painter

"today i am more confident, my heart is open to hope, i have faith in myself. no, the laborious studies i work at are not useless, the road i am following is a good one, and with the help of God, i shall achieve glory, a just and a pure glory."

-william bouguereau

epiphane. or however you spell it

i have to stop stating the obvious

and start thinking about what i say

cus words are valuable

yeahhh hopefully that goes well

i tend to just ramble

i like books again

Thoughts

i love the smell of winter. it reminds me of 204 woodside circle dresher, pennsylvania 92821. ha! still crystal clear in mah HEAD. i miss putting little doggy gloves on cinnamon and running outside in the snow with him released. he'd eat the snow and there would be white powder all over his muzzle. i feel somewhat conceited saying this but cinnamon is undoubtedly the cutest four-legged creature on earth. he likes winter too, i can tell

christmas lights too, they make me happy.

and jazzy christmas music. kenny g's altosax: so beautiful, it makes me wanna cry. probably the rush of nostalgia. i like how my mom's so loyal to the music she likes. like norah jones, i remember listening to it over and over and over again when i was in elementary school. she'll always be my favorite, i think. that one cd at least, i don't know her newer stuff.

there are those days where i love rock n roll and baseball and feel like snowboarding down a mountain during a hella crazy snowstorm

and there are those days where i like sitting in the car with my mom listening to bach cello sonata in the rain, talking about my childhood and God and her art and how my taste in clothing is turning into her's when she was in college. and it's like, we can just sit there and spend the whole day together doing nothing and i'd feel like i accomplished more than when i do something "productive."

and i like to roll around on the floor with cinnamon being a crazy freako four year old. cinnamon likes my childish side. i do too.

i don't like finding myself acting more mature than i am.

i love being in the midst of people who are unbelievably into themselves. it's seriously amuses me so much, just sitting there quietly listening to incredibly self-absorbed friends or strangers talk. they're constantly cutting the other person off, adding how the conversation relates to themselves or an experience they had. and when they talk, they don't even have that spark of realization in their eye that they're having a conversation with another live, listening, unique human being whose thoughts and emotions and physical body structure are the only ones of its kind in the universe. the self-absorbed person just goes on and on and on as if they're talking to some robot.

it's sad, really.

i have the bad habit of actually listening to them and acting as if i'm as interested in the topic as they are. i like to listen, and i like to notice those things that people don't notice. like in a big crowded room i like fixing my concentration on the little girl in the background that no one notices struggling to find her mom or something. then i would simultaneously look for her mom (which is obvious, cus she'd have that worried, frantic look on her face), and if the little girl comes up to me, i'd be like "your mom's right there" *point* and they'd meet and hurry off into wherever they're planning to do. and then it's like, sweet, i just saved them a bunch of time.

isn't it crazy how the thoughts of wittle tiny children can be so profound? i like to babysit and teach at church cus i get so amused as to what they say. a lot of their words come from their natural humanlike desire to benefit themselves. but it's crazy, it's like what they say is basically what we all think once in a while. we're just too self-conscious and covered up in what makes us "us" to really say it.

i guess that's why i like reading on people's thoughts so much. everyone's thoughts are different, but they all add up to what makes our humankind what it is. a little bit of jealousy here, love here, self-ambition here.. we can all relate to it. and when someone says they don't like a certain individual or group of people, it's like dude.. we're all the same. sorta. idk i guess not really but. looking at it from a christian point of view, it's like humans, God. we were all made to be like God, we became sinful. Christ died for us so that we could have a direct relationship with God once again, and for us to be new creations. or idk NEW new creations. and now we have the choice of accepting Christ as our Savior and becoming God's children. and our lives are meant for glorifying God and loving the family of Christ and loving nonbelievers and sharing in this hope of new life.

looking at it from that point of view, it's like.. WHO CARES. about making the best image for ourselves. about always getting your point across. about buying the latest clothes to keep up with teen vogue, about all that cheesy "live the life you love, love the life you live", about finding superficial, ridiculous "love" in freaking ninth grade, about just self-indulging every minute, moment, day of your life.

heard this somewhere.. "why do the forgiven refuse to forgive?" wWurD.

okay well anyways, i sound like i'm preaching. hey, i guess i am. don't people hate that? yes they do, but whatever.

i'm in a rare ranting mood, and i have homework to finish, but i'm not gonna let this mood go to waste. ha ha ha funnnyyyy charissa

