him

Yesterday marked 13 weeks.  I called him inebriated.  He called me back and we talked for a while.  He called me this morning.  After 13weeks we spoke for the first time.  13 weeks and I missed him, I don't mean to but I do.  

hello motivation

I dont know what happened and when but finally I am back on trackI hello motivation, don't think I have seen you since, umm freshman year.  I think that too often in live we as humans become complacent, fine with little standards and light expectations.  And if this is not enough in itself, ill prioritizing does not help the matter any.  SO needless to say, for too long now I have been off track, allowing myself to be alright with normal and nothing exceeding.

I can recall the time my sophomore year of college and ironically enough my sophomore year of high school, where I just became disengaged. This last time I attribute it to mental exhaustion.  For whatever reason, it may have been that the work became too much, or my relationship was lacking or very much that I was missing something within myself, but I very much remember sort of just giving up.  Aware of the consequences of course, somehow the moment became all I was living for, and truth is those single moments were nothing to brag about in themselves.  And so I allowed myself to stay in that mindset, finding trivial things to make up for meaningful goals.  Similarly in 10th grade I allowed this to happen to myself, where then too, school work became a back burner to unimportant "at the moment" goals.  And finally I come across a moment, now, like I did then, that brought me back to the me that I am supposed to be.  I am far too driven of an individual with capability of far too much to waste a moment being fine with the mundane.

When I sit in the library on a Friday night even though I long for a nap and to be hanging with the besties, I realize that I am back on track.  It did take me a while to get here and I'm not sure why, but things have a way of working out as they should.  After a talk today with Professor Washington and networking opportunities coming at me from left and right, I have faith in the future again.  And this time it doesn't seem too distant and overtly abstract to pay attention to.  Hello Motivation, goodbye slacker.

friend zone woes: the logic

So my mind has made it perfectly clear that I did in fact have a major crush on Mr. Single Consonant.  Never what I intended nor did I think there was even a chance of it, buttttt it happened real fast and just as fast as it came in it went out.  I have been battling with insecurities about this man crush for over a month and a half now, sad, I know.  The ups and downs and highs and low have left me feeling a bit exhausted.  The thing is-- it was so fun at first and just kept getting better and better.  My next writing thought was to go into a detailed overview of what that fun entailed but what's the point in that?  I mean I can already relive it in my mind without effort, and while that makes me smile a bit to reminisce of the good times, it just ends up aggravating me that they ended so suddenly.

But here's the thing...  How can I be mad when I never wanted more?  How can I be mad when I don't want anyone to like me too much?  And how can I get mad when I do not want a boyfriend?  Well here's the "ah ha!" that I just realized...So you know when people take out their negative energy on the wrong person? (Yes) Well i think that the same can be done with positive vibes.  I mean, it may seem like positive energy cannot be taken out on the wrong person because why wouldn't I want to share it with any and everyone?  (I know, I know, buttttt...) The thing is that Mr. Consonant was kind of sweet I guess, in his ways (though later found to be falsified) but was he really dee-servvvv-ing of all the niceness I have inside? ...Answer: NO. I have those supreme qualities in me stored for the deserving, and truth is I have been wanting to give them to My Heart since September.  And really because I was never given the chance to let those qualities out, and direct them towards him, I just continued to build them up.  Then someone else came along and I directed them his way, shame.

So the thing is that I do want more, and I do want to be liked too much and I do want a boyfriend...the thing is I just want those things with My Heart, not the guy of the day. So it looks like the friend zone woes need to be reevaluated, because I don't even have the capacity to be anywhere else with Mr. Consonant, or any other man for that matter that isn't him.  And I am only just realizing that it may be selfish of me to long for him to feel a certain way because if he were too, and I couldn't return the feelings I would be bothered even more.

So cheers to friends, because I can always use one more.  And double cheers to finding my way back after losing sight.

man map key

I want to start identifying the men in my life by clever nicknames like Carrey Bradshaw did in her column and later books.  I realize that in some cases she did uses their real names but and I guess for some men that does make sense but let's see what I can do... There is: Mr. Single Consonant, Caribbean, The Russian, Obsessed, Skinny (that one seems clever enough already), and then last but surely not least is My Heart, but I'm not sure if that one is a tad cliche`. The thing is these names don't sound most efficiently like proper nouns the way they should or even pronouns which would suffice.  I have to make this sufficient for when I turn this into an anthology collection.

