Damage Control

Yes, I’ll leave it at that simple, basic title. No creative rhymes, titles, or anything of the sort. I’ve got nothing against them, but quite frankly, when you’ve got a headache like mine, it hurts to think.

This is the 9th consecutive day of headaches. I’m starting to get a little impatient, because I can’t figure out what’s causing them. All I have is the constant, daily pain. It might be the heat, it might be being at home too much, or perhaps an excessive salt intake. Who knows.

But on to more important things, yea?

I am back to blogging. And I feel this time, it might be a little more frequent than last time. I think I’m back for good. I figure, perhaps this is the best way to get out what I have to say. Perhaps this is a wiser choice for ranting than ranting to a friend who, whether they’ve got problems of their own or just isn’t interested in listening to yours, would rather be listening to something else than your daily rants. So I shall spare all my friends the…discomfort of having to listen to these things in person, and rather just blog them out. Sound good? That way, there’s a choice. Sort of.

I wish I had some politically insightful blog to fill eager minds, some witty insight into life, or even just a humorous recap of soemthing that’s happened, but I figure I should restrain considering that I just hesitated for both “insightful” and “humorous” because I couldn’t think of how to spell them. Perhaps it is a wiser idea to blog later, but that’s what I always say. Later, later, later. Which eventually becomes, never.

So here I am. Haven’t managed to say anything intellectually significant in these past few paragraphs you’ve been reading. Hmm. so much for the stream of consciousness approach.

So what’s been of my life the past few months?

Just the end of the school year. A pretty exciting trip to Europe. Been trying to figure out what step I’m going to take next in life. But most importantly, I’ve been doing a lot of damage control.

I didn’t realize how much I stepped out of life until recently. It seems I’ve been living in my own parallel reality, and despite how good that felt as it is with most good things, it did not last long. Now, the bubble is popped and like a naive character in a Jane Austen novel, I am forced to deal with reality once more and start becoming accountable for my own mistakes. This time, though, I’m recognizing that maybe not everything must be dealt with in the “drop everything and run away somewhere new and hope nothing comes back to haunt you” approach, otherwise known as “avoiding reality.” I feel that now I’m forcing myself to deal with problems and face them. It’s the only way to survive.

I feel lethargic, both physically and emotionally. I am slowly reevaluating all the decisions I’ve been making recently, and after having put on my “Hindsight is 20/20″ specs, I can now see that I need to slow down a bit. Thankfully, this summer is giving me the peace and quiet I need to sort of regain focus and come back renewed.

People say all the time that they will change. And I, for one, always avoid using this phrase because:

a) I know it’s not true.

and

b) It’s SO cliche.

But, I will just say that I am NOT changing, for I respect myself enough to know I’m worth something, but I am rather gaining a new perspective about things. I have pledged to take better care of myself, work harder at school, and all of the typical things, but this time I feel I can do it. I don’t know how or why, but I feel I can.

We’ll see, I guess.

For now, I’m going to go lie down. and hopefully this headache will go away someday. Maybe when I start paying myself back for all things I did to my own self-respect and self-worth.

But until then…..

According to my horoscope as i read the paper today, all of my relationships were going to undergo an extermely turbulent time. I am not credulous of these things, but I have to admit, I’m really scared.
I’m scared of losing the people I care about the most.

I’m scared.

But I guess it’s like a friend once said, “the only enemy you have to be afraid of, is yourself.”

20 YEARS OF NO LUCK AND STILL GOING…

So yea, I’m a little angry.

For 20 years of my life, I’ve tried my hardest to be a good student, a good daughter, and a good friend. I’ve been someone with integrity, character, honesty and loyalty. I’ve tried to be a good person.

And how does life treat me?

By screwing me over EVERY TIME.

I just got my internship for my summer in Europe, and I admit, I’m really disappointed. I thought that I’d be working in the field of international relations (which I love), but instead I’M FUCKING MAKING SANDWICHES FOR PEOPLE WHO DO MATTER!!!!

