In loving memory

While I've been fortunate enough to not have had a dear friend or family member's life taken, grieving times still call for reflection.

The few but sweet memories I have of and with you are what can draw so much sorrow from me, and I can only imagine how your family, Eric, your friends, your sisters, and everyone who ever loved and will continue to cherish you are going through. Nineteen and missed can only yield one word: tragic.

May you rest in peace, Arlene.

Drive safely.

I have trouble sleeping again - though now for entirely different reasons.

Headaching.

Consistency may just help with this mindfuck of a life I live.

Untitled.

Macrophobia.

Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.
- Jean-Jacques Rousseau

Partie deux.

Here's to a second draft.

Words from the wise.

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.
Mark Twain

The art of living does not consist in preserving and clinging to a particular mood of happiness, but in allowing happiness to change its form without being disappointed by the change, for happiness, like a child, must be allowed to grow up.
Charles Morgan

It is foolish to pretend that one is fully recovered from a disappointed passion. Such wounds always leave a scar.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Perhaps it is due time for more. Ink, that is.

Back to the future.

Irrelevant application.

Don't you just hate when you can't seem to find what's been right in front of you all along? Then once you stop searching, voilà! There it is.


Notecards : metaphor as midterm : the devil.
Key idea is disguise.

Two roads diverged in a wood..

Among the worries of this quarter's midterms and papers in my head have been even more swarming thoughts of schooling - past, future, and that in a parallel universe, or universes.
More specifically the latter.

To think I could be anticipating my enrollment in dentistry school in July rather than trying to figure out if I should even be taking summer school to rid of lower div courses. I could be 3,000 miles away studying journalism and science at the same time, instead of reconsidering my sad, delayed attempt at a double major. I could be just 35 miles from LA, alongside some of the brightest scientists in the country; instead I'm 35 miles from Claremont, lost among some of the brightest students of the state. 21 miles from home and I could've gotten a degree with more of a brand name, for my parents' and future's sake. Less than 10 miles away was a double degree, one possibly from one of the best journalism schools in the nation, the other of the current bane of my existence, along with a guaranteed bid to dentistry school, as was the case with Boston.

How was this first seeded of 14?
I can't seem to remember what compelled me to arrive here.


.. and I took the one:
a) less traveled by.
b) more frequented.
c) that I'll always question.

Past and present tense.

For you; with you; you.

I need to be more aware of my actions - be less selfish and hostile, and more considerate. I'm gonna give you what I promised, whether it be by your way or mine.


I left the best of me sitting right beside you.


I respect you, despite your flaws and "crazy actions." That you can hold strong and separate your past into another dimension amazes me. It's too bad, yet so fortunate.

Apathetic is the new broken.

You never notice how much a clock stops ticking until you need it. Perhaps it is due time for a change in batteries, or perhaps it has broken, silently and without regard. Either way, the moment of its necessity has fleeted, and it is left overlooked on the wall once again, collecting dust and still as ever.

You told me so.

I somehow always find a means by which to waste time. In this case and much like you said, you weren't worth it.


So sitcoms can double as fables. Perfect example? HIMYM, of course.
You keep on giving up on people so easily, You can miss out on something great. - RS
You're irrationally picky, you're easily distracted, and you're utterly anhedonic. - ME
Parallelism, perhaps.

I know how you feel.

Funny how you think your experiences are just that - yours. Yeah, I read another short story by Jennifer Weiner today.. stories, actually. I have to admit, I actually related to one of these girly girl narratives. But I realized that I'm not the only one who's gone through what I have, has thought what I've thought. It's amazing how out of 6 billion+ people, you think you're the only one.

Not to say I haven't learned anything.

Hello, my name is:

Let me introduce myself.

Claire. 20. Korean. Burlingame. UCLA '11.

I'm a periodic insomniac. I take melatonin when I'd rather dream the impossible than think the ineffable. My sleeping habits are the bane of my existence. I should get that checked.

I have neuroses, but who doesn't? Coffee cups and sleeves need to be aligned upon receiving and photos must be filed in a certain manner on my computer. Most else is free game - I am not a neat freak, though I have lapses, nor am I organized, but I do know where my possessions lie.. at least most of the time.

I am not girlfriend material. At least not from a girlfriend's perspective. Not enough can be said on that matter.

I am easily absorbed as well as disinterested.

I rely on two people - both of which I can't say do on me.

I find it hard to trust people entirely. I speak a lot, even to the biggest mouthed, but cannot for the life of me share all. Thank goodness for blogs.

I read and write when I shouldn't, such as now. Peak literacy occurs when I should be focused on school. I'm well aware of it too. My vice, my kryptonite. Learning a disregarded virtue.

I don't like to share creativity. Ideas, stories, especially feelings, I wish I could keep locked in forever. Perhaps it's the reason I hate to share the people in my life. But I'm also passive-aggressive. Whatever you want flies since I'm incapable of voicing opposition.

I am far from perfect. Then again, show me someone who isn't.

Painting with words.

I'm beginning to realize how much of an art form blogging is. I've never been able to appreciate art on canvas or crafted into stone - I read, and words are what I've come to admire most. It amazes me that someone's thoughts, ideas, goals, findings, inspirations, tragedies, and experiences can all be wrapped up into one ever-changing space of personal expression.

Mine is of no worth to any but me. Short and vague is my style, which I think would confuse and torment anyone trying to figure me out. But I realize that in order for the future me to seek any value from my current experiences, I need to take my thoughts - and entries - off reserve.

Time to create a mosaic with the medium I know best.

Ever the wiser.

It's not me, it's you.


Insomnia really makes one think.

To be resolved:

Vegetableism.
The daily intel.
AA.
Mighty healthy.
ET, phone home.
Got money in the bank.