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Monday, September 17, 2007
English. I, dilemmas.


Quality is more important than quantity. Also, see 1 & 2."

It was a dreadful, depressing, side note provided by my most awkward English Professor from a community college I am now attending. I've been feeling a lot disappointed these days, on top of the usual pity I give myself discredit for, anyway. The way his opinion hit me greatly that Thursday night was (and still is) inexplicable. Ironic perhaps as I have gotten worst remarks from past English Teachers--I don't get why this lame cliche should get the better of me now. But it has as I am yanking my brain just to write this, to get me back into writing, and to continue on dreaming of becoming a creative writer.

Must I blame myself for writing on a 5th grade level on his class? I think not. Although I do blame myself for my irrevocable fate in the English Language. My battle with this dialect was long over-due; the Assessment Center managed to capture me in my very worst scenario, as lo and behold, sentenced me in a 3-year prison of elementary grammar and children's books. The first time I sat behind the Israeli dude who became an eye-candy overnight, I thought ESL was only going to get better. Frustration preceded me at some point last week as the class had me pulling all my wonderful locks and getting me high with a sharpie out of boredom. "I am better than sitting here and listening to someone dispassionate of his job," I thought to myself despite the fact that I needed grammar check badly. I was not to register myself in a creative writing program in UC
Riverside with the same dialectal mistakes over again and thus, I decided to stay.

Aside from making damn sure I don't fall asleep and disrespect the most horrid Prof (my first) who, by his obvious actions and ignorant tone of voice, doesn't really want to be there as much as I do, I am also trying to find common grounds with my older classmates. Having to go back to meeting new people again, in my case ,older, way mature individuals, became an educational shock for me. Night classes are not and will never be in my "Fun Things to Try" college list. These people don't only discriminate your point of views (in my world, they have been discriminating mine a long time ago) but also intimidate the living inner child in you. This "common ground" thing have always been hard on me as I personally don't think I could ever find an unshakey ground with the elders. They either find me annoying and talkative or charming and smart--in which I could be all those four traits mentioned.

Absurdly, my ESL class have provided me with yet another lost in translation moments. I noticed recently that I've always been the odd one out: the one who goes to Mexican Bodas by herself, and be in a class of Middle Eastern students and not understanding anything being said. Even though how awkward it might make me feel, I still attend events outside of my peripheral culture and accommodate these people with the universal language: a smile. I smile when I hear sing-song accents in my surroundings, I smile when i smell Arabic scents, and I definitely smile when I can pig out with authentic Mexican food that only my friends parents can cook.

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My mind's unweaving/ 10:15 AM


Warning: This personal blog can be fatal to your health; read responsibly. Fasten seatbelt when doing so.

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Tis written unlike no other in my attempt for creativity. Here, you'll find *fragmented fictional and real stories that are relevant to my life in some ways. I don't enumerate things that happens to me everyday nor do i purposely rant about lame, stupid "teenage" cliches. My entries are from memory, past experiences, reviews (food, book, movie) and my opinions on current issues--and no, no politics whatsoever. Grammatically incorrect to a degree but nothing that can make you squirm (or so I hope not).

P.S. Put in mind that I'm a scrumptious-looking cupcake and you know you can never, EVER, resist me...so no hating or you'll never get to eat "us" again! lol

an AA

Whip creams.


Avy's seven!

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