Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Weekend Like Smoke


I will let this weekend vanish like smoke.

Into a dark sky of stories and of sleep.

I will let this weekend froth
and burst
and there will be music
and there will be colour
and pictures
(yes! I'll take pictures
to upload here)

I'm going to be happy,
I swear.

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Loveoveove


I love autumn.

And naps.

And I really love chocolate cake.

And soccer.

I love my Mom.

And I love children.

I love being loved, and I'm trying to be loved, and it's hard, but I'm going to keep on trying.

I love Tumblr.

I love naps.

Did I already say that?

I really do love naps.


Sunday, April 6, 2014

New Horizons

One of those treasures that the internet gifts us with at occasional times, which we, mortals and ungrateful, save with no respect for its origins.
Warning: The really important part about this blog post is at the end. Either cut to the chase or please stick around, I really want you to read it.


Hello Bloglandia. I miss you guys. Seriously.

I want to blog all day and post pictures and have internet friends and get comments and get really exited over stats and share and write and see things about the world I didn't see previously. Because when you're a blogger everything is blogging content and honesttogosh, that makes you see things.

For example, I'm listening to a beautiful 8tracks classical music mix. It's music you feel in your bones and stomach. (Which is what I love about music with no lyrics. It is pure feeling, and complete inconsideration for rationality and all that crap that I'm sick of.)


Also, I cut my hair. Because my innards feel different than what they did in my long hair times, my exterior needs to show it too.
Old

New

Here goes the important part!!!

And although I have an absolute lack of time what with all the breathing I have to do, I started a new project!!

It's called "Tumblr's Library" or "The Stories Behind This" and what I'm trying to do is writing maximum 300 word microstories inspired on cool Tumblr pics.

CHECK IT OUT 'CUZ IT'S AWESOME IF I DO SAY SO MYSELF.







Toodles and love,
Ana

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Hey, I Miss This



WHICH MEANS I'LL BE BACK, REGARDLESS OF LACK OF TIME AND LACK OF READERS AND LACK OF FASHIONABILITY IN BLOGS.

Therefore *read in Darth Vader voice*:

I'll be baaAAaaack.

Thursday, February 13, 2014

Fear


This was going to be a post titled "Things I'm Currently In Love With" but it gave way to an emotion that I'm having a harder time with as of now.

Fear > Love

Because I'm loving the sea, and the blue summer skies, and my new Zenit camera, and all the great books I'm reading.

But I'm afraid that the weather is determined to make my seas and skies grey, and that all of the pictures in my new/old Zenit camera will turn out too white, and that I'll never write a book as great as the ones I'm reading.

I'm afraid of all this, and of more.

I'm afraid of death. Not of death for me, but of death for my loved ones, and how painful it can be for them and for those who love them in turn. I don't want anybody to suffer. I want everybody to smile.

I'm afraid of the death of blogging. It's imminent. It's been imminent ever since I started my first blog back in 2008. It's just the platform that I've always loved the most, so it's hard for me to say the hardest two words. Ka boom. Grande finale. Good bye.

I'm afraid of my lack of talent. This is my last year in High School, and I need to choose. I'm smart enough to choose the safe path -medicine- and yet I wonder how happy I would be with it. Would I be happy at all? Does it matter whether I would be happy or not, if I can be saving people's lives?

Ka boom. Grande finale. Good bye.

The end is near for this blog, and I need to start thinking of what on Earth I'll do now. Tumblr? Twitter? Maybe I could keep this old guy up for the sake of my own fun? But is it any fun anymore, with the pressure of I'm never doing things well enough?

Ka
boom.

Good
bye.

I always thought when my favorite bloggers said farewell "do they know how stupid they're being? How great they are, how much we love them? They could just keep at it in a more mellow fashion, and we will keep on loving them still."
It's so easy to think
and so hard to act.

I'm 18
going on 19
and not angsty anymore.
Ka boom.

Sunday, February 2, 2014

Just My Luck

My parents and I a few years ago.

When G-d assigned roles to newborns one 1995, he decided to bless me. A blessing that consisted of my entering the world through the vag of a strong, saintly woman and with half the genetic data of a strong, intelligent man.

