29 January 2010


I'm beginning to, gradually, identify as asexual. Ace. Asexy. Panromantic Gray-A Sexual, to be exact.  I've been spending a lot of time on AVEN - the Asexuality Visibility and Education Network; they have message boards, an FAQ, a Wiki, and Asexual Perspectives, all of which I've found to be very helpful and supportive as I explore this new part of my identity.

Gray-A refers to anyone who falls between sexual and asexual on the spectrum.  The reason I choose to identify as Gray-A instead of asexual is because I don't exactly fit AVEN's definition of asexuality. AVEN defines an asexual as "someone who does not experience sexual attraction".  I do experience sexual attraction, but not sexual desire; I don't enjoy having sex, I don't feel comfortable having sex, and I don't miss it when I'm not sexually active. I can satisfy my sexual urges and desires by myself better than with others, meaning I am also autosexual.  Naturally, I am also fluid and still questioning. However, the way I experience and see sexuality and sex is vastly different than the way most sexual individuals see it, and thus I feel like the asexual identity is very important to me.

I've had a fairly easy time embracing this identity. It's been something I've questioned for a long time, and it feels great to finally understand such a big part of myself. The idea of possibly never having sex again may seem scary (it does even to me when I think about it), but, to an asexual like myself, it feels normal. I've come out to a few of my closest friends, and I'm beginning to feel asexual pride. I've questioned my (a)sexuality for years, though, because AVEN's definition didn't fit me, I never identified this way. I gradually began identifying as asexual starting a few months ago, though never truly embraced it or felt comfortable sharing it with others until once again researching asexuality and all its dimensions about a week ago.

That's not to say it's been all cake. I've recently hit a roadblock in my identity, and all my concerns are rushing onto me at once. (1) I'm terrified of the romantic implications of this identity. A relationship without sex can be difficult. I am willing to try sex and experiment, but sex for me will never be as easy as it should be. Also, it might be that, even when I am close and do love someone, I still won't be comfortable having sex. (2) I still need intimacy. I still want hook-ups.  There are many things besides sex(ual activities) that I enjoy, such as making out. There are also many kinks and fetishes I want to explore in a non-sexual manner. However, it may be difficult to find anyone interested in intimacy and kink without sex. (3) The reactions I've gotten upon coming out have been mixed. Although all my friends said they support me, they also expressed concern. Some said that they were worried for me. Most told me that I just hadn't had good sex, and encouraged me to continue trying. A very close friend of mine even said that, while you're born gay, you become asexual. (4) I am still interested in having sex, mostly because of curiosity, but also because I do want to give sexual relations with someone I care for and love another shot. Also, my identity is fluid, and sometimes, I may be interested in sex.  I feel torn between really wanting to come out and embrace the person that I am, and the possibility that this identity will close doors and discourage others from sexually and romantically pursuing me.

Anyone who reads my blog is a very close friend of mine and a very special person to me. Right now, I could use all the support and advise I could get, and I thank you all for being in my life as I come out of the closet, again.

21 January 2010

What's in a name?, Part II

Part I was my story. These are just some scattered thoughts.

In lit a few days ago, we were doing presentations, introducing ourselves and presenting something that's contemporary to us. There was a girl who did a beautiful, passionate presentation, blowing us all off our seats. At the end, the professor asked, "So, what's your name?", for she'd forgotten to mention it. "Oh, Sophia," she answered, "Names don't matter. There's a guy from home, he works in a record store, we have so many great conversations about life - I don't know his name. I just don't pay attention to such meaningless little things."

I've been thinking about names a lot lately. Your name isn't who you are. Your name doesn't define you. Your name, truly, is just an convenience. Yet, for some reason, we see it as a measure of knowing someone, of closeness. Is it really? Names are arbitrary.
"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet."
Romeo and Juliet (II, ii, 1-2)
Isn't all language arbitrary? By definition, language is a set of arbitrary symbols and sounds, only our knowledge lends them meaning.

But names are different. I'm a person. I'm a student. I'm an American. I'm so many things, yet I am my name. There's no actual or implied connection between myself and any other Ксения in the world, like there is between one rose and the next. Then why, why do these arbitrary sounds matter?

