Honesty.

I have trouble with honesty. I don't know if it's trust issues or if it's because I'm scared of what people might think. Sometimes there's no suitable explanation for what I might lie about. Sometimes it's just what is easier at the time.

Perhaps it's an omission of truth. Or rather it's a slight alteration the truth, I can't seem to be always truthful all the time. Don't suddenly question everything I am or everything I've told you. Rather urge me to be honest with you in the future. In the end, I want to be honest with everyone, but it's hard for me sometimes.

In other news, I'm helping my mother make Puto (filipino pastry) and we went school supply shopping and we're going to sew soon. Bonding for reals.

Ok.

Think the blue wall, black words.

What should those words be? What phrase, saying, word sums up me?

Also:

I hope dorm room bunk beds look like this:


Other things to note:

Histrionics.

I went and got my haircut yesterday, which is probably known to most people who read this since it's fairly limited to a select audience who should have heard already (with the exception of Cristina who isn't back yet)

Other than that, nothing of extreme importance has happened lately. I guess it's the Final Countdown. I wish I could have that song playing in the background. Actually I could, but that just sounds cheesy.

I haven't posted anything lately, because there hasn't been anything on my mind really. It's all been very chill lately. Blogs tend to be prompted by something overly exciting or overly anxiety-ridden.

So that was all a roundabout way of saying that I have nothing of interest to say. And there you go.

Yeah.

New hair. Bad face.

Errbody gets their hair did.

Alex got bangs! And caught me taking pictures of myself.

Slightly uncomfortable.

The A/C in our house is misbehaving. Thus I'm slightly sticky. It's not unbearable though. Just slightly uncomfortable.

I guess that's kind of how the past couple of days have been. Not unbearable. Just slightly uncomfortable. I don't really know why. I have my suspicions though.

For some reason I became very upset when I couldn't go out with everyone yesterday. I think my mom thought I hated her for it. She could tell I was upset. It wasn't like "Oh ma, I hate you. I can't believe you won't let me hang out with my friends." I don't really know what it was. I just really needed to see them I guess. I think it's partly that I'm leaving. It's hard to make everyone happy and also be happy myself.

Gotta have sex, baby.

It has become readily apparent that everyone is sexually frustrated in some way shape or form. I call it sexual nihilism. Ha, I need to stop penning terms. It's something to the same degree as your standard nihilism: questioning what's the point, the meaningless of things, and finding the lack of worth in everything. Now just add sex to that. Question what's the point (of sex), the meaningless (of sex), and finding the the worthlessness (of sex).

And it's not even the act of sex in particular, but just engaging in any sort of interaction that inhabits some relationship or connection that isn't a friendship. Essentially the conflict is this: why should I bother trying to find the right guy when (1) it is so hard to and takes some time to work out and (2) it's still complicated when a relationship is established.

So after having broken it up like this, it would be expected that there would be a solution right about

here.

Unfortunately, there really is no right answer. Is there some sort of happy medium, some compromise of the two that will satisfy the long and the short term, the emotional and the physical? I sure hope so, but until then we're left on this teeter totter (see saw?) of emotional and physical confusion. I think inevitably everyone will prefer the first scenario. Frustration may lead to the latter, but ultimately people need more than that.

In other less exciting news, I registered for classes from bed this morning:

Here goes nothing.

Right now I'm trying to organize my class schedule so it isn't completely awful.

It looks like I'm taking Intro to Chemical Engineering, Intro to Computing, Uses and Abuses of the Bible, Differential and Integral Calculus, and Composition and Reading in World Literature. Kind of a weird mix of classes, I'd say. Not too shabby. I have a Plan II Advising meeting at 1:30 so we'll see what they say.

This entire experience isn't too painful (my feet disagree), but quite honestly I am exhausted.

And for some reason my AP scores weren't sent to UT so I ought to take care of that so I can get credit for all that bullshit tests I took back in the day.

Orientation? More like perspiration.

So hot. Why am i wearing jeans right now?

Titter.

I'm sitting at the UT library on their computers with my brother and my dad. I already registered for my tests and finished all of that mandatory hogwash that I have to do until 12.

Yasmin's feeling a little sick so she's at the doctors. I kind of wish I had housing, because of that whole "experience" thing, but I'll live.

Yasmin and I are seeing Harry Potter tonight with the rest of her floor I think.

Sorry for the scatterbrain post. I'm kind of just ... I don't know right now.

I think it's because as discussed in the previous post, it's becoming real.

Weird.

Toxic and deliberate.

For some reason, as annoying and bad as Northstar is, it's very nostalgic and I listen to them a lot for that reason. For the longest time that CD was stuck in the Eclipse so now I have their Pollyanna CD forever engrained in my brain. And every time I listen to it, I get this same undescribable feeling. It's kind of a familiar feeling of something that I can't quite place but I've felt it before.

In other news, I'll be leaving for orientation tonight. Probably around 7 or 8 whenever my brother gets home from work.

3 hour drive. I'd like to find some hemp so I can do this:



It's weird. As close as it is, it still doesn't feel real. Like I will actually be at college being collegiate and whatnot. So I keep bringing it up, spurning dissent from others, in order to make it seem more real. Because it is real.

