You Can't Do It.

I've thought about my life in these few days I've been home--a trip meant only to be a precious four days, but through mishaps of my own and the climate's, expensively extending to an exceedingly lovely and relaxing full week--and I realized that I've never been told the words "You can't do it."


I'm sure I've been told that for things that I shouldn't do, like drinking and driving or going out super late at night with a bunch of friends on a school night back when I was in high school. But for the more important things in life, I'm don't think I've ever been told that I couldn't do something.


This occurred to me as I told my mom my plans about to travel in Australia next year. I told her I didn't want to go to graduate school right away, that I wanted to take (at least) a year off, that I was too burnt out to even want to finish this quarter, let alone another two years of serious professional schooling. The idea of having to attend classes makes me want to cry or throw up or both. Probably both. I really want to go to grad school, really I do. This isn't some thing I'm like "Yeah... sure, I'll do it," and never really get around to it, like coffee dates with people I just don't really care about anymore. It's a goal of mine to one day be Chelsey, M.A., at least before I die, but right now, the idea of it just isn't feasible.


I've always tried to do the "right" thing. You and I both know I've had my slip-ups and I'm not perfect, but I got pretty much straight A's the entirety of my existence in the grades K-12; I went right away to a good school on full scholarship with a specific career plan in mind. I (barely) drank before I was 21. I'm not a druggie, I haven't gotten knocked up, and I didn't join a cult or kill someone. In essence, I've done what's expected of me, what's proper, what's correct my whole life. At times I think what has that gotten me? but I know that I'd be a hell of a lot worse off if I hadn't. Because I have done what's right, I now have the freedom to what's (in a sense) "wrong." So moving to Australia for a year isn't my family's ideal of what should be coming next in my life, as my brother so lovingly reminds me that my degree is a waste and I'm a hobo, but it feels right to me.


And though I know that deep down they're  scared and terrified that I'm completely mucking up my life, they never told me I couldn't do it. They gave me their apprehensions and misgivings and opinions, but never once told me no or that it was an impossibility or that I was incapable of making this happen. This made me realize that my whole life it's been like that.


This thought makes me both elated and saddened at the same time. I'm elated because it shows the character of the people who I have made important in my life. I wonder if anyone else has had the unconditional support that I have had. From acquaintances to teachers to friends to my family, I've always received a ton of encouragement on anything I've wanted to do--from choosing extracurricular activities to whatever path I choose for my future. It's such a breathtakingly overwhelmingly beautiful realization that the idea has captured my attention all break. I have people who support me no matter what.


However, it makes me sad because it makes me think what the fuck have I done with that support? There are people out there who, by my age, have done so many amazing things, changing lives and creating a better world, and what have I done? What do I have to show for 21 years on this earth? As I write this, my rational part of my brain floods my senses with responses--the relationships you've cultivated, the experiences you have had, the goals you have accomplished. I do attend a major university on full scholarship in an economy where that is so rare I should kiss every single person in the financial aid department at least once a day, for crying out loud. But at the same time, I think... I haven't really done anything special.


This is going to sound cocky, but I can only be honest. Many teachers in my past have told me I'm going to do great things with my life. I used to think Hells yes I am. I'm going to blow this world apart with how much awesomeness courses through my veins, never out loud of course. But as time goes on, I try to convince myself that it's not true, that I'm content with not being special, that I'm happy with being regular. Why not be regular? Pretty much everyone in my life is regular, for the most part. No one's cured cancer or written a bestselling book or climbed Mt. Everest. We're all a bunch of regular people figuring out this thing called life. But the truth is, I want to be special. I want to be so goddamn special and significant it's hard to stand me.


And I want to begin that journey now. I have no idea what it looks like, but I'm formulating hypotheses, visualizing what that looks like in a daily manner, brainstorming different ways of accomplishing the things that make me happy. It starts with finishing another book. It starts with sitting down to write every day. It starts with applying for that visa. It starts with this blog.


And I know I can do it. You've all told me I could. There will one day be people who tell me I can't and it will crush me to no end. I'll have to pick myself back up, but I know I won't be alone. God has continued to show me who the people are in my life that I can trust to see me on the ground and help me up.


If you've been told you can't, it's a lie. You can. Find out what it starts with, even if it's simply taking another breath. And if you need help, there are people who won't leave you in your fight. But remember most of all, you can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. You can. 

Return of Randomness and Responses to Gratitude

I'm back. For better or for worse, the idea of returning to personal blogging has been on my mind lately. Different things have sparked ideas in my mind to write about, to share with you here. So here I am in the middle of a huge article I need to get done and all the stuff (fun and the not-so fun) that will be happening this weekend, there's been something on my mind I wanted to share with you guys.


Yesterday during my Industrial Psychology class, our professor had us take some time to write down three things we were grateful for, talk with a partner about a positive experience you'd had in the last twenty-four hours, and write a real or imaginary email to say thank you to someone. I didn't share this with anyone in the class. My normal partner wasn't there and everyone around me had friends. It wasn't something I minded because I do like to reflect in a more internal manner.


The three things I wrote down were these:
1. I am grateful for my mom, who likes all the things I like so we can talk about them for hours.
2. I am grateful for not having to go through the whole EEG experiment.
3. I am grateful for sleep, three meals, and a good night to look forward to.


The positive experience I would have shared was the fact that I didn't go through with the EEG experiment. It was supposed to take two hours of my time and in fact only ended up taking a half an hour because the game I was supposed to play crashed. I did have to get my hair nasty soaked though, but didn't have to sit with it for more than 20 minutes after I was released.
Honestly, it's kind of sad that was my positive experience but it gave me  more time to get the things I needed to get done for that day completed and it was really helpful. I left the experiment thanking God for this extra time and indeed I put it to good use.