I actually planned to start looking into the work of Candace Bushnell.  She is the New York columnist Sex and the City was modeled after.  I am deeply interested in her writing style choices and the organization of her pieces.  While I realize that this is a personal blog I eventually plan for it to be read and also I am aware of that fact that once something is placed in cyber space it never goes away.  I am mainly curious about Candace's privacy tactics when it came to the names of her friends and relationships.  I will figure it out soon enough for my publishing debut I am sure.  Fingers crossed!

creative agenda

So last year I was all into the idea behind creating a blog in efforts to tap into my creative self, but sure enough I fell off that whole idea for reasons I have previously stated.  One major aspect of building the blog was the creative multimedia component of the site.  Currently I am trying to do the same thing and of course stuck on minor layout details.  Ideally I will be able to create my own html template by the end of the semester but while hoping to acquire that ultimate goal I am resting on the notion that I can at least play around with editing html texts.   Sadly easier said that done.  What happened to the days of MySpace when ever 13-15year old was a pro at his or her html layout forum.  There is always a getcha gotcha in everything I swear!

This blog is meant to function as a creative outlet but without all the swell colors and groovy fonts its just not going to get me excited.  I'm thinking of it like my body as a pallet for epic accessories, skirts, flawless makeup and gorgeous shoes.  Needless to say I need to get the color scheme perfect and an image or two would be just darling really.  That brings me to my next synchronized and yet erratic thought,  I would really love one of those super high tech cameras.  Seriously I know people with them that are not in fact high tech photographers and instead just regular people who enjoy the occasional timeless capture of a moment.  I too would like to have one thousand words somehow held within a single tangible object.  Unfortunately from what I know, the inexpensive models of this camera type are about 6-700 dollars and go up from there.  What I have additionally heard through the grapevine is that these same costly cameras can be purchased second hand for under 100 though, so there is hope.

men are...

EXHAUSTING!!! Oh my, it's too true and I don't know how single women deal with this on a regular basis.  I have always had my girls come to me with their companion woes or lack there of, but then the problems seemed so abstract, only now have they become so absolute.  In every aspect these men are entirely a mystery, but what makes their genre far worse is that they are not even complicated.  While I will give them credit as humans to have the capacity to be more then what the external seems, as a woman I give myself greater capacity to figure them out.  SO there is the getcha gotcha: I have figured them out and yet they still continue to be an unknown.

Prior to my newest single woman endeavors I was working with just the one man, and after years dealing with his changing dynamics and sure I had figured him out, he completely surprised me in the end, a shock that I still wake up surprised with.  But with gained thoughts of absolution here I what I am gaining from each of these men and even those of my friends, experience means: 


A man will fall fo you quicker than he expected, but once he realizes, he self-sabatoges </3    A man will not call you on your Birthday because he's trying to focus on him, and somehow doing so makes him an egotistic ass </3    A man will say that he's changed and so into you, only for you to find out that he made similar promises to your friends </3    A man will not call you after sex, and then realize soon after, but NOT soon enough that he actually enjoyed more than just sex from you </3   A man so often is completely unclear with his wants and them somehow make you feel that your the unclear one </3    A man will say that he has gone somewhere when in fact he hasn't </3   A man will disappoint </3
and yet I believe that there is going to be a great one, somehow, somewhere, someday 

valentine recap

So I have been wanting to write all week but I have just been so busy that I knew it would be a bad prioritizing choice.  So even a week later I guess let me bring myself back to Monday, Valentines Day.

Unexpectedly I work up to the success of technology, an instant message sending love all the way from the Caribbean.  While I am very much sure that I am done with that, those moments of heart throb, it was still sweet to know that he had hoped me his Valentine.  Even more surprising was just minutes after getting to work I received a text from Mr. Single Letter, a simple text really, just: "Happy Valentines Day," but I did not think he had the capacity for even that.  After seeing him on campus though I thought that maybe he did in fact have a little bit of a sweet side in him the way he used to.  But that's not the him he wants to be, so I just have to be fine with that.  Similarly to the first man of the morning I realized that if you start expecting something out of these men, even if it's what your used to from them, it will turn out to be a disappointment.  So I decided to change up my VDay feelings.

