Today
Number of times my professor called me to recite because he thought it’d make me regret falling asleep in class: 2
Number of times I actually regretted falling asleep in class: 0
The February Disease.
I’m a girl.
No matter what I say about the cute little funny shallow sweet things people do for the one they love, no matter how I despise and laugh at them one moment, I will still feel a little at awe the next.
Because I am a girl, and girl’s feelings are somewhat what I don’t want to have when Valentine’s Day is coming. I just find myself a little too vulnerable and affected and unhappy somehow.
Especially when I see girls holding bouquets of red roses with that cute little teddy bear and a box of chocolates….and there I am, holding my book, my escape.
Even if my brain say it is ridiculous, my heart will jump and pump a little faster because that’s just really sweet. Then I’ll start to feel somewhat jaded. For serious. And for the obvious reasons….my book is all I have.
Screw girl feelings.
Fuck Valentines, screw red roses, trash them chocolates.
Sometimes what you want is not what you get. That’s just the way things are. Even if I am being too idealistic thinking every girl deserves to be sweep off their feet even once in their lifetime, some girls just don’t get what they deserve.
I really, really hate February.
Give me flowers when I’m dead.
132 - This is how.
There are times when I do not want to be the one you end up with. I would rather be a thought that wakes you violently in the morning, a dream that sends you toppling over the boxes in your room, urging you to rummage madly, but you will not find what you are missing. I want to be the forgotten letter you pull out of a dusty drawer by mistake, the words that cause your lungs to ache as your eyes trace the slant of my handwriting with water. I want to be the photograph tucked safely inside your favorite book, the one you’ll never let your wife read. You will feel the need to look for me in every girl you meet. And you will remember me when you wear the black jacket that’s missing a button; you will think of how you lost it and what we were doing when you did. I want to be as wild and wanting and wicked as regret is known to be. Perhaps more.
I want to be the lover who will never age in your heart. The firestrong, windfierce mistress to every memory you love.(via wordswidenight)
I Hope You Guys Read This.
“Advice, like youth, probably just wasted on the young.”
Ladies and gentlemen of the class of ‘97:
Wear sunscreen.
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they’ve faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.
Don’t worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.
Do one thing every day that scares you.
Sing.
Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts. Don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours.
Floss.
Don’t waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind. The race is long and, in the end, it’s only with yourself.
Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.
Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.
Stretch.
Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don’t.
Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You’ll miss them when they’re gone.
Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll have children, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else’s.
Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don’t be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own.
Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.
Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them.
Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.
Get to know your parents. You never know when they’ll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They’re your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.
Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.
Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you’ll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.
Respect your elders.
Don’t expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you’ll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.
Don’t mess too much with your hair or by the time you’re 40 it will look 85.
Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth.
But trust me on the sunscreen.
——(Chicago Tribune: 01/06/97)”
Because sometimes there is no easy way out. You just have to grin and bear it. Sometimes the only escape route is to go straight through the flames. Just brace yourself and bite your lip. Sometimes you have to sever the ties clean off. Because in every relationship, there comes a point when the damage is too much and no matter how good it once was, the memories can’t sustain you. You have to save yourself knowing all the while it will hurt like hell. Because you can’t keep giving someone everything if you get nothing in return.
“
| — | Unknown. (And I wish I do.) |
As amazing as cupcakes are, I got tired of making them and I wanted to try something new. I’ve been wanting to make brownies for a while but just didn’t have the right baking pan for it. That was solved some time last week because I found a really affordable but good-quality brownie baking pan in one of the local malls.
It’s not surprise for regular readers by now that my go-to baker is Annie of Annie’s Eats because she has amazing photographs of her baked goods and mouthwatering meals that make you just want to try her recipes out. And the best part, you won’t be disappointed because if you do them right, they give you really good results.
For my first brownie adventure, I decided to try making Annie’s Roasted Cherry Brownies. I did my own twist to it by using strawberry preserves instead of cherries, adding walnuts to the mixture, and using brown sugar, but followed everything else.
It resulted in the most amazingly gooey and fudgy brownies I’ve tasted in a really long time with just the right amount of crumble on the flaky top layer.
I kid you not. This was so good. I had to guilt myself with thoughts of a lot of additional inches on my tummy just to stop myself from placing bite-sized pieces inside my mouth.
If you have the time, the ingredients, an oven and the right baking pan, you should definitely try this out.
