Stella is a 22 year old female rocking the free world from her tropical
outpost in Puerto Rico. Currently a grad student and highly adept at freaking out, all the while making time
to hang out with her friends, her boyfriend, and blog. This is her story.|
Layout: Valentine's Version.
Lyrics: Possibly Maybe by Bjork (to whom I owe so much)
Tools: Photoshop and my imagination.
Sketched : Ki-chan
My Favorite Plum : Zeynep
Osoroco : Osoroco
Iced Tea Mix : Dave Potter
Guasabara : Tovi
Tsukiko : Millie
Carlos' Corner : Carlitos
Dollyhouse : Shery
Buho's : Gabo
Ilusion Optica: Ilusion
Iguana Lola: Lori
Darlings, the time has come. After five years of blogging at pitas, I've decided this blog needs a change. Thanks to everybody who has read it through the years!
If you still want to keep up with what's happening in my life, leave a comment. I'm sure I'll send most of you the link to my new home of the web.
See you around!
So after blogging last night, I went straight to bed and had what turned out to be the first of many weird dreams. I only remember three, so here we go.
First dream: I was thrown off a plane and landed in some sort of island, near a plaza. Upon going to the plaza, I see there's a statue of Link. It turns out the statue can come to life only if I perform certain tasks and save him. Later in the dream, I realize that I'm inside a "new" Legend of Zelda game. >.>
Second: I'm at a store that looks a lot like the Neiman Marcus outlet at the Woodbury Commons, and they have this beautiful midnight blue Edwardian gown for 5.95 (this is the part where you know it's just a dream). I select a size two sizes bigger than mine, but when I go try it on, it barely fits. And when I go outside, it turns out my ex is waiting for me, and not my boyfriend. Eh?
Third: I'm at Colegio, walking down the quad with D when I hear somebody screaming insults at me from behind. When I turn around, I see one of the popular girls from my high school dressed all in black on a black horse. I give her the finger and she grows agitated and starts insulting me even more. For some reason that my subconscious can only explain, it turns out that she lived inside of Colegio and we stopped in front of her house and continued the argument. In the end, she grew frustrated with me, went inside her house, heated some beans, and then threw them at me. Wtf?
I woke up confused and hyperventilating. There are stranger details (like in the last dream, my shoe broke, and all of a sudden, many shoes appeared so I could try to find a matching shoe) but I'm just trying to understand the particular motivations of my subconscious in making this dream. I don't find the high school people threatening, I didn't care for them and found most of them to be sad and pathetic, making their lives "glamorous" by drinking and smoking and making careless and stupid choices. But the whole talking behind my back aspect I do understand. I've always been afraid of it, I know most people are, specially after going through very ugly episodes of such things.
Also, it seems that the previous post got some irate responses...first of all, I know I'm not the only person that has such thoughts, I'm aware that you, my friends, go through it as well and perhaps more acutely due to personal situations. But, please keep in mind that my start of semester was far from kind, and things were quite dark for a while so the feeling of aimlessness was high. I just thought you would commiserate.
Anyway. Back to portfolio work.
So, as many of you know (and if you don't, I'm sorry, I don't mean to exclude you, it's just that lately I forget many things. Thankfully, not my underwear.) I'm one of the students running for Graduate Student Representative. I am also now nominated for graduate student association president. '.' Not that I mind, really. I feel qualified and ready to fill such positions but I realize that, ultimately, it is not up for me to decide.
Anyway. The other day I was talking to Dave, my friend and padawan in the nerd ways, and the conversation basically turned into a massive trauma over how, in the end, we'll get out of school at age 28. 28. Veintiocho. Vingt-huit. Excuse me while I go have a slight trauma.
Part of me always dreamed of travelling the world, having kids before thirty, being a nomad, being a photographer. Now I realize that I can't really do that. Or, at least, not in the vagabond wanderlust way that I intended. But things happen for a reason. And when I think about it, I'm glad with the way things have turned out. But I'm still traumatized by aging, by the feeling of helplessness that dawns upon me. I feel that I could be doing so much more...does anyone else feel this way?
In other news, today I found out that Apple has a new 80 GB iPod. Selling for less than the original 60 GB one. It's like buying an Yves Saint Laurent Muse bag in Oversize and only paying for a Large one that's on sale! Ah, sweet sweet iPod. You will be mine someday. Hopefully, someday soon. Since my birthday is coming up, I will see...it's the domino effect people...all paths lead to the iPod...
And now, I'm going to sleep. Hopefully, to have wildly prophetic dreams depicting the exact way in which I will get my iPod. Either that, or dreams of the casquitos de guayaba which I tried today. For the first time in my soon to be 23 years of existence. Damn. I should've tried it earlier. '.'