I
AM
REALLY
MAD.

i CAN’T DESCRIBE HOW MAD I AM. I can’t believe this. I have to now go tell my parents that ALL the hard work we put into making this trip happen, everything we gave up WAS FOR HAVING ME GO PLAN PARTIES IN EUROPE?????

I’m seriously going to cry. This is such a disappointment. No one’s gonna wanna hire me now in what I want to do. State Department, Senate, everybody.

Ugh……

“It’s just about learning to roll with the punches.”

First of all,

I just want to say WOW.

WOW at the fact that I never thought this little blog would get off the ground so quickly. Never in my wildest dreams, or entries, did I realize that one day, this site could get thousands of views daily. And not to mention, get feedback. So thanks to any of you who’ve taken the time to read this blog; your support means a lot to me!

This only means one thing. You all have my solemn promise I will blog more often, and definitely get back to you on your questions that you e-mail me or leave as comments.

Alright, so I’ve been MIA for a while, and for pretty good reasons. I’ve just finished yet another year in college, and for some reason, I don’t know whether I have closure for that yet.  The year happened so quickly, that before I knew it, it was OVER. Part of me felt, wait, no, I don’t want it to be over. What? No, my grades are still tanking…I need time…

Time.

The one thing we always want to pass, but once it does, we want it back. Ugh, I wish I had more. It seems that the longer it takes, the less time I have to enjoy the things I want to do…the less time I have to say goodbye to the people I love.

But that’s a personal story that maybe I’ll share someday with you. This entry now is just a prelude of a long story I want to share with the world. One that brings words of wisdom I did not know I could ever ponder and feelings that run deeper than hate or love.

In a couple of weeks, I’ll be leaving for Europe to do some work there, but as soon as I return, the story shall begin.

The story of how I,
a woman whom I believed harbored great strength,
a woman whom I believed could deal with almost anything,
who prided herself in her independence,
and found the ONE punch,
she couldn’t roll with.

Maybe getting older doesn’t always have to be such a bad thing.

I have to admit that it’s very important to give credit when credit’s due. It was my birthday a few days ago, and I have to say, my friend Kyle totally went above and beyond. He came with me to Disneyland, despite the fact that he’s not exactly a fan of the park, because I wanted to go (and I got in for free). That’s pretty rare. I know that if I was friends with me, I’d smack my bitch self and tell me to go by myself since it’s such a lame place to go when you’re this old. However, I feel really touched that he still came. lol

But nonetheless, it happened. I got to hang with one of my best friends all day, ate good food, and to close off the night, ended up going to a Tigerheat-like show at the House of Blues (heyyy).  Anyways, props to him and my awesome gift which has me super excited. =]

But
I seriously need to grow up.
I thought I was mature for the longest time, and now I’m learning that I am the farthest thing from it. I still enjoy kiddie theme parks, get excited over buying tacky minnie mouse ears, and watch movies as a form of fun. I don’t host parties or attend them. I don’t drink, and I hated smoking. I don’t do drugs. I don’t know how to have fun.

On top of that, I worry too much about things. I guess I am the term I’ve hated to hear for the longest time:
“a goody two-shoes.”

And you know, I really don’t mind at this point being seen as the lamest human being alive. I’ve been trying too hard for too long to be something I’m not, so if I guess I’m meant to lose friends or to be alone because of the way I am, then I guess I have to deal.

I’m not complaining exactly. I’m just saying I’m throwing in the towel. Inside me, I knew that it would’ve been better to host a party or go to a concert or even just get pissed drunk, but hey, no, I went to a theme park where the average guest still believes in Santa Claus.

Seriously.
What the fuck.
did I do.

So now I’ve retreated to a place where no one can reach me. I like it this way for now. Getting older hit me like a bucket of cold water. Those days were WAY over. I was trying to relive my childhood, or whatever part of it I felt I lost. Now that I’m older, gosh, it’s not the same.