The email I couldn't necessarily do because I don't have a smart phone nor do I bring my laptop to class. So I decided to send a simple text. I wrote "Thanks for everything you do for me." I couldn't decide who to send it to. My mom would be the obvious choice, but so many names went through my head I decided to send it to all of them. Now, there are those of you who didn't get the text that should have, but I only have so many people I can send a single message to and not a lot of time in class to keep it going and some of you are in a different country. Also my phone was dying. Not great excuses, but I sent my gratitude to those who I knew I needed to send it to in that moment. And  yes, your special thank you was a mass text, but... I couldn't choose and I didn't want to. Because each of you are significant to me and each of you deserve to hear it.
The responses I got back were amazing. There were some that made me tear up, some that surprised me, and some that made me laugh.
A mom who is not my own mom, sent back a message saying that I'm their second daughter and that they love me. It's nice to know that. I actually have two other moms besides my own. I call them and their spouses Mom and Dad. I always feel a little weird doing that. I mean, I love them like my own parents, but they are someone else's parents, and I'm not trying to fill that role. This weekend I came upon an event in my other family that I didn't know if I should be there for as it was a very personal family event. But the entire family included me in it in a way that really touched my heart and eased my worry about intruding on something so personal. I really appreciated it and it meant more to me than any words could say.
My actual mom had been having a bad day that day and the message was really encouraging to her. I always love to send my mom a little Hello or an I love you because it makes me happy to do that. I talk or text my mom every day. I hope that continues forever. Or at least until we can communicate via technological ESP or something. She is everything to me and I love her dearly. I would have sent one to my brother, but he's still phoneless since I washed his phone in my shorts. But yeah, he would have gotten one.
My aunt, who I haven't seen all quarter, wished she could give me a hug in that moment. She knows I've been really stressed and busy this quarter and it's why I haven't seen her already. When I get stressed, I become really introverted and isolated. It's not the best thing, I know, but it's what I do. It's nice to know that, even when I get that way and stop talking to people, they'll still welcome me back with open arms. It's that kind of love that really impresses me.
Of course, the best friend sent me something that made me smile and feel good about myself. It's one thing I find so beautiful about her and our friendship. I've had a lot of friends and best friends in my years and until this lady, I've never felt something so reciprocal. I don't worry about the give and take balance of our relationship, something I worry about constantly with others, because I know she loves me as much as I love her and that she would do as much for me as I would for her. Maybe it's weird to judge a friendship on the equality of it, but we're so equal in almost every way that it's one of the most amazing feelings I've ever experienced. When we became best friends, something inside my heart shifted into place and I felt a calm. This is a relationship I'll have forever because I know it's something we'll both fight for for forever. (For for forever made me laugh.)
There was one particular one that surprised me the most sent by a friend who I actually didn't really know I meant that much to. We're very different, this friend and I, and we go in and out of each other's lives sporadically. However, whenever I am with this person, I always have an amazing time and whenever I talk to this person about deeper things, they always leave me with something to think about. They are truly an amazing person and I am excited to see where they go in life. I hope I am still in a position to do that as time goes on. I treasure this person's friendship, more than most of the friendships I have, because of the limited amount of time we see each other and because of how I feel when I'm with them. They told me they loved me and it shocked me because I just never thought I meant that much. It's not something they say all the time and the fact that they said it to me really touched me. It's something I'll hold onto for quite some time because I'm not sure how much time I have left with them.


These aren't all of them and I don't want to share the details of each response I got, but I will share one with you because it's so classic and so very me and my roommate. In response to my sincere heartfelt mass text of gratitude, Katie responded as such:
"I don't think I can do dinner. We're stuck in our lab and probs won't be done for awhile."


Thanks, Katie.  :)

The End.

So, I have been really thinking about this whole blog thing. I've recreated my blog multiple times, trying to change it as I have changed since I first started it my freshman year. As much as this has been there for me, I really think it's time to take a break. A real break. Not a fake break where I pretend I'm going to write all the time, but never do. I'm tired of feeling I should write in this blog. I know I don't have to feel that way at all, but I do. Whenever I make a commitment, I hate breaking it no matter what gets in the way.

Right now in my life, there are a ton of things going on, most of it I cannot talk about at all on here. I think that's why I haven't posted anything of real use on here this past year. My whole life got turned upside-down this past November. A few close people know and understand what's going on, but I cannot even really talk about it with all of the people I deem close, which is mostly the people who actually take the time to read this blog. But when I did attempt to post stuff that really mattered, I kind of screwed things up way more than they should be. And I'm really sorry about that because it never was my intention.

So, I'm taking a break. Not that this really matters anyway. It's not like I have this huge following that will be devastated that I'm not going to blog for awhile, but I thought I would at least post so someone would know. But thanks for the comments and the love and everything you guys have ever written on here for me. I appreciate it. We'll see what happens later.

♥ Chelsey

New.

I don't know what I had in mind when I changed my whole blog and created New.

Maybe I was tired of the format that I hadn't had for that long. Empty Stage Empty Page (ESEP) was good for the brief period it lasted... It was a time when I had no idea where my life was going. The background was as musically inclined as I was and it even had a crowd at the bottom cheering on whatever I decided to display on the stage that was my blog. I guess I was tired of being on stage though. I did feel my blog had become an act, a performance for those who read it, a thing I could write on from time to time without actually writing anything of importance. I didn't want that anymore. I didn't want my blog to be a performance. I just wanted it to be me.

And I tried that with New. as I attempted to give myself a goal to write about something every single week. But it became formulaic, which most everything in my life becomes, and my life just wasn't giving me anything that would fit properly into the formula. So I stopped blogging. I stopped writing and let my blog become a podium to speak to someone I couldn't speak to in real life. So many of the blog posts in New. were for Hugo. (Yes, Hugo, because I'm 95% sure anyone who reads this knows what happened between us and is there any point in not being honest now?)

But now that part of my life is closed. With all the drama and hardships I've been through this year, seeing both my past and my future being relentlessly shaken up and challenged and torn away from me, I've learned a lot about myself. I have no fucking clue what yet, but the ideas are beginning to form. I'm beginning to see things about myself more clearly, most especially the faults in the way I think, and finding things I want to change. I've always wanted to change myself, but never really have. I've never really dedicated myself to anything, to be honest, but I'm looking to change that to.

Change.