I made sure to text all the people in my life who don't disappoint and so the day was filled with the uplifting love that any woman is entitled to on Valentines Day.  The supreme points of the day were a nice facial wax and treating myself to sushi for lunch.  Some say that it's not a big deal but truth is I like Holidays, this one included, so I thought it was important to make it a nice day.  Turns out being single on the 14th of February is not so bad with beautiful friends in your life and great esteem in yourself. So after wearing a pick crop top and my new lace lingerie under my outfit all day, I must say that I did feel pretty special all day, even with work and a ton of homework.

Thing is, I still thought about him...today didn't make his absence any easier.

11 weeks today

I have not spoken to him in 11 weeks. I'm still breathing. I'm fine, to the surprise of myself and many I am sure. Everyday is a step closer towards empowerment.  11 weeks, after 6 and a half years, 11 weeks.

constant fight of a normative female

So while I am infinitely aware of the hour upon me I also realize that I have a problem when it comes to my sleep schedule.  Twice this week I have my school girl ways to blame for my stupidity, but I must admit that somehow staying up and being entertained by someone surprisingly as silly as myself is just very much enticing.  Then while my latest practice seems to entail the googlied eyed ways of a silly girl crushing on a boy my second and biggest time competitor is my school work.  Above all I know where I want my grades to be this semester and while I am pioneering through this journey in which I self entitled my life I realize that I have certain expectations for myself that I can not allow to be swayed by my passion for fun or objective moral compass.  On that note this seems like a most ideal time to be reading for my dreaded Honors British Writers paper but I have instead spent the last hour consumed by the sweet taste of MSG in my beef ramen noodles, my further chocolate snack and my attention to the tastefully scripted reality show, My Life as Liz.  If I was at all unsure of my doomed priorities I have topped it off my a devoted brow tweezing session followed by my new found desire to analyze my thoughts via efforthodox.blogspot.com.

This moment would be justified if I categorized it as an outlet for my muse; a forum where I in fact turned in order to excel in my academic pursuits.  Most unfortunate for me that is not the thought provoking space I could hope for and instead serves the same purpose of a bed time lullaby.  Here I clear my 52 card pick-up scatter-brained thoughts and end my night with a blank sheet ready to be filled with the dreams of an endless dreamer.

While I am taking the time to clear out the red and black, spades and hearts of that deck, I may as well touch upon some of my latest thoughts.  Rolling Deep is officially the soundtrack to my life, or at least my once epic slash now tragic romance. Adele vocalizes my life with her heart wrenching words: "The scars of your love remind me of us/ they keep me thinking that we almost had it all, the scars of your love they leave my breathless/ they keep me thinking we could have had it all.  Think of me in the depths of your despair." The thing is the song doesn't provoke endless tears as one, even myself might suspect instead it makes me feel like an empowered single; a woman who thought she lived because of her love, but instead I am now more aware than ever that he could have had it all, but if he didn't want it or couldn't handle it then fine, more for someone else, more for me; and I need it.
Like wise the newest crush is unsure of our fate, as am I, well maybe, because as I well know I may in fact be very much self-destructive, but as I said similarly if he is by any means unsure or even does not want my bountiful love, well more so love affiliated emotions, then trust I am fine keeping them for myself.  Just a note for mister refers to himself by a single consonant. But enough with him or the him prior because I am working toward empowerment where I supremely want for the focus to be on myself rather than those orbiting around the summer sun....

And speaking of orbital rules guess who has managed to orbit back into the light of the sun, yes Caribbean has discovered the technological advances of planet America and worked his way back into my view via crackberry instant messenger.  The thing I do not know if I can work on the clock of someone who doesn't have one through twelve conquered by thoughts of yours truly.  While he may claim absence has made the heart grow fonder I have no plans of disappearing every so often to gain "fondness."  The thing is that I am fucking fond of myself where y is constant, and so I do not need an ex to complete that equation.  What I can surly depend on as of late is my greatest ambitions for the next phase of my life and the beautiful women I know to be my friends, my sister that will be fond of me without distance and refrain from leaving scars to inspire resentment.

