Inhale, Exhale

derpderpmotherfuckers:

psychjournalism:

Common Characteristics of Natural Born, Freelance, or Career Writers

• An “odd ball” childhood.

Writers tend to start off as peculiar kids. They never quite fit in with their classmates. Their abstract thinking begins early on, and it causes them to struggle to relate to other children and elementary interests. Future writers commonly start off as either lonesome or socially inept kids.

• They were handed books as toys.

Naturally gifted writers are almost always reading enthusiasts. They have a further developed vocabulary and stronger syntax abilities because their scholastic experience goes beyond traditional curriculum. 

• They believe in the “All or nothing” policy. 

Writers are often perfectionists that will edit until their eyes bleed or completely scratch an idea off the table. They tend to carry that trait into their other projects as well. The writer will either create something complete or nothing at all.

• They take pride in their work.

Even if they need help, writers like doing their work 100% themselves without contribution. This is seen often in college, when the self-proclaimed writers don’t show up to office hours or ask for tutoring. Writers tend to treat even essays as a personal work of art. It’s their work, and it matters that it’s only theirs.

• They are equally organized and disorganized.

A writer’s mind works in choreographed chaos. With too much chaos comes no productivity. With too much organization comes no passion. The writer has learned how to have the perfect combination of both.

• They have both an ego and self-doubt.

-Enough ego to invest in one’s own thoughts, enough doubt to revise and rethink continuously. 

• They enjoy simplicity.

Hot coffee, music, and a sunrise could make their morning flawless.

• They are observant. 

Writers tend to learn about things from as many angles as they can. They’ll see the same sign for ten years and connect ten-thousand other separate things to the sign in that amount of time. They take in what they can and make a mental map of how things co-exist. 

• They  recognize the importance of memories.

Writers learn how to utilize past moments as criteria for their work. A writer will not forget their first love, or heartache. 

The best writers I know are like this.

Hmm.

(Source: optimismforjournalism, via finallychelsea)

An explanation on why I had to leave the communication major.

Plenty of people come into college undeclared and by the beginning of their second year, they have an idea of what major to pursue but unfortunately, I am the opposite. I started my freshmen year of college as a communication major (note communication NOT communicationS) but now as a second year, I find myself lost, seeking to major in something else.

What went wrong? I laid down a path for myself and tried to stick to it but then I fell off. A jack of all trades rather than a master of one, I found myself interested in any other major. Sociology? Economics? This communication major I was getting myself into lost it’s appeal. Let me give you a quick run down on why. But first, an explanation as to why I point out that I was a communication major not a communicationS major.

Tim Larson at the University of Utah defines the terms in the following way:

• Communication — The communicating of information. The exchange of information between individuals, for example, by means of speaking, writing, or using a common system of signs or behavior.
• Communications — The technology and systems used for sending and receiving messages, for example, postal, telephone, radio, TV and the Internet. The tactics used to execute a marcom (marketing communication) strategy, for example, advertising, PR, sales promotion, events…

So here, communicationS is related to media and such and such whereas communication is theory based. I would sit in class and learn about theories and would be tested on if I applied this theory to this situation, what would this person say next? What if I applied a different theory? How would the person behave differently?

I hated it. Yes, it sure as hell let me become a better communicator thanks to my newly acquired knowledge about why people react they way they do in social situations. But after needing to memorize theories about social this and social that and then learning about the stages of relationships and how they come together and fall apart (imagine having to be lectured on this right after a tough breakup. Not fun at all, I can tell you that) or having to write six page essays analyzing if this 30 second ad was effective and using communication terms, why; I was over it. I couldn’t do it anymore.

Besides the fact that I could not handle the communication major not being what I thought it was, I couldn’t handle going online and constantly seeing “Communication(s) Major is one of the most useless majors. Ever.” Oh. Okay. That’s cool too I guess. I was optimistic and told myself that it’s not so much about the major but rather the skills I would acquire from studying such a topic — well to be fair, I still tell myself this. I told myself that because I was interested in so many career paths, a broad major like a communication major would allow me to open many doors versus a career specific major like journalism (not that there’s anything wrong with the journalism major, I’m just too interested in other fields as well).

I don’t know what I’m doing with my life. I’m scared to fail, I’m scared of picking something wrong. I am fed up with constantly being pelted with arguments that a degree in communication(s) would be a complete waste, with being insulted and getting told that the comm major isn’t a real major. “It’s just that major that all the sorority girls and athletes do because it’s so easy and broad.” I am done with people silently judging me for my major and having no respect for my education.

I am weak. Not only did the comm major start to feel impossible with it’s difficult courses and high GPA requirement with little room for error, my heart was no longer in it. The classes were interesting and the communication department had me sold with their promises of bright futures for hard workers, but I hated that I started to doubt my major, my education, my future. 