As Obama as it sounds, I think I may have found my new blog title.

Or maybe I'll look up a synonym.

Anyway, for those of you that have, thank you for following New., for reading, for commenting, for simply clicking the link when you noticed I had said something on here. I can't promise anything better, but for now at least I want to try.

Determination

I am determined to feel happy and be happy these next two weeks

and that doesn't feel like a good thing

because I know I won't be.

But it feels like something I have to do,

it feels like a mask I have to put on,

a wall I have to put up.

Because all I want right now is to

wrap up my dishes

take down my pictures

throw away the trash

and leave.

I don't think determining to be happy is real happiness.

Relevant.

I used to think one day we'd tell the story of us,
How we met and the sparks flew instantly,
People would say they're the lucky ones.
I used to know my place was a spot next to you,
Now I'm searching the room for an empty seat,
'Cause lately I don't even know what page you're on.

Oh, a simple complication,
Miscommunications lead to fall-out.
So many things that I wished you knew,
So many walls that I can't break through.

[Chorus:]
Now I'm standing alone in a crowded room and we're not speaking,
And I'm dying to know is it killing you like it's killing me, yeah?
I don't know what to say, since the twist of fate when it all broke down,
And the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now.

Next chapter.

How'd we end up this way?
See me nervously pulling at my clothes and trying to look busy,
And you're doing your best to avoid me.
I started to think one day I'd tell the story of us,
How I was losing my mind when I saw you here,
But you held your pride like you should've held me.

Oh, I'm scared to see the ending,
Why are we pretending this is nothing?
I'd tell you I miss you but I don't know how,
I've never heard silence quite this loud.

[Chorus:]
Now I'm standing alone in a crowded room and we're not speaking,
And I'm dying to know is it killing you like it's killing me, yeah?
I don't know what to say, since the twist of fate when it all broke down,
And the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now.

This is looking like a contest,
Of who can act like the careless,
But I liked it better when you were on my side.
The battle's in your hands now,
But I would lay my armor down
If you said you'd rather love than fight.
So many things that you wished I knew,
But the story of us might be ending soon.

[Chorus:]
Now I'm standing alone in a crowded room and we're not speaking,
And I'm dying to know is it killing you like it's killing me, yeah?
I don't know what to say, since the twist of fate when it all broke down,
And the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now, now, now.
And we're not speaking,
And I'm dying to know is it killing you like it's killing me, yeah?
I don't know what to say, since the twist of fate 'cause we're going down,
And the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now.

The end.

Guardian: Quicktake--Messages Shouldn't Be Dismissed (3)

Second Quicktake Published and now... I'M OFFICIALLY PART OF THE GUARDIAN! FUCK YEAH!

The latest controversy to occur in our neighborhood comes from La Jolla High School, where the administration censored the messages “Freedom for Iran” and “Down with Dictator” that students painted on a bench.

The ACLU is suing the San Diego Union School District, demanding that it surrender its authority to eradicate any message it deems too inappropriate, as this violates the students’ right to be heard. ACLU activism aside, this is a prime educational opportunity.

If students care enough to paint these opinions, the administration has the obligation to utilize the students’ freedom of expression as an opportunity to teach.

According to the LHJS conduct code, the senior benches are intended for messages of school spirit and birthday wishes. Because of these established rules and federal law, the school is within its rights to censor the benches. But some impassioned students wanted their impact to extend beyond peppy school-spirited messages. These attempts at peer education shouldn’t simply be eradicated when they obviously concern an issue that students care about. Yasamin Elahi, the senior who painted the messages, said, “I never did any of this to get attention or hurt my school… I wrote the messages so kids would realize that there is a lot going on outside the world [of] La Jolla that they live in.”

The benches could have easily highlighted the controversy and provided an ideal point to start a real discussion about current events. When students so publicly displayed their need to show their peers what’s happening outside of campus halls, the administration at LJHS should have taken advantage of the opportunity to educate.

—Chelsey Davis

Contributing Writer

Guardian: Quicktake--To Porn In Public Or Not? (2)

MY FIRST PUBLISHED GUARDIAN QUICKTAKE. FUCK YEAH!

Blocking Basic Rights is Objectionable

A New York Public Library spokesperson announced on April 23 that it is within the First Amendment rights of adult patrons to view pornography on computers in any of the city’s 200-plus libraries. But despite the obvious moral challenges the policy’s yielded, legally, it’s all there.

According to federal law, the libraries must comply with the Children’s Internet Protection Act in order to retain funding, meaning that computers in the libraries must have filters that block any illegal content, such as child pornography. Patrons over the age of 17, however, can disable the filters if they wish to do so for “research purposes,” and by law, the library cannot censor any legal Web content — pornography included.

If parents are also worried about their children catching a glimpse of objectionable content as they pass on their way to the children’s section, the libraries also provide each computer with a set of dividers and headphones to keep patrons’ computer use as private as possible. These precautions allow patrons their freedom while also providing adequate protection to children.

Though different states have their own laws on pornography, the general rule in the United States is if the act depicted in the pornographic content is legal, then it can be legally sold and viewed. Adults have the right to view pornography; the New York Public Library system is simply acknowledging that fact. This policy does not promote public indecency — it just officially isn’t part of a librarian’s job description to patrol the desktops, looking for images that she doesn’t care to find.

— Chelsey Davis

Contributing Writer (BITCHES!)

You're Not Sorry

All this time I was wasting
Hoping you would come around
I've been giving out chances every time
And all you do is let me down

And it's taking me this long
Baby but I figured you out
And you're thinking we'll be fine again
But not this time around

You don't have to call anymore
I won't pick up the phone
This is the last straw
Don't wanna hurt anymore

And you can say that you're sorry
But I don't believe you baby
Like I did before
You're not sorry, no, no, no, no

Looking so innocent
I might believe you if I didn't know
Could've loved you all my life
If you hadn't left me waiting in the cold

And you got your share of secrets
And I'm tired of being last to know
And now you're asking me to listen
Cause it's worked each time before

But you don't have to call anymore
I won't pick up the phone
This is the last straw
Don't wanna hurt anymore

And you can tell me that you're sorry
But I don't believe you baby
Like I did before
You're not sorry, no, no, oh
You're not sorry, no, no, oh

You had me falling for you honey
And it never would've gone away, no
You used to shine so bright
But I watched all of it fade

So you don't have to call anymore
I won't pick up the phone
This is the last straw
There's nothing left to beg for

And you can tell me that you're sorry
But I don't believe you baby
Like I did before
You're not sorry, no, no, oh
You're not sorry, no, no, oh
No, oh, no, oh, no oh
Whoa, no, no

This Is For My Face

Dear Face,

I love you.