I was blessed with my parents.

However; I do not feel this way all the time. It might be the usual fluorescent adolescent blues, but I tend to feel special in my particular shade of blue.

For example: My parents are both MDs, internationally recognized as outstanding in their fields. (I'm currently obsessed with Grey's Anatomy so this sounds fairly more exciting than it usually does to me.)

And yet I think I want to major in Literature, perhaps minoring in Anthropology. In fact, I'm pretty sure -even if Grey's Anatomy has me lightly second-thinking it all.

I'm having a hard time pinpointing the problem, but here it goes, straight out of the fingers currently roving a patient keyboard:

My parents are very different from what I am. Maybe, in 20 or 30 year's time, I will discover that this is not as true as I thought it to be. However, right now, it feels like while they are both genius, outstanding doctors, I'm a weird child who likes to fingerpaint on the walls of her bedroom. They are decided right-wing and I'm an avowed feminist who likes to read Eric Hobsbawm. I don't believe in modesty or at shying away from showcasing your body, and I generally dress in at least four different colours at the same time.

And I want to study Literature. You know, that's the major that gets tons of bullying on Tumblr and Twitter. 

It's hard for me, because at times I feel that my parents slow down my race. For example, they don't know that I write a blog. Therefore, in the VERY HYPOTHETICAL case that I had the talent of Tavi Gevinson, would I be able to do all that she has done? Without their support?

Thankfully, it's been over a year since I gave up on trying to get their approval. Like most good first-borns, I seriously didn't want them to think ill of me. Now I'm more aware that a parent's love doesn't work like that, however, the dregs of this type of thought process remain.

I'm 18. I've mentioned on this blog how I feel the pressure of time against me.

Because I want to write! And live off my writing! Write something great! Yet SE Hinton wrote The Outsiders at 16, Pablo Neruda wrote his most famous poem when he was my age, Tavi was famous by the age of 14, and just look at that Lorde! Am I running out of time?

So should I be resentful of my parents for dragging me down? Because I do not dare to be the full-fledged bohème and artist that I could be for fear of hurting their more conservative spirits?

Answer: No. Because I was blessed with them.

One step at a time, and I'm sure I'll get wherever I want to. I trust that if I work hard and am essentially a good person, I will get where I want to. About the rest; my parents will have to understand me, and I will have to understand them.

Love,
Ana

PS. For another great article on a similar topic from one more knowing than I am, please check out:
http://www.vogue.com/culture/article/when-the-life-you-choose-is-a-life-less-ordinary-breathless-karley-sciortino-slutever/#1

Thursday, January 30, 2014

A Call To Arms



In my last post, I outlined a certain disenchantment with blogging as of late. I thought it was natural; part of a cycle that most bloggers have to go through.

But is it probable that there was no more to it?


------


In the past weeks, I've thought about what I value in others and in myself. Funny? Intelligent? Trustworthy? Nope, I think it's good.

I've met few people in my lengthy 18 years those that constantly place others before themselves, that believe in the power of a smile. You know, people that work towards making of this world a better place to live in. (Gosh I'm afraid I'm cheezier than a Pizza Hut commercial.) Most of us just look at our own belly buttons all day long and sigh about our troubles. (Example close at hand: "I just can't find anything to blog about!")

Anyways, there is something about TED talks that is not only inspiring but also epiphany-inducing. I saw the one above and it left me thinking, and thinking led to blogging.

I love taking pretty pictures and communicating my feelings here; but I don't feel this is enough.

I don't want my life to be about pretty images and fun moments. I don't want my life to be a collection of diverting amusements and so for the days to pass.

I want to actually do something. To contribute to the greater good, putting my penny of energy into the world's collective so that it rotates at least a bit more in the positive sense afterwards.

I'm sick of the illy frilly blogging. I'm done with it. (I understand now, too, that that is the blogging of blog views and blog readers. I do NOT spend hours on this shimmagadig for something as nonchalant as that.)

It's not like I'm this oh-so-deep personage who doesn't care about colors and fashion and pretty things. I just don't think that this is what my life is centered around. And my blog shouldn't either.


