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Because who doesn't love Simon and Garfunkel?

Sep. 11th, 2008 | 11:43 pm

A winter's day
In a deep and dark December;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I've built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It's laughter and it's loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

Don't talk of love,
But I've heard the words before;
It's sleeping in my memory.
I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.

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Very quick post, because I have a lot of homework

Aug. 27th, 2008 | 09:20 pm

I got this e-mail from my mother. It's in Spanish, but I have it translated it for those of you who do not know Spanish. I think it has a lot of wisdom in it, and I think I have learned some stuff from it...

LA DIFERENCIA ENTRE LAS MUJERES INMADURAS Y LAS MUJERES MADURAS
The Difference Between Immature Women and Mature Women


Las mujeres inmaduras quieren controlar al hombre en sus vidas.
Las mujeres maduras, saben que si el hombre es realmente suyo, no hay necesidad de control.
(Immature women want to control the man in their lives. Mature women know that if the man is really hers, there is no need for control.)


Las mujeres inmaduras te gritan porque no las llamas.
Las mujeres maduras estan demasiado ocupadas y solo se limitan a decirles con poemas y mensajes dulces que la recuerdes.
(Immature women yell at you for not calling them. Mature women are too busy and limit themselves to telling you with poems and sweet messages to remember them.)


Las mujeres inmaduras monopolizan el tiempo de su hombre.
Las mujeres maduras se dan cuenta de que un poco de espacio, hace del tiempo juntos algo mas especial.
(Immature women monopolize their man's time. Mature woman know that a little space makes time together more special)


Las mujeres inmaduras no perdonan y se castigan y castigan por el rencor, en cambio, las mujeres maduras perdonan, ofrecen su hombro y un panuelo.
(Immature women do not forgive and punish out of resentment, but mature women forgive, and offer their shoulder and a handkerchief.)


Las mujeres inmaduras tienen miedo de estar solas.
Las mujeres maduras lo utilizan como tiempo para su crecimiento personal.
(Immature women are afraid of being alone. Mature women use it as time for personal growth.)


Las mujeres inmaduras ignoran a los buenos hombres.
Las mujeres maduras ignoran a los malos.
(Immature women ignore good men. Mature women ignore bad men.)


Las mujeres inmaduras lastimadas por un hombre, hacen que todos los hombres paguen por eso.
Las mujeres maduras saben que fue solo un hombre y nada mas.
(Immature women who are hurt by a man want all men to pay for it. Mature women know it was only one man and nothing more.)


Las mujeres inmaduras se enamoran y persiguen sin descanso.
Las mujeres maduras saben que algunas veces el que tu amas, te amara y si no continuan su camino sin rencor.
(Immature women fall in love and pursue without rest. Mature women know that sometimes, the man you love will love you back, and if not they continue their lives without resentment.)


Las mujeres inmaduras te hacen que vuelvas a casa.
Las mujeres maduras hacen que quieras siempre volver a casa.
(Immature women make you come home. Mature women make you always want to come home.)


Las mujeres inmaduras dejan su agenda abierta y esperan a que su hombre hable para hacer planes.
Las mujeres maduras hacen sus planes y carinosamente notifican a los hombres para que ellos se integren como mejor les convenga.
(Immature women leave their agendas open and wait for their man to make plans with them. Mature women make their own plans and affectionately let their men know so they can integrate their schedules most conveniently.)



Las mujeres inmaduras leeran esto y haran una mueca.
Las mujeres maduras lo pasaran a otras mujeres maduras.
(Immature women will read this and sneer. Mature women will pass this on to other mature women.)


En fin, tu decides eres mujer madura o mujer inmadura.
Recuerda que los cambios estan dentro de ti.
(In closing, you decide if you are a mature or an immature women. Remember that the changes are inside of you.)

Una Mujer Madura
(A Mature Woman)

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Another year already

Aug. 18th, 2008 | 12:42 am
mood: pessimistic pessimistic

It's been a loooong time since I've updated, even for me.

It's not that I haven't had anything to write about, mostly that I just haven't had the patience to try and put it into words.

But tonight, for some reason, I'm in one of those pensive moods where I just feel the need to let my thoughts out.

Mostly, I feel incredibly overwhelmed from being back at school, and it's starting to give me a generally bad vibe. And I don't know what I can do to change it, but I think I definitely have to do something.

I'm really not ready to go back to school, I think that's most of the problem. Every time I walk around campus, all I can think about are bad memories and long days and even longer nights, and constant stress, and my relationship issues, and all my old insecurities. That, plus the knowledge that this year is going to be even busier and more stressful than last year is causing me to feel really pessimistic about the semester. I think that's a very bad sign, and a very bad mentality for the beginning of the year. This is supposed to be a fresh start, right? I don't know. It just doesn't feel that way.