And it’s not like it’s a big deal either. There’s no difference between the day you were a certain age and the next day that you’re another age. That’s stupid. It’s obviously not an epic change, it’s just seeing the new number is what finally jarred me into rethinking how I’m living my life.

I don’t know why my life just seems to be getting worse. I don’t wanna complain. But I’m trying to find what’s making me feel like this. I’m also a bit sick, so that might account for something. But mostly, I don’t know. I came home to a new set of issues that, God, I don’t know where everything’s going to end up. I hate how my mom never takes her health seriously. I hate how I don’t even know if I’m coming back to school next year. I hate how I can’t let go of some really heavy baggage.

The worst part is that I’m usually pretty independent, but right now I feel really alone. I don’t have anyone I can talk to anymore. I went home this weekend and realized that my parents are no longer people I can talk to. And the people I do feel like I can talk to, I don’t want to bother because they have enough of their own shit to deal with or I just feel ashamed approaching them. So it’s all pretty much bottling up. And I feel like that bottle’s gonna break soon.

Well, I know I’m not the only person out there who feels like this. I just wish I didn’t have to feel like this all the time. I wish that at one point, I would’ve known what it was like to really have someone out there, you know? Instead of just having a bunch of guys who just used me. Anyways, that’s too much complaining. Gotta be strong. Gotta do this. I got this.

Right?

I think I’d kill myself, if I never knew.

What do I have to do to get inside of you?

 - “Inside of You”, Hoobastank

I closed the door, put my earphones in, and turned up the volume.  I knew that this was a boy’s song. I didn’t care anymore. If I’m a woman who wants to listen to hard rock, then goddamn it, I will.

And here it is, yet another angry post. I’m having too many of these recently. It’s starting to worry me. Sometimes, I get these urges to just do everything wrong. I get these urges to yell in frustration. Sometimes, I get these intense urges to have a smoke or a drink. Or both preferably.

So I listened to them.
I looked through my drawers and found my first, and what I wanted to be my last, pack of cigarettes. I wondered to myself if that could still be the case. I grabbed the last two and headed outside my dormitory. It was solitary outside, since it was well past 1. I lit one up. A gentle smoke ensued.

I admit, I felt like a hypocrite. One of my closest friends smokes, and whenever I can, I try to convince him to stop. I know what it can do to you. I know that it’s bad for you. I would never want anyone to do what I did tonight. But tonight, I didn’t really care about anything. Especially myself.

I stood outside in the darkness watching random kids go by on their bikes. Our pretend police roared past these students in their shiny white Ford Explorers. The streets were gently lit; the trees covered in the soft glow of the pale yellow light emerging from the lightposts.

Realizing that I was doing something ridiculous, I was halfway through my first cigarette when I put it out and threw out the other. I felt that there were two sides of me, always at odds with each other. Not just a conscience, but a willpower.

Sometimes I think my alter ego, or my past life or whatever, was a hooker. No, seriously. During the day, I’m so composed, calm, put-together, and independent. Come nighttime, however, I always get the urge and desire to do bad things, to be a non-conformist, to rebel, to live for once. Maybe, you argue, I should’ve said that I am a superhero instead of a hooker. But for some reason, hooker came to mind first. Maybe because every night is a constant reminder of how, during the day, I whore myself out to the world.

I am the whore of my future. Whenever my future should need something for me to do now, I jump at the first opportunity to do it. I want to keep my future “happy”. Ugh, just the thought makes me shiver. But in some ways, it’s good. It’s my future, right? I’m only securing my well-being. But part of me wishes that I knew what exactly I want to do with my life.

And the other part of me wishes that, whatever that is, is going to have some meaning.

By now, the frustration’s kind of turned into another one of those moments when you sit and analyze your life. I have class tomorrow at 12:30, but part of me doesn’t care because I don’t want to go. Had this been a year ago, I wouldn’t have shown up. Not because I want to sleep in, but because I don’t feel like going anywhere. I want a chance to sit in my room or lie down on my bed and think. For a really long time until I find something in this confused thought process of mine.

