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Yup, it's official. A few choice people will experience my shenanigans by living vicariously through my photos from this point on. Piss off and goodnight.

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So I've grown bored of rambling and have moved to http://stillshotlife.blogspot.com

Maybe I'll update this every once and a while, maybe not. We shall see...

114

The loss of a loved one is always a heavy subject. I often think about those dear to me that I've lost over the years, and it never fails to bring tears to my eyes. I can remember the day my first grandma died, it was in August 2001. I was already asleep because I was in summer school and I had class early the next day. The phone kept ringing off the hook, and finally around 1:00 AM my parents answered the phone. All I could hear were the slightly muffled screams and wails projecting through the walls that divide mine and my parents' room. I remember lying restlessly in bed debating on whether or not I should wobble out of bed (my left knee was out of order again) and yell at my parents to shut the hell up, because I'm trying to sleep. Then again I thought that maybe my dad's back was in pain, so I'll just suffer in silence. About an hour later I hear the footsteps of my parents creeping up the short hallway, and I quickly flip to my side and pretended to sleep. My dad quietly calls my name, followed by my mom's voice saying "nevermind, let her sleep! Just tell her in the morning!" After the door shuts I lie in bed wondering what is to be said in the morning. My hello kitty alarm clock blasts through my room at 6:00 am and continuously hit the snooze button. I turn the radio on so I won't fall back into a deep sleep. A knock at my door distracts me from my power nap, and the muffled voice of my dad tries to wake me. I tell him I'm awake and go back to sleep. Another knock and another "'Selle?" Annoyed I yell, "I'M AWAKE!!!" Through the door I hear, "can you open the door?" I limp out of bed and open the door. My dad instructs me to sit down and my mom stands at the door frame like a prison warden. My dad quietly says, "your grandma..." I shake my head, I wouldn't let him finish. He continues, "You grandma had an accident last night..." I ask if she's alright and my dad simply states, "No." He tells me that she had a aneurysm and died. I scream that he's lying and look at my mom. Another scream comes out, "YOU'RE LYING! NO! SHE'S NOT DEAD!" My dad simply holds me and tells me she's in heaven now. I was in so much denial that I continue to scream that they're lying. The moments after were somewhat of a blur; explaining my situation at the school so I could get out early, crying on my desk for a few minutes while dad talks to the principal, going to Josh's house and flying out the next day. The first moments in California was surreal. We were all sitting in my uncle's house praying the first night of the rosary, and the minute the prayers start the whole house breaks down into loud sobs and cries. I continue to sit on the couch crying to myself as family comes over to console me, family I haven't seen in years. Despite the fact that we all lived an hour away from each other at the most, petty issues are what broke us apart. I refuse to accept the fact that it took a tragedy to bring us back together. Photos are being passed around from the night before in the hospital room, photos of the moments before they pulled the plug on her life support. It felt wrong to see her lying in a vegetative state with tubes coming out of her. Photos of her surrounded by family members looking miserable. This isn't what she would have wanted. From that point on I vowed to remember her as she was, not the way she looked in her final moments. She died on August 9, 2001. This coming August will mark 9 years since she left us.

In my room hangs the program from her funeral with a prayer card of the saints from the funeral. As painful as it is to stare up at her smiling face on the program, it reminds me of the way she was. She was a simple woman who learned to make due with her situation. She didn't have much, but never complained as to why she was given this kind of life. She was a class act and was so charming that you couldn't help but love her from the moment you first met her. She loved her children and her grandchildren equally, she had so much love and affection to give. When she would come over for holidays, she would always stay for long periods of a time so she will not miss a birthday or anniversary. She was always here to take care of us, in some way she was like a second mother to my cousins and I. Her smile and infections laugh always rings through my head. I'll never forget the time my parents, grandma and I were on our way to the store and she would tell me stories about my dad, uncles, and aunties growing up. I'll always remember how a smile would creep on her face, and her laugh would ring out in the car when Aaliyah's "Are You that Somebody" came on the radio. She would always say "I love the sound of that baby laughing in the background!" I think the one thing I truly truly love about her is her refusal to give up. That's a trait that keeps me going. If she could make something out of, literally, nothing, then so can I.