You know that.

So, as we wind down these last fifteen minutes of the anniversary of the day of your birth, I want to simply say a few words about you.

I don't know what I would have done without you this past year. When I'm not around you or not somehow circling within the same world you are, I feel untethered, like I'm lost and floating in space. I don't know if that last sentence made sense, but as I wrote I pictured living in this apartment without you and it just felt like I was completely disconnected from everything. You keep me here and you keep me looking forward to each and every day because I know I'm going to smile, I know I'm going to laugh, I know I'm just going to forget everything and enjoy myself when you're near. And even more than that, I know I'm going to have someone to hug, someone to cry to, someone to complain to, someone to overanalyze with

And even more than that even more, I know I have someone to simply be with.

It's truly a remarkable feeling to feel completely loved and accepted as you are. I feel like just this year I've come to realize who those people are in my life and I'm not lucky, I'm blessed that you are one of them. I've never really had those kinds of friends before so as God brings these most amazing people, like yourself, to me more and more, I just keep getting surprised and overwhelmed by the beauty of their friendship and their impact on my life.

Though our friendship isn't one that spans decades, in the couple years I have known you, you have truly made an indelible mark on my life. You cannot and will not ever be replaced in my life because there is simply no one like you at all.

To everyone reading this who is not my Face--

"Hate us 'cause we are who are. Hate us 'cause you'll never get this far."

Bitter Sweet Symphony

Let's forget about that last post with a song. I've been listening to it a lot lately. It always reminds me of summer days in Sacramento as a child, specifically driving around Orangevale and seeing a slow, black a funeral procession. I don't remember if I knew then what it was exactly and what it meant. But the weather is taking a turn for the better and this song always resurfaces at this time. It means more and more with each passing year as I grow closer to being out on my own in the real world and closer and closer to understanding everything my mom has done for me and my brother, though that will always be far from fully comprehensible. So, I present you with... The Verve's "Bitter Sweet Symphony."





'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life
Trying to make ends meet
You're a slave to money then you die
I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down
You know the one that takes you to the places
where all the veins meet yeah

No change, I can't change
I can't change, I can't change
But I'm here in my mind
I am here in my mind
But I'm a million different people
from one day to the next
I can't change my mind
No, no, no, no, no, no, no,no,no,no,no,no(fading away)

Well I never pray
But tonight I'm on my knees yeah
I need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me, yeah
I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now
But the airways are clean and there's nobody singing to me now

No change, I can't change
I can't change, I can't change
But I'm here in my mind
I am here in my mind
And I'm a million different people
from one day to the next
I can't change my mind
No, no, no, no, no, no, no
I can't change
I can't change it

'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life
Trying to make ends meet
Trying to find some money then you die
I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down
You know the one that takes you to the places
where all the veins meet yeah

You know I can't change, I can't change
I can't change, I can't change
But I'm here in my mind
I am here in my mind
And I'm a million different people
from one day to the next
I can't change my mind
No, no, no, no, no

I can't change my mind
no, no, no, no, no,
I can't change
Can't change my body,
no, no, no

I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down
I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down
Been down
Ever been down
Ever been down
Ever been down
Ever been down
That you've ever been down
That you've ever been down

To Get This Off My Chest...

All I want is for him to talk to me first.

And it's all I can think about.

And it feels good to say out loud.

A Vignette

A vignette is a short impressionistic scene that focuses on one moment or gives a trenchant impression about a character, an idea, or a setting and sometimes an object. -Wikipedia

Our house was empty at the time. It is only my father, my brother, and me, curled together on an air mattress on the blue ocean carpet in the middle of four crumbling, moldy walls. I can see through the shadows of the night the outline of the fox skin my father has hung on one of the crumbling, moldy walls. He found the fox dead on the side of the road and thought it was too beautiful to leave there. He brought it back in his large blue truck, skinned the dead carcass, and it has hung in its place upon the crumbling, moldy walls ever since.

They weren’t always crumbling and moldy, the walls. Though the walls have always been white, they were never bland. My mother saw to that with her knickknacks and her decorating, but now my mother is gone from this place, taking the Prince Street dwelling’s possessions with her. She deserves them anyway and soon my brother and I will leave this place too. Leave it forever, leave it for good.

But the walls weren’t always crumbling and moldy and they once were the bedroom of my parents when they were both still my parents and I could call them that. Now, I can only call them my mother, my father. Separate. These crumbling, moldy walls once surrounded a loving couple’s bedroom. Their bedroom had a bed they shared and closet where they both kept their clothes and a dresser with a television they both used to watch. My parents used to watch this television together as the fox skin hung above it. They were once together. There was once these items here. Now it’s just the air mattress, my father, my brother, the dead carcass on the wall, and me.

Down the hall, my bedroom has nothing in it, though these walls are not so crumbling and moldy. It used to have all my books, stacked in shelves along the wall, piled under my bed, in columns along my desk so that I would have to do my kindergarten homework on my bed. All these are gone and I’m not quite sure where they went. The blue ocean carpet has a burn in it right next to the doorway, where the carpet melted to the hardwood floor beneath from the one time my lamp fell off a pile of books and it didn’t have a lampshade on. I was already in bed, afraid to get out because I thought a ghost had pushed the lamp over, and I called for my parents until they came to pick it up and blow out the smoking ocean carpet. It wasn’t the first time I had watched something burn so easily. It wouldn’t be the last.