"to live is Christ, to die is gain"

contemplative

Thirteen random things you like:
1. snow
2. jazzy christmas music
3. little puppies
4. norah jones
5. baseball
6. films
7. LIFE magazine photography
8. norman rockwell
9. Bible verses
10. laughing
11. electric guitar
12. warmth
13. lemon bars

Twelve good movies:
1. billy elliot
2. ratatouille
3. boondock saints
4. amelie
5. hero (that one chinese movie)
6. nacho libre
7. i need to watch more movies
8. hm
9. hm
10. hhhmmmm

eleven good bands/artists:
1. weezer
2. red hot chili peppers
3. the shins
4. norah jones
5. frank sinatra
6. amy winehouse
7. crystal castles
8. the strokes
9. feist
10. yeah yeah yeahs
11. ratatat

ten things about you ... physically:

1. connected ear lobes
2. double jointed fingers
3. uneven eyes
4. straight front bangs
5. long arms
6. oval face
7. eyes that chinkafy when i smile
8. rough hands
9. lanky legs
10. uneven smile

Nine good friends:

1. christian
2. caleb
3. grace
4. steph j
5. connie
6. jean
7. esther
8. michelle
9. robin

Eight favorite foods/drinks:
1. pasta
2. korean food (and i mean errthang)
3. foamy lattes
4. peach n cream boba from guppy's
5. brea's best cheeseburgers
6. desserts
7. sushi
8. chicken

seven items you wear daily:
1. under.. garments
2. shoes. rainbows or hightops probably.
3. pants. skirts and dresses are rare. very rare.
4. i prefer t shirts
5. second piercings
6. glasses. at school
7. A SMILE

Six things that annoy you:
1. cinnamon's occasional howling sessions
2. when you want to cry so you can't speak cus you're all choked up
3. flying bugs that buzz past your ear over and over again
4. people that don't listen
5. not being able to fall asleep
6. having an itch you can't itch

Five things you touch everyday:
1. toothbrush
2. my hair
3. pencil or pen
4. phone
5. toilet paper

Four shows you watch:
1. that 70's show
2. the office
3. i think that's it
4. i really don't watch tv

Three places you go regularly:
1. bathroom
2. school
3. brother's room. my second home.

Two of your favorite books:
1. what's so amazing about grace
2. the house on mango street

One person you want to see right now:
1. daddy

i just felt like doing one of these. just to remind myself who charissa is again. seems like i'm thinking too much these days.. i wanna be six years old again.

so today i was walking home from sat tutor. and i was crossing the big street near birch and a car honked. i look and these three guys yell "smile!" and make a smiling motion with their hands and face. and i look at them and i don't smile. hahaha i just thought that was funny. but it's actually not.. maybe i should've smiled. instead of looking like some anti-social emo asian girl.

i realized that i'm a fairly independent person. but i'd probably break down without my mom. i hope i become like her one day.

adventures in ap lit

this post is dedicated to RONES whoever he is. he's not that important. anyways.

charissa walked into her ap lit classroom expecting to see her incredibly short, asian, repetitive, slow-speaking language arts teacher. but instead she saw a blonde lady. charissa walked to her desk, turned around and, unlike other days, saw a strange filipino boy wearing a sweater. after the blonde lady talked, charissa told the filipino boy that he was over-dramatic and should be an actor because he always spazzed out and opened his eyes really big. she asked politely for him to draw a picture of her. but after he refused several times, she started to demand it. he instead, drew a pathetic dinky doodle of her. she got mad. her best friend came to the rescue and drew a detailed before and after portrait of charissa but charissa got mad cus the picture sucked. the filipino boy let charissa see his moleskin sketchbook (which is really made out the skin of moles, he told her) and she was amazed at his super-cool drawings like the one with panda express and his dad. later on, the filipino boy explained to charissa of his fighting experiences throughout highschool like the one with the egg. charissa was like woah dang. she wished she could've seen the incident with her own eyes. then the bell rang and that's it. further details are not as important as the ones i have written.
el fin.

charcoal on my face
hands are black as coal
back aches
neck is tense and sore
it's been a while since i've stared at the same little square inch for so long
erasing and marking a million times over
what i am visualizing is not becoming palpable
on the paper in front of me
covered in smudges and lines and marks

but it's okay. this is fun.

