doppelganger

I'm taking your advice. You're right: I need to pick myself up again. After doing that internship in Oct 07, I've lost sight of my career and, in effect, lost a large part of who I was. The only reason why I didn't spiral out of control right afterward was because I had you to keep myself sane. I kept up my grades because of it.

UCLA and Southern California is a toxic place. I need to get out of there. Too many movie studios. Too many clubs. Too many sunny days. Too many fame whores.

I've started on my common application. It's that whole Senior year all over again. This time, there's the heart-wrenching possibility of rejection -- something I hadn't thought about the first time around. I'm applying to the UC's again. Berkeley, I hope you'll let me back in.

I also started working out again. Well, jogging and doing push-ups at least. I don't want to be a 50 year old and in a wheelchair.

I'm looking at possible careers in foreign service again. Although it's not quite what I want to do anymore, I need some kind of light at the end of the tunnel. The dream used to be having a family and a house.

:(

I haven't been taking any pictures of anything here lately. I haven't had the motivation to take out my camera to do so.

I am having fun and there are things worth remembering, but it's hard with this hole in my heart. I have too much free time and in any instant that I find myself with an idle mind, there is a deep pang that shoots into my veins and right down into my stomach because I remember that you aren't there. You're so far away from me now; even though we talk as much as we can, everything I see reminds me how much I'd rather be with you.

I feel like a fool.

I saw a whale on the polo pocket of a stranger. There was a drawing of a dinosaur on the whiteboard of a friend's apartment I visited; there were stuffed dinosaurs in the UCLA store. A friend posted a video on his girlfriend's wall to show her his dorm. Someone named Brian shook my hand today. People are holding hands. A plane flew by. The evening star is the first star I see and I'm comforted in the fact that it's the same one you see and I'm reminded we're still on the same planet.

Even though it always feels like a light-year and more.

So I need to make myself a check list of things to remember to remind me that we're still on the same planet when the smog is covering up the stars and the tears are welling up.

• I need to remember to take only half the amount of food I normally take because you aren't there to finish the rest.
• I need to remember to not skip my meal swipes because I'd want to save them in the hopes that you'd come to visit.
• I need to remember that all fraternities have agendas and I shouldn't rush simply because I want someone to cry to.
• I need to remember that I am not a broken record and my only lyrics cannot be sad.
• I need to remember to tell myself why I'm in college: to learn, to grow.
  
• I need to remember that I cannot want to transfer to another college simply because of the distance.
  
• I need to remember to get involved and not fear I'll miss your call.
• I need to remember to not prolong our calls to the point that I struggle to come up with topics, only because I want to hear your voice even if its getting frustrated with me.
• I need to remember who I am.
• I need to remember that you love me and wouldn't jeopardize that.

Every morning I wrestle my soul and body.

But I'm losing because I feel incomplete.

Day 1 - Day 13

I've been taking pictures for quite a while but I've uploaded little of it outside of Facebook. I skipped about eight days of picture-taking in my last month or photo-ing so I'm going to have to cheat and backlog them. I promise there will be enough variety. Warning, the "Days" are arbitrary, some of the pictures I included here came from the same day/set. I only doubled/tripled up to compensate for some of my missed days.

Beginning on August 19, 2008:

Day 001



Guess Outlet at Great Mall in Milpitas, CA. I was waiting for my boyfriend to finish in the dressing room when I saw this sale section behind the register.

Day 002



San Francisco, Glen Point, outside the BART station. Looked for the zoo, but the journey was fruitless.

Day 003



BART station in Fremont. It was about 8:30 pm. Few days left of summer.

Day 004



1 AM ish, Brian's. He got himself some shoes and he got me a stuffed animal from UC Irvine.

Day 005



My sister zipping up a beautiful purple dress for my mother to try on at a family party. The mole on her back is a remnant of a skin cancer scare fourteen years ago. I remember, as a four year old, my mom was sitting on the doctor's inspection recliner: in her eyes were tears and a terrible fear. I remember being frightened.

Now, at nearly 50 years old, she still wears decadent dresses and clothes as if the world was her award show. Go ahead mom, let them stop and stare. I'll be sad the day you retire to be frumpy.

Day 006



This is the window high up near the ceiling at Brian's. I thought it was an interesting contrast, the small prison of color and the severe shapes and angles of the white. I'm here way too often. I wonder if his parents complain about it.

Day 007



Old man watching a baseball game. I wonder what he's thinking about.

Day 008



Tree at the park in Brian's neighborhood. The lichens are the snow of summer.

Day 009



An overview of Berkeley at the rooftop of Sharmeen's apartment. Views like these send tiny pangs of regret down my spine.

Day 010



John being acquainted to Miranda's dogs. They were large, fascinating creatures. Taller than me.

Day 011



There was a scent in Brian's room that we couldn't quite place. After digging around for a bit, we uncovered some Tupperware that had been festering in his room for some time. And this isn't the first time: we found a Kurtz-ified banana once.

Day 012



Here are Brian's expensive shoes walking, walking, walking. It's something people need to do more often.

Day 013



Calapalooza at Berkeley. It was invigorating and got me excited for prospects of UCLA.

And that finishes off August! Onto September.