Physically losing someone you love and care about is one of the most difficult tests one will experience many times in their life. In the end it's how you learn to keep going. Although they may physically be gone, they're always here in spirit. Think of them as the invisible friend you had growing up, only this time no one will think you're mentally crazy if you talk to them out loud. Despite the fact how much time you've spent with the person or how often you've spoken to them, just be glad that you've had the opportunity to have them in your life. In one way or another, they've made just as big of an impact on your life as you have theirs. It's painful now, and it will take years for this pain to heal. Sometimes it may not heal at all, but it's a matter of learning to function again. As long as you have great family and friends that will help you move on, you know you'll be alright. As depressing as funerals are, remember that it's a celebration of life. Instead of dwelling upon the person's final moments, tell stories about the person's life. That will turn pain into happiness and diminish the sorrow.

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I'm in the process of searching for internships and jobs, and so far I have gig hopefully lined up for me. Flora says that a family friend is a photographer for National Geographic and is willing to have me intern for him. I'm so excited, but at the same time I'm trying to find my own stuff just be to safe. It's such a pain in the ass searching. This past week I've been trying to suppress my quarter life crisis and I'm on the verge of having a meltdown. The realities of life are heavily punching me in the face, and I'm taking every fiber of my being to fight back. So far life-1, me -0. I'm still under the belief that I need to get out of Maryland and discover the world. I know I will find my niche elsewhere, which would explain why I'm having such a hard time finding a job here.

Graduation is only coming much sooner, and I need to find a job within my degree field, even if it's just general art. Andrew made an appearance at Saphire last night, which was a huge surprise. He made it to NYC and has gigs left and right in jazz bands and plays clubs almost every night. Now he's the new drummer for the Pietasters, and his career is skyrocketing. I'm not going to lie and say that I'm not the least bit envious that he made it to NYC. It's been my dream, but given my circumstances, my potential relocation had come to a hault. My dad was willing to let me go, but financially it wasn't sound. And that's something I completely understand, because I'm not going to financially destroy my family just so I could follow my dream. I will get to New York on my own terms, but for now I'm going to have to do the grunt work. This means get through school, find some local jobs, continue freelance stuff, and then make my way to the big city.

I guess it's just time for my semi-annual meltdowns. I keep reminiscing about my dreams since I was a child, and this is how I never imagined my life. As far as I can remember, my dreams were

0-3 years old: ballerina
3-7: nurse
7-8: doctor
8: artist
8-12: doctor
12-14: undecided
15-18: psychologist
18-20: musician
20: undecided
20.5-now: artist

There are other aspects of my life in which I never imagined it would be this way. I think I'm just speaking out of sheer frustration because I have friends who have graduated on time, have fabulous jobs, great boyfriends/husbands, starting new beginnings in other cities, starting families...where as I'm still stuck in that small house in suburbia living with my parents and my dog. Although the later is more a cultural thing, I just want to get out to prove that I am very self sufficient. I understand and appreciate that my parents still worry for me since I am the only child, but I need to get out of here. I'm suffocating and this is why I can't find a fucking job!

I keep telling myself that I'm enduring this hardship because it'll all payoff in the end, like it does in the movies. Everyone tells me that, but what if I'm going to end up a nobody still stuck in suburbia working a dead end, thankless job. My dad believes that I will make it, and he keeps reminding me that the day I should give up is the day he gives up. My dad is not one to ever give up on anything, he will always find a light at the end of the tunnel. He knows that frustration will always be there, but the biggest task is proving yourself to be the better person and fighting your way out. Recently he reminded me that I have my grandma's spirit, charm, and smile, and that I need to learn how to utilize it. It's true, my grandma didn't have the easiest life; some would say that they wouldn't want to be in her shoes even for a minute. Despite the hardships that was her life, she still managed to charm people with her contagious smile and always made the best out of her situation. Even when you saw the sorrow on her face, she still remained strong spirited. Normally this is where I would say I wish I could be as strong as she was, but I won't. I am as strong as she was and I just need to channel that. Even when things got tough she never let frustration get the best of her. I feel like it's time for a letter, only this time it's not going to be anonymous.

Dear Grandma,

Words cannot express how much I miss you. I really wish you were physically here right now. Just the sound of your voice is so comforting. I miss our talks, you were always encouraging me and telling me that I will make it. I miss your stories about life in the Philippines and Guam. No matter what obstacles life threw at you, you always took on the challenge with a smile on your face. No matter how hard life gets, nothing beats a hug and a "that's enough bon, you're going to be okay."

I just wish that I had more time with you here. I know that you're looking after me know, that you're with me every step of the way. Through every struggle, every triumph, and every lesson, you're right there next to me. You're still there giving me strength and lifting me off the ground when I feel like all is lost. Even though I can't physically see and hear you, I feel your presence around me. I love you grandma, and I miss you every day.