The House on Mango Street

"Sally, do you sometimes wish you didn't have to go home? Do you wish your feet would one day keep walking and take you far away from Mango street, far away and maybe your feet would stop in front of a house, a nice one with flowers and big windows and steps for you to climb up two by two upstairs to where a room is waiting for you... And you could laugh, Sally. You could go to sleep and wake up and never have to think who likes you and doesn't like you. You could close your eyes and you wouldn't have to worry what people said because you never belonged here anyway and nobody could make you sad and nobody would think you're strange because you like to dream and drem. And no one could yell at you if they saw you out in the dark leaning against a car, leaning against somebody saying it is wrong, without the whole world waiting for you to make a mistake when all you wanted, all you wanted, Sally, was to love and to love and to love and to love, and no one could call that crazy."

"...Four skinny trees with skinny necks and pointy elbows like mine. Four who do not belong here but are here. Four raggedy excuses planted by the city...
Their strength is a secret. They send ferocious roots beneath the ground. They grow up and they grow down and grab the earth between their hairy toes and bite the sky with violent teeth and never quit their anger. This is how they keep.
Let one forget his reason for being, they'd all droop like tulips in a glass, each with their arms around the other. Keep, keep, keep, trees say when I sleep. They teach.
When I am too sad and too skinny to keep keeping, when I am a tiny thing against so many bricks, then it is I look at trees. When there is nothing left to look at on this street. Four who grew despite concrete. Four who reach and do not forget to reach. Four whose only reason is to be and be."

so anyways here's a thought

"do i really see something different each time, or do i only interpret what i see in a different way? i am inclined to say the former. but why? to interpret is to think, to do something; seeing is a state"
-i don't know who said this. confusing huh

Mama

Happy Mothers Day
you're my role model, thank you for exemplifying to me all the traits i respect and admire
in all honesty, you're my favoritest person in the world
love you mamamamamaa
love, eunbi

What a lovely weekend. ap euro's DONE, thank goodness. i want school to be over with already and i can't wait for summer. i miss cancun!

Appreciate.

"to realize the value of one year,
ask a student who failed his or her AP exams.
to realize the value of one month,
ask a mother who gave birth to a premature baby.
to realize the value of one week,
ask an editor of a weekly magazine.
to realize the vaule of one day,
ask a daily wage laborer who has six kids to feed.
to realize the value of one hour,
ask the lovers who are waiting to meet.
to realize the value of one minute,
ask a person who missed their train.
to realize the value of one second,
ask the person who survived an accident.
to realize the value of one millisecond,
ask the person who won silver medal in the Olympics."

What Was Seen at the Art Museum

the thinker saw inspiration.
the feeler saw emotion.
the thinker saw justification.
the feeler saw passion.
the child saw a painting.
the math wiz saw a formula.
the science wiz saw a procedure.
the boy saw love.
the girl saw red.
the blind man saw nothing.
the deaf man saw everything.
the mute man saw words he could never express.
the critic saw a fault.
the optimist saw radiance.
the optimist saw an overflowing cup.
the pessimist didn't see enough.
the pessimist didn't feel enough.
the appriative individual saw a dedicated artist.
the rushed woman saw a blur of color.
the Catholic schoolteacher saw something deplorable.
the journalist saw controversy that would make headlines.
the literalist saw something impossible.
the analyst saw something irrational.
the rapper saw rhyming lyrics.
the musician saw sound in the form of music notes.
the storyteller saw the conclusion of his unfinished tale.
the old couple from here saw something provocative.
the old couple from there saw a tender memory.
the hopeless soul saw hope.
the restless soul saw rest.
the runaway teenager saw a rush of nostalgia.
the convict saw his conscience.
the cheater saw an opportunity.
the thief saw an opportunity.
the desperate unoriginal saw an opportunity.
the artist saw a rainbow in a dreary, monochromatic world.
the joker saw hilarity.
the smoker saw relief.
the druggie saw a circus.
the foreigner saw america.
the american saw foreign lands.
the rich lady with the furcoat saw it hanging in her living room.
the rich dog of the rich lady with the furcoat saw a perplexity of blacks and whites.
the salesmean saw THE Best You'll See in Ages!
the originator saw an expression of his mind and life over a series of four years.
the orginator's master saw potential-at last.
the learner saw a painting.
i saw a painting too
besieged with throbbing identity crisis.

-charissa