FUCKING TOODLES!
ANAAAA FUCKING BANANA

Edited to add: I just read this entry again and I'm feeling a little bit disgusted about myself. Reaaaally cheezy.


Saturday, January 25, 2014

I'm Afraid My Blog Is Getting Boring


I don't know what the matter with me is. I can't seem to pull any good content. I could blame it on my lack of photographic utensils, but perhaps it's not that.

I really want to get back onto the blogging wheel.

For now, I leave you with my favorites as of now from my tumblr ( ignitethespirit.tumblr.com ). I get a strange amount of pleasure out of how exquisite my tumblr is. Everything's perfectly balanced and to my taste.

I wish my relationship with the blog could be the same.






What do you do when you're on a blogging rut? Perhaps my beautiful readers could help me out.








Thursday, January 23, 2014

The Youth Paradox



I don't know about my fellow humanids, but as what respects to me, I find age stressing. To think of myself as eighteen, with time fleeing from my bones and (eventually) greying my hairs. I have always stressed about the eventuality of being old and the possible confinement that age can become. I want to be able to do everything, forever.

Time seemed to me unfair. It seemed unfair that I can be young now, and not forever.

Which is stupid.

Because youth is the fairest thing in the world.

Think about it; absolutely EVERYBODY gets the opportunity of being young. Everybody. With the exception of cases that do not contribute to my argument, it lasts around the same amount of time for everyone.

Then why should it be unfair?

It is up to me to learn how to "suck the marrow" out of these years.

The internet is chock-full-to-the-fucking-annoying-brim of lists of how to yolo the shit out of your youth.  I don't care much about these lists.

I just want to thank blogging for helping me document every step of the way.


(And I solemnly believe in how overrated youth is. Maybe it's better to be wise like Siddhartha than nimble like Sonic the Hedgehog. Less suffering to it, more good unto the world)

Monday, January 20, 2014

Nightlife


My New Year's Eve is a drunken blurr of whose bits I remember being messy. Me: shrilling, jumping, dancing, beating to the drum of later-would-be embarrasing actions. All of this is okay every once in a while, but I realized that me being too drunk to discern at least a tad was becoming a too regular affair, so I was going to change. And now I'm going to drink just enough to have fun! Not until I can't remember any of what happened last night.

A few years ago, (or rather, just a year ago) I made the same decision about discotheques or "clubs", depending on your geographic location. I realized that in my catalogue, fun is not doing standing-up lap dances to complete strangers who see you as no more than a piece of meat. Fun for me was sitting down with my intimate friends to get wasted and do random crap. I especially loved to wander through city streets, watching the more daring of the lot somersault and peeing in hidden corners. I myself was daring every once in a while.

Right now, I know that nothing is absolute. I just know that I love to have fun and that there is no recipe for this. Although if there is, maybe fermentation has something to do with it. Dunno. Goodbye.


PS. I'm drunk right now.

Friday, January 17, 2014

I WILL SAVE


In 2013 I learned to hate money. What with the stress of not knowing whether I would have cash available for a certain event, and with the ominous knowledge about how I need to save for a trip in July, I was tired of it.

Therefore, I have concocted a three-step guide in order not to lose cash and be able, finally, to save:

  1. Do not spend money on petty food, particularly on coffee. It's very expensive, particularly if you "indulge" several times a week.
  2. Ride my bike to school more often; that way, I won't have to pay for the ever-more expensive bus ticket.
  3. STOP RIDING CABS ALONE. This is a sheerly lazy habit of mine, in which I'm too lazy to organize myself to share cabs. Of course, there are exceptions where I simply don't have anyone to ride with. Which is normally not the case.
Okay, end of the most boring blog post ever.
Toodles,
Ana

Thursday, January 16, 2014

Blergh


I'll be back soon, pinky promise.

Meanwhile, I'm back from camp and too stuck in the shitpie of nostalgia.

Toodles.

PS. I lost my iPhone and now I really regret all those times when I said that I wanted to lose it.

Friday, January 10, 2014

I'm Alive


At summer camp. Yee long live nerdy love yay.

Lots of updates when I get back. I really miss blogging.