But the world never stops turning because you want it to, that much I know now. Everyone else keeps going. The girls in the room next to me, the guy down the hall playing his guitar, my mom in the kitchen, my friend driving her car, the person on the bike down the street.

For some reason, my mom’s ultimatums always creep into my thoughts sometimes. She used to have another one that I liked to ignore, which warned against wanting two things at the same time:

You only end up like the dog who wanted the two bones. Without one, or the other. In his efforts to keep both, he lost them both.

I guess that’s sort of true. There’s always instances and times in your life that you don’t really appreciate what or who you have or try to hang on to things or people too long, that you end up losing everything. I also don’t want that to happen either, but how do I know when it’s happening? Do I just trust that everything will turn out okay?

I don’t want to let myself have too much control over my actions. I’m a hooker in theory, remember? I like to please others, even if I’m unhappy myself. I like giving out more than I get back to gain a sense of self-assurance and safety. Certainty, that’s always been what I strive for. Knowing what I’ve got for sure. Securing my assets. Safeguarding my life.

By doing this though, I have a feeling that I’m not giving myself enough worth. If I think that my time is so invaluable that I have to waste a lot of it, I dunno, what does this say about me?

A drop of blood then fell on my keyboard. I look down from the screen, and see the tiny droplet. I bring my right hand up to my nose and feel the warm liquid. As always, my nose bleeds after I smoke.

I wipe it off, get a tissue for my nose, and sit back down. I’m staring past the computer screen when I see Perks of Being a Wallflower quietly sitting in front of me again. Maybe someday I’ll finish. I make a mental note to give it back to Kyle soon.

I also think about how I’m such a dependent person, that it’s ridiculous. And again, another one of my mother’s ultimatums comes up:

Don’t trust even your own shadow. Live free, need no one.

I frown at the thought of this every time I hear it. I don’t care how hard she tries or how often she reminds me of this, I’ll never be independent like she wants me to be. I will love people probably more than they deserve, and I’ll take my chances with my own judgement. So I changed it up a little to suit my views instead:

Trust everyone who walks near your shadow. Live in choice, want no one else.

My sense of fulfillment is different than hers. I want to trust those that I’ve let get closest to me because that’s why I’ve let them get close to me. Because I love them. I appreciate them. I trust them. And if they shall one day leave me or hurt me, I won’t change my mind. I want to live with a choice of how free or entangled I want to be. I want to want no one else because I have everyone I need.

And until that day comes, there’s nothing left to do but keep going. Keep trusting, keep loving, keep knowing, keep experiencing.

One of my professors constantly reiterates this:

We must have the courage to know.

I sure wish I did.

The corner of First and Amistad.

I found God on the corner of 1st and Amistad
Where the West was all but won
All alone, smoking his last cigarette
I said, “Where’ve you been?”
He said, “Ask anything.”

Where were you, when everything was falling apart.
All my days were spent by the telephone that never rang
And all I needed was a call that never came
To the corner of 1st and Amistad.

Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me
Lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded
Why’d you have to wait? Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late, you found me, you found me.

But in the end everyone ends up alone
Losing her, the only one who’s ever known
Who I am, who I’m not and who I wanna to be
No way to know how long she will be next to me

Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me
Lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded
Why’d you have to wait? Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late, you found me, you found me.

The early morning, the city breaks
And I’ve been calling for years and years and years
And you never left me no messages
You never sent me no letters
You got some kind of nerve taking all I want

Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me
Lying on the floor, Where were you? Where were you?

Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me
Lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded
Why’d you have to wait? Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late, you found me, you found me.

Why’d you have to wait, to find me, to find me?