What if a name does matter? I ended my previous blog on this topic by mentioning something I saw on the news once: a woman who would help parents name their children based on the personality traits they wanted them to have. You want your kid to be friendly? Optimistic? Intelligent? Well, you should definitely name him Ryan!  Have you ever noticed any similarities between all or most people of a certain name? Junior year, my best friend and I determined that every guy named Kyle was gay (Kyle, I hope you're reading this and laughing).

I've been thinking about chosen names. A chosen name serves the same purpose as a given name, a convenient title with which to address someone, to call them out of a crowd. Yet, something seems to be missing - or is there something more to it? Without the experience of growing into it, of carrying it from birth, is a chosen name as "real" as a given name, or is it more real, more a part of oneself than a given name could ever be?

Of course, there are those that change their name for no apparent reason. Then, there are certain communities, certain groups of people, where all names are chosen names, not given names. What is a name in such a culture? I'm thinking about Asian-American immigrants, trans folk, and Deaf culture.

The latter I find especially intriguing. We watched a film in my linguistics class last semester about ASL and American Deaf culture. Deaf individuals discussed selecting names upon entering schools for the deaf. Their name signs weren't arbitrary, but represented something about them, such as the way their hips swayed. Now that, to me, seems like a real name.

I'm thinking about spelling. How you spell your name is a huge part of it, and many people put a lot of thought into how they spell their chosen name. I've been thinking about the first letter of a name, and how fond people grow of it. When I decided to choose a new name for college, a friend said "Why don't you just choose something random? Like, Chloe or something." I couldn't. What mattered to me more than anything else was that the first letter of my name - "K" - remained the same; and not just the "k" sound, but the letter - "K".  I'm not the only one, and I've seen this first letter phenomenon again and again and again.

I've also been thinking about a different type of chosen name, nicknames within a certain group of people: camp names, online personas, drag names, etc. These names are still real, but in such a different way. I'm not a different person when I'm Cream - really, I'm not - but yet I have a different name.

Why names? Why do we love them, hate them, think about them, learn them when we meet someone? Why do we gasp them during sex? I am more than my name. I am more without my name.

13 January 2010


What has been the most influential year in your life?
Although 2009 is definitely up there (probably second), 2006 gets the prize. Interestingly, there are a lot of parallels between 2006 and 2009, mostly the fact that I moved over the summer.
This is a post I wrote for my MySpace blog to celebrate 2007.
And here's the first picture I took in 2007, barely after midnight on January 1.

Whether you read this or not (it's mostly a bunch of inside jokes you won't actually understand), tell me, 
What was the most influential year of your life, and why?

As the year comes to an end, I sit back and remember everything that had happened.  So much has changed, so much will never be thesame, so much is over.  And yet everything moves us forward, every laugh, every smile, every tear, every frown.  It is with tears in my eyes that I remember everything that has happened, but with hope in my heart.  As we move forward, remember the years that passed.  Remember how they beat you down, broke you appart, shattered you to pieces.  Remember how they picked you up, put you back together, mended you, and threw you out to love once again.  Each year, we change.  Each year we shift, life shifts.  Each year makes.  Never forget the years of your past, even as you move through the years of the future.

