I'm frightened and distraught.

Today (May 17, 2010) I went to see a coordinator for the McNair Scholars Program to gain some insight on how to apply to the program and keep in touch with the staff. I must say the academic adviser for the program was such a sweetheart, this woman gave me such an immense treasure and keep sake to take along for my own after leaving her office. This treasure was fear, fear of ambition, the ambition I've grown further to pursue my academic at this prestigious research institution (University of California: Davis).

She spoke of her previous scholars, both in high regard and unfortunate dissent from those unable to complete and fulfill the program. It reiterated yet another cold reality for me, I screwed up big time. The reality is, as she so well stated during our appointment, "acknowledge it and move on, there's little time to grieve because the quarter system will whiz on by, move onward and cry later". I realize I screwed up in that I had been wearing myself thin. I chose to enroll myself in a highly competitive major, and now summoned the audacity to declare a second major in political science (my first being Psychology, without knowledge of what specific emphasis to place for my Psychology major). I'm picking myself up, I'm making myself marketable, I'm pursuing my dreams to learn more about the human cognitive and behavioral condition that drives their lives. In the meantime, I have to start somewhere.

It's important to note that summer is just around the corner for me, in about four more weeks from this date onward. Nostalgia has been kicking in and haunting my dreams with people that meant something to me during my younger years.

I miss my friends (back in my hometown in Southern California because I am currently living 400 miles north of my permanent residence to attend UC Davis). I miss my partner right now, and hope she is applying herself in her studies as much as I am, and has enough emotional support from her close friends at her campus. I particularly miss a young lady that such a sweetheart and has always held a place in my heart and mind; this young lady has been around and offering me her support at my worst emotional times of need. She was the first friend I made in high school. So it's story time (to the best of my ability to recall the actual events that took place, mind you that this took place when I was a naive thirteen year-old teenager blissfully unaware of his romantic feelings towards the opposite sex).

It was the first day of summer school for incoming freshman students fresh (no pun intended) from middle school. I remember the spectacle quite vividly, I planned the night before to prepare for class because I did not know what to expect for my first day in a high school, ever in my insignificant life. I loaded up my backpack with as much supplies as I could thinking I would need a heavy load of materials in order to properly reserve enough room for my two summer classes. My first summer class, Critical Thinking and Concepts (an introductory course for prospective students that would be chosen by their counselors to be enrolled in accelerated english courses) with a woman that had an almost monotone voice. I woke up late the first day of class, about 10 minutes late.

I huddled as I swiftly walked in the classroom hoping to avoid a scornful eye from my instructor, but to my surprise she let me slide on by and take any remaining seat readily available. About twelve minutes later, a young girl also swiftly hushed in the class, she appeared startled and distracted at realizing that the students were already assigned work to do and she had not brought any utensils or paper to work on. I can not recall specifically, but I believe I may have sat in her immediate vicinity. I opened up my backpack and quickly handed her a pencil and a binder full of paper, and said nothing. I did not know what compelled me to do so, at the time I did not recognize, nor processed what other individuals would feel. It's sad to say I was quite apathetic and consciously oblivious to others' emotions.

Without much thought though, I gave this young girl the supplies she needed, I'd figured that I may as well as spare her the embarrassment of having to ask for supplies from nearby students. I have to admit, this young girl was quite beautiful, her complexion brought out her gorgeous eyes. For a moment I caught myself blushing a bit at the sight of her lively gaze.

I didn't speak to her much thereafter, I didn't even know her name, it hadn't occurred to me at the time, again I figured it wouldn't matter to me (this is my 13 year old adolescent apathy speaking). I later learned I also had a Computer Concepts class with her after our Critical Thinking class. I caught myself with a slight crush on this young girl, specifically because I liked her gorgeous eyes so much I couldn't help but try to catch a quick glance at her. The light would bounce off and highlight her eyes; her soft effeminate voice made her all the more attractive. What kind of attraction was I aware of I did not know, I didn't think this could be romantic attraction, or sexual attraction (I felt that I didn't have a need for such trivial feelings and supplementary feelings). I realize its her charismatic and bittersweet manner that I found deeply attractive.

I befriended other people, and made acquaintances that I loosely referred to as friends. Of course with the exception of my actual friends, those that I retained past the eight grade and further back in my childhood.