Friday, January 3, 2014

My One Resolution

All pictures in this post from Tumblr


I gave up on New Year's Resolutions. More accurately, I gave up on planning, scheming, lists, and structures. 

So, I have no New Year's Resolutions. 

Hurrah for me.

Although I might have one tiny exception:


YOGA!!!!

I used to be your average yogini a few years ago and then gave it up in the interest of jogging and cardio. But that's about to change!!

This year is going to be the year of finding well-being through this marvelous millenary practice. I just really wanted to do a fun post to celebrate (and push myself) my "new" endeavour.




My sole mission is to be pro enough to be able to do a fun photoshoot when I go to Europe in July.









WAIT. I'M A LIAR. THAT'S RIGHT, YOU HEARD RIGHT, U-HU, I'M A LIAR, 'CUZ THIS YEAR I'LL BE DOING:


PROJECT 365!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MORE ABOUT THIS TOMMOROW!!

Tuesday, December 31, 2013

My Kind of Year Summary

#SelfieRevolution: How many selfies can you take in a year? from AnaRuiz on Vimeo.

(Vimeo's a dick so I'm not able to show you the video for the moment.)

First of all, a summary of all the selfies I've taken this year. It has been a wonderful bit of liberation to no longer care or feel guilt about these self-indulgent photographs; thank you Tavi, thank you Rookie, thank you this video:


Now, the most important part; how was this year bookwise?

HORRIBLE.

Seriously, I've never had such a bad reading year. Normally, by December, I'm able to say that I've read at least three to four really great books. Books that stay with you, you know what I mean? (Yes, the cheezyness is all part of the universal truth of great books.)

However, the only really AMAZING book I read this year was Lolita.

If you've never read it then you're missing out on a huge pie of genius.

Maybe it was because, honestly, I didn't read a whole deal this year. Between school, blogging, but, more importantly, my dedication to writing, I read less than 30 books, which is like SHAAAAME!

Most of the shit I read -Waiting for Godot, Brave New World, The Remains of the Day (Kazuo Ishiguro)- was not actually bad, just not good enough.

I did, however, read Love in the Time of Cholera.
Pardon my puberty-struck pose. I don't what the eff.
Meh, it was good enough. If you have the kindness in your soul to pardon García Marquez's guilty pleasures as a writer, it's good. His prose is art, man, art.

Right now I'm reading Siddhartha which is also plain GENIUS. I wish I could finish it in the next 12 hours, so that I could say that I've read at least two really great books this year. Who know, maybe I can. 

But I've got New Year's Eve to plan. 


Happy New Year, beloved readers!!!

Monday, December 30, 2013

How to be a Non-Christian on Christmas



Even though I'm Jewish, my Dad is Catholic. Yet although part of my family might still celebrate, I do still feel alienated from the general spirit of the shindig.

SO WHAT DO WE DO, FELLOW NON-CHRISTIANS, ON THE DAY THAT BASICALLY SCREAMS (louder than these caps lock) "JOIN OUR CREEEEEEEEED OR YOU'RE A LOSER." (If the Crusades didn't do it, please let us not modern society accomplish it.)

First of all, I would largely encourage acquiring the bitter morale where "Christmas is a consumerist 21st century capitalist endeavour of large enterprises to brainwash and make you spend doodadiffities of money on heartless gifts" and spam the whole of Twitter with other Grinch-worthy complaints.

Second of all, accept that in your heart of hearts you sort of wish you could shamelessly bake (and eat, of course) Christmas cookies. But wait, you can. If you're Jewish like I am, bake Maguen David cookies. If you're Hindu, bake Ohm cookies. Let's all dance and bake and ignore that this is culture appropriation at its most absurd.


THIRD, if the "consumerist capitalist brainwashing conspiracy" tantrum was not enough, then go on an ECOLOGY rant. Christmas lights! Christmas packaging! Christmas decorations! So much energy and garbage created for the sake of holiday happiness!

Fourth, do read How the Grinch Stole Christmas. And when you're done with that, read The Bell Jar, just in case The Grinch's positive ending fooled you into thinking that the World is a place worth living in.