Always,
Your Bonny Rabbit.

112

Here's a fun exercise!

1. Go to the nearest mirror.
2. Look at your reflection for one minute.
3. Get a pen and a piece of paper.
4. Write down your birth year and subtract it from 2010. The total your be your current age.
5. Go back to the mirror and look at your reflection. Only this time repeat your age to yourself 10 times out loud.

Repeat as needed.

Here at BW Studios we are equal opportunity discriminators. Any incessant implication will result in personal retaliation. We would also like to remind you that any information; hearsay, verbatim, etc, is not always on a need to know basis. In other words, ***** *****, KEEP YOUR DAMN MOUTH SHUT.

111

Random post numero dos:



In a previous post I mentioned that Titanic is one of my favorite movies of all time. Lately I've been in a Titanic mood and I think I've finally figured out why I love it so much (besides Leo), the story line reminds me of my parents. My mom came from a well to do family and gave up everything when she married my dad against her parents' consent. It was all or nothing for her, and they made it work. They got married after physically meeting each other 3 days prior to the wedding, and only keeping in touch with letters before hand. You can't argue with 27 years of marriage and counting! Stories like this give help boost what little faith I have left in humanity.

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Stress is one of the horrible traits I have. Learning to relax and practice the art of not panicking is definitely something I need to work on. Amidst my numerous panic attacks, I finally saw my advisor and received my class list. I have it all set out, but for some reason I process my list. It keeps telling me that I can't register at the moment, but my list is saved. Next semester is going to be art filled once again, and for sure I'm going to be BROKE! Lord help me! At least I got the most tedious part over with. It turns out that I took the wrong non lab science, so I have to take another one to complete that requirement. I would like to take another Spanish class, but it conflicts with my schedule. I guess I'm going to have to relearn on my own. I just had a pleasant conversation with mi madre about my major, and she was still under the impression that I was double majoring. I told her that Towson sucks and won't let me double major in art, it has to be art history or art education. I'm considering adding art history, but that would probably delay my graduation status. After the fall I should be on my final semester, so I don't think I want to delay graduating any more than I have. Mom kept arguing that I should've stuck with graphic design, but I told her about the process one must go through to declare the graphic design major. You have to go through a screening process and take a test. You're only allowed two chanced and if you fail you'll have to change majors. My first love is photography and my goal is to be a photojournalist. With that said, I'll most likely have to go to grad school. Speaking of...*NOTE TO SELF: Ask Dawn about advisor friend who's also a photojournalist.* Dawn told me one of her friends at MC went to grad school for photojournalism, and told me about the places she got to travel to for her projects. It sounds so exciting and I hope she can help me out. In the mean time I could also go to MC and take more graphic design courses to save money. Who's to say that I won't take anymore graphic design classes at Towson? It does apply to my major and there's a required graphics course already. When I am able to hit the "enroll" button, my schedule will be freakin' sweet. No classes on Fridays once again. I was aiming for a Mon-Tues schedule, but some classes made it impossible to do so. Needless to say all is well in the world.

I got my womens studies midterm back, and I got an 87%. If I hadn't panicked on some of the answers I would've gotten a 90. If I had gotten the dreaded question number 2, I would've gotten that A. Oh well, not back for the midterm. Plus professor Rio is a hard ass when it comes to grading, so I have to say that I'm really proud of myself. After class I hung out with Angel and Mike. We spoke of Hello Kitty's impending birthday in June, and the endless array of interventions needed for people we know. Mike thinks that we should have a Hello Kitty themed party for Hello Kitty, because he thinks it messed up. He hasn't been around us as much, so he doesn't understand our thought processes around birthdays. He also thought it was screwed up how we made custom shirts and a custom cake for Manboy's birthday. He'll learn. Hello Kitty's expecting this to happen for his birthday, and he's welcoming it with open arms. What he doesn't know is where the location of the party. BUAHAHAHAHA! He's also under the impression that his birthday will be centered around the drag picture. It's part of it, but he doesn't know what else we have planned. We invaded Ben and Jerry's for the free scoop day and ventured over to Regal just to hang out in the arcade. The ticket person kept watching us like a hawk thinking that we were going to theater hop. Um, no. We said we just wanted to hang out in the arcade area and that's what we did. Angel and I took an updated photo booth picture. For once we didn't have ten million people trying to squeeze in there with us, and the pictures are really cute.

Given my stress this semester to stay on top of things, I have to say that life is good.