Como luna en el agua.
Alexandra-Marie
| A quiet place.


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Encontrado en Facebook—Disfruten, cabrones

▬ Elogio de la sombra, Jorge Luis Borges
▬ Rayuela, Julio Cortázar
▬ Drácula, Bram Stoker
▬ El aleph, Jorge Luis Borges
▬ El laberinto de la soledad, Octavio Paz
▬ Ficciones, Jorge Luis Borges
▬ Aura, Carlos Fuentes
▬ Bodas de sangre, Federico García Lorca
▬ La caverna, José Saramago
▬ Siete noches, Jorge Luis Borges

Bonus:
▬ Arte del Color, Johannes Itten

It’s overwhelming,
To see how everything changes.
Longing for that once you waited
Now singing to a different tune;
A melody cordial to many,
But suddenly unrefined to you.

Ask for strength to make amends.
Ask for life to put together the pieces,
To put together the faces
Those that once made you smile.

I don’t want to seem like one of those snooty girls that brag about their grades but I just want to take a moment here for myself.

This semester felt to me like my worst performing one. At first I found it hard to balance my social life with my education, and half way in there I sunk back into a very dark depression. I wouldn’t text, I wouldn’t call. I was afraid to talk to my mom for fear that she would notice something was wrong in my voice, and that brought additional problems by itself. I tried reaching out—I called the counseling center and cancelled appointments so much that the school sent someone to talk to me. I pretended to be okay for the sake of ending it, but I was obviously not. My grades were horrible for my usual performance. That ‘B’ I for sure thought was going to be a my first C or D in a class ever. That made me worse because I could not, for the life of me, find a way to make things right. I separated from my usual friends and just spent time dreaming of coming back home and binge watching television, only to regret time wasted later. 

Things started picking up only after spring break. That’s more than halfway through the semester in my school. I had but a month left of classes to pick up slack. I can’t tell you at what point I started being happy again, but it happened. Maybe it was because I changed my scenery—I started hanging out with different people, not because I didn’t love my other friends, but because I felt like I got them tired with my hidden issues—, I started up the projects I had left behind. Slowly I started becoming myself again and somehow everything started pulling itself together again. I worked my ass off during finals, remained positive and tried my hardest to keep happy. 

And I’m just glad that in the end it all paid off and it was okay. I am okay. Everything’s going to be okay.

I am proud.

Mild update: The best littles in the world initiated on Saturday! Although I didn’t take twins, my official little (left) and I consider Mali (right) my surrogate and her twin, and I’m incredibly proud of both of them for crossing into the Alpha Phi Omega Phamily! 

Beyond excited to see them grow in this amazing organization, and beyond grateful to have met such a wonderful little and non-official little. They legitimately light up my day whenever I get to see them, and couldn’t be happier!

A letter to the sisters of Delta Gamma,

Although I am a brother of Alpha Phi Omega, National Co-Ed Service Fraternity, I understand the pressure that involves being a Greek. Although APO is often not recognized by other greek-lettered organizations because of our values, we do have an active brotherhood and understand the issues that weaken and strengthen our chapters. It is because so that I wish to extend my sorry’s and how unfortunate’s to the sisters of the Delta Gamma Fraternity for Women, not only in the affected chapter, but all across the US.

I’m sorry to all of you who are having a hard time within your sisterhood—not only because this blemishes heavily the reputation of your national sorority, but it puts a lot of pressure and struggles within the affected chapter. I know I have friends in the Delta Gamma chapter here at SU, and although I have not talked to them about the issue, I can foresee that they must be having a rough time as well. Not only that, but this incident only further establishes a bad reputation for Greek organizations, issue that every chapter of any sorority/fraternity already struggles with enough. 

I hope that this issue comes to a quick solution and that the recovery process is as swift as the spread of the original problem. 

Stay strong.

April 10th 2013

Mischievous Blog Entry

Moving into college and then moving into an apartment has led me to get to know myself in whole new ways. I’ve discovered how I establish routines, how I can actually fend on my own, how to do healthy groceries and cleaning, what makes me happy within my own set-up surroundings, and above all, what makes me tick.