In other news, today is the grad student meeting and the candidates for gsr (graduate student representative) will debate. That means I debate. That means I am currently sweating bullets and having cows. I tried to be calm, I tried to be cool, but it's not working and I may just have to buy una botellita de agua de azahar y bajarmela de un palo. Aunque sea efecto placebo.
So yeah, the thing I have to make "the sentence" for is a side project. I'm beginning to regret taking up this side project even if it's something I love. Not because of the subject, but because of the mistake I made of choosing a very viking person as my advisor on this project. >_< Ugh. *bonks head repeatedly into DVD case*
And why did I have to get a pimple on my chin today, ugh.
So I decided to get busy and I made appointments with my advisor and a professor to talk about an essay. The interview with my advisor left me feeling invigorated and with new ideas about my thesis, but the interview with my professor decimated me. He told me that I needed to work on "the sentence" that will define my work. "The sentence." Needless to say, I went into weenie mode right there. I'm going through the chickening out part of writing the essay. Hopefully after that the muse part will arrive.
I made another appointment with my advisor, I want this thesis thing chugging along. I also have to work on my plan of study. Yargh. I'm also kind of upset since I solicited some information about a PhD program, and I haven't received anything yet. Should I be worried? This was about a good week, week and a half ago. '.' I think I should be worried. Ack.
Anyway, I think I go forage in the kitchen.
One year ago today, my best friend became my boyfriend. And I wouldn't have it any other way. Happy anniversary, hun. :3
Dad: Why did you buy an iPod case?
Me: Because I have faith that one day I'll have an iPod.
Gold Coach iPod case, wee!
Anyway. It is September, aka, Birthday Anniversary Month. Wee! I've been watching V for Vendetta repeatedly in hopes of getting inspiration for my literary criticism essay but nothing. A few quotes, but other than that, crickets. Oh well. However, my crush on V intensifies with each viewing. Come on, Shakespeare-quoting, alliterating, cashmere cape wearing V. What's not to love?
I forgot to add that when I took my cellphone to be fixed, the lady that was checking it noticed my Coach accessory dangling from the cell. While she was handling it gingerly, she gave me this look that said: "Bitch." For some reason, I just thought this was hilarious.
I'm not some sort of label-whore that only wears labels and hates everybody who doesn't wear labels. No no. But I do like to wear good stuff every once in a while. I save up for those things and treat myself to them. Because it's nice. So, stop the hatin'.
September is on!
*keeps watching V for Vendetta*
See, like I said! That last post stating that I wasn't going to post created an opposite reaction which made me start posting again! Ah, life.
Anyway. I am here to tell you the tales of my going to Cingular. I went yesterday to have them exchange my cellphone and it was just Murphy's Law. People usually don't call me on my phone because they know I'm phone retarded but yesterday was Call Stella Day. Not that I mind. But everybody started calling the minute I stepped into Cingular. xD The lady was checking my cellphone when she just blinked, handed me the phone, and said: Damian is calling you. Heh.
The problem with my phone is that the screen is damaged and that all the sound files are damaged as well. Meaning, the phone doesn't make any noise, any sound at all. So, missed calls, wee. They tried resetting it, didn't work, so they just gave me a number to call. I called but in the end, couldn't do anything because my father is the one who has to place the call. >.> I also tried upgrading it, even if I had to pay some sort of difference, but no go. Oh well. Stuck with you, then *stares at Nokia*
As you can tell, I'm feeling better than I did yesterday. Maybe yesterday was some sort of low. But I am excited about my Coach bag now. :P It's the Soho Chevron hobo, just in case anybody was wondering.
And before anybody gets worried (aka, Keyla) I was just referring to people who are no longer part of my life, but seem to continue reading my blog. Okay? *pats Keyla*
And now I have to keep cleaning my room. Because it's actually clean for the first time in a long time. :D
I'm kidding, just in case.
As you can see, it's been pretty quiet here on the blogfront and it might be quiet for some time. (Perhaps this post will trigger the opposite reaction in me, who knows.) I'm going through some stuff right now that I really don't want to talk about. Or better said, there are some people who read this blog that I really don't wish to keep informed about my life. I might post on my LJ, but I doubt it. I don't know.
This isn't a hiatus. (I hope.) It's just a warning about my general quietness/disconnection from the world. Feel free to e-mail or anything. And if you need some sort of gauge to know how I feel, here: I ordered a Coach bag two weeks ago and it arrived today. I'm not the least bit excited. I think that says plenty.