I felt no infatuation towards this young girl, but a subtle attraction to her. After my first romantically involved relationship, I quickly became aware of my emotions; I learned that I could care for another human being that wasn't family (this was a huge step in my emotional development as a young male, I sincerely was not aware of these feelings at all, even on an intrinsic level). I learned that I could have romantic feelings, and they burned so deeply within my psyche, serotonin and dopamine flooded my brain. The pain of realizing I can love a person pushed me to hope that this was a journey to strengthen myself as a person now that I have been reborn. I continually told myself that this process of rebirth as an actual human being meant pain, and pain is a normal consequence. Coping with the pain was almost unbearable, suicide seemed a simple enough outlet to release my pain, but such a selfish and stupid means to end the pain. Recovery took quite a long time (I'd say it took me at least 2 years to get over most of the pain, I still needed closure, but I felt too unworthy to ask for such a privilege from my former romantic counterpart). But the young girl was still around, to help me cope through my improvement.

We spoke to each other briefly, but the mere interaction between she and I set me at greater ease and reminded me not to feel as though I am mere dirt to be swept over in place of someone greater than me. This young girl encouraged me to pick myself and build myself up to be the new self I aspired to be once I realized I could feel love. I wished to be a sweet young man, one that would unconditionally accept and love others, one aware of his emotions and the emotions of others. I truly miss this now young lady, I can't thank her enough for helping me move through my initial thresholds. I love her so dearly, and I'm happy to have had the awkward opportunity of meeting her that first day of summer school as an incoming freshman.

I miss you, and many other of my friends that I have yet to see since my departure to Northern California.

Family troubles ahead.

I mentioned in an earlier post that I visited my family. To my dismay, I learned the second oldest of my sisters (mind you I am the oldest child of my family household and being the only male with four younger sisters) has illegally been doing drugs and illegal substances. (My second sister had not been in the house at the time of my visit until much later in the day) I honestly did not know what to do as my mother, father and the oldest of my sisters yelled over each others voices to inform me of my second youngest sister's drug habit.

I have felt that this was my fault, perhaps she (my second sister) felt far more depressed than what I have originally been told and thought ever since my departure to study across California and the recent death of my grandfather. "Maybe", I thought, "it was a way to escape the pain". I had to talk to her to see what had been happening to her.

We spoke to each other in her room for what felt the entire day (which was really two hours tops) and I did not lecture her. I wanted to learn more about her, what mentality has she developed, or picked up from her peers that has made her behave in this manner. I wanted to learn as much as I could about my most beloved sister who my mother thought was the strongest of her daughters. My heart felt as though it wanted to break, hoping that my sister was not a completely lost cause, that there is still an opportunity to bring her back and encourage her to try at least a bit harder to communicate to my parents.

Throughout our conversation I asked her many times, "if there is anything you would not want me to tell mom, please tell me - stop me, or if there is something too painful that you do not want to fully share, then let me know and we'll see if we can come back to it later on".

I sincerely hope my sister makes a stronger initiative to better her life for herself. I love her too much to allow her to corrupt her life.

Despite the blaring reality of her issues, I was so happy she had not been killed by gang-related violence, and I hope she never has to suffer the indignity of dieing in the streets like an abandoned animal.

Sleep deprivation.

Today I returned from visiting my parents in Southern CA (mind you I am attending school in Northern CA and I'm about four hundred miles away from my permanent home). I really need to plan my trips more diligently because the costs of travel are beginning to rise a bit..

I departed yesterday (May 2, 2010) from the Los Angeles Union Station at around 7pm (I believe) to board the Pacific Surfliner to Santa Barbara. From there, I boarded a bus to take me from Santa Barbara to Emeryville. The ordeal (at least I call it an ordeal) was to say the least putting me on the verge of wanting to rest and ride on top of the bus than have to put up with the stench of stale urine (perhaps the bus's restroom backed up, or someone had an accident, who knows) for the following eight hours while uncomfortably drifting from into and out of quick naps. By the time the bus approached San Francisco, I became accustomed to the smell of urine, I no longer smelt it (or at least I thought so long as I didn't take deep breaths whilst inside the bus). I finally arrived at the Emeryville Amtrak station and awaited the arrival of the eastbound Capital Corridor to take me back home (my second home I should say, Davis).

Keep in mind throughout the majority of my trip, I emphasize drifting in and out of quick naps, I did not have any recuperative sleep.

Family emergency.

Hi, so the day is Sunday night, April 4th, 2010 and I'm hoping to get my work done before returning to campus. For those of you in the TCS2 class, I sincerely apologize if I am unable to appear during lecture for I will likely arrive late, or too late for lecture. Here's hoping I make it back in time.