2006 changed me a lot.  There is a lot I will never forget about this year, and here it all is.
I remember hanging out "at that one place at the bench" "What place?" "You know, the one where we usually eat" "Ohh, you mean that one place at the bench under the tree?" "What place?" "You know, the one where we usually eat." "Ohh, you mean that one place at the bench under the tree by the locker cages?" "What place?" "You know, the one where we usually eat" "Ohh, you mean thato ne place at the bench under the tree by the locker cages between thet Foreign Language and Math departements?" ... etc.   ... ... ... Yup, that one place at the bench under the tree by the locker cages between teh Foreign language and Math departements and by the library where the special ed kids stalked us and there was that puddle over there behind which  there was that bench where those girls who all had thesame color and length except that one girl with brown hair and sometimes Madame walks by and we all shrivel up in fear.  lol I remember when we were jumping on that bench until it nearly broke.  I remember all the great times we had there, times that will stay in my heart forever.  I will never forget that bench, and I hope everyone who sat with me there will never forget me.
I remember the classes I had.  I remember first period, with the two Jennifers and Shadini ^^  I remember suffering through running, and everything else we did.  And yet, we had so much fun together!  Second period science.  Soooo many friends in that class!  We had so much fun!  Especially with Mrs. Motoyama!  Third period orchestra.  I loved cutting the last little bit of that class with Kim ^^ :-P.  Fourth period Math.  Our class was so split, boys on one side, girls on the other :-P!  Fifth period English.  Our class was the best!  Sixth: French.  It was soooo boring, but luckily I had Kim there to help me feel better.  Especially when me made fun of Saade’s cleavage :-P.  7th: World History!  That was an awesome class, Mr. Rapaport was awesome!  I loved making the video, my first WMM experience.  If it wasn’t for it, I wouldn’t be as much of a dork now :-P.
I remember when we got tired of sitting at the bench and decided to move.  Emma, Sylvia, Seung-Yeon, and I went looking for a new place to sit, but we couldn’t decide where.  Finally, Emma said, “Let’s just sit here, my backpack is heavy.”  Thanks to Emma’s backpack, we ended up sitting right outside the English department.  Soooo many inside jokes came out of that!  The dogs: Snuffy, Scummy, Fluffball, Hairball, Sniffy, Flubby, Nairball and the rest of them.  The sexxi names!  They make us orgasm!  Pedagogue!!! It’s a prehistoric animal!  All the times we had by there were amazing, I will never forget them.
I remember this one time we decided to go get coffee when we didn’t have advisory.  EV(sorry I don’t know how to spell her name), Maytal(I spelled this wrong too) and other people (I think maybe Rosemary and maybe Cee-Sing) went.  EV didn’t want a coffee, so she got a hot cocoa.  About a month later, when we didn’t have advisory again, she came up to us and said, “I want a coffee”.  LOL mood-swings? :-P
I remember MadLibs.  Haha that was out best one.  Good times.
Valentine’s Day.  Ian gave me a rose, chocolates, and a card.  That was the first year ever I had a Valentine. I will have other great Valentine’s Days, but none will compare to the one in ’06.
March Second, I think.  The day I got my first boyfriend.  I was so nervous at first, so scared about what would be, what would come, what this would be like.  I learned so much from Ian, everything a first relationship should teach.  No matter what, there’ll always be space in my heart for you.
I remember hanging out after school.  With Miriam, Brandy, Phillip, Jennifer, the many Ians, Dan, and a lot of other people.  I remember when we found that stack of Living Skills papers and I gave them everyone the most appropriate one.  I remember when I accused Dan of having Lesbian porn on his iPod.  Those days were so fun, I will miss them forever.
I remember Annie’s house.  We painted Easter eggs.  Andrew ate a lot.  We had soooo much fun.  Just another day I’ll never forget.
DisneyLand.  I had so much fun.  I remember before we left, that was the longest French class of my life.  Charlie would agree.  I remember the bus ride.  I remember UCLA.  I was hanging out with Anne ^^  It was awesome.  I remember hanging out in Anne’s, Vrinda’s, Grace’s, and Mira’s room.  I remember DisneyLand itself.  The band people ditched me T.T  I had so much fun going behind the scenes, seeing the hidden Mickeys, and finally performing, though no one was really listening.  I remember after dinner when there were about 14 of us, holding onto each other, and going choo-choo style through the crowds.  The fireworks.  Wishing that moment would never end.  Tinkerbell.  When you wish upon a star… I wish this had never come to an end.
The school year ended.  I said goodbye to Paly forever.  It was the most amazing year of my life, the most important year for me.  It will be in my heart, forever.