Everybody knows that I hate two of my three classes. They are depressing, pose no academic challenge whatsoever, and helmed by idiots. Sure, the only class I like should be my saving grace, but I understand Freud better than a so-called simple text. I'm thinking that maybe it's because I'm sort of backsliding into a funk. A bad one.
Then there's the question of my job. I hate my weekend job, but I highly enjoy my week job. But I haven't heard from my week job's boss. Have I been unceremoniusly fired? Did something happen to her? I don't know! Wee!
Also, the sundry and the personal shit that has been happening. I won't even get into that. Some of it is just retarded, so it doesn't even merit going into.
And then there's yesterday. The cream of the crop.
As I was driving to school, my car died in the middle of a busy intersection. I managed to make it to the other side of the intersection, but, hey. Almost got hit by several cars, nobody offered to help until after a long while of me being stuck there, and two police units drove by without so much even a glance in my direction. One dude started fighting with me and giving me the finger. Sure, cause it's my fault my car died.
It could've been worse, I could've been crashed, I know. But the whole experience was upsetting enough. I also will not have a car for two weeks, so don't look forward to seeing me happy and shiny. The car thing brings other consequences, but I'm not going into that either. All I'm going to say is, why in fuck don't I live in a place that has a metro. I need to leave this place.
So now I'm just going to try to not go off the handle, though maybe it's a little too late for that. Oh well. Such is life. I'm going to take pictures with my dying camera now.
So my cold is almost gone. Only thing remaining are a few radioactive (in coloring) products of coughing. The swelling of my fingers is almost completely gone now, but I still can't take off my ring. I'm beginning to think that it was an evil plot contrived by my boyfriend so I never take it off, but he assures me that if he possessed any control over ants, he'd be using them to take over the world. And if other people are as highly allergic to insect bites as me, then he'd have the world on a string. '.'
Also, I'm a wee bit frustrated. Yesterday, I holed myself up to write an 8 page paper for my SLA class only to find out about an hour to the class that it wasn't for yesterday. So, all for nothing. Sure, it's done, but I could've spent that time reading for my class today. Also tried watching The Machinist again, but I couldn't. Christian Bale scares me so much in that movie, it makes me want to run out and feed the world.
Oh well. I guess I should get started on that portfolio. Meh.
So to top off a week in which I finally succumbed to a cold, yesterday at work, a horde of ants ravaged my right hand. Though the swelling is down, one of my fingers still looks like sausage. Oy. Oh well. At least they didn't have to cut my ring off. (The ring is still stuck on my finger, by the way, but it's not cutting off any circulation or anything.) My mother is also slightly hysterical. She didn't really believe my whole allergy to insect bites thing, but now she has this rampant paranoia that I need to go around hoarding Benadryl just in case. Hm. (See ma, there's a reason I shriek and run away from anything that stings.)
Anyway. I'm probably going to leave work early today because I feel like a piece of gum stuck under a tap dancer's shoe and I'd rather enjoy having some rest. I also have to finish reading my Intro to Lit Theory book and Freud. I also have to write an 8 page paper on my personal history with bilingualism and start a portfolio for my Special Topics class. I'm glad I have stuff to do, but, to be completely honest, I'm not interested in most of them. >.> I'd much rather spend time working on my personal projects and hounding Flickr. Oh well. Back to work I guess.
Last night, as I was getting out of my car, my camera case popped out of my bag and plopped to the floor. I figured the camera must've been relatively unscathed (since it's fallen out of moving cars and nothing has happened to it), but, boy...was I wrong. Upon opening the case, I discovered that the camera was pretty much wide open. Oops. I proceeded to freak out, silently curse many many things, and to get a screwdriver. As I put the camera back together, I thought, well. I guess it's time for that new Fuji.
However, my trusty Fuji A210 would not buy the farm just yet. I snapped it closed, prayed to God, and switched it back on. And. It. Worked. Motherfuckin' A, Fuji will inherit the Earth! I'm not saying it's got long left, but, man...my old Pentax fell just once (in the middle of Budapest, no less) and it died immediately. No stuttering, just dead. The trusty Fuji has returned my hopes in camera kind, so I might try to fix the Pentax now. I'm so happy.
In other news, I've gone into the Flickr light. I like to say that photography is a passionate hobby, but Damian refers to it (quite bluntly) as a vice. Actually, he refers to Flickr as a vice, but for me, they're one and the same. I finally caved in and got a pro account ('cuz pro is the way to go). I've been uploading some old archived files that I think are good. Wee!
And I'm also supposed to be reading Freud but I'm dilligently avoiding it. There is also the matter of me feeling a bit under the weather so...yeah. I'm not hungry at all, but I figure I should eat something. Some soup, I suppose. Meh.
And, before I forget: I am so excited with my camera's macro. '.'