Fifth, dress up as Greta Garbo, smoke a cigarette, and swish martinis 'till your head spins. Because martinis is probably the only drink that beats eggnog, has less calories, and, who knows, maybe you won't even be able to smell the cinnamon ever-present in the air since November over the smell of your drunken vomit.



Finally, here: Envy and all of its side-effects are only going to affect you negatively. Take full pride in your own particular traditions and celebrate them, be them Jewish, Buddhist, Hindu, Islamic, Scientologist, Atheist, or Agnostic. If you would really like to participate in Christmas festivities, do; ask a friend to invite you to their dinner, or do one yourself (nobody's going to punish you, especially considering that this celebration for many has become almost a secular thing.) And if you don't want to, then take this as an opportunity to do other fun non-Christmassy activities. Have a dinner of your own with your family, a game-night, a movie night, get wasted, whatever. I take infinite pride in my own cultural background; there is no way a very well marketed celebration is going to sour it. Nuh-uh!

If everyone else is celebrating, then we should too!
(Particularly if there is no concrete reason to do so.)

Merry Not-Christmas, fellow Non-Christians,
Ana

Monday, December 23, 2013

I Have a Summer Cold

What on Earth has sickness done unto my face!


It's one thing to have a cold during the winter, but during the summer? Cruelty much. Therefore, I have done a thorough investigation on all the possible remedies for a common cold, which I'm guessing will be helpful to many Northern Hemisphere friends, those misfortunate souls currently undergoing the woes of wintertime.

How to cure a common cold in 8 serious steps:

  1. Wash your hands and face often
  2. Expose yourself to humidity and vapours (showers or place head over kettle while boiling water)
  3. Drink fluids, especially tea+honey or chicken soup
  4. Rest
  5. Spend some time out on the sun (apparently something in the UV)
  6. Use cold medicine sparsely
  7. Eat lots of fruit
  8. Gargle with warm salt water

How to really cure a common cold:

  1. Complain all the time
  2. Use a ridiculous amount of tissue on a nose that will be stuffy regardless.
  3. Decorate the near surroundings of your bed with said tissues. Perhaps create a tissue sculpture.
  4. Watch the guiltiest pleasure movie of all times.
  5. Chicken soup, again, because we all love chicken soup. Make the noodles in it of the alphabet kind, because today you are the legislative and executive and judicial power of the household.
  6. Keep complaining. As in, complain so much that you even complain on your blog.
  7. Sleep sleep sleep sleep.
  8. Read but make it light reading. I remember that one cold that drove me to read a whole Harry Potter book in two days. Do not attempt to tackle the deep stuff such as, say, Ayn Rand or Stephenie Meyer, on this day.
  9. Abuse of younger siblings with your Sick People Privileges.
  10. Work on nothing and stress is prohibited. Remember, legislative power.
  11. Catch up on the last 6 months of Rookie articles.
  12. Download crap music. Leave the quality music for when your throat doesn't feel like a giant golf ball with spikes lodged in the intersection between head and body.
  13. Continue complaining.

Hope you have a better day than mine (although, after a list like that, it's starting to look up),
Ana

Saturday, December 21, 2013

My Family and Its Hamptons Aspirations


My grandma recently turned 70 and to celebrate her my family did a shinding and my aunt went all out on the fancy deco.

I went all out on the pictures of this scene.

Fair enough.






Friday, December 20, 2013

Farewell, diaries


This post is an adieu to diaries.

Her name was Anne and she resided in many a notebook in sole objective of laying a faithful ear to my destitute adolescent woes.

Dear Anne,
my mom sucks.

(But my mom doesn't really suck.)

Dear Anne,
I can't understand why my best friend acts like this.

(And yet maybe nobody could understand me.)

Dear Anne,
why do boys never pay attention to me? More importantly, why does HE never pay attention to me?

(And yet he always did.)

It's been about a year since I ditched Anne for the grander scheme of art journaling. And yet I can't absolutely leave her. Sometimes, an epistle in her honour provides comfort such as nothing else can provide.

(I generally finish one notebook per season. That is, my notebooks are tinged with the emotions of "spring" or of "summer" or of "winter." Because that's how my emotions go. With the seasons, that is.)

Here are some pictures of the spring collection.





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