filling.

Took a walk to Nob Hill during break and spent my lunch money on earings.

sometimes hunger manifests in ways other than food.

Where do the ducks go?

But don't let them see you sweat- right?

I'm perspiring. Damn it.

You know its like how a friend always says your report card is like a pay check- well what if I am making minimum wage- overworked and underpaid.

Well today I went as far as to write someone elses name on the pay check god damn it- you would think after 18 years I could fill in a god damn scantron.

So here I sit typing away like I am god damn Holden Caufield.

anyway- I'll be ok, I am just really dissappointed- why cant I do well and be recognized for my efforts- I want the open handed high five instead of the closed fisted punch in the face.

I just dont know what I was thinking, I cant do this- I cant even fill in a scantron- and what am I going to do when I get tough classes like pharm and micro and physiology??

I just wish I could do well so I had proof of my hard work and intelligence.

Never let them see you sweat

Emotions are nasty, harmful, irrational things that even the most earnest reasoning and practicality are hard pressed to override.

Portray the person you wish to be percieved. Filter

Never let them see you sweat.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/30/weekinreview/30zernike.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1

Come waste your time with me.

Exercising is my favorite part of the day.

Mostly because I feel like it is the one part of the day that I am doing what I am doing for the current moment. Every other minute I am preparing for the next- chasing time- time not even offering my the luxury of procrastination- time just standing their laughing- leaving me with only two options- be efficient. or die.

And so our days go by, sacrificing the present in efforts to preserve the future. Preparing our meals so we may eat the next day, preparing a study guide as to not fail the next quiz, organizing clothing for the next morning so that I may be warm and presentable, finishing my part of the project as to be dependable, writing checks for next months rent to be responsible, buying food for the next week because I wont have time later, putting my things together for the next day, so I can attend to tomorrows tasks. I hate it. The most evil of all necessities. Necessary evil.

But then I get to run, or swim, or bike, or yoga, just for the sake of running or swimming or yoging and escape the servitude for endorphic bliss. God bless it.

Albuquarky

Albuquerque has also opened up a new rhelm of expression, enthusiasm, and independance for me. Sometimes I think San Diego was a little jaded on me. Here- all my quarky little habits are for some reason being genuinely appreciated by those around me- I mean maybe its just my ego to the point where I will be able to participate in the balloon festival because my head is so full of hot air- but its just really nice.
Zoey has never met some one who will come home and whip out 40 cupcakes with roses because she wants to, or will cook each night and read the introductions to cook books- she says I inspire her to be creative and industrious.
My rediculous emails are appreciated or at least commented on routinely by classmates, and I have never been so thanked for giving a creative presentation.
The thing is I am not even afraid of being judged for having too much time, because that isnt even true- I just choose to spend my time doing these things, these are my priorities, self preservation. God, to have this level of control over what I do each day- its amazing. I know it is terribly selfish, but I love not having to take anyone else into account- I do exactly what I want to do and what is good for me each day. Its true someday I hope to live for someone else, whether patients, a husband, children- I dont know. But I can just be selfish right now, and I love it. see I am too 22.

Life is what you bake of it

So its been a while- but I guess it has also been a while since my last bout of midterms. But here I sit just starting to pour that midnight oil into its well warn lamp. Echoing through the air vent is the sound of Andy's acoustic guitar- the notes like an un even seam (sometimes the kind of seam you make when you turn up the speed on your sewing machine and run your thumb straight through breaking off the needle that pierced directly through the nail bed... but that is another story)
And I cant help but to think how nice it is here. I love my yellow south facing room that fills with sun through the three french curtians and the lovely balcony that makes me feel like I have the princess bedroom way up in a fairytale tower in the hills of the sandia mountains. The two pursian mutts I mean cats roaming the house with their naked skin like little fairytale mutants.
Zoey hated school- but she is part native american- she could have gotten in anywhere. I love school. I really do. isnt that rediculous. I guess after 18 years in school, its all I know how to do....
I dont understand how Andy could hate Albuquerque- I mean you got to admire him for getting the hell out of dodge each weekend to explore the enchanting parts of this land- but there is something really captivating about this ranshacked little crumy town. Like the way the sandias glow pink for just 7 minutes each night- 7 minutes I try to fully embrace on a jog each night. And the Los Altos pool, with its big wood beamed ceilings and red rod iron supports, filled with senior citizens, high school lifegaurds and me each morning at 6. I love the beautiful little cafes claiming "life is what you bake of it" and even the miles of strip malls reaking of depressing shanty life. I love the way everyone thinks I will get shot in walmart, and the goat head filled bike paths and the bearded toothless hag at Java Joe's that wrote a song for our bike group that stops there every sunday morning on the way home.
Albuquerque. it's only what you bake of it.