I was jealous of my friends that seemed to have it made. Biology, chemistry, engineering, political science, philosophy, economics, whatever. They all had their hearts set and I would always meekly admit that I was “just a comm major.” Do not get me wrong though. I have so much respect for communication(s) majors and what they endure. It’s a wonderful degree but it’s not for me. If I wasn’t so all over the place with my career interests and truly loved the comm major as my other peers, I would fuck what anyone else said and stick to it. But I don’t love the major the way it should be loved and I can’t exert the necessary amount of energy and effort it takes to cross the finish line. It’s not fair to the comm department.

It’s almost as though I’m breaking up with the major. “I can’t do this anymore,” I explain as I scroll down the long list of majors offered at my school. Is it too soon? “Ooh, you look doable,” I squeal to myself as I realize I’m already halfway there with the sociology major. “Ugh, maybe in my dreams, ” I groan while sighing at the requirements to chase after an economics/accounting major. I no longer saw a future with the communication major.

I’m sorry but it’s not you. It’s me.

Why I’m still hung up on you.

When we met, we were both drunk. My friends thought you were cute and told me to go for you and I did. You took my number and I didn’t hear from you again until a week later when I confessed to our mutual friend that I wouldn’t mind it if we were involved. 

Before I knew it, we were texting back and forth and soon, I learned that you were absolutely terrible at texting. You would take a day to reply and honestly I only replied because you didn’t send shitty empty “lol” texts. 

We became some sort of undefinable buddies over the months but it was a strange cycle. We would forget about each other for a few weeks and then run into each other and the whole affair would start all over again. Although we (can I really even consider us a “we”?) never really worked out, I still find myself hung up over you. I usually would just let you go and you would just be a passing figure in my life but somehow, you wittled your way into carving a tiny tiny itty bitty nook in my heart. 

It happened twice that things didn’t work out and honestly if you were any other person I would just move onto the next but you just somehow got a grip on me… 

It’s because we actually talked about stupid nothings but were actually somethings and because we laughed too easily and you felt too good to be true. You made me blush and giggle and I wish we still talked but I’m just glad we said good bye on a good note. Even though I wish we didn’t have say goodbye in the first place.

And that’s why I’m still hung up on you. Because even without the physical aspects, you got a hold on me and I’m almost embarrassed to say that I have a soft spot for you.

Sprinting down memory lane.

“You got taller, ” he observed. “Or maybe I just shrunk.”

Tonight, I had dinner with an old flame. My first serious flame.. or to be even more exact, my first love. “Your hair is a lot longer, ” he continued. When we were together, about 3 and a half years ago, my hair was barely past my shoulders. At this current moment, my hair went down my back and ended right at my tail bone. He looked the same to me. Hipster glasses, solid built, warm smile. And of course, he wore a dress shirt. A tight one. He really hadn’t changed.

“How have you been?” he asked. A simple, open ended question that is usually shut down by a response of “good.” But we did not meet up just to have shallow conversations about our lives the past few years and pretend as if we were just so much better off without each other. There was no bitterness between us, no resentment, just two ex lovers sincerely wanting to catch up. So I tell him that I’ve been good, really shitty at times but overall, decent. He nods his head. He says he’s the same. 

Conversation came easily to us. We had been, after all, close friends above anything else. We talked about the troubles we had, the ups and the downs we had, the relationships we had. We talked about how we grew from our relationship, what we learned, what we wish had been different. I apologized for leaving so abruptly that night in April, it’s what I thought was best for us, I needed to grow up, he needed to be his own person because no matter what he told me otherwise, he needed to go out there and experience life without me holding him back. I apologized for not offering any real explanation. He told me it was okay, he understood that now and he thanked me. 

It was kind of perfect. Perfect how quickly we got comfortable with sharing personal bits and pieces of our lives to each other. Bit and pieces you wouldn’t tell a stranger because that wasn’t us. We were not strangers and that feeling alone just felt nice. We were mature enough discuss our relationship and even share some laughs. He still owes me a trip to Japan, and I still owe him his car keys. He tells me that my namesake teddy bear I gifted him however long ago was still out to play. “It makes a good pillow,” he says with a slight smile. He looks at me, I mean really looks at me, shrugs and goes on to shyly admit, “it’s almost like a security blanket to me.” How grateful I am to have someone who allows me hold onto a piece of him in the sweetest, most innocent sense.

We kept asking each other if it was really that long ago that we had been together. Or rather, that short ago. We weren’t sure. It feels like a lifetime ago. We had become different people but he still held onto traits that I remember. He’s still very cheesy, thoughtful, smart, an overall nice guy and most importantly, someone I am proud to have dated. 

Thank you for always being wonderful, Ryan. I mean it. You have taught me so much and I am proud of all you have become. I wish you the best and I better hear all about your life from time to time! Please, don’t be a stranger.

"Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilightseries.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes."

