Well, my roommates straight left me on purpose. These men have never seen earlier than 4PM on weekends, yet once I announced last night I’ll need help giving out candy this evening (since we have an ever growing amount of children in our complex & we have a fairly huge complex, not only that they think we’re the coolest kids on the block so they’re targeting our specific apartment door) they were quick to deuce out before 10AM even hit. Although both of them wanted my company for their Halloween plans, I have a few good ones of mine own.
Taking Tink, Mattie, Rufio, & Charlie to a Halloween party @ The Dog Park with my ex boyfriend. (Yeah I know what you’re thinking - eat me.) Their costumes? Tink’s a lobster, Rufio’s a banana, Mattie is a witch and Charlie is a Prisoner.
Then we’re going to be handing out candy to the demon possessed children from 6-9PM (which i’ll be trying to eat all the candy corn & reese cups.)
Go to Netherworld with him. If you live in Atlanta, this is a MUST visit since it’s the #1 best haunted house in America, I went last year - and they change them up every year, so I’m not only scared shitless but excited.
Come home, play Left 4 Dead & Left 4 Dead 2 Demo
After shooting zombies, curl up in bed, pop in The Corpse Bride, Nightmare before Christmas, and Edward Scissorhands.
I want to hate the way you made me feel that April night where you told me we were nothing but bad timing.
I want to hate the fact that your family never approved of me to begin with.
I want to hate the idea that two years ago I saw myself marrying you 5 years into the future, and now it’s called the past.
I want to hate that you were more than just my boyfriend, you were my best friend, and my family.
I want to hate the notion that without you I lost myself. I lost every single part of me the night you let go of my hand for the very last time, and walked out of my heart.
I want to hate your smile, your eyes, your face, and your body for holding me prison each time I believe I am really over you, until you walk in my door.
I want to hate the city of Atlanta. This entire vicinity that holds every single ghost of our relationship. Behind every pizza parlor, sidewalk, theater, and park. I walk in the past steps of us and my heart bleeds on every single block.
I want to hate this feeling that nobody could ever replace you. That I met my greatest love, and nobody could ever come that close again. Nobody.
I want to hate these tears that stream down my face and drown my pillows on single nights where you’re the nightmare.
I want to hate you, but I can’t. Because even though I am no longer In love with you, my heart is still in your possession.
..and I hate myself for never wanting to ask for it back.
I don’t come with a “Members Only” club jacket. I’m not your personal photographer, secretary or publicist. You have a mother, I won’t be the substitute. Dating me won’t excel your photoshop skills, boost your online street cred or fulfill your Anime fantasy by dressing me up as a character from naruto and talking dirty in Japanese.
You’re intrigued by the “Idea” of me, you love that I come seasoned and experienced but for all the wrong reasons. You know my accomplishments, but never my failures. How could you want to fall in love with my background, but have no clue who exactly I am. Obviously I can fit into your rebellious phase, or your wanting to be different. Once you get past the pink hair streaks, foreign background, artistic skills and general awesomeness in gaming - who am I to you? What makes me cry? What makes me happy? Where is my spot? You can’t tell me, because you’ve never asked let alone cared.
This body is only a book cover, my content is so much more enticing and you have no plans to read it. Stop pretending that you liked me for “me” when really you only liked me for my resume.
Outside of my blogs that I write about either pertaining to life learned lessons, matters of the heart, or my on going battle between Post Gradism I don’t know if you know how I came to be, let alone where I plan on going. I always envy bloggers that could sum up who they are in 400 characters or less in the “About Me” section of their layout. Mine has been blank ever since I started this tumblr over a year & half a go. The realization that who I am could never be shortened in under 400 characters sparked an interest in me writing just this one single blog, to introduce myself to you. The girl behind the camera with the colorblind eyes, mother of three spoiled rotten dogs, and avid protector of the Plain Jane’s united.
I was born KC Escamilla, my mother in her ‘free spirited’ fashion thought she would have a daughter with no restrictions, with no regard to the norm, and also in the height of her being drugged gave me only initials to announce my presence to the world. My father, a Mexican-American was a high ranking Marine and my mother, a young, Lebanese/Caucasian resided in the outskirts of Okinawa Japan off the military base. Shortly after my 2nd birthday my parents decided they were better off as friends and my mother returned to New York with my older brother. Basically it was “We got two kids, you can have one, I can have the other.” As unnatural as it seemed, my brother couldn’t part from my mother, and I couldn’t part from my father. Both my brother & I were raised in different sides of the ocean. I enjoyed every moment living and being raised not only by my father, but in Okinawa.
Fast Forward to training bras and zits, when my teen years hit my fathers tour was up and he landed a gov’t job in washington, DC. Only glitch was, I’d be moving to New York with my mother instead of with him to DC. Being as though I was born and raised in Japan, my English was completely non-existent and outside of spending summers in the states the only touch with American life I had was through MTV. I adjusted, and I fit in pretty well - I got into the hip hop lifestyle, sports, and I was a free roaming tom boy in full effect. As college approached I chose the west coast as my new stomping ground. I spent the remaining 7 years from my 17th birthday in and out of colleges around the states until finally I am here today, graduated from The Art Institute of Atlanta.
Now sitting at 24 I have not only a lot of stamps in my passport and my student visa pictures are a time-line of my life - but I’ve grown into a totally different person than I thought I would be. I still enjoy pizza in the mornings, video gaming for 8 straight hours, belting out to backstreet boys in the shower, sneaking around at night with a tripod, and blowing bubbles in my drink. I’ve had my heart broken twice, been arrested once (total bad ass right?), Lived in cities where I knew nobody five times, been published four times, and cried, laughed, and loved countless times.
