My heart skips a beat :

I am so content right now. Life could not be more perfect, as of this moment, here with you and all that is already, life, living here in the present tense.

I'm so in love with all of it. The English, English, meeting Danny Pudi, reading, writing, sitting here with my very-well-to-be lifelong friend Jenny.

Happy Leap Day. May it be a merry four more years until we meet again.

I love you, Natalie!*

*added by Jenny, discovered by me on 3 March 2012

Language barriers :

I love people so incredibly much. You could give me a stranger, almost anyone, and put me next to them on the Metro, in a coffee shop, in class, or the seat next to me on a plane and I would fall in love with them as a person, as an individual, for they are unique in their own attributes.

Last year, I was on my way to surprise a friend of mine at her home in Missouri, and was seated next to a Spanish-speaking woman from Guadalajara, Mexico. Besides me, no one else on the plane spoke Spanish. Abiding by the stereotypical ignorant American way, the way that the other persons treated her was wretched and mean. They didn't speak to her or even acknowledge her, and if and when they did, they acted as if she was totally daft. But of course she wasn't daft, she merely couldn't speak English. With the broken Spanish and little confidence I could muster, I spoke to her, introduced myself, asked her a few questions. After we established that she couldn't speak a bit of English and that I could make out enough for a few conversations, I told her where the restroom was, and she made her way to the back of the plane. As she walked, the passengers' eyes kept darting back from her to me, me to her, in an attempt to make sense of the seemingly nonsensical situation.

From such an encounter, I realized that it's quite unexpected for a white person in America to be speaking any sort of language besides English, though I am a firm believer in defying this social expectation. I don't feel that when one comes to America, they 'should' learn English. I insist upon attempting to converse with someone, anyone, however silly our attempts at communication may be.

Currently, I'm sitting in Peet's Coffee and Tea, drinking my favorite Assam black tea, bumbling away on Spotify and other things as I blatantly ignore my third personal commandment, "Do now, wait later". There's a beautiful woman sitting next to me, going in and out of focusing on her novel. Naturally, I attempted to strike up a conversation with her a few minutes ago, though embarrassed, she admitted that she only speaks Korean. I remembered this brilliant application I downloaded a few days ago, a little multi-language dictionary that can translate spoken word into most any language that one would like to understand. Persistent in my attempt to connect with her, I proceeded to speak my words into it and translate the words into Korean. When I passed her my phone with a short passage that spoke of her beauty and well-wishings as she enjoys her book and tea, her face lit up. She nodded and laughed, saying thank you in English, the language that once threatened to separate us for the rest of the afternoon.

Human connection, whether it be through the language we speak or the laughter that spews from our beings, is not defined on any one sound. We can bond though our shared experiences, whether or not we can understand each others' verbal exchanges. If there's one thing I've realized through my innumerable experiences talking with strangers, I've found that laughter transcends language entirely, establishing a shared connection more sincere than any robotic polite greeting could. Although our dialects may differ, I genuinely believe that language barriers do not determine whether one can bridge the gap between strangers and friends.

Hour later update: she wrote a note to me in English, telling  me that she was going back to Korea in a few days and if I was ever in Korea, to contact her by email! Yet another country and another friend I must visit.

Dear God, this is amazing :

Philosophy :

I tend to really, really enjoy philosophy, especially if it's accompanied by substantial conversation.

As of this moment, I'm currently quite a few pages into Anne Frank's diary. For a thirteen-year-old girl, she is extraordinarily witty and wise. I never thought I'd be laughing aloud along with her sarcastic remarks regarding her (rather unfortunate, at times) roommates, but here I am, choking on laughter while I choke down the rest of my warm, albeit bitter cup of coffee.

I've been thinking lately about how I hope to live, not merely waking up each day and breathing and being consciously aware, but living long enough to make an impact of some kind. I don't mean to be famous (nor do I  desire or crave to be), but instead, hope to do something special, something terrifically important that will, in turn, affect the future in a positive way. Maybe I will one day become a teacher, a professor, a mother, a wife; I hope to become these things, not merely to obtain a status kind of label from society, but to gain new insight, dignity, and perspective by adhering to a lifestyle of lifelong learning.

Anne Frank never had such opportunities, as Death greeted her before she could live to see sixteen. Her life could have been so much more had she lived longer, but alas, it was cut short by nationalism, violence, ignorance, and war.  But in her short years of compiling her many musings, her memoir remains, along with the Bible, one of the most popular pieces of literature in the world. Anne's diary serves as a dwelling place to preserve her spirit; reading it brings her to life. And though her body is gone, I can't help but feel that she will never truly be dead. Anne was a girl, but remains an author, just as I was a girl, but remain her audience. And as I continue to read her words, an unmistakable tingling of kinship brews on between us as she continues to pass on her story, one soul to the next.

I LOVE this station :

If you enjoy listening to jazz or anything of the like, donate here, anything you can!

Donate to KJazz 88.1 FM!