The thing is, I know it's not the school's fault or anything. It's been my own fault entirely, because I think I've done a very poor job of balancing my intense workload and expectations for myself with my social life, and it just hit a point where I couldn't take it all anymore. It really isn't like I'm unhappy here or anything; overall, I would say that I am much happier here than I am anywhere else. But I do need to recognize that I simply can't do everything.

I know, however, that I am going to make some changes this year to try and make it better. I already have a list of goals for the year and everything. And maybe it will turn out to be a good semester after all.

I certainly hope so.

Here's to a new beginning!

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Postcards

Jul. 11th, 2008 | 11:03 am

Hello, everyone. I am leaving for Panama on Sunday. Does anyone want me to send a postcard? If so, please e-mail me your address at margarit@email.unc.edu

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(no subject)

Jun. 20th, 2008 | 11:07 pm
mood: crushed crushed

Tonight was a wake-up call for me, to say the least.

I had a serious talk with my parents, and I guess I've finally been confronted with the truth that I'm not going to get into medical school.

It's ironic that I'm the most indecisive person in the world, but the one thing I have always been absolutely certain of is the one thing I'm never going to get.

I hate that adults always tell you when you're little that you can be anything you want to be, when they must know that that's complete bullshit. Because I have never worked this hard for anything in my life, and it's still just not good enough.

My dad told me that he believes sometimes God has plans for you that you just can't help, that it's not all about good old-fashioned hard work. And he says that sometimes you have to be able to accept things you don't want.

I just don't think anyone else really has any idea just how much I want this.

Shit, what a terrible feeling.

I don't know what I'm going to do. I guess I'll have to consider changing my major now.

I just don't know, and I wish I could stop thinking about it, but I really really really don't know what to do.

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The Real World

May. 15th, 2008 | 10:00 pm
mood: pensive pensive

I have finally

finally

FINALLY

FINALLY


found a job.

Freaking FINALLY. After weeks of driving around and filling out those damn applications and interviews and "We'll-Call-You"s and constant rejection, I am FINALLY employed. I never thought it would be so damn difficult just to find a shitty minimum wage summer job.

In any case, the headaches are finally over, and I am going to waitress at the Omega in Warrenville. My training starts tomorrow already.

It's funny, because the second I told my parents I wanted to waitress, their immediate reaction was to try and think of people they knew who had waitressed before so I could call and ask for help. At first, I scoffed them, because the first step should be APPLYING to the restaurant itself, not calling other people. Besides, I'm the type of person who really hates asking other people for help, because I have an independent streak that can be a little crazy sometimes.

Very soon, however, after driving around and filling out what seems like a thousand applications, I learned that my parents were very very right. I could fill out papers until my arms fell off, I could drive to the ends of the earth and talk to every damn restaurant owner in the world, but no one will give a rat's ass about me unless I've got connections. And my parents know that very well. I should really listen to them more, of course they know how the world works, because not only have they lived in it a lot longer than I have, but my dad also worked his way up from a starving child living in shelters and railway cars during WWII to becoming a moderately successful attorney. Obviously, he knows how to go places.

So I called Diva, my dad's-intern's-wife (some obscure relation like that), and she told me to apply to the Red Lobster where she had worked, and she offered to call them for me and give them my name. I went in, filled out the application, and the manager asked me to come back tomorrow. Bam. Now I was getting somewhere. It still didn't change the fact that I have absolutely no experience, but one phone call changed everything. One single damn phone call. Incredible.

I went in the next day, filled out more papers, and very nearly got hired, until the manager saw that I was leaving at the end of the summer to go back to school, and said he couldn't hire me because they were looking for people who could stay long-term.

Sooooo I was back to square one. I made more pointless phone calls, filled out more pointless applications, went to more pointless interviews, and heard more of those goddamn "We'll-call-you"s.

And THEN, it turns out, one of my mom's clients owns the Omega in Warrenville, so my mom finally convinced him to give it a shot. He says he will train me for a week, and he won't pay me, but if he likes me I can stay. Thank. The. Lord. And all because my mom knew somebody. That's how I got my foot in the door.

The point of this whole story is that I guess I learned something about people and the ever-approaching Real World. Filling out an application is not NEARLY enough. It really is all about who you know. It's about establishing networks and connections and pushing and fighting and nagging and making phone calls until you get your way. It's completely exhausting, but that's how it's gotta be done. It makes me a little sad, I guess, that people are so self-serving and exclusive. But I guess there's not that much I can do about it, and I guess I'm just going to have to get used to it. That's why my dad made it so far, even though he didn't know English when he first came to the U.S. That's why, as much as it pains me to say it, I think Hillary Clinton is inevitably going to win the Democratic primary, because SHE is one woman who knows how to get her way (in the words of Tina Fey, "bitches get stuff done"). And that's why I was finallyyyyyyyyyyyyy hired, after all this damn work.

And all for a stupid summer job. I don't even want to think about finding a permanent job when I'm older...

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I don't usually buy into horoscopes, but goddamn, this is just eerie...

