Straw wrapper mustaches.

Church with Rachel. Carl's Jr. and blackmail photographs with Rachel.
Cafe Donuts with Rachel. iTunes lessons with Rachel. Sav-on with Rachel.
Sushi at Haru Haru with Rachel. Steamer's Cafe in Fullerton with Rachel. Kind of.
Downtown Disney and latin jazz with Rachel. Grey's Anatomy reruns at 11pm with Rachel.

"Choir performance with Marv?" "Nah." Gah. That girl cracks me up.

Pitter patter goes my heart. (V-Day '07)

Valentine's day with the best. And I won't even sugarcoat this. Although I tried to make this as fun and sweet as possible, the difficulty was attempting to make her enjoy the night as well. It was kind of like when you're at the end of a tube of toothpaste, and in desperation, attempt to squeeze that last bit out... Except the tube was Eunice, and the the impossible goo to squeeze out was fun and happiness. But I guess today was tired and rushed from the beginning. Stayed up all night painting and preparing thoughtful(I hope) presents, then dropped them off at around 4:45am. Slept at 5:30am, so I'd be rested up for work at 6:30am-11:00am. Had school at Noon, but asked if I could leave at 4:30pm instead of the usual 5:30pm, then called Hooters for some wings to go(she LOVES those things) because we didn't have time to have a "real" nice dinner. Decided I could make the most out of this, and stopped by Sav-On and bought a candle, cheap wine glasses and Coca-cola. I picked her up, and she was tired because she had just come home from work. Anyway, we lit the candle, prayed for the food, and made a toast... "To Valentine's Day!" She then spent about half an hour on the phone with her mother on the way to the Arclight in Hollywood. Sigh. Anyway, Music and Lyrics was cute, and so was that building with the illuminated heart. Those were the highlights(?). We then sped home so she could spend the rest of the night with her sisters, and as usual lately, received one of her awkward hugs. So yeah. At least the pictures make it look memorable. Or not.

Feeling unappreciated as of late? A tad. I sugarcoated it. :-/

"Nobody likes you when you're 23."

I hate you, you.

Sorry for the lack of updates.

Keeping all my secrets secret. And yours.
Virtual notepads and submit buttons just won't do anymore.
Attempting to be more than just acquaintances with this pen and paper.

I want to fall in love to any song off of "Our First Taste of Escape" by Penfold.

The relevance of my life in yours is questionable at best.

Screaming at you at the top of my lungs -- Only heard from between my own ears. And sometimes all I want is for you to care; it doesn't even have to be in the same way. Your lack of response to compliments in the form of brief myspace comments and annoyingly long text messages leave me in sullen states. This is borderline pathetic by now. After all, I am only being myself, but who am I anymore. A glass half full kind of boy; I'm taking my naivety with me to the grave. As always, wanting to type "leaving it all in His hands" ; ever reiterate that to yourself so many times that it gets to the point of saying it just to get through the day? I know God is good and I trust in His promises, but I'm still praying intently that my head and heart are nothing less than genuine. It's about time to move on. You obviously have. Sometimes I just don't know nothin' 'bout hopes or spirits or hearts or lungs or love.

Coffee Bean cancellations.

From the incoherency of the thoughts and ideas in my head to indecipherable run-on sentences in this almost single-subject diary. These are love letters and notes from my bashful and apprehensive throat. This is barely comprehensible. And sometimes there is no other way for anything to ever be explained. And sometimes maybe you don't want it to be. Wrap all this around your head like the way I'm wrapped around your finger.

Have fun tonight and paint our town red.
Oh... Happy birthday Steph. Again and again.

Praying for the best.

You can only hide behind "friends" and parties and excuses and the person you're pretending to be for so long. You are empty words, half truths, and half hearts. I am wasted breath and time. Attempting to prove I care leaves me exhausted, penniless, and unappreciated. If I've made any impact on your life, you certainly don't show it. Neverending prayers and hopes. I love you and you are my closest friend, but I am constantly on the brink of walking away.

Stop me.

Explosions in the sky.

The Glasshouse. One beautiful place filled with millions of beautiful sounds. My favorite place to be in the world, all in the humble art/fashion district of downtown Pomona. It's impressive how a venue as small as this can change your life, in so many different aspects, and in such a massive way, even if only for a few hours at a time. Show up distraught or stressed, and leave feeling... composed, untroubled. In years past, I've seen breath-taking performances by Chris Carabba, Jenny Lewis & the Watson Twins, Saves the Day, Rilo Kiley, Pretty Girls Make Graves, Jimmy Eat World, Death Cab for Cutie, Pedro the Lion, The Decemberists, among many, many others. In this week alone, on three different nights, I've seen Brandtson, Minus the Bear, and Explosions in the Sky(last night). It was the first time I've seen Explosions live, and it was one of my most memorable experiences. Ever. Even without lyrics, the musicians put so much emotion into what they were doing that there was no way that you wouldn't be able to feel it. Awesome and overwhelming. Pure.

Appleseed Cast plays November 21st and IT WILL BE CLASSIC. Come with.

A child of twenty-two.

after service today, I immediately left, and had lunch alone. just needed to kind of re-assess things and meditate on what I learned in sunday school and in the sermon. I decided on a few things and these are some of my goals: to truly know and understand what consistency and intimacy in my relationship with my Lord means. He deserves more time than I've ever given Him. to concentrate on school more until I get my business degree in december and socializing SO MUCH less. going/hanging out is NOT the same as fellowship and I think we all can get the two confused. being an encourager and testimony and prayer partner to those who need it. being bold enough to share the gospel to my coworkers. to be a better brother and friend. especially to you. this is my time to finally grow up, to mature, in more ways than one. I've about a year until I transition from college student to businessman(boy). here's to being a child of twenty-two.

