I see why there is a reason I do not remember any of the episodes from season 6 of Gilmore Girls.

Absolutely awful. Maybe it seems worse because I am really tired and….well among other things.

Eh whatever.

My chest hurts.

Eh whatever.

Ok, I will go back to homework now.



Enough said. Very tired.


Seeing my parents after a long time. Sometimes I question my decision to choose Northwestern as my university. It is so far away from home, and although my parents visit as much as they can, I do not see them enough. That is why it is so much sweeter when I do see them. The world seems blue and grey when I am at college all alone. Life here is full of pressure and there are times when I can’t handle it. I do not tell my friends because I do not want to burden them and I want to maintain my image of happiness. I wish I was actually like that. I wish I could care less about grades. But I don’t. That is just not me. With my parents, however, I am more myself. It has taken me a long time to realize that no matter what I do or say, they will be by my side and support me. For the longest time I have tried to be perfect. The perfect daughter, the perfect friend, the perfect girl, the perfect student, the perfect journalist. But maybe to be perfect, I have to actually stop worrying about being perfect. I recognize that sometimes I am too hard on myself. The problem is, I don’t know any other way to live. This was supposed to be a paragraph about a happy moment. Seems like I deviated a bit. Writing all this, however, and letting people read it (letting people see me at my most vulnerable and see that I am actually a real person) might in fact lead to a happy moment. I need to get better about being vulnerable around those I know.

I feel a lot better now. I was watching Scrubs yesterday and thinking about my grades and things I may have done wrong and I felt every single sad detail from the show. This might seem weird because Scrubs is in fact, NOT a sad show. The deep and meaningful message at the end of every episode however, is insightful. I understood when the show talked about learning from others, about people just going along life and surviving. I did understand.


You waited a week.

What the hell were you thinking?

If you’re trying to be cool,

That is not what girls are seeking.

Just be yourself,

Be real.

That is all we want,

to be your sweet.

1, 2, 3.

Counting the miliseconds until I get to go is not really a smart thing to do.

What if a spark happens in milisecond 37.

Or a smile brings happiness in milisecond 132.

What if I miss them?

What if I miss the kiss in milisecond 345?

Or the skipping in public in milisecond 578?

Life is life.

And Mother Life will not be rushed.

I will enjoy the pie in milisecond 790.

I will caress the boy in milisecond 2076.

I will taste the chocolate in milisecond 3045.

I will live my life in milisecond number 0.

A Cake on the Cover

I love magazines that have colorful covers with cakes, desserts, flowers. It does not matter what it is, I think magazines like Living, Good Housekeeping, Better Homes and Gardens are able to bring a little spark in your life. It actually makes me happy to go to a Barnes and Noble and look at the color and life that these magazines bring. I think the photography is amazing. I would love to be one of the creators of those photographs. With the way I am feeling right now and with the pressure pushing against my chest, pushing against the corners of my brain, I need a spark in my life. This made me think of Living. It has actually convinced me that color is the answer for everything. Bring some color into my temporal darkness. Spark that match that will make me feel light and bubbly again.

I cannot wait for this week to be over.

And in spite of that, I know I will enjoy every second of it.

Life is weird like that.

I guess.

Little Candy Hearts

I am a modern girl.

Done with all traditional notions of kisses and hugs.

Do not care for corny I love yous or mushy chivalry.

Do not need someone to make me feel special.

I already do.

Do not need someone to swipe me off my feet.

Believe me.

My clumsiness does that for me.

Do not even like those colorful candy hearts.


Valentine’s day is almost here and I almost wish…

Yes, I almost wish…

As much as I want to pretend I don’t.

As much as I say that I do not need…

As much as I tell you I am ok.


This Valentine’s day…

I think I do…

I think I do need you.

Send me kisses and hugs.

Send me corny I love yous and show me mushy chivalries.

Make me feel special.

Send me candy hearts.

I’m probably not going to eat them because…

I really do not care for artificial colors or sugar.

But I have come to realize..


As many have realized before me…

It really is not about liking sugar

or colors

or hearts

at all.

Is it?

It is only about you.

And me.

And the world.

Revolving around..





And ultimately…

You & Me.

Send me love this Valentine’s day.

A single chocolate will do.

Or a single kiss in the sparkling..

Sparkling moonlight.

Red. Blue and Black.

An exploded heart.

Yes, that’s what it is. 

“I don’t see it.” He was tall, handsome and looked at the painting with a pair of eyes that would have made any girl swoon. Good thing she wasn’t just any girl.

She did not even turn her head. Her eyes were stuck to the mess of paint that hung before her. She said mess, because really that’s what it was, but it wasn’t a bad mess. Actually, it was quite wonderful. Something she would love to see hanging on her own wall. Too bad she didn’t have her own walls to hang wonderful paintings on. And Louisa would definitely not let her hang it. Those weren’t her walls to expand with beautiful colors.

She realized the man was still standing next to her, probably waiting for an answer. Or maybe just admiring her silhouette. Her face. Her dress. It was all really quite stunning and this was not the first male gaze she had received this evening.

She almost felt bad for him, she was really not in the mood to create a new relationship. But terribly sad for him, she was in the mood to play.

“Evening star in a night sky?” She finally answered, reading the painting title out loud. “Are you sure?” she continued, “the theme of the painting is really very clear.”

Out of the corner of her eye she sensed his mouth go into a sly smile. He knew.

“You’re playing with me.” He phrased it into beautiful words. Made beautiful by his accent of course, not the words themselves. She finally had to do it. Oh well.

Yes, she succumbed. And she was quite happy she did. He really was a sight to behold. Definitely the most handsome man in the room. Yes, in the whole art gallery. You see? This is one of the reasons why she loved living in London. The men really were quite stunning. And that accent!

This felt quite comfortable. They had been staring at each other for probably two minutes, the two probably thinking of the same word. Beautiful. 

But Ella was not one to be swept off her feet so easily. She liked the tricks.

“You are thirsty, I see.” She pointed with her eyes to the two champagne glasses in his hands. Ones that had been there since he had walked up to her. He didn’t even dare at playing her game. He just extended one arm. Towards her.

“One is for you.”

“Oh, thank you, but I don’t drink.” This was the truth, not only a way to stump his flirting. Ah but alas. It backfired.

“Well that’s perfect because this is mosto.” He said this as he turned once again towards the painting. His hand still extended to the side. I wonder how long it would take for him to get tired and then drop the glass. Everyone would be so shocked! She was ready to do it, but his smiling face made her realize she would not win. He was determined to play as well.

“Mosto?” She repeated as she grabbed the glass and turned to the painting as well. She was surprised that someone else knew the Spanish un-alcoholic drink. Sweeter than cider, but looked quite closely to champagne. She was intrigued now, but her brain did not want to play anymore. It just wanted to appreciate the painting. But he would not let her.

“Are you here alone?” All right then. Game on.

“Oh no, I am here with my lesbian lover.” Mosto and spit flew everywhere in front of his face. Some people even stared. Disappointment followed however. He realized quite quickly she was kidding.

“Good one.” He said as he laughed. A clunky, clownish kind of laugh which sounded so ridiculous coming from such a wondrous face. Soon enough she was laughing with him. “You timed that wonderfully.” He took another sip.

“I am here with my friend.” She pointed to Sarah who had seemed to get what she wanted. “She dragged me here so she could seduce Alicia Benning, one of the painters.”

“Ah yes,” he looked towards the two beautiful women making out in the corner, “it seems she has succeeded.”

To be continued.