Where exactly will I be 5 years from now? In my alternate universe of dreams - I’d be traveling the globe taking landscape photographs of all the placed I’ve wanted to visit. Amercing myself in different cultures with a beautiful man by my side that would not only keep me grounded, but to play go-fish with. Come home to my family on Christmas, and live my life one train ticket at a time. If that doesn’t come true, if my goal is not met - then I will be okay with that. I’ve come along way from the awkward colorblind kid from Japan to the woman I see before me every time I wash my face. This is who I really am, the world has raised me, and a camera articulates that for me. Welcome to my life.
It's like I'm stuck in a fish bowl watching the world move along without me.
Why do I constantly feel like I’m just a guest appearance on my own life. I don’t know if you can call it a rut, or if I’m just stuck in the same position. I accelerate in some portion and then all of a sudden it comes to a stall. Once the stall hits, I hit.
Attend College > Graduate > Nobody hiring > work @ Borders > Stall
Find a boy > Fall in love > Plan a life > Break up > Stall
Steady pay checks > Student loans start > Can only afford loans > Stall
I’ve hit every single stall motion possible. My road no longer splits with possibilities, instead I got lost on my own path, and I don’t even know If I have the motivation to attempt to find my way back. I have a degree, I have a talent, but I have no opportunities. I’m watching everyone else fall into something or someone and the stars just align for them. I want my stars to stop looking like a jigsaw puzzle and start giving me some kind of break, give me something in my life that just won’t stall out.
If life was scrabble, I’d be that person that has every odd letter sitting right in front of her.. Not able to add on to a sentence, or form my own word. So what do I do, keep calling skip or toss the letters off the floor and say fuck this game, I like Clue better. I opt for the second choice..
Let’s just hope Ms. Plumb is in the library with the candle stick along with my career, love life, and money.
"For more than two hours on a dark Saturday night, as many as 20 people watched or took part as a 15-year-old California girl was allegedly gang raped and beaten outside a high school homecoming dance, authorities said.
As hundreds of students gathered in the school gym, outside in a dimly lit alley where the victim was allegedly raped, police say witnesses took photos. Others laughed.
"As people announced over time that this was going on, more people came to see, and some actually participated," Lt. Mark Gagan of the Richmond Police Department told CNN.
The phrase bystander effect was coined in the 1960s after people watched or heard a serial killer stalk and stab a woman in two separate attacks in the Queens neighborhood of New York.
Kitty Genovese struggled with the attacker on the street and in her building. She shrieked for help and was raped, robbed and murdered. When witnesses in the building were questioned by police about why they remained silent and failed to act, one man, according to the 1964 New York Times article that broke the story, answered, “I didn’t want to be involved.”
Though the number of people who saw or heard Genovese struggle was eventually disputed, her case still became symbolic of a kind of crowd apathy that psychologists and social scientists call the “Genovese syndrome.”
excerpts from the article, click the link to read the whole article. When I first read about the gang rape in California it was horrible already, but when they started getting more information about how people actually WATCHED it without anybody doing anything, disgusts me. Reading articles like this always makes me question bringing a child into this world. It’s like people aren’t raising their children to know what’s right or wrong anymore. I can’t protect my future spawn from that.
My languages are all finally collapsing in on eachother.
I was educated in Japanese, my father speaks to me in Spanish, and my mother made me learn English. Some parts of English I have a hard time with (ie; phrases I don’t understand, sentences don’t make sense,) but I’ve always seem to manage.
Usually when I watch movies/films/series and they’re in another language, I always had to turn on a mental switch. Like, “Ok kc, this is in Japanese” I’d have to think about it and prepare myself. Now I can watch or listen to things in Spanish/Japanese and not even realize they are in a different language other than English.
My dad said I finally conquered being multilingual, which is pretty awesome, but I still mix up languages when speaking to people. Sometimes its Spanglish, sometimes I’ll answer back in Japanese but ask a question in English. Either way I’ve always been confused with languages, but now it seems they are finally flowing together.
You find girls with British accents attractive, the exotic look is highly enticing to you, she’s got to be into vintage fashion, John Mayer, stilettos, knee highs, a modern lifestyle, and possibly watches True Blood. Simply enough regular ‘plain janes’ just don’t cut it for you anymore. We’re a bit boring, we don’t have accents - and if we do it’s by American standards. We don’t look exotic, and even if we do like John Mayer along with True Blood - we don’t seem to cut it anymore.
The ‘Plain Janes’ are obsolete, we’re that childhood best friend that fell in love with you, but you gave your heart to the girl waving her pom poms. As time progressed we no longer pined over the Average Joe, we started developing our own fantasy in our head of the perfect man. He’s tall and slender, adventurous, a beard is attractive, Hipster with the clothing but presents himself as cultured. Having tattoos is enticing to us, and he must be into all different kinds of music.
We learned from you, we learned that if the average joe sets his standards at such a high level, why should we settle for less? Why do you think the plain janes should have ALWAYS settled for less? We’re not the second prize, the back up plan, let alone the “just in case” girl. Don’t be surprised when one day that girl you passed up because she wasn’t as enticing as the one you were aiming for never returns your text messages. She starts looking at you the same way you looked at her originally, like a second rate citizen.
Stop complaining that their are no nice girls left, no good girls to bring home to your mom. We have always been here, but it’s apparent that our heels weren’t high enough for you to pay attention to us, so we stopped paying attention to you.