Decisions, Decisions

😀 Good luck Cindy! We all believe in you!

Books and Tea


(Yes, I know I’ve been neglecting my blog…)

Hello All.

If you happen to be a senior in high school this year (or a senior applying to college, ever), you may know what it’s like to apply to college: the essay writing, the waiting, and then, oh god, the decision date.

I haven’t publicly broadcasted this on the internet, but tomorrow, I will be receiving a decision from Harvard. It’s not the only university I applied to (or will be applying to), but it’s one of the three schools I’ve applied to during the Early Action round (the other two being the University of GA and Georgia Institute of Technology). I’ll be hearing from the rest of the universities (a list containing many more schools that I’m not going to list out here, haha) in March, when Regular Decision results come out. And since I’ve been feeling pretty anxious…

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these stars i have loved i will not fear the night these stars have shown me the way i will not fear the end these stars which shout dies irae* oh stars i shout salva me, salva me….these stars save me and nourish my firestricken heart they see into me through my silverswitch soul it means dangerous–deadly–these stars can see the fire in me they can feel the storm these stars–oh! these stars!–they can see my word of dashes and squiggles, they can bury their minds in mine, they can know every part of me there is to be known, corporeal or not these stars–these stars! i shout, these stars! they know, they take over, they allow me to float down over the Earth and puncture the Sky these stars i can find you–quiet desperation–where are you–think of me–i can fly i can soar where is the ground i don’t know i don’t need to know anymore galaxy take me away galaxy leave me with these stars galaxy salva me, galaxy take me to my dies irae* galaxy seek me galaxy i know you are watching me galaxy i know you are a part of me galaxy find me galaxy never leave me galaxy i’m in your mind 


come now 

i’m desperate 

i’m dying 


This is the rain.

This is the rain when the universe cares. These are the drops not as big as birds as they hit the windows, stream down glass–this is the rain that heals.

This is the rain of lighter gray-blue clouds that you almost want to tag with numbers and letters but you’re afraid it’s too magical to name. This is the rain that “when the chaos came calling but [you were] not the dark and [you] succumbed” lifted and comforted you. This is the rain whose ethereal clouds make the trees glow light emerald and it is impossible to describe the green but with names of gems.

This is the rain that slides occasionally over your face and tells you it is okay to cry. This is the rain that slides mercifully over your shoulders and arms and heals your wounds. This is the rain that slides over you softly and reminds you not to lose control. This is the rain that knows your secrets, that knows your fears.

This is not the rain you mean when you say you want to write by a wet window, because for this rain you must be outside. This is the rain they shriek and run from. This is the rain you would melt for.

This is the rain you want to walk through with bare feet and bare shoulders. This is the rain you turn your face up to, because nothing could relieve you more. This is the rain we were made to enjoy. This is the rain that can be therapy. This is the rain that means you are alive. This is the rain you try to catch in your pale palms as your eyes are overwhelmed by the nameless gray…

This is the rain that restored your light, day after day. This is the rain that you remember. This is the rain that saved you.

This is the rain when you have found your own soul in another person.

This is the rain when the universe cares.


“Nobody is perfect.” 

This always makes me mad. Why can’t everyone be perfect? Well, then again, if everyone was perfect, it would be like no one was perfect. 

“Only God is perfect.” 

There’s another one. What in the absolute world does this even mean? What is perfect? Who defines that? 

I think that the perception of “perfection” is like the perception of religion. It is different for everyone. For some people, perfection is an A+ average, never arguing with anyone, and wrists so skinny it’s dangerous. For others, perfection is simply finishing college without failing. For some, perfection is making it through another day alive. 

Why can’t I be perfect? Yes, I make “mistakes.” My grades aren’t necessarily all A’s. I argue with people. I love rain, rhyme and rhythm like nothing else. I am at home in New York City and in the best crappy little beach town, Flagler. I relapse. I break down. Occasionally I hate myself, but that astronomical ego always prevails. 

I think I am perfect for myself. I don’t want or need anyone else to tell me this. I could always be a better person, I could always do more work, but honestly…..I read, I write. I do my schoolwork. Sometimes my room is too messy. Sometimes I look like I just don’t care. Sometimes my mind defeats me, and I rise again out of the mess. I flourish in some chaos, I thrive at the hospital. This is me. This is who I am, and it’s good enough. 

It’s good enough for me. Maybe I’ll never be “perfect” by someone else’s standards, but I’m good enough for my own. 

I am perfect. 


I love hospitals. I have an internship in a hospital with the neurosurgery department. I get to run all over the hospital with my PA. She’s awesome. Hospitals are great. They are filled with something that I once described as “good chaos”. My friend said “I wouldn’t call it ‘good chaos'”, but I think it is. It’s hopeful, lifesaving chaos. It’s quick decisions and quick, calm actions. It’s tests and procedures, surgeries and medicines. Yes, a hospital can be the most disappointing, depressing, sad, dread-filled place. It can be a place of death. But more often, hospitals are a place of hope. They are a place of life. Hospitals are where fear turns to hope, where love can bring back the critically ill. Hospitals are where life begins–and yes, ends. But there is a feeling in the air–an atmosphere of an almost tangible hope. Because that’s what you do in a hospital. You hope. And that makes them one of the most magical places to exist. Hospitals are where the unthinkable happens, but they are also where the seemingly impossible happens. You may be saddened more than you ever have been before, but there is always that crushing, uplifting thing to hold on to. In a hospital, the one thing you can do is hope