- “You Found Me”, The Fray

It’s been a long time since I blogged, but college now seems in full swing again this semester. The reason I’m up blogging this late (2:07 A.M.) is because even though I should be asleep, I don’t mind ignoring the fact that my class is at 11 A.M. tomorrow. In fact, my eyes are heavy and arduously trying to stay open,  but my mind is racing. Inside, I feel like I want to scream and run away, but I’m trapped in this little cubicle I call my dorm. And it’s not a problem of entrapment because I just came back from a midnight dinner with Kyle. No. It’s life entrapment. No matter where I go, I can’t run away from it.

Ever since I heard “You Found Me” by the Fray, I can’t stop thinking about that song. How the man commits suicide on the corner of First and Amistad, finds God, and later gets to interrogate him. I guess the reason I’m up right now against my better judgement is because I have feelings inside I need to get out. I just wish I knew what those were. Am I angry? Am I sad? Am I disappointed? I am excited? Am I anxious?

What am I?

All I know, is that if I ever met God on that corner, I would definitely ask him the same questions. Why must it be that believing in a higher being oftentimes comes in the form of a sentence of suffering? Why is it that to believe, you must endure hardship?
Proponents of this idea will argue that is the very nature of religion. “To believe in a higher being when circumstances indicate otherwise.” Yes, this seems to be the inherent definition of faith. But I guess my problem is that for the first time, I want to blame something or someone else. For the first time, I want to stop thinking of things like everything is my fault.

What I like about this blog, is that no one reads it. And those that do, don’t really have the time anymore. I can just rant and rant and rant, and in the end, I’ll be talking to myself and a few random people I don’t know.

So on a random note, I’ve drawn inspiration from this song to write a book, titled The Corner of First and Amistad or Finding God on the Corner of First and Amistad. Not sure yet, since I have to check on copyright laws, but as far as I know, phrases are not copyrighted.

But yes, this will be my first novel. First REAL novel. I already know what it’s going to be about. I want the entire world to see this one particular experience I’ve gone through, and in the wake of our society today, learn the lesson I want to teach. It will be controversial and unheard of. But I don’t care. People need to know. The time of ignorance is over.

I customarily do not feel this angry or exasperated. I’m usually very calm and collected, and often opt for thinking things through. But today, I feel like I’m on the fringes of life. I don’t know what’s pushing me to the edge, but something is. I’m fighting an invisible adversary. I just hope that by the end of this entry, all these feelings will go away, and I’ll be able to go to sleep.

And I’ll be able to wake up the next morning, smile to everyone, and continue my routine.

So if God was on that corner, I’d ask him why. I’d ask him why he believes this should’ve happened, and most likely where he feels I’ve gone wrong. I actually want to know. If I’m doing something wrong to deserve this, let me know so I can rectify my mistake.

Or maybe it’s just The Perks of Being a Wallflower speaking. It makes me emo every time I read it, and little did I know this book would affect me as much as it did. But it’s one of those books I know I’ll remember forever.

I just..
I don’t know what I want.
Because in the end, I’m just another emo blogger out there right now. And as much as I don’t want to be “just another,” it looks like that’s the way it’s going to be for now.

Falling in. Falling out. Falling apart.

That’s it. I’ve had enough.