The other rooms are empty as well and my father will feel guilty about this as we squat in a house that used to be our family’s but is now owned by a bank. I’m not sure what bank it was but I thought at the time it was called ‘Foreclosure.’ He will feel so guilty about the emptiness that he will buy my brother and me a whole pack of toilet paper and we will be able to run and fling it all throughout the inside of our house because at least the toilet paper seems to fill it up. We didn’t even have to worry about cleaning it because it will be the last time we will ever be there.

Between those crumbling and moldy walls, the three of us lie on the air mattress. It is summer and sticky and the sliding glass door that leads to our deck is open. Past the deck, I can see the broken trees that hold broken swings that used to hold a not broken me. Once, I sat on the swings in the rain while eating stolen salad vegetables. I kept stealing carrots as my parents peeled them in the kitchen my parents once cooked in together because I didn’t want my eyesight to go bad and carrots were supposed to save your eyesight. Also a lie. I can see the deck and the broken trees and the broken swings in the light of the stars from the air mattress on the ocean carpet because where I am is not a city yet and there are not so many people that you cannot see the stars.

The kitchen has always looked crumbling because one whole wall is brick and cement middles and cement spills. My parents would cook meals in here but all I can smell when I wander through is the dust from the brick wall and my parents’ footprints. I know they used to be here. At one time or another, we had a coffee maker on our dining room table. I would climb up on a chair and turn the switch on and off, on and off and watch the see-saw switch light up a fluorescent orange when I pressed it down to turn it on. Then, for no reasons my four-year-old self could later explain as my parents bandaged my blistering fingers, I stuck my hand on the heating pad and watched as my skin burned until the smell alerted my parents and they came running in to save me. All I knew was that it was easy. The kitchen is empty now too and when I wake in the morning I know there will be no breakfast. There are no salad vegetables left to steal tonight.

Alanis echoes from the white, paint splattered boombox in the bathroom and this is what I remember most of that sticky summer night curled up on an air mattress with my father, my brother and only myself staring at the fox skin, a dead carcass pinned to the crumbling, moldy wall above a dead family. It wasn’t my mother who left us all like this. If it was in her power, she would never have let us come back, but it will be a few years from the sticky summer night on the air mattress between the four crumbling and moldy walls until she will have that power. And then my father will relinquish my brother and me forever, for good.

When no one breathes inside a house, you can’t expect the walls not to become crumbling and moldy. There’s no life. A house, as fallen as its family, stands in darkness on Prince Street on a sticky summer night. Ghosts sleep inside on an air mattress between four crumbling, moldy walls that once surrounded a loving couple’s bedroom. It can’t keep everything. It can’t keep its fox skin on the wall. It can’t keep its music. It can’t keep its echoes. It can’t keep its books. It can’t keep its ocean carpet. It can’t keep its walls. It can’t keep its rooms. It can’t keep its trees. It can’t keep its swings. It can’t keep the people inside. It can’t keep the people inside happy. It can’t keep the people inside safe. It can’t keep the family inside whole.

When its walls are crumbling and moldy, the fallen house can’t keep everything.

Living Life: An Arbitrary Account of my Absence

Sometimes, I like to live life instead of writing about it.

I think that's the first time I really can say that statement and understand that that's exactly what's been happening to me.

I REALLY ENJOY LIFE RIGHT NOW.

Not that I don't enjoy my life in other periods, but that currently, I'm not depressed/tired/stressed/introverted/hermit-y/etc. enough to obsess and overanalyze the things that are bothering me. Yes, I wouldn't say my situation in life has changed much since I redid my blog and started my manifestos of melancholy, but I think I've attempted to enjoy it much more.

I'm still dealing with a lot o the same things--what I will be doing a year from now, the life-changing of November that's the most awkward thing ever, the fact that since the life-chaning event of November my mom and I haven't been doing as well as we should, the stress of staying on top of things in school when I just really don't freaking want to. However, some things have improved-- Katie and I are on our way to an even better friendship, I actually have a somewhat legit social, I'm trying new thing (especially new foods--it can't be worse than pig's blood!), planning trips and events that I actually want to go on and do, the weather is all sorts of brilliance, taking new classes, taking a few risks (AH Guardian!)... and you know what?

It feels real freakin' good.

And I'm happy.

And when the cycle starts anew, which I know it eventually will, I can remember that I just need to power through it so I can again come to a place like this in my life.

St. Valentine Secrets: Things Better Left Said By PostSecret

Sometimes, I believe other people can capture what I feel so much better than I can.

Today, Valentine's Day, I give you my heartsick and hearthopeful secrets in the form of others'.

Enjoy.

The Nuances of Neurosis: A Brief Look Into My Superstitions

Sometimes, my life is controlled by superstitions.

I seriously have no idea why these things happen to me. But once I get locked into a patten, things must go that way.

This happens to me on airplanes--

when entering the plane, I have to touch the outside of the plane with my right hand.

I know how this one started... I was flying from San Diego to Las Vegas, alone for the first time heading up to San Jose where Kelsey would meet me and we would drive to Redding together, the last real time I ever spent with her. I was terrified because 1. my mom didn't know what I was doing. I mean, not that she needed to. I'm 18 and an adult and everything, but I had never done anything so big without telling her. It wasn't the fact that I could have potentially died, because I've put myself in those kinds of situations multiple times. It was just the fact that she didn't exactly know where I was or what I was doing or how to get ahold of me if something should happen. And 2. I was travelling for the first time alone. I'm used to it now, but then I was basically in panic attack mode. I had called the SD, LV, and SJ airports to get an idea of what it would be like. I had printed out maps, directions, tips to getting through security, emptied bottles of Purell to put my hair conditioner in less than 1 oz. bottles. Now, I basically check in, go through security, and sit and wait for my plane.

I freak out a little at security. I pray every time I don't get stopped for random body scans or anal probing or whatever. I'm always reminded of when I crossed the border coming back from Mexico and all my bags had gone through the scanners and the guy stops me and asks if I have candy in my bag. I say yes. And he says "Ok, just checking." But I was wide-eyed and flight-or-fight ready. He totally let me go after that, but I was seriously shaking at the thought that my Nerds were going to get me thrown into a detention cell in the middle of nowhere, Mexico, and I wouldn't be seen or heard from again.