I’ve discovered that the pet peeves I thought I had before coming to college were nothing—a mere spec of dust in the plethora of things that seriously bug me in astounding ways—things like: leaving out dirty plates for more than a day, the collection of trash, the placement of items in places where they clearly do not belong. These things seriously have a way of pushing my buttons remarkably fast, especially when the other party involved knows of them and still does not put in an effort. 

But of that, I can manage. I can pretend to ignore it and go about my day. I can jokingly call out attention to it, or organize the things the way they were meant to be. But there is one thing, one particular thing, that I just cannot handle, and it so happens that it is the specialization of my current roommate in the art of annoying me. Seriously, if this girl could major in annoying the person she’s living with, might as well hand her a diploma and parade her along the university grounds because BING! she’s done it! 

What is this heinous activity you ask? Well, let me illustrate you: My roommate, never in the four going-on five months that we’ve been living here has changed the toilet paper roll. Not even while I was way on Spring Break and we were down to our last roll. She’ll finish the roll up, and leave the lonely carton in the dispenser, not even bothering to get a fresh roll. At first I thought that she was distracted, so I changed it without question. Then, when my annoyance grew, I started placing a fresh roll next to the dispenser, as if to give her the hint that it would be delightful and lovely if she changed it herself. This proved unsuccessful, as of all the times I’ve done it, she continues using the roll and leaving it around different places but the dispenser, still occupied by the sad gray carton, making me so compulsive that I’ve had to do the deed myself. 

However, I thought that this week things might change. I was aware that we were approaching the end of our last roll of toilet paper. No one had mentioned anything, but the feeling of impending doom was among us. I, as purchaser of the last rolls of toilet paper ever, decided that I would ever so cunningly hold my nature callings for campus runs, as our roll was ready for its last deed of service this morning. I thought—HA! Great! She’ll use it all up, and realize that we need more toilet paper, getting more rolls from the student center! Spoiler alert? I was dead wrong. 

You have to understand that I left my apartment at 6:45am this morning. I don’t come back until late hours of the night as I’m usually hauled up somewhere trying to study. When I finally got back to my apartment at 9:30pm after a long and exhausting day, I wanted to take a rightful pee in my own personal bathroom. It is natural to expect at least a crappy-brand toilet roll to make due in the time being! 

But I was met with the now finished grey cardboard roll. 

I checked my phone—no text to warm me of this travesty! “No—I’m sorry, could you pick up some on your way home?” And it is not to say that she hadn’t talked to me today; she had texted me earlier to ask me a question about her future housing situation. You must understand my confusion and feeling of betrayal by not being able to enjoy the facilities of my own bathroom! 

I quickly called my friend for a ride to the store to get some toilet paper, and after much ranting about this same ordeal, my friend decided my roommate did these things on purpose. She also cunningly suggested that, “you should keep the rolls in your room, and every time you go, just take one with you and then put it right back!” I of course dismissed this idea fast thinking that it was too mean, but still had the thought lingering in the back of my head—that would teach her! I thought.

Once I got back to my apartment I quickly ran up the stairs and settled in for the night. As I went to the bathroom to remove my make-up, I noticed something that hadn’t been there before; on the bathroom sink there was a more than half-way used roll of toilet paper—note that it was not on the dispenser (seriously, though)—used for her convenience when she needed it to and our bathroom supply was out! TRAITOR! I went back to my room, only to listen to her come out of hers and go into the bathroom. Not to my surprise upon checking again, the beaten roll of toilet paper had mysteriously disappeared! 

That toilet paper AUTOCRAT! 


Needless to say, I have an 8-pack of toilet paper rolls hiding under my bed, and I’m ready to go all WWI on it. 

Let the toilet paper games begin.

"Infeliz, pobre infeliz que no sabrá nunca lo que es caer de veras, tirarse en la mitad de la vida desde el trampolín más alto."

I don’t want a serious relationship. I just want to stop feeling lonely and tired.

I just want someone who can listen to me, and be there when it gets rough. Someone to hold me if I feel I can’t carry on.

Sometimes, at dark hours of the night, life hits you like a train wreck and you think about anything and everything at once—what could be, what could not—sadness strikes you with a fiery blaze. It is at these dark hours that it hurts the most to be alone, not knowing what will happen.

THEME ©