero By Night (or any other TPT) t-shirt, gathered/packed into a room or two.

I'm sad that the seniors are leaving. I honestly cannot fathom how the newspaper will turn out or feel like without the seniors next year.

Oh, and thanks for lending me your t-shirt, Colleen.

And thanks for calling me a creep, Megan :P

Cute.

[fashion] Miranda Kerr by Greg Kadel for Numbero #114

Miranda Kerr by Greg Kadel for Numero #114

Numero #114 Miranda Kerr from Greg Kadel Studios on Vimeo.

Honest to goodness, I love this editorial and video. The whole concept was very refreshing. The juxtaposition of good and bad in a rather seductive and humorous way, the bright, cheerful colors, a strawberry-blonde Miranda Kerr. Wow. Another thought is that I was hardly able to recognize that it was Miranda Kerr. Usually you have these models explicitly oozing sex appeal and "hot, hot, hot," but in this instance, I think it was appropriately fashionable. Not that there's anything wrong with Victoria's Secret angels doing their thing. Anyhoo. I also must point out that lately I am really noticing and loving Greg Kadel's work. 

this is for us

You do not understand the compassion I feel for us; how much I want to cry and embrace all who know this feeling, all that have gone or are going through this:

There are so many adolescents. For some of us, people like us, we're going through life--and everything ahead seems to only be filled with uncertainty while our lives, currently, are racked with overwhelmingly pent-up anger, anxiety, despair, fear, and infinite pressures--and just the great unknowns of life.

But.

I know that I am going to make it through because I know that nothing could ever hold me back. That I have a "thing" out there. That I know what makes me happy. That I am strong. That I have people who I care about, that care about me, too.

This is for us.

And remember, you have experienced joy, happiness, and wonderful moments in life that others would never have dreamt of. You have tasted happiness before.

I didn't take this photograph today. I took it on a rainy day and decided to save it for the day; the day when the time would come that it would be needed.

This is for us.

i want to be

I want to be everything that I want to be.

Honestly I am getting tired of it whenever people ask me, "What do you want to be?"

As if there were only one answer.

I do not want to just become a photographer and journalist. I do not want to just take fashion photography--I want to do assignments for National Geographic as well.

I do not want to just write for The New York Times--I want to also write for Vogue and other such prominent titles.

I do not just want to write and photograph. I want to be a traveler, I want to be a spokesperson, I want to be a playwright, I want to be a camerawoman, I want to be a television broadcaster/anchor, I want to be an agent and modeling scout,  I want to own a cozy cafe, I want to be...

What I want to be.

Why should people limit themselves? Why do we have to inherently assume that we can only be one thing, that we can only pursue a certain number of careers in one's life? I don't understand.

The way I see it, I'll be what I want to be, regardless of whether it's 2 or 200 different things.

There are no limits, really. If you want to be something, if you want to follow different things, follow them. What will hold you back in the end? Who says you can only be one thing, that you can only have one profession? Why else would we have multimedia moguls and enterprising individuals that expand into all walks of life? I know that I will not be held back. I know it.

tpt in the motions of... last print day

Word of the day: reslut

Marcelo & Jane