Sunday, June 13, 2010

History Please

Okay, so I am sitting here in my room, with my laptop in front of me, my media player on shuffle, Sammy by my side, and a cool breeze coming through the windows. JSTOR is on my screen and I love reading this stuff. It brings me back to HST 100 when we had to read an article from JSTOR - cool stuff.

I want to read more history, although I really like fiction. My writing also needs to improve. So this summer, part of my to do list includes writing and reading more. Ah, and running. I really want to take hikes around the area, even if I have to go alone, I am going to make this happen during summer. Sometimes I gather my thoughts better when I am alone, there is a certain serenity when one has solitary adventures. Try it, sometime. I've tried those many times, but company is of course merrier.

So if anyone has books they highly recommend for history majors, suggestions are super appreciated =D

Saturday, June 12, 2010

Of daisies my heart sings

One can be negative only so much, so of daisies my heart sings to make everything better. It's funny, my mom's daisy pot was full of blooming daisies in the winter, but they're shriveling and dying with the hot sun. They brightened my day on any wintry, gloomy January day.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010


Rusty, cream-colored clotheslines were intermittently built around the apartment community. Deer Creek, with its rolling fields of green, beaconed my brother and I to play . All of it was ours - well in our minds. When no one would come out to play, we would hang around the rusty clotheslines. Two cross poles were connected with metal wires. Shirts and jeans of blue, with spots of a brownish hue, hung on those rustic lines.

On Winter days, we would wake up to the blinding sea of snow right outside our window.

Squint a little, they would say, or else you can go blind.

The clothesline poles were too cold to hang from, so we left them alone.

Friendships were formed around those clotheslines. Someday I will find my friend, even with the revolutionary internet, I can't seem to find her. So wires serve as a remembrance of a friendship that ended hastily, without a goodbye.

I watched a documentary in class about South Central LA and I couldn't help but time travel back to those clotheslines and Deer Creek. Even though, it was a tumultuous time, I would greatly like to hang around them once more.