I think my mom has instilled in me this worst-case-possible-scenario-ideology-- if someone isn't dead, they will be in .3 seconds. I always do that. I really like to know that the people I care about and even simply my acquaintances, shoot even my enemies, are safe. And I will go out of my way to make sure of it. It bugs me to no end if I don't know the safety status of someone. It's why I would have severe difficulties marrying someone in a position of danger (police officer, firefighter, military, pro-wrestling, etc.).

Anyway, so when it comes to planes, I have to touch the outside of the plane. I usually also pray that God carries our plane safely to our destination with His own hands. I also always pack my Converse in my carry-on. If there's a Lost-situation that I ever become a part of, I do not want to be stuck with my plane-slippers.

And all of these things must be down if I want the plane to get me to where I need to go. Seriously.

My superstitions heavily come out when I take tests.

Multiple choices tests are absolutely the worst things to have superstitions about because I'm already questioning every answer I put down, but patterns start emerging, there's seven D's in a row and what professor would fucking do that to his students.

But it's happened.

I have a big problem with multiple questions answered with the same letter in a row. However, this is contingent upon which form I have. If I have Form A, I automatically assume that this would never happen. Two in a row, maybe. But three? Four? Simply out of the question. If I have Form B, I am less scared about this occurrence, though I still definitely worry. However, the more versions of the test there are and the farther away from the original the test I have is, the less worried I get.

I think that's an inverse relationship.

The Creativity midterm I just took had so many of these triple, quadruples in a row, I was literally second guessing everything. I've already put down four B's in a row. Could this question really be B too? WHO THE FUCK DOES PROFESSOR MCKENZIE THINK HE IS? WHY IS HE DOING THIS TO ME?

I sincerely doubt he even knows he's completely torturing me, but he is and if I can't say this to him in person without sounding like I need to be locked up, then I'm at least going to say it here.

Another test superstition has to do with question 13. It's a really arbitrary one, but I like question 13 to be answered with a C. 13 is my favorite number, C is my first initial. I feel like I will ace a test, if this occurs, no matter how poorly I know I'm doing.

13 = C = A++.

It's a pretty simple equation.

If 13 isn't C, then I'm fine with D, for Davis. We're still all good in the neighborhood.

However, if 13 is either A or B, then we need to do some work to make myself feel better. I first look at 7 and see what that is- if it matches 13, then I look to 20, if the matches we've got a pretty good set-up and I feel awesome.

See, 7-20 is my birthday and 20 - 7 = 13 and so because of the complex and personally important relationship that these numbers create for me, if they all match, I feel elated.

During my Creativity midterm, I had 13 as a B. Not a good sign. I didn't like it once bit. I read and reread that question over and over, trying to find any way that the answer could possibly be C or D. There wasn't. So, I looked at 7- also B. Ok, now we're getting somewhere. I get to 20- also B. Whew, that was close. BUT WAIT! if I have the 7+13 relationship to 20, then I also need 7+20 and 20+13 as well.

Seriously, this new hang up just created itself this past week. And in all honesty, I'm not mad I have new relationships to check. I'm frustrated that I haven't thought of this before and how many Scantron tests have I taken in my life? How many of these relationships did I fail to match and figure out? It's unbelievable. I wish I could go back and see every test I've ever taken to double check.

Back to Creativity midterm, I check out 27- B. Good. But 33, that's a no go. D. I go back and check every answer in the relationships- 7, 13, 20, 27, 33. I need these to connect before I turn in my test.

Unfortunately, I cannot forge a full relationship. Fortunately, I;m not so bound by this need that I will change answers I know to wrong ones just to make things fit into my compulsive-patterned brain. I can walk away and turn in this test and be ok with the results, come what may.

Wouldn't you know? I was finished with my test first and got the second highest grade in the class. HELLA!

The Un-date-able Vibe: Speculations On My Singleness

Sometimes I am seriously convinced that I give off an "un-date-able vibe."

Ok, not sometimes.

All the time.

"It's your whole demeanor," he said. "Everything about you says, 'Don't even think about it.'" This was an unnerving moment of truth. I mean, I know how much people annoy me, but was it so obvious to others?

Charmed Thirds

I've considered I give off the un-date-able vibe for quite some time now. I don't think I've even been a contender for someone in the past three years because I sincerely reek of this malodorous stench of un-date-ability. I'm not the girl who gets flirted with by the waiter, the girl who gets a double-take walking to class, the girl who can go dancing and have a guy ask to dance with her. I'm none of them.

And I have to wonder... why not?

When I hear songs that remind me of Blake, it still really hurts. There are a lot of them too. A lot of Taylor Swift to be exact (I have a penchant for equating songs to certain moments or places or people and I bought her first cd soon after we broke up. Think "Cold As You" for our 'fail-ship.') I've quite moved on from that relationship, but there's still so much that connects me to it that it's hard in moments, though they grow more and more infrequent. Redding used to be a huge crutch in my weakness after that relationship. Everywhere I went, I saw him: moments where we drove down long stretches of road smiling, moments where we walked through a city asleep, moments in empty bathtubs with large bowls of macaroni-and-cheese, moments made at mountaintops somewhere down a highway, moments where I could have been more scared than I've ever been in my entire life but I wasn't simply because I was with him.

And then I have to remember that most, if not all, of those moments were carefully calculated to follow the relationship template he had built in his mind.

Now I've realized that there wasn't one moment where I remembered 'this is something Blake and I used to do' during this past Christmas break. I was nervous he'd be at church, but I think that's just because of my outlandish social anxiety I am carefully cultivating here in college. But it's good that I don't think of him like I used to. It was all consuming for over a year. That relationship left me with so many questions that I don't think a conversation with him until the end of time would have given me the closure I so desperately needed.

This is where, I'm sure, my un-date-able vibe truly began, though I'm believe it's been floating all around me since the day I was brought to the world. How can any boy find you attractive when you're so pathetically holding onto the shreds of a failure of a relationship? And I was clinging to those threads with strength I never knew I had.