Rosemary Urquico

(Source: blitzkreigkate)

oh-tina:

April 30, 1975 – The Fall of Saigon

This marks the day when South Vietnam was finally conquered by North Vietnam. Saigon was renamed to the uglier name of Ho Chi Minh City. The beautiful yellow flag with three red stripes changed to the unattractive red flag with a long yellow star. But even uglier and scarier was the fact that communism won in Vietnam. 

Something ironic I want to point out.. In France during 1919-23, a Vietnamese man by the name Nguyễn Tất Thành attended Versailles peace talks to reason with the Western powers to recognize civil rights for Vietnam, a country that was under the control of France at the time. He was ignored. Thanh then pleaded for help from the US president Woodrow Wilson, asking Wilson to help free Vietnam from France to establish it’s own nationalist government. Wilson said no. Nguyễn Tất Thành then went on to become Hồ Chí Minh. 

Well, damn.

I remember this day because every year, my dad always looked a little sad every April 30th. He would always look at me with his war torn eyes and remind me that this day was a terrible day for not only him, a soldier, but for Southern Vietnam and even the US as well. But he holds his head high, his tired but always warm face wrinkled from years of enduring war, struggle, loss and everything in between. With him, he carries pride in being Vietnamese. In his heart as well as mine, the flag will always be yellow with three red stripes and Saigon will always be Saigon. 

Joseph Kony.

What a hot, hot topic that gained footing fast and made its way to a good chunk of the population in a matter of mere hours. 

The facts are there, and this isn’t the first time the world has heard about him. Kony has been at this for a few years now but his name only recently picked up wind because of a 30 minute video that started to circulate. Suddenly it feels that everyone on the internet knows exactly who he is and the horrors he is responsible for and wow, are people appalled or what. An innumerable amount of people have spread the video, the facts, the name, the information on how to help, all of it. Already, I’ve been invited to three separate events involving buying a set of 25 posters for $5 to post everywhere and anywhere to spread awareness. Already, there are people who are questioning the whole thing and questioning the organization fueling the burst of publicity — Invisible Children. Since they are a not-for-profit organization, their finances are public. It seems that not all of the proceeds go on to help fund the cause and are just used to “send rich kids who want to help to Africa” and to fund the salaries of their staff and to produce of their 11 movie productions. Already, a slew people are counter-arguing the movement, saying that just like all the other major events, this one will die down in a few weeks and the name Joseph Kony will be forgotten just as Haiti and Japan had faded into the background. Already, ignorant people have criticized the sudden uproar of promotion, saying: “Signing an online pledge does not help at all” “If you think reposting the video actually does anything, you’re stupid” just to name a few of the opinions thrown around. Already, there are articles informing us that the US government has already been on the hunt for Kony and that we all need to chill.

Buying an KONY 2010 Action Kit to raise awareness is great and all, but the money seriously might just go into the airfare of a kid who volunteers to go shoot another movie for Invisible Children. There really is not other alternative to help out other than spreading awareness or unless you decide to join the hunt for Kony in Africa… But the publicity is good, spreading awareness is absolutely wonderful, the more you know, the more you can understand. 

The images I posted above were taken from my tumblr dashboard. The first one speaks for itself, they are the facts about Kony. It’s enough to inflict emotions of pity, pain and sadness for the children and rage at this Kony guy. The second image… yes, support the international effort to capture the horrid man and to disarm his army of children.. But to bring the child soldiers back home? If those other facts are true.. what home do they even have to come home to? Do they even remember their home? That’s the sad reality: that because of Kony, their family might have be killed and they have no where to be “brought home” to. The third image (and no, I did not reblog and write that, the image is a screenshot someone took of their post), is an ignorant girl. It’s a shame how a human being can have no compassion and carry no care about anyone else but herself. I really don’t have any words other than that it’s a damn shame this girl is so uneducated, selfish and a, for lack of a better word, stupid person for thinking the children even had a fighting chance to escape their current and forced lifestyle. I do not want to waste any more words talking about her…

What I was trying to get at, is that this movement is for a valid and very real cause. Continue to spread his name like wildfire and make his inhumane actions known so that everyone can know the tragedy going on half way around the world. The point is that we all band together for one cause and so it is very frustrating when people allude to the possibility that in one week, Joseph Kony and his inexcusable actions will all be forgotten. Because it won’t be forgotten. At least one person will still remember. I know I will. Stop with the negativity, get off your high horse and focus on what we can do NOW as a whole to prevent this one man from devastating thousands of lives of our fellow human beings.

P.S. More facts: Visible Children

What I want my blog to be…

• Reviews of food, movies, books, products, etc.
• Personal encounters with the world that grind my gears
• Commentary upon current events
• Deep philosophical ponderings about the meaning of life (loljk) (kind of)
• Memoirs of a college girl
•  
•   

We’ll just see! I’ve been meaning to start up this blog for a while, and my friend Binh gave me the final push to get this started. My URL is tentative… I mean, “princessofghetto” isn’t going to fly when I’m trying to be semi professional. I just could NOT find a URL that wasn’t already taken. Thanks for stopping by!