That day felt so long!  By the end, I looked back, and was shocked to think that it was still the same day I had so enjoyed at school.  We went to a partay.  It was so awesome.  The LIGHT SHOWS that I will never forget.  That is, until the dad of the host got mad because too many people were drinking beer on the streets.  And crashing.  Ohh, boy, were they crashing.  College kids too.  I guess that’s what you’d expect from the Bay Area mountain (more like hill lol) community.  Emma, Rachel, Cody, and I went to Ian’s house.  We watched Batman Begins until 4AM.  Then, Ian’s mom offered that we stay over night.  I called my mom and she freaked out lmao.  That was a fun day.
Summer was fun.  Walking through downtown.  And again.  And again.  Palo Alto was an awesome city because it had that small-city downtown feel, unlike here, where the only downtown is the Denver downtown.  Every time I went to downtown in PA,CA, I was guaranteed to see someone I know on accident.  What a great atmosphere!
I remember going down to SoCal with my family.  It was awesome!  We had fun.  I looked at it as saying goodbye to the west coast.  I will miss it forever.
We moved.  The best part was Death Valley.  It was sooo hott there!  But the stars were beautiful.  And I saw quiet a lot of shooting stars ^^ :).  It was awesome!  And I was a scorpion.  I’ve never seen a scorpion before then, so it was special.  And it was amazing staying in the middle of nowhere!  Someday, when we’re in college, we will take a road trip through there with my friends.  XD
First day of 10th grade.  Creek was kind of a nightmare.  From the start, I felt like I didn’t belong.  The Coach bags, the jeans mini-skirts, the layered tops, everything made me feel so out of place.  4th period.  Orchestra.  I saw Basil and Sarah, some of my best friends from back in the 8th grade ^^.  It was awesome.  6th period: off.  I was so lucky to see Ian and Kaitlyn right at the start of the period.  Kaitlyn and I had lunch together.  It made me very happy.  We ate Tokyo Joe’s.  I ate it with chopsticks.  We ate it at a bench.  I remember every minute of it.
April is in my orchestra class.  I met her before, at Girl Scouts camp.  She introduced me to some awesome people.  Lisa quickly became one of my closest friends.  We’d spent every orchestra period after we got excused together.  And then she left me.  We still talk a little, but barely.  I miss her so much.  I’ve cried so much because of her.  Sariah.  We became homies.  She showed me Cry Wolf.  Then, she moved.  Left me alone.  So much can change within just a few months.
I remember the day Lisa introduced me to Will.  She led me up to the tree and was trying to explain the drama that was going on around that tree.  Then, we walked up to Will.  We were being horny.  Will said, “I know you.” Me: “I know you too” Will: “I thought you moved to California.” Me: “I came back”.  Quickly, we became friends again.
When I broke up with Ian, I didn’t have feelings for any other guy.  I needed to be single, I needed to be free.  The night I wrote the letter was one of the hardest nights of my life.  I cried, and cried, and cried more.  The next day was one of the best days of my life.  I flirted with every guy, I’m not kidding, EVERY guy, even guys I kinda simply thought were disgusting. 
When I first met Leah, I fell in love with her style, best style I have seen ever.  Each day she came with a new outfit, and she never failed to fascinate me.  Quickly, I saw other great things about her.  She became one of my best friends, and I am very glad I met her.
The basement of West.  So much partying!  Lol.  Spontaneous group humps.  Sitting on each other.  Very very horny badbad things.  Lol.  I remember our ‘rave party’ the most.  It was instead of the pep-rally, a bunch of ‘emo’ ‘scene’ ‘goth’ and ‘stoner’ people partying lol.  Some did the light show thing with the ribbons.  Other things too.  It was just awesome.  And the TECHNO! LOUD LOUD TECHNO THAT SHOOK THE WALLS!  It was soooo awesome.
The day Will hurt me.  It was all a misunderstanding and I took it too hard.  I proved to myself I was weak, that I gave my heart to him though I thought I didn’t.  It taught me a lot about myself, and, in a way, I am happy it happened.  On the other hand, we still can’t seem to get along, and it all started with that.  I hope it will change.  I still care for him a lot, even though now it’s just as a friend.
The hallway.  WE had fun, first there were just few of us, but more and more came.  Finally, they made us leave.
Kyle.  We started hanging out on the hallway.  We had some great days since then.  I remember when you walked around the entire school with me.  Or when we sat in that corner by the wall.  I remember the Hippie Circle.   I remember when we first went to the bridge.  The guys from the Hippie Circle said that there were girls there that didn’t like us near them lol.  That’s how I met Kelsey, and a bunch of other people.
Sarah.  I requested to be her friend on MySpace, mainly because I request anyone I’ve even seen around to be my friend.  Somhow, MySpace turned to real life, and she became one of my best friends.  She’s an amazing person and I’m very glad I met her.
Hannah and the 16th street mall.  Our best memory ^^.  We had fun.  GoodTimes.  Talking.  That homeless guy lol.  He told us his dog could jump off the roof and not get hurt.  And then he told us he was a drunk.  Lmao that was hilarious.
All these times have passed by, and I will miss them a lot.  For everything that’s changed, and everything that’s stayed the same.  For everything I’ve learned and everything I’ve forgotten.  This is a salute to the old year.  A salute to ’06.  With Love,
♥ SunnySenny <3<3.
Happy New Year.