However, that ended in June of 2009. So, I still need an explanation for the next two years. Let's continue.

Christmas of 2008, well into my Blake-worship, I received two Christmas presents that were highly unlikely to be given to me--I got two rings from two separate people. I've never really worn jewelry. I mean, those who know me now, know those rings are a constant presence on my freakishly small carnie hands, but never before this Christmas. These rings were given to me without consulting ring size and therefore, wouldn't it be such a coincidence that they both only fit on the fourth finger of each hand. I wear both of them proudly and almost without ceasing, leaving one to go on a specially designated finger enclosed in a binding circle of silver.

Is this a part of my un-date-ability? I have to wonder if this is seen by boys as a sign to stay away from me. Am I a girl who threw caution to the wind and married young, too poor to sport a real diamond but instead having a simple silver band as the symbol of my infatuation of a marriage?

Or is it just a ring?

I guess I could be that girl who marries young. I seem like it, don't I? The really good girl who found a really good guy and settled into what should be a long, happy, and loving marriage.

But I'm not. And therefore, this annoys me.

Where to go from there?

I guess we could talk about my endless crushes and infatuations after the Blake-episode.

Here's where I get a bit more honest than I would like...

After Blake there was Andrew (for awhile and throughout), Josh (for a year and a half), Eyal (for a second), Michael (for a time), Chad (for a summer), Henry (for a night) etc. (The strikeout is there for me to feel a little less vulnerable saying things I've never really told anyone, Stephanie aside. A way for me to hide behind a small HTML tag. Thank you for this indulgence. I feel less... naked.) Most of these are simply fleeting infatuations that are mostly just fun for me. To like someone for a little bit, daydream obsessively for a second, then move on. There were a couple scattered throughout that actually meant something to me, but I've learned to just accept that although I may want more with someone, it's usually not mutual.

Could that be a part of my un-date-able vibe? Do I so immediately assume that a current object of obsession won't like me back that I shut down the opportunity before I even let it happen?

That could be the case.

I'm hesitant to doubt myself in this matter. Not because I'm completely convinced of my infallible awesomeness, but because I don't think I'm a bad catch. I'm smart (despite being a psych major in a school full of engineers, doctors, researchers, and researching doctor engineers). I'm funny. I'm not freaking ugly. I would love "cute" and be thrilled with "pretty," though I might be wary if you called me "beautiful" and laugh in your face if you called me "hot" or "HAWT" or anything else remotely like that. I'm mostly happy with who I am as a person. And that's pretty good for me, since I can absolutely abhor myself sometimes.

(Come to think of it, I wonder if I could actually measure the amount I love myself and the amount I hate myself and what those things entail. Future blog post, yes? Line up my insecurities for all the world to see.)

I know I'm a neurotic and rough around the edges. I'm not the feminine girly girl, but I'm not the bad ass Joile kind of girl either. I'm an adaptable middle ground.

Ultimately, with time and patience, I think I will eventually make a pretty kick ass wife.

And therefore, I must admit, those of you who have indeed passed me over, that's going to suck for you.

Ok, so maybe I'm a little convinced of my infallible awesomeness.

You know, I've never been on a date.

No, seriously.

Yes, I've had a boyfriend. I've even had boyfriends.

But I've never been on a real date.

I know this sounds corny, but I would really like someone just to ask me out. Show a little interest. Let me know that I'm not the girl you wouldn't even have sex with in post-apocalyptic world where you and I are the only survivors.

I say I've never been on a date because in truth I haven't. I've never been on one of those "You look cute today in the coffee shop and I would like to get to know you better dates." Granted, those are the ones Joshua Harris warns us good Christians against. But all I'm asking is for one. Heck, I would take one with someone I know.

I've always done the good dating thing-- be friends first, get to really know a guy before taking that next big step into a relationship-- but you know what? I epically fail at that because by the time we get to the "next big step" I'm usually head over heels infatuated and then I'm the crazy girlfriend because I've waited so long for this moment and then I'm clingy and awful and obsessed and absolutely bat shit insane.

Guys, you are definitely wanting to date me now.

HELLO UN-DATE-ABILITY VIBE!
I can feel it.

I mean when the friendships I had with guys turned into relationships, it never felt like dating. We were still hanging out. There was never anything special or exciting or anything that really changed from the friendship. Is courting the friendship? Getting to know each other in groups and then eventually alone? The only thing that ever changed was that now it was ok to hold each others' hand.

Personally, I kind of find a lot of fault in the "friends to relationship" because the only thing that's really different seems to be the physical. And that gets me in a lot of trouble.

So, I would like to go out on a date.

Nothing special. Let me get dressed up and take me to a dinner and a movie. Preferably one I would enjoy. But don't worry, I like movies where things get blown up and there's a lot of gratuitous violence more than the run-of-the-mill romcoms Hollywood shits out every other month. It's not as painful as it would seem, is it?

I don't know what is the ultimate factor of my un-date-ability. It could simply be God protecting me since He knows I go all crazy and He's keeping me safe until the guy who won't mind comes along. And that's fine with me. Well, as much as a single-for-awhile twenty-year-old girl can be fine with it. It still doesn't mean I can't wonder and write about and obsess over in the mean time. It could be any of the multitude of things that I've already talked about. It could be something I've never even considered.

So, I'm asking you, dear readers, my friends, those who are supposed to be honest with me, what do you think makes me this way?

Resolutions and Redemption: The Return to Sporadic, Prolific Blogging

Sometimes I forget I am in college.

That's weird, right?

I think it is.

