How do you apply to a csu? Do you just go on the csumentor, make an account and then send in the SAT scores/gpa stuff and you're done?
sorry i suck at replying, i had no internet for a while, i apologize. go on csu mentor. pretty much, but make sure you have met the criteria, meet with an academic counselor to see if you’re on track, the deadline for csu’s passed already, you can try UC’S though, good luck!
i was without internet since sunday, the good news is that it gave me more time to focus on my last midterms that i was stressing out with. glad to inform everyone that i got the cable man to come by today and fix my router and i passed my midterms, so looks like i am right on track and ready to transfer colleges this coming year. after a couple of bad days and a horrid start of the week, looks like things are slowly changing and going my way. i am so excited for this semester to be over and done with, and to start my winter break although i will be working full time again, but no college means time to go out and treat myself. that is the best part of it all. time to do shit i like!
i haven’t had time to do this as often as i hoped, but here is today’s book list. very short btw.
1) Everything is Illuminated + Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safar Foer.
Yes, there is a movie based off the first book, however i prefer the books over movies ( most of the time, as it is in this case) and i truly recommend it you read both. The character are way too enagaging and very interesting, but can get a bit confusing of you’re not into keeping up with various narratives, but it’s quite an easy and interesting read.
2) The Best American Comics Series 2010 edited by Neil Gaiman
This is a showcase of the 2010 year most popular and Favorited comics. There is a newer edition, but i happen to own this one. It’s very diverse in selection from The Night of Your life to the Hurricane Katrina comic. It’s a very easy read, and entertaining. So if you like comics, check it out.
i’m a mess, i set my alarm for 5:30 am giving me enough time to finish my sketches and get ready for my 7:30 am meet up. turns out i set my alarm for 5:30 pm… so i receive a call at 7 from a classmate asking if i can print her some worksheet and proceed to rush out the dour with only a hat, some sweats, my bag, and a stray of dignity. this morning is set upon on the stack of mistakes and days that have been blurred. it’s like i was there but i really wasn’t.
and then i am punished my the obligations of being an adult and having to make enough to pay rent.
so cheers to that, a bottle of wine and pizza will do me good tonight.
i saw him today, he came back strong, resilient. amazing. i have no words for he is the poet who has stolen my heart with each sound so eloquently humming into my ear as he lets it rip on the stage. i have always known i want to marry a writer. i’ve always known that i like boys, and girls, and even girls who are boys. i have always known that i find him attractive but he’s out of reach and his heart has already been trapped by the spidery legs of someone else. someone who gets to sleep night to night in his arms while i dream of his words, and pretend he wrote them for me.
Its waking up with this pain, knowing it will be a long day. Perhaps too much and you will stay in bed because the moment you get up your head explodes and you can’t help but vomit. Welcome. I am a mess, its only fair to come with a warning sign. So when you ask whats wrong, know i dont like to talk about it nor do i want you to feel responsible for making me feel better. The physical pain leaves … Sooner or later. Sometimes it just helps to drink a glass of wine and sleep it off, and throw away the prescribed medication in trash and repeat. I will be okay. I will be I will Okay. So walk away if i become too much, i am already accustomed to being alone.
today, consisted of me scavenging through old notes. old pictures and stories written from experience. gathering information almost as to prove that i am worthy to want and need. i am no good in talking about myself unless it comes with criticism. most of the time if you ask, i’d spin in circles, and never quite get to who i am. is it fear of letting someone really know me, or not knowing myself well enough. but if you ask me to pick at my flaws i will be at the front row with an infinite list of dilemmas; ranging from being too pessimistic, to my stomach being too wide
but i like to believe that
the road to finding yourself is the constant travel in life, and “who am i?”, the most asked question.
we were dirt poor. picking apples off trees, scrambling for fruit in forbidden yards, and walking miles and miles in the rain to get from one place to the next. we ran from just about everything, especially the cops. escaping looks, cutting classes, thinking only in the meal we wanted to consume. our stomachs howled for food under the full moon illuminated porches of strangers. dodging lives we felt were decorated with misery, fleeing the past and anticipating with uncertainty the future. we were dirt poor. the hands attached to our arms were disguised in bruises, cuts, burn marks; every single battles scar you can imagine adorned each of our skeletal fingers. but we used those fingers to count the days until freedom came with such laxity.
sleeping under bridges.
and somehow still being able to find something to smile about.
It’s one of those knights. When I lie amid crests and dips of blankets and save myself from rampancy. I’m surrounded by the kind of silence that permits hurricane heartbeats and boisterous breathing. I swear I can hear my cells dying and dividing; the elder washed out in waves of goodbyes and pledges of improvement. Drips of moonlight veil the tips of my toes. I ask questions of the answers. Perhaps, in this moment, I could tell you exactly what water tastes like, what heaven feels like. But instead, I feel every incongruence in earnest. I have wished for tides; but as they bubble and foam against the pier, I beg that the waves would recess and I could instead examine the ripples of ridden shells along the shore. I miss simplistic aesthetics; the way my fingertips press and free a cool ivory piano key, the way your neck feels against my lips, and the way a pitcher of tea filters sunlight. I think I might tilt my head to find the blue-green of your eyes, but your eyes are brown instead. I’m angry in the most calm of ways. I, amidst unrest, moderate the sea. I am knighted. Riddled with complexities and swelling with silence, I long to taste the salt of the sea.
cancer was my enemy. wrapping me in it’s bony fingers, confining me to a life i never felt was mine. strapping me to placebos, to radiation and white bed sheets. time ticking faster, and i still have nightmares of a relapse, of falling through pitch black hole sinking me quickly. devouring all of me and i cannot escape the bed, the headaches; i cannot escape what has become of me.