"little boat, you're mine again." -- thank you, Jesus.

K. Alaia's trick, not treat.

i told you i missed you tonight.
and God, did i mean it.

you responded with "good!" and a mischievous grin.

always content with taking what i can get.
(living off splitsecond hugs and sincere smiles and all the sounds of you talking.)

Friday night at PCC.

the setting: friday night college group @ pcc.

tita cyn: ok class, we're going through the book "how now shall we live".
kris saliba: haha everytime I hear that, I think of "how now brown cow".
me: haha. how now brown cow shall we live? that's like the book people in india would read.
kris saliba: haha.

welcome to friday night.

"She's beautiful, but she don't mean a thing to me."

fall down enough, and getting up is what hurts. they say fools lose tomorrow, while longing for yesterday. wrap that around your hea(d/rt). watching "the science of sleep" tonight with lauren menor.

edit: the movie didn't live up to the hype, in my opinion. lauren menor went beyond it. i could get used to her rolling "r"'s and un-used to rolling eyes. but deep inside i know that i'd opt for your eyes -- doing anything. I'll keep losing tomorrows, with high hopes of spending a few today's with you. does that make ME a fool?

It's autumn. And I fall.

the trees are putting up a fight and I'm longing for fire colored leaves because its time for new beginnings. placing you in the scrapbooks of my life in my mind. polaroid eyelids. & i will grow old without you. tonight you are traveling through the atmosphere and into space, millions of miles away from today. past the sounds of small worlds the size of dark brown pupils exploding. past the brightest star I named for you when I was naive enough to dream. i.o.u.'s and gift wrapped galaxies wouldn't have nearly been enough to ever make you feel the same. assured the years have passed. chapter(s) closed. disregard all that I am and you are perfect now.

we both may be.

Serious Black.

Comments and messages are our sole forms of communication anymore. OR (We've come a long way, princess.)

And sometimes I'd have it no other way. I'm the king of over-analyzation and incorrect conclusions. forgive me. I type whatever's swirling in this head in the wee hours of the night/morning without any concern for consequences. but I was designed to break my own heart and my only real crime is this obsession with documenting it. it's all (not) mapped out. and I am still lost. exposed to this audience I call my conscience and maybe I should listen but I won't. sometimes I think I'm the only kid who reads this drivel; I honestly know better. ill keep a sharper mind in the weeks to come. (no promises). I instinctively typed "weaks". gah.

P.S. that last entry actually had more than that one sentence in it, btw.

The story of my li(f)e.

responses to "how are you doing" are always a matter of who's asking. just keep telling myself I'm over you. yet with each interaction, I'm left with every feeling you've ever given me and I don't know why. like how those eyes can hatch butterflies within my gut and trembling in my voice and how sing alongs with you make me want to smile 'til I die. you mentioned tonight how you've got weak knees. you haven't any idea. but he's got your attention and we all can tell. and these are the thoughts that render sleep an ineffable concept. I hate being so pathetic. sleep easy, sweetie. I'm wide awake.

forced shut eyes & perfection on my pillowcase.
you are still my dream girl. :-(

Sexy back.

"I hide behind these books I read while scribbling my poetry. Like art could save a wretch like me with some ideal ideology that no one could hope to achieve and I am never real, it's just a sketch of me and everything I've made is trite and cheap and a waste of paint, of tape, of time."

Uh-pdates.

listen to Imogen Heap's "Hide and Seek" when you decide you want to start living.

shows coming up: dashboard w/ brand new in san diego. the elected at the glass house. deathcab for cutie w/ jenny lewis and the watson twins at bren events. yay times ten.

I need to watch The Last Kiss and the Science of Sleep. come with.

I still heart guitar hero.

ed templeton's next art exhibit is going to be the bee's knees and I can't wait.

no p!atd w/ what's her face. dc and bn alone instead. :-)

its funny, but I kinda miss matt frazier. haha. fun kid.
and lauren menor, even though I worked with her today.

I finally passed super mario bros 3 w/ no cheats. yay.

new store = <333.

liz m. is a sight for sore eyes. & she's got personality to die for. (small crushes and nervous smiles and speeding hearts and sweating bullets aimed at myself.) swoon.

speaking of sore eyes, I am now required to wear a contact lens. yes, just one. weak. :-(

new brand new record on 112106. lifechangerforsure.

this iPod's on shuffle and every other song is either by bright eyes or saves the day or cursive or minus the bear and I don't mind. :-) times ten.

less writing more living. end.

& all i see are misspelled, poorly written paragraphs of self-acclamation.

a patron saint of liars and fakes. I read and hear words from some "good" and "upstanding" individual while all I observe is some poor attention-starved kid trying incredibly hard to stand out with no avail. get a life. you're just wasting precious time PRETENDING to be someone you're not when you could be using this time to actually BE that someone. maybe if you did, THEN people would see a literal change for the better instead of hating your guts so much like the way they do now. walk the walk and stop screaming the talk because all it'll get you are high expectations that you won't ever (even pretend to) meet.

keep telling yourself and the world that you're "cured".
you are the worst case of denial ever witnessed.

You'd make a great secret if I could keep you but we all spill our guts.

a click on the receiving end, and you're off. off doing the very things I hate you doing. with the very people I hate you to be around. and all I want is for you to be good. be good. pleasepleaseplease. I wish you could see how much I care. or sometimes I wish I meant more to you than that devil on your shoulder you choose to listen to. but all I am is a dreamer with your well-being in mind. and all you are is a nightmare with "better" things to do. I'm all out of things to say to you. at the very least, that damn dancefloor must've looked a hell of a lot better with you on it, all dressed in your Sunday best.

"be sure to open up your eyes."
this quote goes out to you.

or quite possibly myself.