See, I forget until someone unknowingly snaps my mind back into my brain and brings the fact into obvious light. I was walking down the street that spans from The Village and ends abruptly in the T-intersection in front of the plastic bubble building everyone asks about but no one ever seems to have a real answer as to what happens inside of it situated conspicuously in the inbetween of the Muir upper and lower parking lots, on my way to (of all things) PSYC176: Creativity when it happened this past Thursday. It was simply two boys, one of his longboard and one on his bike, pedaling and pushing after each other, who brought me back to the world in front of me with a single we question-- "Are we going to OVT or Cafe V?" It seemed so normal; a question that everyone on campus would have asked at least once in their time here, at least since both buildings have been built and used as functioning dining halls (but I don't know if I should quite give that label to either as I'm still scarred by high school cafeteria lunches).
It was a part of an everyday lexicon that, had I not gone here, I would have never understood.
And that's when I remembered I was in college.

What can I say about my time spent in college? I'm not sure yet. I'm not sure if it's the place where I've discovered my self, tried new things, "experimented," found my life's purpose and path, found a political identity, found out what sex is really like in all its forms, made mistakes but learned from them. I'm not sure what this place is for me at all.

I'm tempted to call it a continuation of my high school existence, a place of waiting-for-the-next-big-thing. But that would cheapen something I know is not either of those things. Though it feels like it in low moments.

I feel as if my time in college has been on this path I've never veered from. I picked psychology because that's what I've always felt I should and wanted to study "...because after years and years of school, something I'm good at, I could get a job where I could work all the time and make a ton of money to support my family and be comfortable, which is never something I've ever once had in my life." I started working at the thrift store because I love thrift store shopping, buying so many books that I don't think I'll ever get through all of them in my life (my home and school bookshelves are in overflow mode currently). I started doing the radio show because I wanted a time where I could listen to my music as loudly as I wanted (though it is not exactly the place I can do that). I got involved in iHop because I wanted to do something in iHouse that padded my application to get into it next year. I must say though, I continue going because I enjoy the people who go there and what we do. I pick classes that fit what I'm supposed to do, what I like, though they never end up seeming to go the way I wanted and I fall back into my memorize-regurgitate-forget pattern that I so dearly relied upon throughout my pre-college academia. I picked up a Writing minor so I could do the classes, though I feel like I might want to major in it more.

And honestly, I don't know what's bad about any of that.

Why do I feel like I have simultaneously explored new things but stuck to my comfort zone? Why do I feel like I've rebelled against the norm but fit amongst the many here? Why do I feel stuck but in retrospect know that that isn't the case at all?

I've been reading the Jessica Darling series after finally completing ownership of the entire series. I realize how much that girl had an impact on my college path. I applied to Columbia because she went there. I picked majoring in psychology because of the reasoning she did-- I analyze so much, might as well get paid for it. Ok, the two don't seem like much but now when reading her words, I feel less like this main character and I are so similar and more like "Wow, I definitely attempted to follow in her footsteps." I even write like she does. This currently-being-written blog SCREAMS "I am trying to be Jessica Darling" though it doesn't feel too far from myself. Also, she would never blog. At least as far as book three is concerned.
She has this boyfriend, Marcus Flutie, who I am obsessed with. I remember in eighth grade when my passionate love affair with Jessica Darling began, I obscured the pink canvas of my Jansport backpack with "I heart MF." I think he would be my Marcus Flutie because of the awkward history we have together. It's a history I'm not going to dabble in on the for-everyone's-eyes Internet, but it's a history that's never had a real closure for me. It's a little unstable.

I've been wondering what it would be like to get back into contact with Nate and I even looked him up on myspace because I knew that's where he would be. I wondered what he would think if "Chelsey"-no picture, no profile, no nothing- were to contact him out of the blue with a friend request. I wonder if he would remember who I was.

I feel as if there were anyone currently in my life like Marcus, it would be Josh. He's really opened himself up to new things it seems- vegetarianism, Habitat for Humanity, the Peace Corps, doing things I could never dream of doing. Ok, I'm making him sound like some super-liberal-left-wing-nutcase, but I don't see that in Josh at all. He's not that kind to shove opinions down anyone's throat which is just one of the things saves him from being the stereotypical-Save the Whales-dreadhead and being labeled as anything but awesome. He's not into this stuff for political reasons- maybe the vegetarianism- but because he likes them. I remember meeting him in his sophomore year and how he seemed really young and lost in life. Seeing how much Josh has changed since then is a really neat thing. I think he's still a lost though, which is something I think he will fully admit to.

I like the way Josh lives his life though. I don't know how to define it but I don't think I could ever do it, whatever "it" is. I just definitely know it doesn't include this downer, socially phobic, judgmental, close-mindedness thing I have going on. I don't know how to change that though.

Because today is the first day of that time of the month where my body violently turns on itself and attempts to rid itself of all that my uterus has been holding onto, I've been stuck in bed eating Froot Loops straight from the bag and reading Jessica Darling. Reading these books have brought up a lot of new things to think about and I fell into of those thought-naps where you're asleep but it feels like you've been thinking the whole time.

I knew I had been asleep, yet I still woke up wondering why my room was dark, why I hadn't seen the divine blend of colors reflected against the sterile white walls of my dorm room. I was still surprised that time had passed at all though I was in the same on-my-side position with my had holding my place in my book and my heating pad lying on top of my raised hip.

However, I knew it was time to start blogging again.

Weird, huh?

I've been thinking about coming back to really blogging for awhile now. Not that shit I've randomly posted from time to time this past summer and quarter. Something more real.

I've had my doubts about this blog. First, it was merely something to be creative in. Then it was influenced by Hyperbole and Half's wit and comic autobiographical epicness and turned into this must-produce-must-advertise-must-must-must thing that ended up sucking all the fun out of it. And I haven't really been able to go back to it since.

Also add onto the fact that I don't feel like I can be honest on here because of the 20-something people who read it. I'm not that vulnerable, ok? I can't spread my life like that for people. I'm much more of a closed-off, in-my-shell, don't-ask-me-how-I'm-doing-unless-you-want-a-lie kind of girl. I have to work up telling my best friend things, but that's as far as I'm willing to work at the moment.

Well, except for the fact that I'm attempting a new blog yet again. I shall not advertise; I shall not tell anyone that I'm really writing again and trying to write openly and honestly (except for the one event that shall remain "The Event" for legal and safety purposes); I shall not let the blog become a must.

I think these are the New Resolution's I will make.