It took me a long time, but I finally learned my lesson. It hurts, but it’s part of life. I just hope I know better next time.

~~~~~

Why am I up this late. I can’t sleep. It’s not insomnia because I’m tired, but it almost feels like I’m afraid of closing my eyes. As if I was tired of being rested. Too many thoughts are racing through my head; too many emotions take control. The pillow feels stiff, the covers rough, and the air thin. I toss and turn. Why can’t I sleep.

It was the same dream, over and over again. The glass wall, the endless shelves of books, the solitary chair which sustained him. No matter how hard I knocked, he couldn’t hear me. He kept reading his book. Turning each page calmly, one after the other. I felt my chest compress and my heart pound. I banged on the unbreakable glass wall which separated us.
He turned another page and smiled.

The room disappears. I feel water all around me but I cannot see. I feel my eyes are closed and emerge from the water as I open them. I am in a bathtub. I look around at the large, but empty bathroom. I look down at my fingers and see the deep wrinkles the water has made. I hear my mother’s voice so I walk out naked. Then the scene changes again.

I’m not myself anymore. I am at a party with all my closest friends; a party I’m hosting. We’re all adults, and the party is pretty sophisticated. Poolside tables separate my friends into groups according to when I knew them in life. I go over to one friend’s table, and I massage his shoulders and whisper in his ear. I then leave to go to another table to another friend–and I hold his hand and give him a kiss on the cheek. I know this much: I am married to one and cheating on him with the other.

The dream always ends with me in a pool. The fateful pool that was 20 ft deep in my childhood. The pool is dark, and the lines at the bottom are twice as thick and twice as dark. I always recall being told to swim to the other side, but I resist. Something keeps me from swimming to the other end of the pool. I step near the edge at a corner to look out into the dark pool. A man (I feel he’s the coach) comes up behind me and pushes me into the water. I sink straight to the bottom. I am trapped by the corner.
God my dreams are strange.
But I know they’re trying to tell me something.

And also, here’s a song I’m surprised has gone under the radar:

These days, you barely even say my name,
Like you don’t really feel the same,
I’m wondering what’s to blame.

These nights, I fall asleep wondering where you are,
It feels like we’re falling apart,
And it’s only breaking my heart.

Cause if being with you means being alone,
And never knowing when you’re coming home,
Then I guess I’m better off on my own.

But I can’t move on,
Cause that means forgetting, forgetting everything we had,
Instead I keep running, keep running, I keep running back.
Cause I keep forgetting, forgetting you treat me so bad,
So I keep on coming, keep coming, I keep coming back.
I keep coming back
I keep running back (x 2)
I keep coming back
I keep running back (x 2)
I keep coming, I keep coming back.

My friends say, that I should leave you behind,
And stop wasting all of my time,
They tell me that I’m outta my mind.

But I know that what we both share is real,
And I’ve been willing to deal,
With the way that you’re making me feel.

Cause if being with you means being alone,
And never knowing when you’re coming home,
Then I guess I’m better off on my own.

- “Running Back,” Jessica Mauboy ft. Flo Rida

Our society spends too much time evaluating poultry pscyhologically.

So I read this joke a while back in Reader’s Digest magazine. I didn’t exactly expect the jokes to be top notch, but I’ve got to admit, this completely appealed to my IR humor (if such a thing is possible).

And also, inspired by reading on my friend’s blog something about what world religions were about, I decided to put this joke up that I remembered. Enjoy!

“Why did the chicken cross the road?”
But here’s the twist. What if famous historical characters were asked this question?
Here’s how they would respond:

“Moses: And God said to the chicken: “Cross the road.” And the chicken crossed. And we saw that it was good.

Aristotle: It’s in the nature of the chicken to cross roads.

Buddha: To ask those things would be to deny its nature of being a chicken.

Rene Descartes: To get to the other side. Obviously.

Zen Master: The chicken could cross the road in vain, but only the Teacher would recognize the sound of his shadow behind a wall.

Karl Marx: It was historically inevitable. He was pushed to fight by the struggle of aviary classes.

Sigmund Freud: The reason that you’re worrying so much about this reveals a clear feeling of sexual insecurity.

Einstein: The fact that it’s the chicken who crosses the road or that the road moves from under the chicken is relative to the point of reference.

Stalin: We must kill the chicken IMMEDIATELY….and also all the eyewitnesses….and 10 people chosen at random who let this subersive act happen.