Lost.

I'm bringing chloe to petsmart with my dad and watching lost on my laptop. It's starting to rain and all i can think about is there are some people i may never see again after a month and a half.

Bad dog.

She keeps placing her new toy squirrel in front of me and growling at me to play with her. That bitch.

Yeah, yeah.

I realize I have already posted a blog just a few hours ago, but I'm just not in control of the intervals at which I must type something out. As I've said multiple times to multiple people, it's cathartic. Suppression of expression is how I dealt with everything for most of my life. I think that's why I've always been so unsure of myself. I am still unsure now, but at least I can work through things. It's just much more tolerable this way.

I've started organizing all of my favorites. Bookmarks, if you will. I know that sounds it is dorky, but from doing this I realized something. I realized what my interests are. I know that sounds like something really elementary. I mean, every survey of ourselves (Myspace, school, interviews, profiles) asks that question: What are your interests? And we should all easily answer this, no? And I thought I had a very good idea, since I am me and all. I'm sure this sounds crazy, but it wasn't until I looked at all of the websites and things that I made note of that there were clearcut patterns of what truly made me tick. Shouldn't I know this already? I don't think I'm very self aware is what it is. And blogging and compiling favorites apparently is what builds that self awareness for me.

Oh, poop. (I realized after typing that, how appropriate it was) I was supposed to clean the bathroom today per father's orders.

There's just something so delightfully vulgar in PBF comics.



All that is playing in my head right now is "One of us" by Joan Osbourne. You think you don't know that song, but wait until I belt out the chorus for you.

"What if God was one of us? Just a stranger on the bus trying to make his way home"

Wait there's more.

"No one's calling on the phone. Except for the poem maybe in Rome."

It's something like that. I don't know what she's talking about. God's on my speed dial.

I do what I do, baby.

My skin feels sticky. Sticky upon sticky. Outside in the sweltering sun, the heat leaves me sweaty and frizzy-haired. Inside in the air conditioned car or house, I dry, sticky with sweat. Outside again, heat again. Repeat. Repeat.

Other than that, I feel alright. Yes, vague adjective. But the feeling is vague. Staring at the word vague, makes me think of the word vagina and plague. In my world, the word vague would mean a vagina plague. I'm unsure if there would be a something plaguing the vagina or if the vagina was plaguing something else. I'll keep you updated on the details.

Today I've successfully gone out to eat with Monica and Cristina at McAlister's Deli.

Oh. Wait. Should there be more? Because that's all I have to offer.

Now Monica and I are in the same room on our respective laptops.

Welcome to the exciting life of Kristine. I'm really not as spiteful as I sound, I swear. I'm actually quite content.

Orientation's coming up next week. I'll be there the entire week probably, picking classes and picking the direction of my life. No biggie really.

"Labels for this post: e.g. scooters, vacation, fall"
Who writes about scooters? I can see vacation being a topic. And by fall, do they mean autumn or is it more of a fall down the stairs kind of thing?

I think the reason I have trouble with narrative style of writing lately is because nothing is really happening. I guess that's not true, because when something did happen, I was still only able to write how I felt and not of what actually happened. My head automatically tagged it as a defense mechanism, but that's just the psychiatrist in me talking. And automatically afterwards, disregarded the idea. All in all, what can be taken from this series of thoughts is that I'm really fucking weird.

I just got my letter from the Engineering program explaining that I have to write a thank you to those providing my scholarship. In other words, I must contrive another BS compilation of what I've done throughout my high school career alongside another BS thank you to someone I could care less about. I suppose I should be thankful. They are providing me a doorway to a higher education. Or something like that.

I was watching some show about starting college on TV the other day. No, it wasn't that god-awful Greek show, idealizing the fraternity/sorority aspect of college. It was something on The-N. And surprisingly, it was actually somewhat relatable. Take that, sitcoms of the past. Unfortunately, someone died in the show, so I'm hoping it isn't completely relatable to. And someone had to die -- as relatable as it may be, it is still on TV. Sensationalism, folks. Is that even sensationalism? I'm pretty sure sensationalism involved the news media & tabloids. Aka Yellow Journalism. Wikipedia that shit. Yeah, that's my history term for the week. Funny how the only time I've used that tidbit of knowledge has been in a blog. I suppose that says something about all we've learned at school. Makes it all seem worthless. In reality, it's what we do with said knowledge. God, that's pretty cliche, even for me.

I should probably learn to be brief. Which brings to mind two things for me:
-- A cutout from a newspaper hanging on my wall of Shakespeare in his briefs with a speaking bubble saying "'Tis better to be brief"
-- My former AP English teacher, Mrs. Langford who preached that "Brevity is your enemy."

Huh. Those sort of contradict each other, don't they?

My father just said in a sort of obnoxious accent, "I beat you in all the games." Then there was the resounding and ever-present "You lil nasty." They're playing the Wii, if I forgot to mention that little tidbit of information.

We might head to Bagheri's tonight, which will be delightful since I haven't been there since they moved. I ought to cash one of my checks though. I'm awful broke.

Bye, Graduation money, ta. It was good while you lasted.