that ironflower taste

i never know what to say anymore what matters what to explain i keep thinking about her poem clockwork heart i keep waiting for my irresistible revolution to take over i keep waiting in the wings watching but not doing thinking about the papers i have due but not really feeling the ideas even though i’m not allowed to be eloquent not in science why are there such strict guidelines why can’t i just say what i want to say my own way why do i have to adhere to all these rules this life doesn’t matter anyway our minds are so much bigger we are meant for so much more than traffic taxes turkey on certain days we are a species so advanced so caught up in petty things why is science about money now why must i write science so coldly and concisely why can’t i use what i’ve gained as a writer and we’ll never be royals i didn’t like her because–yes, of all ridiculous reasons–she was so mainstream but now i see the beauty in her strange vibrating tones and that song does have incredible lyrics i think i just jealously want to guard it as mine i always want to do that don’t sing in case they hear you and your beautiful voice slips away don’t share your thoughts in case you don’t think the right things don’t share your heart lock it up behind cold doors of ice and beautiful blue gowns like Elsa and the plot twist but she did finally love her sister and use love for her powers instead of ice ice ice ice do you want to build a snowman…if i was in that story i would want to be Elsa the tortured one who keeps herself alone locks herself in a beautiful palace of ice because of fear of her magic but i know that i’d be Ana alone because of what i don’t understand and locked behind those gates that never open knocking on a door that never opens until a coronation day that isn’t mine second place to the girl who doesn’t want attention falling desperately for love that she doesn’t know is fake oh the story ends well but i do know my place among corsets and leather and skinny waists i wish but i’m not counted with the dancing girls we’re admiring as they show off i’m counted with the ones talking of motorcycles never looked at twice that way because girls worth looking at don’t know this much about riding and girls worth looking at don’t compliment the others trickly streams of tricky consciousness ironflower strength girls worth looking at don’t have that ironflower taste and Persephone i’m still with you glassghost drifting into the winter….into the winter….into the stormy night 

She Thinks

I should post on my blog, she thinks as she sits on her best friend’s bed, a New York City pillow behind her back. She clicks the little bookmarked link on her top bar in Chrome, the idle ideas of the past few blogless days (weeks?) flooding her mind. New Post, the enticingly inked button says. She experiences some anticipation as the page loads. And there it is, with a blank slot for the title, and a blank box for her thoughts. 

And there go her ideas. The flood drains away. And in her mind, she’s left with 


What’s Going On

I haven’t been writing lately. I’ve been reading, and it’s been great. But that book I started isn’t getting finished, and this blog is sitting here in pages made of white and gray and blue light, nothing being added, nothing here to take away. 

So, hi. My parents recently got me a car, a little 2008 Pontiac Vibe. It is absolutely perfect for me, and I am so grateful. I wasn’t expecting to be able to call something my car, but…wow. It’s great. I am so happy. 

I had a breakdown last night because of losing my best friend (to life) a few months ago. I’m not over that yet, but I have other wonderful friends. 

My relationships are as complicated as ever, and I’m okay with that. 

So, that’s life. Maybe I’ll have some writing soon, or something. 


I do not know what it is like to lose a friend to death, though I do know the pain of losing a friend to life. I don’t know if one is worse than the other; one way, you know that the friend willingly rejected you. The other, they may not have wanted to leave. But they are gone just the same, with everything around you triggering memories. 

Catastrophes don’t have to include death, but often they do. For me, my catastrophe was “The Time When Everything Went to Hell” last semester. Great start to my senior year, really. It did not involve any deaths, but it was a truly catastrophic time. 

Recently, in my school, a teacher died. It was extremely devastating for all of us, especially my favorite teacher. She helped me through “The Time When Everything Went to Hell.” I can only hope to help her through this devastating loss. The teacher who died was her best friend. 

I cannot hope to imagine what it is like to lose a friend to death. I can only hope that maybe, for someone, I can make the pain abate a little. Again, remember to ask yourself: “Who needs to be visited or called? Who needs to know they are thought of?” If anyone needs you, remember to reach out. It can make a world of difference. 

If it wasn’t for that teacher, my mentor, I might not be here today. I might not have sent the text to my mother during AP Psychology, telling her that I needed to go to the hospital immediately. I can only hope to help someone through a catastrophe, just like so many people helped me through mine. 

I can only hope. 


You’re Welcome

I feel bad just leaving this blog with complaints about writing for so long 😛 I kind of want to post something philosophical and interesting about society and all that, but it’s the second day of school (yes, on a Thursday. My district is messed up) and my brain is much too blarged for that. I should write more on my new book. And my old book. And the one I’m almost done with. And the five or six I’ve barely started. 

This post is rather pointless. Basically, hi. I’m going to go write stories now. Oh yeah, and a poem for my friend Persephone. 

I hope everyone is having a lovely time. I’m going from worst semester ever to best semester ever. I’m also drinking too much coffee (well, to me, too much coffee is like two cups a day). I got an internship at the hospital in the neurology office!! All the happyfaces for that, starting on the 21st. Well, the happyfaces start now, the internship starts on the 21st. Yay!! 

You’re welcome for this extremely essential and enlightening information.