Apr. 10th, 2008 | 12:18 am
mood: shocked shocked

Friday, 11 April, 2008
Taurus (20 Apr - 20 May)

You aren't sure about sharing your feelings today, for you don't want to risk the stability you have created. But withholding crucial information can leave you vulnerable because you must focus a portion of your mindshare on monitoring everything you say. Make a conscious effort to discuss your fears or your unexpressed emotions will give you away anyhow.

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"The purpose of life is a life of purpose." ~Robert Byrne

Apr. 2nd, 2008 | 11:33 pm

I realized today that I'm not ready for anything in my life.

I'm not ready for finals. I'm not ready to be a junior in college (!!!). I'm not ready for the race on Saturday. I'm not ready for all the tests and papers coming up. And I'm definitely not ready to deal with my own emotions.

I realize that sounds very vague, but I'm just caught up in a general feeling that the world is moving by way too quickly, and I'm being left behind because I'm just stuck worrying about the little things each day.

The only thing I really feel ready for is summer, and that's just because I really want some time to BREATHE and think about things and make some decisions and get my life back on track.

Strange, huh?

It's really weird. Sometimes I feel like I want to just move on and leave college behind, but of course that's not true at all, because I have so much fun here. But I want to see the world. I want to meet new people.

I think it's because I tend to treat life as a "collection." I have this obsession with collecting things, which is something I've never really understood about myself. I collect postcards, I collect socks, I collect coins, I collect programs and "Got Milk?" ads and movies. So to me, life is just a big list of things I need to attain. I feel like I want to collect friends and places I've visited and things I've done. Maybe that's why I have my list of life goals. For that matter, maybe that's why I make so many lists.

LIFE IS ALL JUST ONE BIG TO-DO LIST FOR ME.

Isn't that terrible?

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(no subject)

Mar. 24th, 2008 | 08:37 pm

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Self-Analysis

Mar. 23rd, 2008 | 01:16 am

I've realized that one of my biggest character flaws is that I am a complete attention whore. I think that's partially why I've always had such a loud voice, and why I always tell people the same stories over and over. It's because I always want people to pay attention to me. I've always been that way, which is surprising, because I figured it was something people grow out of. Maybe it's a middle-child-syndrome thing. In any case, I think it's a habit I need to get myself out of, because it's sort of selfish and annoying.

That's why I'm going to try and work on listening to other people better, instead of constantly talking about myself.

The inevitable exception is this journal, because, well, it's my journal. It's supposed to be about me.

So I'll start with a synopsis of my oh-so-exciting life right now.

Last week was spring break, which was a much-needed vacation from schoolwork and everything. I went home, and I spent several days in downtown Chicago with my friend Thomas from school, which turned out to be a lot of fun.

At one point, Thomas and I went to the restaurant at the top of the John Hancock building. Let me just say that THAT was quite an experience.

Our first hint should have been when we called to make a reservation, and they said that the dress attire was "business casual." We had just been walking around the city, so we were only wearing jeans, but the person on the phone said it would be all right.

When we got there, they barely let us in the building, then told us to wait in the corner while they seated other guests first. When we finally were seated, it was at a small table shoved in the corner. We looked at the menu, and I thought my eyes had popped out of my head. There was a dish for SEVENTY DOLLARS. The others all cost at least $25.00

SEVENTY DOLLARS!!!!!!!!!! For one dish!!!!!!!

Needless to say, I just got the soup (thankfully, I had already eaten), though the waiter was very annoyed that I just ordered soup, and it cost EIGHT DOLLARS anyway.

The waiter took forever to get our food, and let me just say that it was NOT worth eight dollars. And meanwhile, the workers were all looking at us angrily. Thomas got a phone call, but his reception was very poor (after all, we were on the ninety-sixth floor), so he asked the host if he could use their phone; the host glanced him over and gave a very rude, "No."

The point of this story is that I have never ever been physically uncomfortable like that when I went to a restaurant. I always thought that restaurants were supposed to treat their customers really well, but I guess they assumed from the way we were dressed that we didn't have a lot of money... which, I guess, is true.

Still, though, the entire time I just wanted to leave, because I felt like I was constantly being judged, and my every move was being watched. It was really horrible.

So, friends, if I ever become that snobby, I beg you to please slap me in the face. Multiple times. Because I would definitely deserve it.

In other news, Jen and Joe have come to visit me here at school, and it's been a lot of fun, at least for me. It always amazes me how NORMAL being around them makes me feel, like I'm a relaxed human being with no worries about being judged or anything, and that's something I really really miss. A lot of times I feel like I care too much about other people's opinions of me, and it always just stresses me out, so it's nice to feel like I can just do or say whatever I want.

Other than that, my life really has been quite boring. Mostly, I'm just struggling day-by-day to get through everything, but there's only like a month left of school, and then it will be summer, and everything will be OKAY. I really need summer right now, my brain feels like it will explode if I have to do another fucking Chemistry lab report.

One month left, though. I can do that.

And then everything will be OKAY.

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