George W. Bush: That the chicken crossed the road with such impunity, despite the resolutions of the UN, represents a severe attack to democracy, justice, and freedom. This proves, without a doubt, that we should have bombed the road a long time ago, with the objective of guaranteeing the peace and avoid that our values are once again attacked by the terrorist acts of this chicken.”

A Lesson Learned

I learned that sometimes,
people aren’t going to love you,
and it may be for no reason at all.
Sometimes, people just judge you on what they think you will do,
on who they think you are, 
and  there’s nothing you can do about it.
But just remember one thing:
they’re not cheating you,
they’re cheating themselves.

- Anonymous

Who I Was, Hates Whom I’ve Become

Yale.

If I remember one college I’ve wanted to go to since I found out I can do better than community college, is Yale University in New Haven, Connecticut. Even when I was barely starting high school, I’d already set my goals. I wanted to study Political Science at Yale. And of course, I was conceited enough to think that since I’d met most of my goals until that time (a.k.a,  I’d never been rejected from a school), I could do this one just as easily. It even ranked high above Stanford, which was the school I told most people I wanted to go. (And foolishly thought I could get into.)

Why Yale? Apart from it’s pleasing aesthetics, I felt it was a place I could belong. A school who prioritized learning, I already pictured myself among the students in the bookstacks, studying in a beautiful library that’d been there for a couple hundred years. I was breathing in its history and becoming a part of it. And what’s better, Yale’s great for Political Science. Presidents had gone there, and if you don’t count the fact that they’ve also educated Bin Laden, that’s pretty cool.

I was also conceited enough to think that if I sat back and basked in my prodigious intellectual glory, that I could just sit back and watch myself get into the top school in the nation.
It didn’t help that I got a pretty little postcard in which they told me to consider applying to Yale.

But then application came time and the harsh reality set in. Sure, I was a minority, smart, and low-income, but they still didn’t care for me. Well, it’s really not their fault. It’s mine because I thought that I could work half as hard as my potential could reach and still get in.

I looked over my high school credentials, hoping to find a flaw:

AP French
AP Spanish
AP English Literature
AP English Language
AP Biology
AP U.S. History
AP Calculus
Honors Physics
Honors English
Honors Chemistry
Honors Pre-Cal
Honors Geometry
Honors Alg II/Trig

And believe it or not, that was pretty much most of the Honors and AP classes my school offered, save for AP Art History, AP Studio Art and AP Dance Performance.
I passed all my APs, but the problem wasn’t that.
It was the grades I had in each. Trusting that “weighted” would mean “freebie,” I let all my grades drop to Bs. So really, I had like a 4.17 weighted at best. Not enough for Stanford. Much less Yale.

BUT….

God has always pretty much looked out for me, as much as I refuse to believe it. I gotta give Him some credit though. Although I pretty much act like an atheist pretending to be a Catholic most of the time (don’t get me wrong though. I think God’s there somehow. We just have a different, less formal type of relationship. or whatever), I have to admit that he’s gotten me out of some really bad situations without me even realizing it.

• When I was not admitted into a program called QuestBridge, which basically attempts to match up low-income students with prestigious colleges like Harvard, Princeton, Stanford, Yale, Columbia, etc., I blamed God for it. I was angry to see that someone I knew, whom I selfishly but accurately believed to be of less intelligence, had gotten accepted as a semi-finalist in the program, and I hadn’t. I moped for days. I was angry at the fact that if I had gotten into the final round of this program, I could’ve had a full ride to one of these colleges. December was rolling around by this time, so I decided to check out which applications were due. It turns out that one of my colleges had a December early deadline if you wanted to be considered for a scholarship of any sort. I figured, what the hell. Nothing mattered now. There went my best shot at getting into an Ivy League.In February, one rainy day I spent indoors with the flu from hell, I went outside to check the mailbox. I looked through the mail, separating it into what was for my mom, for my dad and for me. I had a few envelopes from random schools telling me to apply–in the middle of nowhere. I finally came across a large envelope. I turned it over. It was from USC. I immediately thought it was from the financial aid office giving us information or something, so I dismissed it as such and threw the envelope on the couch. My mom asked if she should throw it away. I almost said yes.