11 January 2010

What's in a name?

I've never liked my name. I've never felt comfortable with it, never responded to it like I should.

If I was born a guy, I would be named "Sergei", the name of my grandpa, my uncle, my father, and now my cousin. I don't like that name, but, to tell you the truth, there are no Russian men's names that I like.

Instead, my mom debated naming me either "Ksenia" or "Alexandra". At the end, she settled on Ksenia, and my sister - born two and a half years later - got Alexandra.

Now, to understand my name, you gotta understand how Russian names work. There's the formal name "Ksenia" or "Alexandra", in this case; and the casual version, the nick-name for each name, used to refer to children and friends: Ksenia is "Ksyusha" and Alexandra is "Sasha".

So, for much of my childhood, I grew up, pretty pleased being "Ksyusha". Then, at the age of seven, I moved to the US, and went by "Ksyusha" here, too (I think I might have spelled it "Ksusha"). However, no one could pronounce my name, and, after a while, my mom and I decided that I would - from now on - go by "Ksenia". Now, no one could pronounce that either, but I didn't change it again.

I never felt like my name was a part of me. When someone would refer to me as "Ksenia", I would feel like a sudden distance formed between us, mostly caused by the fact that it was mispronounced. Whenever I said my own name, it made me cringe, because it's Russian pronounciation sounded so wrong within the context of the English language, and I could never intentionally mispronounce it, as my sister often does with our last name when people ask her what it is. What more, at home, the only time I was referred to as "Ksenia" was when my mother was angry at me, and I did enjoy being called "Ksyusha" at home.

What's worse, I envied my sister's name "Sasha". It was unique, yet simple, and easy to pronounce. And that name was almost - ALMOST - mine, while my name could have been hers. Would things have been different?

Summer 07 I became a CIT at Girl Scout camp, and I chose my camp name to be "Cream". The name comes from the character Cream the Rabbit from the video game Sonic the Hedgehog. A few of my friends from the internet had already been referring to me as Cream, so I quickly got used to it. Finally, I had a name I felt was my own, and began talking about myself in third person. "Cream" is still the name I am closest to.

Last summer, before starting college, I decided I needed a new name to go by in college. I quickly chose some variation of the name "K", because I had long ago decided it would fit me, simply because it's the fist letter of my first name, and a simple nickname. However, I didn't want to spell it "Kay", because I wanted to be unique, and went through a long list of possible names, trying to create a new one. At last, I settled on "Kae", a simple variation of the original using only letters from my given name. I'm starting to grow into it, and I'm enjoying being called "Kae" and reacting to it. However, I still feel distant from my name. At times, I would have great conversations with friends, and I would feel a sudden gap form when I they'd call me "Kae", especially over text or online talk, when I'd see it typed. I think it still takes getting used to, but I simply don't like the spelling, and I don't think there's a spelling of "K" that I like.

I feel like my whole life I'd lived so far away from my name, and I can't even imagine having one name that's me. Sometimes, I feel like I simply cannot have a name, that my identity transcends names. That's not necessarily a good thing, but just who I am and who I became throughout my life.