And as I have filtered these thoughts I endlessly hoard I am only left with the burden of homework on my shoulders, and that sounds like the stresses of an intelligent woman, and unlike my opposite sex anxieties that worry a top my list is something I am greatly proud of.  

school as of late

Last semester of my senior year and I have never been more aware of "time" in my life.  This is the fourth week of school meaning there is only 10 left.  This past Tuesday marked the 100 days left to graduation and of course I couldn't stand to attend in fear that I would of course cry.  And while I am in absolutely in no rush for this semester to ever, ever come to an end I must say that I have never in my lifeeee experienced this capacity of homework.  It is increasingly hard to keep up when I would much rather be frequenting the bars, watching re-runs of Sex in the City, visiting the male friend or just doing absolutely nothing with the besties.  Tonight, in addition to the vast amount of schoolwork and reading I already have, I must also go over to the Amherst College Library where I will sit in their reserve room to watch a VHS film, instead of just relaxing like I know many of my peers will be doing.  But while I am prone to venting and endless rambles of complaints I will say that without a doubt I take homework and essay stress over real world job and adult stuff any dayyy!!!  On a similar note of the end nearing, Preference ceremony and Bid day this weekend marked my final Beta Eta recruitment as an undergraduate.  Looking back on the excitement, stress, preparation and endless ups and downs of Sigma Kappa recruitment and I must say I wouldn't have changed a thing.  In my 7 semesters as a sister I actively participated in 5 recruitments and I can look back and remember meeting women for the first time that I now call my sisters.  We have gotten some great girls over the years and I wish my chapter all the best as I soon head off and hope that the memories I made and cherished as a Sigma Kappa will continue for years to come.  Anyways I am rambling, while I will miss waking up in the Sigma Kappa house I for sure will not miss my boy drama on this campus; shake my head.  Ok well back to a little procrastination until it's back to being a productive senior who constantly reminds herself that she is just that.

Sigma Kappa Senior Speech

So, when the Senior Speech was called upon in our recruitment announcement email I originally thought that I may not fit the build seeing as I only lived in the house for a single semester, I never winked at a fraternity man, I don't wear pink and tatto Sigma Kappa doves on my body, but then I realized that my experience is equally as Sigma Kappa as my sister's.  Truthfully I do not make a particular habit if conforming to the confines of societal notions of normal and therefore I cannot attest to the label of a typical sorority girl.  But what I can insinuate is that my 7 semester as an active sister of Sigma Kappa have been more memorable than flashing lights, Hollywood dreams, epic love stories or moments framed by the timeless excellence of photography. For my story is one of acceptance, friends, sisterhood, growth, confidence, a little with hips, a big with heart, a silly Sigma, my own Kappas dopplegangers, late night talks, tears on the bottom bunk, Justin Beiber love stories, dougie dance lessons and moments I will never forget.  So her is my truth: truth is I came to 19 Allen because a friend said there was going to be ice cream, truth is I thought the house was precious, truth is I found diversity in a way that wasn't black and white but instead maroon and lavender, truth is it took me a little while to feel like I belonged, but truth is I always knew I was home, and I stayed home because of the love I found in my sisters.  Truth is I miss tye dying with my pledge sisters in Sylvan, truth is I miss new member meetings with Slade, truth is I miss pulling Fran,  Julia and Soky in snow tubes, I miss putting my heart into making a paddle for my beautiful Kappas, or texting Rachel my little face on the formal bus, I miss crafting with Emily and dancing with Tara, truth is I miss waking up on Saturday morning and sitting on the purples to hear of last nights moral choices, truth is ...I miss being where you are, because I miss knowing that the unknown was going to be the best time of my life.  In this sisterhood you will find your best friend, you will find a new outfit every saturday, you will find that you will make memories that last forever and you will find love in sisters that you never thought possible.  I may not like to talk about the fact that my undergrad career is wrapping up and mostly that's because I am not ready to leave these amazing women I call my sisters, but as I move forward in my life I will smile ever time I think of 19 Allen St. and the woman I am for accepting my bid that chilly evening on the 27th of February 2008.  But what I will always know to be true, as my Sigma Kappa experience what that the beginning started here.

writing for a purpose. but what?