Hunger Games characters, according to my imagination :

Peeta Mellark 

Finnick Odair

Primrose Everdeen

Haymitch Abernathy

Johanna Mason

Katniss' Father

Things I do not necessarily need, but want, nonetheless :

Elephant Paper Clips

Pinwheel Push Pins

Flamenco Shower Curtain

A few good things :

• Working in an empty house
• Open windows
• Birds chirping
• Ocean waves
• Shampoo-scented hair
• Homemade breakfast smoothies
• Greek panzanella
• A good pen
• A clean room
• Walking barefoot
• Coral pink
• Rainy, dark days
• Unexpected kindness

Imminent threats :

An 18 unit course load combined with 20-hour work weeks seems quite terrifying, but I'm hoping and praying that I will do this just fine.

My Own Personal Commandments :

1. Be Natalie.
2. Act the way I want to feel.
3. Do now, wait later.
4. Breathe.
5. Shake it out.
6. Take courage to love and love well.
7. Be in the present tense.

To be continued.

To start your own or get some inspiration, visit Gretchen's site here:

http://www.happiness-project.com/

Hey Jude :

FUCK, man.*

The build-up and climax of the Beatles' "Hey Jude" (from 3:02 - 3:07) is five seconds of the purest joy I could ever feel while listening to music.

*for those of you who don't know, I'm prone to cursing at times. I've accepted and made my peace with this.

"Forget all the reasons why it won't work and believe the one reason why it will."

In the words of FDR :

"This is preeminently the time to speak the truth, the whole truth, frankly and boldly. Nor need we shrink from honestly facing conditions in our country today. This great Nation will endure as it has endured, will revive and will prosper. So, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself—nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance."

1 Corinthians 13:4-7 :

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."

A Poetic Kind of Plea, written by me, Natalie :

As a barista, I love my coffee and tea
But above all else, I deeply care for humanity
So please, take a moment, if you could spare some time
To just view this petition, to read it, and then sign
So that when your name has been added to the thousands of other names,
It will encourage and challenge Starbucks to never again be the same

Starbucks: Offer Brewed Fair Trade Coffee Daily in U.S. Stores

All it takes to change this world are a few, like you and me,
Who support our equal right to fair trade coffee
So please, stand up and command for your voice be heard
Speak out against human trafficking - do not hesitate to spread the word!

Verbal exchanges :

"Think about what you want, not what you don't want."

"Be patient with yourself."

Books :

• I may like the idea of reading more than I actually like the act of reading. But then again, whenever I sit down with a book or a good textbook (yes, there are such things), I am reminded why I love the act of reading, and am happy to have had the idea of reading as my initial muse.
• I'm in love with my Theory & Criticism textbook.
• Here is my book list:
• Anna Karenina
• War & Peace
• The Death of Ivan Ilych
• Republic
• Utopia
• A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
• On the Road
• The Awakening
• The Call of the Wild
• Poetics
• The Diary of Anne Frank
• Man's Search For Meaning
• Where I'm Calling From
• Slaughterhouse Five
• The Inferno
• Catch 22
•  More to come...
• I am happy that professors tend to:
• a.) Willingly write me letters of recommendation
• b.) Willingly get coffee with me
• My letters of recommendation were rained on and had tea spilled on them. They are currently drying under books.

My heart chips off a piece.

The cuckoo clock :

With my time ticking away, it's crazy to think that I've had the last two months of my life to kick it. To read whatever I've wanted to read, watch whatever I've wanted to watch, to see whoever I've wanted to see.

But now it feels like the clock is moving, that I'm pushing back against the minute hands to stop it, to cease it, to push it into a pause, but it comes crashing into me, forcing me forward into the future, giving me little time to remain in the present.

I'm afraid of a few things in life, one of which include failure. The inability to use my time wisely. Time, there it is, ticking, tick tock, like a clock. But my own time, in my own head, has been wasted in some ways. But then again, it has not. This time that I have spent relaxing, regaining my strength and mental sanity, it has done a great deal of good things. I should give myself more credit.

I quit a job, got a new one. I've read three full books, dabbled in others, and collected many a dozen more. I've done some laundry here and there, have made some art. I've visited a museum, gone to San Diego, celebrated my mom's birthday, celebrated my sister's birthday, experienced Christmas and New Year's Eve and New Year's Day.

But mostly, mostly I've just rested. I've come to. I've become a person again, reviving myself, purging myself of the toxins last semester injected into me, letting them seep away, down the drain. I've absorbed people and moments and thoughts. But I just can't shake this feeling of my time, being wasted away, ticking away, losing it, grasping at it, slipping, fleeting, intangible, unknowable, precious time.

In two weeks, I start my spring semester, which will throw a full load of eighteen units my way, and will also have to keep up with my job. I don't want to dread it. I want to pray that I don't go insane or crazy or immobile. And that is is the danger of fear.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

I've never liked the tickings of those things. So for now, I will make a to-do list to complete over the next few days, and accept that each passing day is another day closer to the beginning of this coming semester, and another day closer to the end of it.