What's in a name, I wonder? Does your name affect the person that you are?
I saw on the news once about a woman who'd help parents choose their child's name based on the personality they wanted their kid to have.

05 January 2010


Third post of the day, but I promise it's the last, and I promise this is the last time I'll ever do this. After re-reading my old poetry, though, I'm eager to talk about my past.

From July 08 to May 09, drugs played a major role in my life. I had the right personality for drug culture: I was intelligent enough to do it right, curious enough to try new things, rebellious enough to enjoy associating with something deviant, lonely enough to long for a community, rich enough to afford it, and "deep" enough to use it to my full advantage. What more, my body and mind reacted very well to everything I did, so it didn't cause me problems in any aspects of my life, like it did for others. In fact, thanks to marijuana, I grew a lot closer to my sister, and my grades went up for the first time in my life.

That period has passed by, and I have changed a lot, but I still look very highly at the experiences I once had. At the moment, I could almost see myself never doing a drug beyond hookah and beer again in my life, and I would not only be ok with that, I would be happy, and not even care. Still, I don't think I could ever look negatively at the amazing powers of mind-altering substances. Drugs, especially marijuana, have made me the person who I am today, and I wouldn't be the same without those experiences.

Here are some poems I wrote about drugs:
There’s a strange and deep dimension,
If you go there you’ll see
What it’s like to be in line
For the end of humanity.

There’s a nothing filled with nothing,
And it’s moving towards you
Taking everything it passes
Into darkness so pure.

When it’s near, try to run,
But already it’s too late,
And your soul slips in the darkness,
You think death must be your fate.

Then another comes along
Calmly settles down inside
And you wake up where you started
In the same dim light.

Everything remained the same
All these people never changed,
But you know and you can feel it:
Something here is very strange.

For you’ve never met these people,
Though you know them in your mind,
And you’ve never been a human,
What you were, you’ll never find.

So get used here to this world,
Take in everything it’s got,
Everything you do is different,
Don’t let any moment rot.

And when you look at the stars,
Know you’ve been to them before,
And you know the world is smaller,
Then in scientific lore.
-- 08.08.2008; this poem is about my first salvia trip

Split a 40, Smoke a Bowl
We live in a world where bongs become legend,
Stories we won't forget.
We all know the name of everyone's piece
Days we'll never regret.
We met you tripping and rolling and high
While loud music played;
We quickly became buddies for life
Before it got late.
At the light rail station we found a friend:
Hit his perfect joint.
We smoked in the city on stoner hill:
A name that we coined.
At home we fixed a drink for your mom
In roaring laughter.
At the house, we played a game of fooseball
And packed a bowl after.
At noon, in a Jeep, we sped on highways:
A hundred we'd go.
At dusk, we hid beneath those on-ramps:
Time passed us by slow.
A circle, always together, many halves
Of an infinite whole
And just when we though the moment was over
We smoked another bowl.

Dedicated to every stoner in the mile high city.
Thank you for being part of my life.

-- Spring.2009; There's no better place to be a stoner than in Colorado, methinks.

Let this always reign true:
Every morning I kiss you.
Feel your warm breath inside
As I prepare for the ride.

It's a cruel, cruel world in which we live.
Bombs go off and children weep.
Deep inside me someone pleas
"Break these bonds and give us peace."

Corporations bathe our minds
In regurgitated slime
As we hide in daylight
From the creatures of the night.

But I get by with a smile.
Blend right in, forget the time.
I know you're in my heart
Even while we're apart.

Here, no one'd understand
Why we're walking hand in hand.
They say you're an abomination,
But they've never been in love.

I wish we could run away.
I'd make love to you all day.
--  01.14.09; "Got to Get You Into My Life" is The Beatles' ode to marijuana: this is mine.


I don't usually post twice in one day, but I re-read my old poetry, and I really would like to share some of it, as well as some of my past.

The older I've grown, the less and less I cried, to the extent that sometimes, I think it's unhealthy. Although many failed relationships have caused me tears, I haven't experienced true heartbreak since my first heartbreak following the end of my first relationship early sophomore year. That's a good thing, I think.