I have often refrained from the whole diary/journal movement because of the internal pressure to compact my life into the eloquence of a single lined page.  Then as I expanded my academic writing I suspected that I may be able to transition to the blog trend, but that i found surprisingly too interpersonal.  There is too much pressure in the world to be a particular somebody, and I was turned off by that notion controlling my writing in a similar way.  I believe that writing for me could be my outlet, but knowing that I should be writing in a certainty that fits an audience is off putting.  Recently I was asked what my ideal job would be, not one that I am necessarily working towards, but one that I would be above grateful for if it fell into my lap.  I felt the pressure to answer the question quickly, as though I should be supremely aware of the occupation meant for dreams, and so I answered: "I'd love to write, write a column for a news paper, one with no pressure, one that allowed for the capacity of my erratic thoughts and my moral ambiguity." Ideally I would be a Carrie Bradshaw of reality; while I realize she is in fact a fictitious character emulating that of an actual columnist, if it were to be me, it would seem real for the first time, rather than the second or third. I mean I realize that the dream may not be so far fetched but what is-- the ability to write one's life without the concern, the burden of judgement.  Her entire collection followed the tragic romance of her ups and downs with Mr. Big.  Could I ever openly tell the story of my "Mr. Big?" The beginning when things seemed like they would soar high forever, a tale of greatest concerns being infinite school bus worries and keeping the cordless house phone in my bed room past 10pm.  Or could I be expected to openly express the middle when the fights came and past just as equally as the silly stories and movie dates.  And if somehow I could take the reader that far, engage them that deep, wouldn't it mean I would have to at least outline the end, even maybe give detail of the sounds of shatter as the brakes gave out, the airbags didn't employ on both sides and we hit the wall.  And thats the thing, the beginning seems less real, the middle seems more hazy and yet the ending still flashes in my mind when I close my eyes.  But who wants to read about the workings of six and a half years unraveled and raw? Would people recognize that it is just as real as he and I stands alive? Would an audience of varied life experience question my most private, most sacred life experience, the deepest love I have ever know, the greatest regrets I have ever rethought, the sweetest bitter I have ever tasted...if I put it out there, would that mean they reserved the right to question?  I may be a tough cookie, but the fact of the matter is a cookie can always crumble.  And what about the others, my Berger, Aden, The Russian...is it bad that they winked and I winked back?  Is it worse that they came closer and so did I? But maybe it's okay because I'm just a girl, human as the rest...ahh that's the thing, that answer never justifies.  Not when you are a female that outsiders have seen commit, a female that gets the grades, wears the cardigans and small stud earrings, not when you are a female who carries herself like a precious crystal vase.  The audience may be bias to forget the less positive, the times when that same woman was the object of a man's happiness, the times she put off the studies and instead let her mind wander elsewhere, the skin tight dress comando with the red lace bra, yeh that same woman has been there too.  Hard to believe?  Maybe the reader wouldn't want to believe.
My point being, writing a column without shame would mean that shame did not exist.  In which case is this me admitting that i in fact I can attest to regrets made?  Yes.  I think that is exactly what I am doing, and I guess that is what makes the: "Carrie Bradshaw Emulation," so enticing.  But even the realization of the unlikely fantasy job doesn't make me want to refine my writing to fit the legs crossed type of woman I am supposed to be.  I believe that writing could be my freedom, but I wonder if my words will be my demise.  In that case it may seem that this outlet should be a private venue to foster my inner entrapment, but I think if I am going to free that prisoner of thought I am going to need to be a read writer.  Now of course my friends would support the venture as a form of loyalty, as they know I would do the same for them, but I want an audience without a sense of obligation.  I want my greatest private to be read, supported, debated, criticized, analyzed and further, greater...I want a discussion equal to the variation of my experiences.  Ideally writing for me would be writing for all the me's alike.
Did I just find my purpose?

snow day lampin

So of course in the winter f nonstop blizzards like crazy, Umass closes the campus early, yay! Even more yay my professors all emailed ahead of time to cancel classes anyways, super yay! So this day has ultimately become a snow day for me.  I mean people rag on school and rag on Mass but I mean no one rags on a snow day, especially me who loves all the above.  But like my friend Ross pessimistically just mentioned the other day: "live in the past and you die in the past."  I guess my point is that aside from the fact that I am a continual epic mess I love this part of my life but I need to get just as excited about the next phase of my life.  I mean I have been doing epic for some time now so I don't see why that might change soon.  Yes I realize that this may very well mean no  more snow days but if I am fabbed out in Cali the last thing I will be longer for is a snow day.  I cannot wait to end ever day at the beach and worry about the simplest shit instead of how many hours I am going to have to stay up to get psych homework done or read up to page 160 in my Brit Anthology collection. I want to wear dresses that blow when I walk along the beach and carry eclectic heels in one hand and a bottle of water (or something not as great for my liver) in the other.  I will always wear my hair in their natural curls and shower night and day because of the constant summer heat.  I can see myself now in my little apartment, lights out (when I can't afford the electric bill of course lol), sitting by the window, sipping ice tea, relaxing un my undies and writing the book of my life.  Of course I am going to miss everyone but I am excited to be living for me with disregard.  Life for me, endless summer nights.  Moments away.