  But curiosity struck me; I took the envelope and decided to read what was inside. And when I did, I almost didn’t believe it.
  “Congratulations! You’ve been accepted….”
  It took me a while to process it. It honestly didn’t make sense. How could I have an admissions decision so early in the cycle? I read another letter that accompanied it.
  “You are being considered for the Presidential Scholarship, which grants half-tuition to students…”
  It was a blessing my family needed badly. With a scholarship, it was a lot more possible for me to go to college. All I had to do was do well on my interview.I went back to school and the news spread like wildfire. I was the first person in my class to be admitted to college, and to a top 40 school. Girls whose top choice was USC ran up to me in a panic, wondering if admissions letters were already being sent out this early. Most took it as a bad omen that they hadn’t heard from the school yet. One day, as I walked down the hallway, I ran into the person who had gotten into Questbridge. She told me that only one person from our class had been selected to go to Amherst. And that was it. She wasn’t selected. And what’s worse, the program’s contract had a binding clause:
  Any applicants of QuesBridge cannot apply to any other school Early Action, and therefore they must attend whatever school they are accepted into.
  Because of this, she wasn’t able to apply early action for any scholarships.
  A few weeks later, I went to my interview. I anxiously waited, watching students come in and out until I was the last one left. Then, my interviewer came out. She was the same person, by some workings of fate, who had interviewed me before, so she already knew me well. They asked me more questions about my goals and what I’d done. I told them about my trip to Washington D.C., my dreams of working for the government and going to law school, my plan to further Amnesty International’s goals on campus, etc. She seemed satisfied. She spent the latter half of the interview giving me information about a new minor being introduced:
  Critical Approaches to Leadership (which is now one of my two minors.)

  Weeks later, I received a response.
  I wasn’t a Presidential Scholar.
  I was a Trustee Scholar with a full ride to college. Somehow, I had been upgraded during the interview. Then it became clear. Had I gotten selected like my classmate, I would’ve not been able to apply for a scholarship. I wouldn’t have gotten my full ride. I wouldn’t have been able to go to college if it wasn’t for that full ride.
  (Well, I could’ve, but a low UC or a JC.)
  God was looking out for me.

• Not only that, but he’s also gotten me out of some pretty bad relationships. There’s this guy I used to have a huge crush on that I felt was unfair because he seemed to like my friend a whole lot more. I thought he was pretty good for me, and resented the fact that he liked her better than me. I spent days groveling over how great he was, good looking, and how unlucky I seemed to be. We had a rocky relationship, on and off and filled with doubt. Still, I felt like it was my fault that I was making him unhappy. I felt responsible for everything that went wrong, and when I’d ask him to hang out (just the two of us), he always insisted on bringing other people. I felt like he didn’t want to just hang out with me alone because I’d be too boring.
  It didn’t work out. I eventually graduated, walked it off, and went to college.
  Now I find out he’s a guy who spends half his time drunk off his ass. Apart from that, he has psychological issues.
  God was looking out for me.

I don’t want to keep ranting, but those are just two instances in which I think it’s been like that passage:

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord.
Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.
In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand.
Sometimes there were two sets of footprints,
other times there was one only.
This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life,
when I was suffering from anguish,
sorrow or defeat,
I could see only one set of footprints,
so I said to the Lord,
“You promised me Lord,
that if I followed you,
you would walk with me always.
But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life
there has only been one set of footprints in the sand.
Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?”
The Lord replied,
“The years when you have seen only one set of footprints,
my child, is when I carried you.”

- Footprints in the Sand

But like I said, I’m not a religious fanatic at all. (See future ranting on fakeness of religion and corruption in church.) But that doesn’t stop my belief in how much God has protected me. And if he really is out there, I thank him for it.

But my problem is, I’m angry that I seem to be getting more stupid each year. I’m struggling more in college and losing that edge I used to have. Ugh, I hope the answer becomes clear again.

(to be continued.)