Heartbreak is a lot like grieving. I had made a logical decision - one of the most logical and best decisions I ever made - to end a relationship that meant a lot to me, knowing it would plunge me into pain. I didn't deal well with it, either, immediately moving on into an involvement with one of the worst guys I had ever met. I learned what it's like to love someone, but not be able to be with them, and I had never felt sadder. Here are some poems I wrote at the time:

Broken hearts
Bleeding palms
On the earth
Where we once loved

Still confused
Who you are
Who am I
What is us?

There were days
I questioned meaning
There were nights
I loved my life

To move on
It takes some bleeding
And believing
Love is far
-- 10.2006

My teacher looks me in the eye,
She’s asking me if I’m alright.
Why do you ask me, oh why?
Homework is stained with tears I cried.

These stains of salt, and drying blood:
Reminders of an ancient love.
So many tears I’ve shed in sorrow.
And even more I’ll shed tomorrow.

You took my heart, and raised it high
I looked at it with bloodshot eye.
And then I threw and crashed it down
I watched it shatter on the ground.

But somehow I do not regret
I learned a lesson in the end.
But it is life, I know it’s tough.
It’s what you get for being in love.

Could you forgive me for that year?
Forget we ever were a pair?
We’d built a friendship, new and true.
Pretending I don’t still love you.
-- 02.13.2007


I have a history of adjustment depression, and I feared college would cause me to relapse. To tell you the truth, it didn't. Last time I suffered from a long-term episode of depression, not only had I just moved, but I was also going through a major heartbreak, and I still lived with my family. Living away from home has definitely made adjusting to college easier than any adjustments in the past, and my self image has been better this last semester than ever before in my life. I love my family, but I had long been ready to live on my own.

While overall my mood has been positive, I have had a few relapses, at nights, alone in my dorm. Sometime in November, I had my worst episode of self-harm since February 13, 2007. Still, that was the only one, and I tend to relapse into cutting about once or twice a year, so it's not so bad.

This break has not treated me well. Boredom is the worst, because it only leads to more boredom. My motivation has plummeted, and so has my mood. All my life, I've hated break, because, somehow, being away from school has always tortured me, and this break is no exception (though Thanksgiving break was). I would definitely consider this a relapse, but I'm optimistic enough to know that I'll get over it soon enough, I'm going back HOME on Friday, and tomorrow, I'm hoping I'll go skiing, which I know will help my mood.

I know writing would help, but I don't have the motivation to do so - I haven't written in weeks! Maybe I'll make myself write, maybe tomorrow. Instead, I re-read my old poetry just now. I wrote the best poems when I was at my worst, here's one that particularly struck a chord:

Butterkinves flashing screaming attention
plastic erasers paperclips bark
safety scissor’s new purpose mirrors childhood lost
after hallways and lockers and muffling cries
the closet door locks for the deadliest chore
red pen dances: art not on paper
but nothing a three dollar wristband can’t fix
behind the smiles and tears the make-up and blood
lies a heart that has never been bruised
selfishly wishing blood for his pleasure
designer panties plead tear me apart
the clock strikes a new day, she prays Good Night
-- 03.02.2007

04 January 2010

Do you like cats?

is officially my favorite question ever.

I was talking to my sister recently, and she was giving me advise on how to talk to people. Standard. "Just ask anything, anything at all," she suggested, "Like, 'Do you like cats?'" I laughed, so she told me a story of how once she was talking to a friend of hers when he randomly asked her "Do you like cats?", which led into a great conversation about cats.

Just days later, I was talking to a dear friend of mine whom I haven't spoken to in a long time, when ze randomly asked me if I like cats! Which was such a wonderful question to be asked, and filled me with such great joy.

So I'm adopting this question. I'll probably ask you soon if you like cats. How can I know you if I don't know if you like cats? All should love cats, because cats are amazing, "self-sufficient", and "classy". Because cats are kind and beautiful, friendly and sweet. Because all my life I've had cats (except when I didn't), and I couldn't imagine life without them. Here's to the cats!